#yeah hes got one of those stupid novelty pens

[sunstream7]

Heartbreaking! The cutest guy you know is an absolute snake

[tiny-smallest]

day one - pride

Rating: G Characters: Henry and Bendy Warnings: none Description: Henry reflects on the definition of labels and belonging in certain spaces.

Also on AO3!

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WHO'S READY FOR THE INK DEMONTH 2021 I SURE ONCE AGAIN TOTALLY WAS YEP DEFINITELY NO LAST MINUTE ANYTHING HERE LET'S GO

Doing writing prompts again because this year has been A Lifetime and I just don't possess the ability to draw this time so let's go let's get stupid get weird enjoy the misadventures of a specific au of of Bendy and the Ink Machine where the toons are their own people in a world they still don't entirely understand and the people who love them who try to help them navigate it.

---

Henry was used to a surprising amount of things to interrupt his day first thing in the morning. Easily numbered in the hundreds. His children were toons; there was no end to the amount of crazy nonsense that they could get into when he was asleep, and that was disregarding the fact that Bendy usually slept until noon.

Sure, he was the Troublemaker In Chief. That did not mean the other two were paragons of holiness, no matter how much Alice tried glowing her halo at him while she and her brother gave him the saddest, biggest, shiniest puppy eyes. And that didn't even take into account how much trouble they could find, no mischief intended.

He'd seen smoldering breakfasts, pancakes on the ceiling, saran wrap around the kitchen archway, demonic rubber chicken noises from a saxophone that had a part replaced with the noisemaker from the novelty prank toy...

(He still didn't regret letting Boris chase Bendy for that one without intervening.)

With all that, being immediately accosted by three toons hanging off his legs the second he came down the stairs and all trying to talk to him at the same time did not magically get any easier to withstand.

"Whatever it is, it's a no until I get my coffee," he drawled as he attempted to walk with them hanging off him, the three of them dragged along with him. It was with quite some difficulty that he got to the kitchen counter.

"But Henry!" Bendy whined, "we only got a few hours to get ready if ya say yes! We need every second!"

"For what?" he yawned, pouring a cup from the machine.

"You don't know what day it is?" Alice was surprised enough to actually let go, and she dusted herself off like the lady she was before standing up.

Instantly something cold grabbed Henry's heart and squeezed. "Uh- no I...?"

Had he forgotten someone's birthday? No, it was summertime; Bendy was a winter 'birth' and Boris and Alice were spring and fall. An anniversary of some kind? Quick think what are you forgetting you useless-

"How!?" Bendy gaped at him from down below. "It's been all over the news fer weeks!"

Well okay now he was just thoroughly confused. "I um-"

"The parade, Henry!" Boris's tail was thumping gently against the floor; he was not trying one tiny ounce to hide his eagerness. "The parade that's today!"

"Parade-?" It took just one more nanosecond of thought before it clicked.

"Oh you mean the-!" And they wanted to go to it.

Well, he shouldn't be surprised. This would be the first parade they'd get to see, wouldn't it? And it was nice weather out. And it would be bursting with color, which the toons were darn near obsessed with.

He took a contemplative sip. They weren't human; god even knew if they had any sort of sexuality at all. Could they even feel that stuff? The urge to- do anything like that? Wouldn't that technically make them asexual? That was the word, right?

Well, human or not, that would solidly mean they belonged there. Queer was queer, regardless of species, right? Hell, even if they'd just started asking themselves those questions, or wanted to support the fans of theirs who fell under that giant umbrella, they were valid for being there.

"Sure, I can take you."

Both boys cheered, lifting their arms to do so and releasing his legs. He quickly took a step away from them, but their joy had them leaping to their feet anyway and he watched as they bounced around the kitchen, slowly draining his coffee and trying to curb his smile when he was actively drinking.

It was a hard task.

Their excited chatter melted pleasantly into the background as he took the time to drink and try to shake his brain awake the rest of the way awake like shaking out an old blanket to coax out the wrinkles. Their enthusiasm always made for the perfect background noise.

"What colors do you want?"

"I dunno! There's so many! I don' even know what label I fit in-"

"I saw you checkin' out that guy the other day don't think I didn't!" The wink and nudge from Bendy sent Boris blushing so hard the poor wolf's face turned nearly as black as his fur.

"I was hopin' you hadn't-"

They were all quick to consume breakfast, and Henry retreated upstairs after telling the toons to come get him when they wanted to leave.

He settled comfortably in the limitless, timeless space of art before reality came knocking with Bendy's distinctive tapping at the door, pulling Henry from the space inbetween something and nothing as he set his pen aside. "Come in, kiddo."

When Bendy stepped in with what was unmistakably a rainbow flag on his cheek and extra face paint he knew he was in for a time.

"Oh uh- what's that for-"

"For you!" Bendy said with a giant grin. "Who'd ya think?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Ah well- I uh-"

Bendy didn't slow down. "Anyway the others are about ready to go but they sent me up here to get your flag on while they finish up- now why they trusted me with the paint I got about as much an idea as you but hey I'm not gonna complain-"

"Aw that's- that's sweet kiddo but I sorta figured I'd just be-" How to say this. "Dropping you off...?"

Immediate confusion. "What? Why?"

"Uh well- I mean-" He fiddled with the pen- when had that ended up back in his hands? "You guys- you have a space there, you know? I'm not sure if I-"

There was now a puckered frown on the little devil's face. "Not sure if you what?"

"Well I mean- I don't exactly- belong, now do I?"

The frown multiplied its intensity by about five. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Aw jeez. He really did not want to discuss this with his kid, as much of an adult as Bendy was. For many reasons. "Uh well- you know-" He gestured, as if hoping that would somehow pluck the answer from the air and implant it in Bendy's brain without having to give voice to it, setting the pen down in the process so he’d stop playing with it. "I'm not exactly- I mean-"

"You like guys." Bendy's voice was so sure that Henry knew making any sort of denial was futile. And also kind of stupid. Why would he deny that to his own son? No of course he wouldn't.

"Well I mean- I married a woman, didn't I?" he finally blurted out.

Unimpressed blinking as he drew closer to stand beside the desk. "Yeah they got a word for that. Several actually. Most popular ones are bi and pan, so which colors is it gonna be?"

"No no I mean-" God he was probably blushing. His face definitely felt way too hot. "I uh- I mean I- I like guys, yes-" great brain thanks a ton totally needed that heart rate spiking why are you acting like that's scary this is our kid- "but I- I married a woman- I like women- more often?"

The blinking was now confused.

"Uh-" How to phrase this. "If- if we split it into a pie chart- it's probably like... thirty-seventy in favor of women?" He ran his fingers through his hair and down the back of his neck again. "I'm- not that I'm any great catch but like, if I was in any way qualified to be in the dating pool again, I'd be way more likely to end up with a lady."

The unimpressed look was back. "And?"

It was Henry's look to be surprised. "And- and that means that, you know- I'm not really-"

"You like guys."

"I- yeah?"

"And you're a guy."

"Kind of a given at this point."

"So you're a guy, and you like guys, and just also happen to like girls too. We got names for that." He gave Henry's shirt an appraising look. "Gotta say the bi colors would complement your clothes best. If you want pan colors I'm gonna have to ask you to change. As your official fashion consultant."

Henry snorted. "My what?"

"Listen Dad I love you but I ain't about to let you walk into that parade wearing like, a pineapple hawaiian shirt or nothin'."

Henry banged a fist lightly on the table and pointed at him. "Liar! You wore the exact same thing just the other day!"

"Yeah but that was to the beach, not a parade."

"Literally when have you ever cared about not being a fashion disaster."

"This time, when Alice'll actually kill me otherwise."

"... Okay you got me there."

Bendy grinned. "So, bi colors or pan colors! Or somethin' else? I think there's other ones too."

He opened his mouth, closed it again and then opened it. What the hell. "... Bi colors, I guess."

"Yesssssss I was hopin' you'd say that." He hopped over onto the table like he'd suddenly become a bunny.

"Oh you were, huh?"

"Listen, the pan folks got pretty colors, but I'm always a sucker for a sunset," he said as he pulled out the pallet he needed. Henry sighed and shook his head, the smile ruining his effort to look exasperated.

"Well. Sunset me then, I guess."

"You got it boss!" Bendy said in maybe the worst mafia minion accent known to mankind.

It was barely five minutes of Bendy painting lines carefully on his cheek before he whipped out a mirror.

"Tah-dah!"

Henry blinked at himself in the mirror. He tilted his head, something shifting inside his heart that he had no name for, no way to voice.

The once proud look on Bendy's face was swiftly dropping. "... I didn't mess it up, did I...?"

"No- no, no." Henry tilted his head. "I uh..."

Bendy's worried browlines screamed anxiety to him.

"... I guess I just look good in a sunset," he said quietly, seeing the little corner of his reflection's mouth turn up as if in some sort of hazy dream.

Better than I thought.

[hanaasbananas]

A Little Love Part Two

Part One, Part Three

AO3

Four years later

“Hello?” There was a knock on the counter above him and Adrien paused at the familiar voice. “Is anyone in? The sign said open so...”

Emerging from where he’d been putting things away behind the counter, Adrien grabbed a cup, beginning the motions of preparing an order. “Hi, what can I get you today?”

“Actually, can I meet Adrien?”

Inwardly, he sighed at the question. Really, it had been a year already, hadn’t the novelty worn off yet? But when he met the girl's gaze, he was surprised to realise that he knew the girl standing across from him. Just as surprising was the way she looked around the place as though she was searching for someone else.

Huh.

“Yeah, one second-” he ducked back below the counter to grab his apron, ignoring her perplexed look until he pulled it over his head, gesturing to the name emblazoned across the front. “Adrien, that’s me.”

“Oh!” she clapped a hand to her mouth “Oh, shit, that’s embarrassing, um, hi, I’m Marinette,” she held out a hand for him to shake. “I’m writing an article on the best up and coming bakeries and cafes in the city and I’d really like it if I could write about your cafe. I’ve heard amazing reviews about this place. Especially about all your cheese desserts.”

Adrien blinked. An article...well it was bound to be better than any of the other things that had been written about him. The documentaries and exposes, and twitter threads ripping into father and Nathalie, even speculating about what Adrien himself might be capable of. But an article about the cafe ...

She was staring at him expectantly and he nodded quickly. “I’d love that!”

“Perfect!” Marinette grinned, turning to go. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning then!”

***

Marinette wasn’t stupid.

She knew exactly why Alya had gotten her to take charge of this project and it wasn’t because you know so much more about pastries than I do!

Please. As if something like lack of knowledge had ever stopped Alya before.

Still, with Hawkmoth defeated for good, and the heroes of Paris gone, the Ladyblog was no longer active and Marinette supposed it couldn’t hurt to help Alya as she experimented with different endeavours.

Getting Alya off her back about her abysmal social life was just a bonus. Not to mention that Adrien’s Cafe was certainly...intriguing.

Former model and son of the disgraced fashion designer Gabriel Agreste- Hawkmoth , returns to Paris after two years and...opens a cafe? The headline wrote itself!

And a successful cafe, at that, Marinette thought to herself as she walked in. The place was already packed full of customers and it was only nine in the morning.

She hadn’t had a chance to properly look around the day before and she scanned the place from where she stood at the entrance, taking in the large bookcase in the back corner, with several plush chairs and a low coffee table; the rustic table booths and dim lighting that lent the place a homely air.

But by far, the most appealing thing about the place stood behind the counter. Looking up at her entrance, Adrien’s green eyes met hers across the crowded room, his face splitting in a wide grin as he weaved his way around tables and customers to greet her.

Which was another reason why she didn’t mind doing this article-the subject was super easy on the eyes. He almost reminded her of another blonde haired, green eyed boy she used to know, but Marinette quickly dispelled that thought, focusing instead on Adrien in front of her.

She was definitely going to enjoy this job.

***

“-a clean break, you know? I just needed to get away from everything here and start fresh somewhere new where nobody really knew me.” Adrien took a sip of his coffee, avoiding Marinette’s gaze as she scribbled down notes.

Somehow, even though Adrien knew Marinette was writing an article about him, he found it easy to open up to her. He glanced down at his hand, at his empty finger, remembering the ring that had once sat there. It had been easy to talk to her before , as well, when he had been Chat Noir.

In the last two weeks, the small crush on Marinette that he’d nursed all those years ago, had returned full force. It didn’t help that she was at the cafe every day, sampling all their wares, taking photos of everything as though every square inch of the place needed to be documented. Most times he struggled to retain his cool, sending over his new hire instead to take her orders and serve them as well. Despite that, he couldn’t help but follow her every movement as he worked, watching for her reactions as she tried his cakes and pastries, and he couldn’t resist at all when she asked him to sit with her.

Soon, maybe when her article was done, he even planned on asking her out on a proper date.

“And then...what made you decide to come back?” Marinette prompted, breaking him from his thoughts and he sighed.

“Don’t get me wrong, it was nice, living in another country, with my aunt and cousin, and even just getting to go to culinary school instead of following the path my father had set out for me by having me do a business degree, but, well…” Adrien shrugged uncomfortably “Paris is home, and I wanted to come back. My father took so much from me, I didn’t want him to take this as well.”

“That’s...wow.” Marinette straightened, sending a winning smile in his direction, seemingly unaware of the way she dazzled him. “Well I, for one, am very glad you came back to the city, because where else would I get all these amazing pastries?”

“Uh, from your parents?” Adrien raised an eyebrow, laughing and throwing his hands up in surrender when she threw her pen at him.

“You know what I meant!”

***

Adrien’s Cafe was shut on the anniversary. 

Of course it would be , Marinette thought to herself crossly. It had been stupid to even come out today.  

Adrien had more of a claim to sadness on this day than she did, and yet, for the first time in four years, Marinette had found herself wanting to spend the day with someone instead of wallowing in her own misery and regret, without even Tikki to keep her company.  

Swallowing her disappointment, she turned away, hiking her back up on her shoulder when she heard Adrien call her name.

“Marinette?” He stood in the open doorway, regarding her with a curious tilt to his head. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh..” she smiled awkwardly “I didn’t realise you were closed today, so I’ll just…” she made to leave “I’ll just go then.” 

“Wait!” Adrien grabbed something from behind the door and stepped out to meet her. “I was gonna go on a supply run,” he said, holding up two large canvas bags, he said “do you wanna come with me?” 

***

On the first anniversary of defeating father, Adrien had gone to visit him. He hadn’t stayed long, had simply pulled out the box that held Plagg’s ring and showed it to him, watching as realisation dawned on father’s face and left before anything could be said. He’d had a train to catch, after all. 

The next two years, while he’d lived with Aunt Amelie and Felix, Adrien simply locked himself in his room for the day. For once, his cousin never had a snarky remark for him. He almost wished that he did. At least that would be normal.

Even the year before, Adrien had hidden himself away, overwhelmed by the memories of being back in Paris, of seeing people celebrate the day. It was the only time he’d seriously considered putting his miraculous back on to see Plagg again instead of simply staring at the ring, turning it over and over in his hands, but never wearing it. 

But this year... this year Adrien had almost forgotten about the date entirely. He’d planned on going shopping anyway, to try and break his habit of locking himself away on the anniversary. His resolve had practically dissolved until he saw Marinette standing just outside the cafe, and suddenly, leaving the house hadn’t felt like such a terrible idea. 

It was meant to be a quick supply run, but the two of them had turned it into a fully fledged day out; driving around the city and even stopping for lunch in the park. 

Adrien might even have called it a date. He was pretty sure that Marinette felt the same way-if the pretty blush that coloured her cheeks whenever he flirted was any indication. 

It was dark when they returned, laden down with heavy bags as Adrien-loathe to let the good day end- let them into the empty cafe,  “What’ll you have then? Tea? Coffee? Hot chocolate? And you’ve gotta have some cake too. On the house!” 

Marinette shook her head, smiling softly at him and his heart skipped a beat in his chest. “You’re spoiling me, Adrien. I don’t need anything.”

“Come on,” he wheedled playfully, “just one slice? and you have to have coffee with it”— sensing her wavering resolve, he rummaged in the bags until he found what he was looking for. “I’ll even use the fresh beans…” he shook the bag enticingly, grinning when Marinette conceded with a groan. 

“Oh, fine . Go on then.” 

“Alright!” Adrien gestured to a table, pulling out a chair for her. “Take a seat, and I’ll be right back out.” 

Adrien hummed cheerfully to himself as he worked, meticulously slicing the banana and walnut cake-it was a new recipe that he wanted Marinette’s opinion on. He smiled to himself, laughing under his breath at his thoughts. 

It was strange how in such a short amount of time, she’d come to mean so much to him. Only a month ago he’d been determined to be a loner, to content himself with running the cafe and that was it. He got all the social interaction he needed from serving customers and what else could he need? 

And yet...Marinette had managed to worm her way into his life so easily he wondered at how strong his defences had been in the first place. 

Setting everything onto a tray, Adrien made his way to Marinette. “So this was the first time I made”— he stopped short, his blood freezing in his veins at the sight of the red…

...the red kwami that squeaked and zipped back into Marinette’s purse at the sight of him. 

“A-adrien!” Marinette exclaimed, her voice unnaturally shrill, though he hardly noticed, eyes trained on where he’d seen the kwami disappear. “That was uh...that was-”

“You’re Ladybug.” It wasn’t a question, simply a statement of fact and she hesitated for a moment before nodding. 

“Yes. I mean...I was. I’m so sorry, I didn’t tell you, but I was worried-” she half rose out of her seat as though to come up to him and he took a step back, setting the tray down heavily on another table.

After all this time…

Marinette’s voice was hesitant. “Adrien?” 

“Get out.” Adrien said, turning his back on her, his mind racing, putting the pieces together, seeing everything in a new light. “Get out.” He repeated “leave. Before I say something that I regret.”

“I-okay.” 

It wasn’t until the door slammed shut behind her that he let himself turn around to watch her retreating back, feeling as he had four years ago.

The emotions washed over him like a tidal wave and Adrien grabbed hold of the table as his legs buckled underneath him, the blood rushing in his ears.

It seemed that this year was just as bad as all the rest.

[kurtty-drabbles]

House of M Redone part 5

N/A: I got Netflix but I´ll not let my writing stop. Here we go, Kurt, you´re so whipped.

@dannybagpipesarecalling @muninandhugin @tieflingteeth

The school has upholds many traditions, smaller and bigger, among teachers and students. It was a way to bond with the old and next generation. So far, so good. Except, a new novelty roaming around the halls and classroom. 

Said novelty is nothing more or less than Nightcrawler, one of the most famous Red guards. Whispers, speculations, including some autographs-sometimes, follow by requests of petting his fur- however, what fuels the rumors are two facts:

1) Nightcrawler is taking his time to visit one person.

2) The said person is none other than Kitty Pryde.

Kitty is spotting a new hairstyle. Fluffy and Jewish style will never out of the menu but is possible to change a few things. So, Kitty has a wavy short style.

(Kitty hairstyle)

At this very moment, Kitty is reading some essays with a knee eye to any strange line regards Namor- some of her students have mothers who like to help in the essays. Some mothers have an extreme adoration- causing an exasperated sigh.

"Oh my God, if I read another line about Namor´s abs..." Kitty taps her pen in a nervous tick. One time, two times, furthermore three times. Now, she´s writing something in the essay. "Tell your mother I´m not interested in knowing about Namor´s sex life...doubt his dick could have stopped the grand war! But rest assured he did try" 

"So, not a fan of Namor?" a male voice draws in. Kitty humms in agreement as she picks another essay.   Doe-eyes lift up to see Nightcrawler smirking at her. "He can be a hassle to deal, let me tell you that... he and his fangirls" mentally add and his obsession with Sue Storm

"Hello, Nightcrawler, what a surprise to see you, in my office, may I help you? Soon, we´ll dive into the history of the Red Guards...I´ll spares no one of my witty" she promises.

"As I would expect of such a teacher like you" Kurt´s smooth line must be appreciated. "I´m here to ask for a favor. Kitty, would you like to go with me to the royal ball? The royal family has many parties and gatherings and I, as a member of the Red Guard, must attend and be on my best behavior" Kurt notes sagely how her doe eyes are glued on his golden ones.

"Oh, you mean ...no orgies?" her question is childish, filled with innocence as her grin got wider.

Kurt wrinkles at this. His fangirls seem to appreciate his sexy appeal too much sometimes.

"No, no orgies." is important to emphasize this as strongly as possible. Again, some of his fandoms really enjoy Kurt´s sex appeal. "But I do need to be on my best behavior..."

Kitty´s eyes look down as her fingers tap on her desk. She looks up again to send the pitiful stare Kurt ever saw. "Oh, elf, I´m so sorry...who is this stupid lady that refused you? Look" she clicks her tongues and has a contemplative expression written on her face. "I´m a big fan of enemies to lovers and all that, but in real life, if a lady says no...date another lady won´t make her magically love you. LET IT GO, elf"

Kurt can only narrow his eyes at this. " Are you...using Frozen/Disney jokes on me?"

Kitty is the image of the innocent. As usual.

"There´s no other girl, just you" Kurt promised never seeing the appeal of dating a girl to make another jealous. "I must say...your self-deprecating humor is not flattering" smirks at her expression. 

"So, let me get this straight, you" points to Kurt vehemently with her pen. "could have any lady to the royal ball and for some reason, one I´m not getting, you want to go with me? What about them?" the pen now points to the pair of eyes staring at them with wide eyes.

It took a minute for Kurt to look. It took a minute for all of them to leave.

"I want to go with you....I feel you, in all your wisdom and wit, won´t let me go to an orgy party" humor is the best weapon. Case and point, Kitty smiles at this.

"Well, I would love to...but, you know, in the program X...they didn´t add in my DNA how to dance and talk to royals" Kurt pouts. Kitty smiles- one must observe, as Kurt did, how her face is perfect to smile- the answer to such line is being waited for.

"You´ll never let me forget that, will you?"

"NOPE"

"Fine, I deserve, I guess. I still think it was strange a ..." thread this line with a clear mind and common sense. "civilian, I would say civilian, manage to handle the situation with Juggernaut so calmly"

"Elf, I´m a teacher...Juggernaut is nothing compared to that" winks at him. "Ok, guess I pick you up at 19hs?"

The nerve of this woman.

Then her face gets serious. "Look, I have to ask...what happened to nurse..." Kitty and embarrassed shouldn´t walk together. She puts her hands in front of her chest to make a point. "you know, the nurse I have a big personality?"

Oh, the nerve of this woman.

"Christine...well, she won´t bother us, I hope"

"She seems ...good"

"You can say she´s not very bright, she asked me if I was German"

"Normally, I hate a man calling another woman dumb or anything like that, but...yeah, in this case...I feel you. Is she alright?"

"Finally got we´ll never happen and took a job in Chicago"

"Well, good for her"

___________________________________________________________________________________________

(Emma´s dress)

Emma Frost is more than used to those social events. Having her school, and her name as well, in such high regard means doors are open for her.  The events that almost happen to her students have prevented only thanks to Juggernaut´s stupidity and Emma is well-aware of that.

Oh, right. Kitty and a certain Red Guard are in this equation as well. Not that Emma needs to point this one out.

Oh, speaking on the devil. Emma´s blue eyes narrow as she notices Kitty Pryde, of all people, present in the entrance gate having her arms locked with a certain Red Guard. Oh, Nightcrawler, you´re as subtle and discreet as an elephant in a china store.

Felicia Hardy is Black Cat. Felicia Hardy is a businesswoman and right now, Emma´s date. Coming closer to Emma´s ear to whisper always have double meanings. "Is that...Nightcrawler?"

Nightcrawler is really that popular.

Emma wouldn´t want to introduce herself or have to speak with Kitty Pryde. Sadly,  Black Cat has other ideas.

"Oh my god, you´re Nightcrawler, sorry, that sounds stupid. You know who you are. I just want to say I´m a fan" Felicia speaks in an amicable tone and shakes hands with the azzure man.

Her eyes notice Kitty. Kitty, for her part, was too busy sending death glares to Emma. It was a mutual action.

"Oh, you must be Kitty Pryde, Emma told me a lot about you" Felicia smirks. "anyone who can make the great White Queen nervous is a powerful foe"

Kitty now is taken back by this line. "She used to parade around wearing a corset and nothing else"

"Only because you know it looks good on me...not my fault you have a problem with your body"

"Oh, Emma, don´t confuse my ability to use pants to shame over my body. And for the records, all those plastic surgeons ...and no change on your terrible personality" Kitty has a mock concern expression.

Emma won´t dare to cause a scene. Not tonight.

"Nightcrawler, careful with this one. She´s a handful" Emma decides to say only this. Felicia and Emma are holding hands and walking away.

Kurt couldn´t leave this reply without a proper answer. "Oh, God. I hope so. I hope she´s the kind of the woman my mother warned about"

Emma has no response. Felicia is cackling. Kitty is looking at her shoes- if anyone asks, she can say how she was admiring such expensive shoes. Only that- and Kurt wonders if that is the right thing to say.

(Kitty´s dress)

__________________________________________________________________________________________

(Wanda´s dress)

Wanda Maximoff is the Witch Queen, as most of her followers and family love to call her, and while she understands traditions and its importance...she must confess how this gathering almost didn´t happen. Wanda is as social as a person can be. 

Tonight, she´s on the edge. Lorna and Pietro aren´t good actors to pretend otherwise.

"Anyone wants booze?" Lorna suggests already with some drinks in hand.

"Sure, but I can´t get drunk" Pietro confessed. "thanks to my powers"

"Wanda?" Lorna asked as Wanda is looking Cap Marvel guiding the boys around - a subtle body-guard. A powerful body-guard- her eyes snap back to Lorna as the other is offering drinks to Wanda.

"Yes, please. I´m not feeling this is a good idea...After everything, I feel we´re sitting ducks waiting to be attacked"

"Wanda...you´re not alone, ok? We´re here to protect you, and everyone else. Let´s be real, not the first time a villain wants to conquer Genosha" Lorna half-joke. No one seems to get her sense of humor.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Kitty was admiring the view. Not Kurt, if he asks, but the people in general. Everyone is so famous and important. Hell, even Emma Frost is important. If her eyes linger on Kurt´s handsome face is only to prove how important he is.

After all, Nightcrawler is the famous Red Guard. The fact he´s here with her still seems a dream.

"Am I that handsome?" Kurt asked smiling showing a part of his fangs.

"I think you know this by now...I´m just impressed by how much important people are here" Kitty confessed. Too honest. Too raw and too afraid at the same time.

"Yeah, everyone here is important"

"I know"

"Even you"

"What?"

Kurt feels this is a small victory. Especially seeing her blushing face. A small victory.

________________________________________________________________________________________

The Queen is not one to ignore heroes. So, once she caught the word Nightcrawler and the famous teacher Pryde are present in her ball, Wanda makes her mission to at least say hi to them.

Poor woman! if she hasn´t thought quickly...her students...

The Queen needs no introductions. Everyone knows her face. Kitty´s eyes widen and without thinking much-if she was thinking at all- she makes a bow and puts her right hand´s palm in her forehead and speaks this line.

"Enchanted to meet you, Witch Queen"

It came out so naturally. Kitty wonders if someone is controlling her movements or something because she feels too abashed to say anything else.

Kurt is at a loss for words here.

Wanda claps her hands together. "Oh, a fellow witch too?" her eyes are glowing. For once, not with her power.

"No, Your Highness. One of my students is a witch and goes to the Cackle Academy in the summer. Her parents believe in education in the magic system and in the mutant system...and I can always learn something new"

Better be honest with the Witch Queen.

Is the wise decision as Wanda nods in approval.

"Still, it's nice to see people paying respects to the Witchcraft rituals. Anyway, you´re Katherine Anne Pryde. I...just want to say how brave you were for dealing with Juggernaut until the Red Guards arrived" Wanda speaks with poison. As a real Witch Queen should.

"Well, he didn´t want to lead me any sword...I had to be creative" Kitty responds.

Wanda chuckles and nods. "You´re creative enough. Maybe next time, Nightcrawler can lean one of his swords" and adds. "still, I´m happy you and your students are unharmed and I promise you...this won´t happen again"

Kurt is really at a loss for words here.

Wanda excuse herself as she has to talk with the Queen of Wakanda. Ororo Monroe.

"Katzchen...what are you?"

"At this moment, I don´t know...Kurt, can I stay the rest of the night holding your arm?"

"Please"

"Thank you"

[argylemnwrites]

Fire Inside

Character: ??? 😮 ???

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu) referenced

Book: The Royal Romance (The Royal Heir, various chapters)

Word Count: ~2100

Rating:  PG-13 (adult language)

Summary: Doing what needs to be done isn’t for the faint of heart. Sometimes channeling that fire inside will bring out enemies, but only the timid worry about that.

Author’s Note: So, this is something pretty different from what I usually write, but the idea popped into my head and wouldn’t leave me alone. I don’t know if anyone else will like this, but I had a lot of fun exploring motivations of this character. I just wanted to dislike this character for interesting reasons, not hate them for dumb reasons that lack all nuance. So, yeah, not trying to defend this character, just trying to make them a dislikable human instead of a silly, annoying trope.

Inspired by Day 4 of the Choices November Challenge - Rage. Tagging all my TRR peeps, so apologies if this isn’t your thing. Like I said, I know this isn’t my usual style.

How did that old saying go? You catch more flies with honey than vinegar? Something like that. She’d heard it plenty of times throughout her life. She just never really understood it.

It’s not that she didn’t get the intent; she wasn’t stupid. But she just didn’t quite get why anyone would want to catch flies in the first place. Swat those annoying buggers away. Let them live their life while she lived hers. Why would you want to attract nuisances when you could scare them off instead? And no point drawing them in to kill them. There would always be plenty more pests coming after them.

But growing up, everyone seemed to tell her she should be more nurturing, more caring. Buying her dolls for her birthday and for Christmas. Trying to get her to care for the chicks after the coyote got into the pen and ate the hen. Scolding her when she hadn’t held Bee’s hand and wiped away her tears with gentle thumbs and soothing words when she’d fallen from the tree and broken her arm, but instead had carried her back to the house, arm wrapped in her own shirt as a temporary sling. But her practical solution hadn’t been enough. She was supposed to tend to her sister’s emotional pain, not just the physical.

They all wanted her to be sugar, spice, and everything nice. Well, if that’s what little girls were supposed to be made of, it never made sense to Leona that everyone seemed to ignore the middle ingredient. You wouldn’t call two pieces of bread on either side of some sliced ham a bread sandwich. That’s a goddamn ham sandwich. So why did everyone think that girls should be sweet little angels, not spitfires full of heat and intensity? 

Leona was never cut out to play the damsel, dependent on someone else. She would fight for herself, fight for what she thought was her due. And she was never going to apologize for being that way. Her fire served her well. It’s how she got out of taking home ec in high school, instead getting herself a spot in shop class. She could live with rips in her clothes that she couldn’t mend well and food that filled her belly without winning a prize at the state fair for its flavors. But if the equipment on the ranch broke down, well being able to fix that herself would save her whole family time and money. And that just seemed a hell of a lot more useful than learning how to be a perfect little homemaker. 

Of course, in shop class, none of the boys or Mr. Linvel had viewed her as anything other than a novelty. She wasn’t sure which was worse, the boys who laughed at her anytime she made a mistake, or the ones who assumed she couldn’t do it herself, always coming over to “help” her. What they didn’t understand is that she never needed their help. They weren’t better than her just because their fathers had taught them those skills already. She would do it herself, no matter how many tries it took. 

Because the world was a harsh place. It never made sense to Leona that she was expected to stay soft. She didn’t understand how anyone could. But all the girls around her seemed to manage it just fine. Cathy and Linda and Susie braided each other’s hair and shared lipstick. They giggled and gossiped and swooned over Chip and Bobby and Kenny. They hugged each other and passed around hankies when those same idiot boys all fell head over heels for the new girl, Patty, with her bleached hair and bell-bottom jeans. They all cried over their Dolly Parton records, moaning about how “Jolene” was their song. Leona didn’t get it. Why waste any time on some boy who was inevitably gonna let you down?

But one by one, she watched them go off, get married, start their families. Cathy caught the eye of some traveling salesman, Linda finally got Bobby to put a ring on it, and Susie moved to Houston to go to secretarial school, but quit and got married 4 months after her first posting. And one by one, she watched them get broken, by bills and mortgages, by baby after baby, by unfaithful and cruel husbands. And as they cried on the front porch, wondering how they got to that point, a not-so-small portion of Leona kept thinking, “I told you so.” She didn’t feel bad for thinking it either. Because she knew what they thought of her. Bitter. Cold-hearted. Bitch.

But she took it all, because she knew that life wasn’t a fairy tale. It’s a series of hardships you just had to face head on. She told her sister that everyday, not wanting her to make the same mistakes that so many of the other girls made. And for a long time, it worked. It was just the two of them and Dad, taking care of things on the ranch. But eventually Bee wanted more. She wasn’t content, always dreaming of something different. She saved her money. Traveled. When she came back, she was full of stories. But she was different every time. Still could pull her share around the ranch, but she was teasing her hair. Had new blazers with shoulder pads in addition to her practical work clothes. Talked about some fancy-ass coffee drink she had at some restaurant. And then she saved enough to go overseas, coming back a few months later, holding hands with some fancy European asshole. Told Leona she was moving to some country called Cordonia to marry that man. Left the ranch without a backward glance, leaving Leona and Dad to manage it all. She made promises of coming back in a couple of years after Jackson’s service requirements were complete, but first a son came along, and then a daughter. And each year that went by, Leona knew that Bianca was never coming back. Sure enough, phone calls promising a move back next year soon became phone calls promising a vacation. The life they had known together was now a novelty, an escape, not a reality. She only did make it back to the ranch once with the kids.

Those two were lost causes, as far as Leona was concerned. Brought up in a world of gold and diamonds, parties and designer clothes. Hell, the boy was best friends with one of the princes. And when she was the one who had to bury Dad in the orchard all by herself, six feet down, right next to Momma, she knew she was the only one left in the family with any common sense or perspective. She just hoped that Bianca remembered a little bit of the toughness she’d tried to teach her when those ass-kissing, stuck-up nobles she’d surrounded herself with inevitably screwed her over.

Leona was surprised that Bianca lasted over there as long as she did, nearly two decades before it all came crashing down with Jackson’s death. But she did crash, hard. Her life fell apart. And who did she call up, but the sister she’d abandoned, left to carry on the family business all alone. And once again, she wanted Leona to be softer. To offer sympathy and comfort. Well, she offered a roof over her head and food in her belly when her so-called “friends” somehow couldn’t be bothered to spare a dollar. That would have to be comfort enough. 

She’d heard Bianca crying many nights. At first, she knew it was over her husband, a man who gave his life for some over-important royals, leaving behind his own goddamn family. And after years of watching her sister struggle to finally heal from that, the crying started again when Drake called, frantic, saying Savannah was gone, asking if by any chance she’d come to Texas. She recovered faster that time, though. Leona hoped that she was finally learning, that she was tougher. Stronger.

But that all came crashing down one fall morning, when Bianca bounded into the barn, telling Leona that not only was Savannah back in their lives, but that she had a baby. Baby Bee was a grandma. Not only that, but she was going back to the hellhole of Cordonia to see this baby and to watch Drake marry some fancy duchess of some sort. She was optimistic and energetic. It was as if she’d learned nothing from her first time there. 

They’d fought, Leona asking her sister how many times she was gonna get her hopes up about that place. Bianca saying that things would be better this time. Yeah, right. Leona had seen enough to know how this would end. Bianca brought her kids up in the world of posh nobles and fancy rich people. It was only a matter of time until they decided they were too good for her again.

But Bee ignored her warnings, not only flying out there for some pompous hoighty-toighty wedding, but offering to host Savannah’s wedding to some frickin’ Duke of snobbery, the same man who knocked her up and then neglected her and the baby not two years earlier. Amazing what you could get away with when you had money.

To make matters worse, Bee invited some motley crew of royals and nobles to come stay on the ranch for this wedding. They weren’t outwardly disdainful, so maybe they did learn some manners from their fancy pants educations, but still. Leona had a ranch to keep afloat. The last thing she needed was to babysit a group of rich kids playacting at being cowboys. 

She felt a little guilty selling info on Drake and his wife to the press. He was the most helpful of the group, and he was family, after all. He seemed to remember a few things from his visit as a child, seemed to have kept a handful of practical skills. But his wife was overeager, annoying, and seemed to think that she had something in common with Bianca and Leona just because she used to wait tables. That growing up in a fancy city like New York was somehow equal to hard, physical labor because she hadn’t been born with a silver spoon in her mouth. If he had chosen to marry someone like her, then he probably wasn’t much different than the rest of them. The fact that they were orchestrating some bizarre political move to get their kid onto the throne just sealed the deal for Leona. So she did what she had to do. Granted, they all ended up being much kinder than she’d guessed them to be. But their kindness wasn’t going to keep the ranch going long term, keep the hands hired and the electricity on. So, Leona kept on selling any info she had. Morality was all fine and dandy when you were privileged, but it had no place in the real world.

It wasn’t until Riley was screaming at her, yelling about how she would never forgive Leona, hand protectively placed across her very pregnant belly, that she saw something more than kind but spoiled little princess. She saw pure anger, fire-forged and intense. She saw rage and hunger. She saw someone that maybe had been hardened by life, but kept that intensity hidden away, covering her true strength with silliness and laughter.

Leona couldn’t be sure, of course. She barely knew the woman, and she had no illusion that she and this woman would be bonding as in-laws going forward, so she probably wouldn’t get the chance to find out. She had never been naive, after all. She knew that bridge was burned. But she wasn’t one for regrets. She’d made her choices, and while she’d hoped maybe her nephew would understand her reasons, calm his wife down, she wasn’t surprised when that didn’t happen. So she went back to Texas, to her parents’ ranch. To her ranch, really. What was done was done.

She hadn’t anticipated her sister’s anger. Bee had never been the overly-protective, Momma-bear type, after all. But she’d yelled, alright. Told her off about betraying the family. Selling out her own nephew. Making it so that Drake and Riley were never going to be willing to bring the grandbaby to visit. Bianca expected grovelling, contrition, regret. But she wasn’t going to get that. Leona had the fire raging inside of her to keep moving forward; she would never apologize for that. And if anyone took issue with that, well that was just their own damn problem. No one else was going to solve it for them. Certainly not Leona. Anyone who expected such a weakness could just go fuck themselves.

Tags: @choicesnovemberchallenge @dcbbw @mfackenthal @yaushie @jovialyouthmusic @iplaydrake @gibbles82 @drakewalkerisreal @riley–walker @thequeenofcronuts @notoriouscs @butindeed @octobereighth @ao719​

[inthegroundontime]

Title: So, You Married a Selkie Rating: PG Ships: Rudyard/Liesel ( @ncvaflows ), mentions of Chapman/Masha ( @enjcyourselves & @caughtintherevolution ) Characters: Rudyard Funn, Georgie Crusoe, Liesel Ivanov Summary: Rudyard may not have noticed that he’s been married for the last four months, but it hasn’t escaped notice altogether.

It’s unorthodox, but Rudyard supposes he quite likes having the shifter woman around. She’s kind to him in ways no one, not even Georgie or Antigone has ever been. She listens to his stories and shares some of her own. At dawn, when she returns from her swim, he makes her a cup of tea and she sits with him, reading her book while he does the Piffling Matters crossword. Together, they delight in typos and the simple pleasure of a sunrise in Piffling Vale before the rain rolls in. It always does – especially when she leaves to swim again and Rudyard departs for work. As he worries about her safety, the storms sometimes abate, but every now and then, the lightning becomes fierce and he thinks hers will be the next body Antigone embalms. Liesel. She’s an unusual woman, with sad, dark eyes. Sometimes she seems quite happy in his company, but when he can’t stay with her or when they part for the evening – him for his bed and her for the sofa (Rudyard really ought to charge her rent but he can’t bear to) -she looks at him with such profound despair, it breaks his heart a little. Nothing has broken Rudyard’s heart in a good, long time.

He no longer sleeps well in the bed. It isn’t particularly comfortable – it never has been – but it never seemed so large before, so empty. It’s cold under the blankets and Rudyard eagerly springs from bed in the morning to make tea and toast to go with the kippers Liesel has hunted off the coastline. Once, she brought him back a pearl the size of his thumbnail. He keeps it in his other top pocket – the one above his heart, where Madeline does not sit. He used to keep nothing but lint and a pen there. He doesn’t know why he does this foolish thing, but he does it anyway. It gives him comfort, allowing him to pretend Liesel is nearby when he knows she is swimming and he is trying to keep the funeral home afloat in a much less friendly tide. Across the square, Chapman has only grown more cheerful. No one wonders how he enticed the island’s newest resident – a pretty blonde whose presence dripped magic in a way Rudyard thought was bad form, but that everyone else seemed to take for charm – yet everyone speculates why Liesel hangs around Rudyard. Rumors circulate. He has used a love potion on her. (He hasn’t. He can’t brew a decent one to save his life and Antigone finds them unethical). He has stolen her skin and enslaved her. (He hasn’t. He returned her pelt to her the day they met. Slavery makes his skin crawl). He has hypnotized her, enchanted her, cursed her. (He has done none of these things. Since reconnecting to his witch roots, he has not ever attempted something so advanced).

No one, not even Rudyard, knows why Liesel stays.

No one, except Georgie Crusoe.

Rudyard is half-in the flue of the crematorium, scrubbing the bricks clean of soot and unnamable junk. Georgie, meanwhile, sits on the table, flicking through a manual on cremation that Rudyard shoved her way this morning. As they work, Rudyard can’t help but lament certain goings-on.

“Chapman is allowed to have a mystery woman turn up and follow him around and no one accuses him of enslaving her!” he grunts between scrubs. “Meanwhile, I open my home to a woman who prefers the sea to my company and the whole town thinks I must’ve bewitched her to sleep on my sofa when she gets tired of swimming!”

“Course no one accuses Chapman of anything,” Georgie says without looking up. “The whole ruddy island still thinks he’s human.”

“Of course, he’s human. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t be much of a novelty around here, now, would he?”

“Mmm.” Georgie pauses and then asks, “Does Liesel always sleep on the sofa?”

“What, now?” Rudyard pops his head out from inside the chimney, coated in black soot. “Yes, of course, she does. What kind of impropriety-“

“ ‘S not impropriety if you’re married, sir.”

Rudyard smacks his head on the bricks as he climbs out of the chimney. Massaging his scalp, he looks at Georgie with shock and then sternness.

“Now, look here,” he says, “I think I would know if I was married to Liesel. I don’t appreciate your new brand of humor and demand you quit while you’re ahead.”

“I don’t think you would,” she continues. “Know if you’re married, I mean.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course, I’d know.”

“R-i-i-i-ght,” Georgie says. “Oi, Rudyard?”

“What?”

“Are you married?”

“Good God, no! Like I said – I would know. And I am – and will always be – a bachelor.”

“I don’t know how much longer you’ll have that option.”

“It isn’t optional, Georgie. It’s a fact of life. No one would nor ever shall marry me. I’m short-tempered, bossy, and wholly unsuited to the enterprise.”

“Yeah. You’re unsuited all right.” A pause. “But how d’ya like Liesel?”

“Well, of course, I like Liesel,” Rudyard stutters. “She’s kind and smart and doesn’t ask me stupid questions and she’s been contributing to the household in her own way and-“

“But how d’you like her?”

Rudyard scrambles back into the chimney. Scrubbing the bricks furiously, he waits a long time before answering the question.

“She’s kind to me, Georgie. You have to understand, I have something of a weakness for people who are kind to me. And she listens to me – about anything, like what I have to say is important. No one does that. Not really, anyway. She makes me feel… special? Is that the word? … Valued? And I would return the favor instantly, but she looks so sad all the time and we both know I’m rubbish at cheering people up and besides, she spends so much of her time in her seal-skin, swimming and fishing and bellowing at Chapman when he goes for a dip in the ocean, so I get the feeling that maybe she’s only being nice to me so I won’t charge her rent since she prefers the ocean to me, which shouldn’t hurt, since she wouldn’t be the first, but I wish I knew how to make her stay…”

“Rudyard!”

“Yes? What?”

“Do you like Liesel? As in, do you fancy her?”

“Well, of course, I do, but that’s nobody’s business but my own, thank you very much!”

“Then why the bloody hell do you make her sleep on the couch?”

Rudyard smacks his head on the bricks again as he emerges. He grumbles for a moment.

“Now look here, Georgie-“ He sounds more tired than he does angry; resigned and almost sad. “-That’s not how things are done. When I fancy somebody, I don’t ask them to bed. I shove it down and wait for the feeling to die. It inevitably does. And then, since it’s already buried deep in my psyche, I don’t have to worry about giving it a proper send-off.”

“Oh my God.”

“It isn’t as if telling her I like her will amount to anything,” Rudyard continues. “Talking about your feelings has never gotten anyone anything.”

“Rudyard, you stupid-“ Georgie doesn’t finish that thought. “Tell me the story of how you met Liesel.”

“That’s hardly relevant,” Rudyard says. “But it was on the beach. I was trying to enjoy a cheese sandwich as far away from Antigone as I could get, so I’d gone down to the beach. It was an idyllic day – perfectly toasted sandwich, peaceful scenery, really, all except the angry wind, which I managed to stop, thank you very much! And a curious thing happened: a fur coat washed up on the beach at my feet. I picked it up – I can’t abide littering – and then this woman, lovely eyes, totally naked, begged me to give her her coat back. Well. Of course, I did, but not without lecturing her about beach rules! This isn’t the Riviera, after all! The last thing Piffling needs is a nude beach! And then, somehow, we got to talking and I offered her a place to stay until she was back on her feet – or flippers, I suppose. A little shifter humor. And the rest is history.”

“So, Liesel is a selkie.”

“Well, when you put it like that… yes. I suppose she is.”

“And you had her pelt?”

“I didn’t know it was her pelt! I thought some irresponsibly and obscenely wealthy woman had left a valuable fur coat lying about!”

“And you returned it?”

“She was naked! What else was I meant to do?”

“Rudyard. D’you know anything about selkies?”

“Sure. They’re seal-shapeshifters and they enjoy Russian literature, fresh flowers, and get weepy over televised ballets.”

“No, that’s just Liesel,” Georgie said. “Do you know what if means when a man takes a selkie’s pelt?”

“I didn’t take it on purpose!” Rudyard snaps. “It washed up on the beach, I picked it up, I handed it to her.”

“Men don’t normally do that.”

“Are you saying I should have kept it? Proved all those damned rumors true? That I can only earn someone’s affection by enslaving them?” He sits down on the hearth. Drawing his knees to his chest, he looks bleakly over at Georgie, who has abandoned her reading. “I didn’t realize then that she was a selkie, but even if I had, I still would have returned her pelt to her. She deserves to choose for herself how she wants to spend her life.”

“Have you noticed how she’s chosen to spend her life?”

“Miserable in the funeral home at night and in the morning; in the ocean the rest of the time?”

“With you.” Georgie joins him on the hearth. “When a human offers a selkie her pelt back, he’s proposing. She accepted. Congrats, sir. You’ve been married for four months.”

“I’ve been what?”

“It’s a shame we couldn’t have thrown you a real stag party.” Georgie elbows him. “I bet we coulda gotten Chapman to jump outta a cake.”

“Good heavens, why would I want that?”

“Dunno.  It would be hilarious, though.”

Rudyard chuckles weakly. Imagining Chapman looking like an idiot, covered in buttercream frosting almost distracts him. But suddenly, the color drains from Rudyard’s cheeks – not that it’s easy to see under the grime.

“Wait. I’ve been married to Liesel for four months?” he asks. “When was anyone planning to tell me?”

“She thought you knew,” Georgie says. “Still does. And you are a rubbish husband.”

“Well, we’ve established that I would be!”

“Yeah, but you’ve been ignorin’ her. Makin’ her sleep on the couch. You’ve never even tried to kiss her… I mean, have you?”

“No, of course not! I just learned that we were married thirty seconds ago! How was I supposed to know I was meant to act as a husband?”

“Dunno. A little cultural sensitivity?”

“I don’t have that,” Rudyard laments. “I don’t even have a paradigm of what a good husband does!”

“What about your mum and dad?”

“We don’t talk about them,” says Rudyard. “Their marriage wasn’t exactly ideal. I’d want to do better by Liesel. She deserves better than to only be acknowledged on birthdays and holidays.”

“Yikes.”

“Indeed.” Rudyard runs a filthy hand down his filthy face. “I need to start planning. I need to woo her. Show her I’m serious about making this marriage of inconvenience work.”

“I think the phrase is ‘marriage of convenience’.”

“Tomato, to-mah-to. The point is, I do fancy her and if I want her to spend less time at sea and more time with me, I’ll have to let her know, won’t I?”

“So you’re not gonna just push this down?”

“Things have changed, Georgie. I’m a married man now.”

“Just like that, eh?”

“What do women like from romantic partners? You’re a woman. What would you want from your ideal husband?”

“A flamethrower. A helicopter. A trip to the Maldives.”

“Now you’re just being difficult.”

“Nah. Just bein’ me. What would Liesel want?”

“I suppose I could get up earlier… Go with her to the beach. Learn to make a better breakfast.”

“And ask her to sleep in the bed instead of the sofa?”

“We walk before we run in this relationship. We’ll see.”

“Rudyard…”

“… I’ll ask, but if she leaves me over it, I’m blaming you.”

Rising to his feet, Rudyard walks towards the door. Georgie watches him curiously. He stops at the threshold and turns. For a moment, he looks as if he’s about to thank her. Instead, he nervously fidgets with the wilted collar of his shirt.

“How do I look?” he asks.

“Like hell.”

“Oh. Good. Women love a bad boy.”

As he walks out the door, Rudyard hears Georgie’s last bit of yelled advice: “Oi! Rudyard! Take a shower, you daft bastard!”

What he doesn’t hear as he veers upstairs and towards the bathroom – a shower might not be a bad idea – is Georgie’s whispered hopes.

“Good luck.”

[flippinoptimist]

> Vel : Meet a nerdlord

Today at 2:45 AM

deputyheadmistress Alright, someone talking to you on my behalf about a lack of privacy got to me a bit. But I'm not upset with you for how the internet behaves.

flippinoptimist thats lurky, theyre a little closer to omniscient than is average for most beings, and like kind of giving advice, and they mean well i think they meant it mostly to make me stop chargin around in like, manic mode, though, even if stuff relatin to you was the causal start of the chain sorry you got dragged into it miss granger, and that i wasn't doin the tact thing

deputyheadmistress I didn't mean them, I meant the thread about different faux book titles. But a close to omniscient being is, I suppose, something I'll also have to get used to. I'm at least a bit used to manic teens, though it's not the best way to get shocking information.

flippinoptimist i think my earth age would technically start with a two, but thats sorta recent after you spend enough time around here you get used to the like, multiverse

deputyheadmistress Can we, perhaps, stop talking about the multiverse for a few moments? And talk about something a bit more grounding, like your particular brand of magic. I'm very curious.

flippinoptimist sure its sorta a fusion of everything ive run across, since the inherent stuff that my ~destiny~ tried to put on me isnt the same kind of stuff as the place where im learnin the inherent is more of a "woo, heres a big abstract concept, you are an incarnation / channeler of a shard of it, neato"

deputyheadmistress That sounds like a lot to dig into, but alright.

flippinoptimist the school part is about how you can structure thought and energy flow into symbols and runes and things i'm focusin on artificing ..and the inherent part has given me a knack for illusions i cant figure out how to actually cast spells but im good at making things!

deputyheadmistress Oh! I was very good at ancient runes during my time at Hogwarts, and while I haven't managed to do much with it since graduation, other than an enchanted bag, I'd be really curious to see what similarities there might be. I wonder if you can cast spells. Logic seems like it'd point to yes, but if you're from somewhere else...

flippinoptimist id be curious about them!  i know the words to a few spells but ive never seen  them and do naut have a wand of the kind you are thinking of the wands i know about / make each have a specific spell in them, and are locked to create a specific effect that triggers when a gesture or word or w/e happens

deputyheadmistress That's terribly inefficient.

flippinoptimist sure, its Terrible

deputyheadmistress ... Is that referencing those historical people of note who end up being so infamous people associate them with the word 'Terrible' as well?

flippinoptimist naut much different than having a necklace that makes you invisible though yes! it also enables a billion terrible puns

deputyheadmistress I was curious. It's a bit strange to add it yourself, don't you think?

flippinoptimist (ba dum tsh)

deputyheadmistress Oh.

flippinoptimist it is

deputyheadmistress Well, that explains that, doesn't it?

flippinoptimist but my species has this thing, where on adulthood we each replace our kid name with an adult Title

deputyheadmistress Oh, it's a cultural thing.

flippinoptimist yeah, and i chose a human one

deputyheadmistress Alright. I read a little bit on that.

flippinoptimist because humans are neat and i like them

deputyheadmistress Oh! Well, I'm glad you like humans, then.

flippinoptimist and i respect a lot of the cultural things i see in most of the human places i have found

deputyheadmistress Good, I was about to ask that.

flippinoptimist also everything that comes out of japan is amazing

deputyheadmistress I don't know how I could let you use a wand from here, but I want to try.

flippinoptimist id love to try if you can think of a way! i am pretty good at establishing first contact with new universes, and i could get you alien tech and magic to check out if you wanted for various definitions of alien

deputyheadmistress ... Alien tech won't work so well on Hogwart's grounds. I had to heavily modify this computer so it'd function here.

flippinoptimist i am curious about how

flippinoptimist alllsooo....  ill have to find a copy of the magic version of getting around from place to place

deputyheadmistress Oh! I wrote a whole thesis on how to make magic more compatable with muggle text over the summer, let me...

flippinoptimist but i know where to find it!  couple of steps and itll work out okay

deputyheadmistress I'll send it to you later. It's a bit lengthy, and I have to type it up here. Alright, I'll hold.

flippinoptimist okay i hate to say this because i am definitely interested in exchangin data and showin things, but it feels rude not to remind you before we get much further that a step of getting this to work is probably going to involve me (random internet stranger) havin to figure out what your coordinates are, so i can write them in the format needed for the circley part i can get you the circle rune pattern either way, but if you want a way to actually use it, id need to basically track your IP but, like, fancy and involving you running a thing on a computer let me know if you want to do that part, but heres the circle diagram

flippinoptimist -- flippinoptimist began sending file : transportationcircle.pdf --

deputyheadmistress I have been warned about random internet strangers.... I may have to work on protection wards for a moment, for the sake of safety.

flippinoptimist sure thing i highly advise not using that w/o fillin in coordinates the way it says, and also not without knowin your home coordinates if you step through that thing, the only way back is to know how to write your home address, you know?

deputyheadmistress Alright

flippinoptimist to find home coordinates, install one a these chat programs, and send me a private message, i can use a couple a tools to trace the connection from there and get your code

deputyheadmistress This is certainly the sort of decision I want to be making at five in the morning. Alright, I've got everything set up. What is life without adventure, and the chance to make the headmistress mad at me.

flippinoptimist lol the decision will still be here at not five in the morning, but you wont be able to blame it on the time then shit i should give you the programs shouldnt i -- Discord, Trollian! --

deputyheadmistress Thank you.

flippinoptimist i have a set of coords i can give you that are explicitely for being a neutral place to meet people, but the sky isnt done yet so its janky lookin but!  the building is finished

deputyheadmistress I've chosen a fairly neutral place for the moment, don't worry.

flippinoptimist ok!

deputyheadmistress > Message him on Discord. This will be absolutely fine. Totally.

flippinoptimist > He messages her back!  About two minutes later, he gives her the number version of her coordinates, which she can use to get back home from anywhere.  He also gives her the coordinates to the convenience store, which he mentions is "a pocket dimension under construction"

deputyheadmistress > She'll... Write that down and probably not do anything with it for a while. > If he tries to look at her coordinates directly, it will really really not work, as if his machine were glitching, but he can probably go a few miles out for a nice view of a scottish country side.

flippinoptimist > Neat!  He ..does poke that far, but then sets his machine to go back to looking somewhere else.  The coordinates are saved, but he promises to himself to not use them. if somebody gives you coordinates, you can go places, or people w/ yours can send you stuff or come visit

deputyheadmistress Alright. This is going to take a bit of getting used to, but if you want to come over you can.

flippinoptimist > ..man, he was supposed to be in time out, but lately he'd been doing so well ..until today.. and he'd been leaning into choosing the Chaotic choices more and more often... > What good was putting yourself in time out if you didn't stick to it?

flippinoptimist crazy o clock in the mornin probably aint the best time for first impressions, though its temptin as hell.  i could send across some small magic gunk and weird alien snacks as a proof of concept, and meet you like, tomorrow or another day soon?

deputyheadmistress That sounds good! I'll send you some magic things too, then.

flippinoptimist sweet!  we can compare notes

deputyheadmistress > Time to gather some of George's jokes and some magical candy.

flippinoptimist > He would send an invisibility ring, a few novelty disguises, a small opal that made anyone within line of sight experience a slightly sweet taste (in a well-shielded bag), and a variety of alternian mass-produced snackfoods labled in a clearly alien language.  Ones he thought might not creep out humans too bad.

deputyheadmistress > Bertie botts every flavor beans are a necessity, though she does make sure to include a carefully penned note about what flavors he may come across that are less pleasant. Chocolate frogs are included as well, of course. Things that turn skin different interesting colors, fireworks that make flame animals bound through the air.

flippinoptimist > He is going to admire the hell out of and carefully store these for later perusal.

deputyheadmistress > He also gets a somewhat large coinpurse that he can shove his whole arm in and still seem to not run out of room.

flippinoptimist okay this is a pretty neat bag stupid question and no i am not going ot try, what happens when you turn it inside out

deputyheadmistress You could turn it out for a really long time. I think it'd be annoying to stuff it back in though

flippinoptimist okay, what if i went for a swim in the ocean with it is there a limit?

deputyheadmistress Of course there's a limit. But it can hold a tent or two, several thin blankets, changes of clothing, general everyday use things, and of course money. Thin things work better, obviously. You could probably fit thick blankets, but it'd be way more annoying both to put them in and pull them out.

flippinoptimist that makes a lotta sense and is pretty interestin i have a tech way of carrying lots of stuff, but you mentioned tech was sad

deputyheadmistress Oh! I have a print version of the paper I was going to type up.

flippinoptimist ive got an amulet thats basically like a mr potato head that disguises you all the runework lines up so you can unclip parts and clip in different parts

deputyheadmistress > Send that along, also. There's moving pictures involved, with her pictured. Oh wow.

flippinoptimist modular!

deputyheadmistress I don't think describing it as 'Mr Potato Head' is reassuring, for a disguise, but a modular disguise is interesting.

flippinoptimist it only works when everything is seated in firmly and shut, but its also sort of like legos > He .. sends a modular disguise amulet over too, with a couple of bits and pieces it only does disguises for my species, but hey, maybe thatll be handy

deputyheadmistress Maybe.

flippinoptimist pro tip if you are ever going to go to a place with my species, ask them which color of person is best for you to be can of worms subject really

deputyheadmistress That sounds racist as hell.

flippinoptimist oh yeah

deputyheadmistress Joy.

flippinoptimist p much sometides people call the usual empress "fish hitler" most of the dudes i know are huge rebels

deputyheadmistress The magical world just recently got done with a war similar to Hitler's.

flippinoptimist but!  there are placeswhere things are fine its just good to check if a place is one of them first

deputyheadmistress So I'm a little sick of that.

flippinoptimist i hang out in like three different places where she got deposed differentamounts of time ago yeah thats aight

deputyheadmistress At least there's that.

flippinoptimist speaking of humans, its great how often its naut like that like, sometimes, but anyway people can be pretty cool when teyre given teh chance

deputyheadmistress I do like to believe in the inherent goodness of people, despite how much bad has happened.

flippinoptimist i think people can choose how theyre gonna be theresa lotta nice reasons to choose not to be a dick

deputyheadmistress I should hope you wouldn't need reasons, but yes there are reasons to be nice.

flippinoptimist sometimes bein mean is tempting, otherwise people wouldnt do it you get all wrapped up in somethin, dont see all of it, then suddenly you get a reality check an gotta go "hey is this where i wanna be" and then people ignore the question because they dont wanna think about it and then its sealed, theyre dicks and theyll stay that way

flippinoptimist till they look around again

deputyheadmistress I suppose.

flippinoptimist i spend a lotta time thinkin about it i was a jerk when i was younger, and i decided to be nice instead so i spend a lot of time talkin to dudes who are or were also jerks and we all get better! cause i can help them find the reasons they need to start

flippinoptimist also jerks are sometimes kinda hilarious, and theyre often pretty good at shit.  otherwise theyd have learned better when they ran into a problem they couldnt solve w/o help.

deputyheadmistress It's getting a bit late. I think I should probably turn in for the night, before all of the teenagers wake up and need scowling at.

flippinoptimist that is probably a thing i hope you have a good night miss granger it was nice meetin you

deputyheadmistress It was really interesting talking to you, Vel.

flippinoptimist i try for interestin

deputyheadmistress Do you really need to try?

flippinoptimist not really

deputyheadmistress Have a good night. I'll talk to you tomorrow.

flippinoptimist bye!

[mittensmorgul]

Conversation Hearts

Valentine’s Day fluff masquerading as 12.11 coda fic. Enjoy!

3.8k, ao3

They stop in Salina on their way home from Eureka Springs. It’s still too far from the bunker to bother picking up groceries. Ice cream would be a lost cause by the time they got it into a freezer, but for the sheer sake of variety some of the big box stores in Salina offers both novelty and a conveniently timed pit stop in the seven hour drive home. The traumatic loss of and subsequent regaining of his memories over the last couple of days has left Dean feeling a little too shaky to drive straight through.

Not to mention he really needs to get a new phone. It sucks to keep borrowing Sam’s just to check in with Cas, who insisted on regular updates once Dean had finally told him what had happened. Just in case he suffered a relapse, or any other side effects of being both cursed and cured by witchcraft in the span of twenty-four hours. If he can’t be home already, replacing his phone feels like a good start. He hopes has hasn’t lost all the pictures on his crushed phone, the ones he hasn’t had a chance to back up on his laptop back at the bunker. He should really do that more often, he thinks. Losing his memories has given him an entirely new perspective on things like that.

Hell, the first thing he wants to do when he gets home is to just look at everything. The walls, the books, his weapons-- the light sticks. Touch it all, make sure it’s all still real. Re-absorb the evidence of his own existence. He already sent a text to Mary asking if she’d mind returning his journal. After nearly losing everything, he just wants to hold it in his hands. It’s the most tangible proof he has that he’s real, that his life is accounted for. He knows it’s waiting for him, to page through and recount the proof of his otherwise nearly invisible imprint on the planet.

But Sam spots a sign for a Japanese hibachi restaurant, and hey, that’s the kinda place normal people go to celebrate stuff, right? He talks Dean into stopping with the promise of an onion volcano, so Dean rolls his eyes and teases Sam about catching shrimp tossed by the chef into his big mouth until he comes just shy of preemptively ruining the entire experience for the both of them. Dean knows where the line is, and he congratulates himself on toeing it to perfection.

They fill up on steak and shrimp (yes, even the ones hurled at their heads by the chef), and maybe have a bit too much sake, but everything is good again. Sam had been right. It is a life-affirming meal.

Sam refuses to let Dean behind the wheel until he’s sure Dean can operate a motor vehicle safely. His standards had become a lot stricter in recent days, but Dean tries not to let it get to him. Sam’s probably right again. They leave Baby by the restaurant and wander across the parking lot to Target. They need supplies of the non-perishable sort, and it’s about their last chance to shop in a real store before they hit Lebanon. Win/win, Dean figures.

They make their way through the dollar section, Dean teasing Sam with an assortment of pink fluffy heart things just days before Valentine’s day.

“Still better than the time you tried to give me a human heart,” Sam says when Dean waves a pen topped with a sparkly pink heart in his face before dropping it back into the bin.

“So you’ll be my Valentine?” Dean teases, tossing a couple boxes of conversation heart candies into the cart.

“You shoulda tried that line on Larry,” Sam snaps back, pushing the cart off into the store.

Dean stands there for a second and then shrugs. “Larry probably would’ve appreciated the sentiment, at least.”

“Larry’s a robot, Dean.”

“Doesn’t mean he doesn’t have feelings.”

Sam wanders into the men’s clothing department and studies the assortment of socks for sale. After a few minutes, he tosses a ten pack of white athletic socks into the cart and rolls it away. Dean had stopped, looking at the array of novelty socks and boxers, many of them with Valentine’s Day themed designs. Hearts, cupids… love stuff. Without thinking he picks up a pair of boxers covered with conversation heart candies. He doesn’t even like the damned things, but for some reason he’d already chucked a couple boxes of them in cart, and now he was gonna fucking wear them? Right up against his junk?

What the hell? Did Rowena miss something critical when she fixed my head?

Dean looks down at the words written on each of the hearts. BE MINE. SWEET HEART. ONLY YOU. HOT STUFF. I LUV HUGS.

Yeah, those candies might taste like sugar-flavored chalk, but damn, it’s not like he was gonna put them back. Right now more than ever he could really use a hug. Sam teased him for it in Heaven once, but it wasn’t a lie that he wuvs hugs. He shakes off the weird feeling of deja vu-- probably a side effect of having all his memories crammed back into his head at once-- and stomps off to stop Sam from buying any douchey ipod accessories for Baby.

An hour or so later, Dean jogs across the parking lot, his new phone in hand, to bring Baby around to the front of the store while Sam pays for all the rest of their new stuff. He’d been inordinately relieved with the guy who set up his new phone had been able to recover all the data-- photos, contacts-- from his dead phone and transfer it all to his new one. He calls Cas the second he’s outside to tell him he’s been reconnected to the grid. Cas sounds relieved, and doubly relieved when Dean tells him they’re only about an hour and a half from home.

He’s positively itching to get there now. Just seeing Baby gleaming under the sodium lights gives him a flippy feeling in his stomach. Dean gasps and Cas asks him what’s wrong, and maybe for the first time in his life, Dean means it when he replies, “Absolutely nothing.”  He recognizes her. Because of course he would.

And screw Rowena for calling her stupid. He could forgive her for a lot, but that was crossing a line.

He grins to himself the rest of the way home, knowing the rest of his little family is waiting for him there. Mary. Cas. Castiel. He can remember them now, and he never wants to forget again.

He pulls into the garage just after nine. It had been a really long couple of days, and it’s so good to be home.

Mary and Cas meet them in the garage. Dean walks straight up to his mom and hugs her tight. Not only had he forgotten her, he’d also forgotten how lucky he is to have her back now after almost a lifetime without her. He’d almost lost her twice over.

She lets him go after a moment, patting his cheek. “It’s good to have you home, Dean.”

“Thanks, mom.” He smiles at her, and then sees Cas looming over her shoulder. She steps aside and Dean pulls a surprised Cas into a clenching hug.

It reminds Dean a little of their first hug after Mary had come back, only flipped around. Cas had thought he was dead, and he’d been shocked beyond belief to find Dean alive. Dean had been a little overwhelmed by Cas’s enthusiasm at the time, but now he understands it completely. He’d caught Cas off guard. Cas hadn’t expected to be practically tackled to the floor.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says, slowly wrapping his arms around Dean.

“Hey, Cas. Fuck, it’s a relief to see you, buddy.”

He barely whispers the words into Cas’s ear and feels Cas’s arms tighten around him. Cas sighs, and Dean feels the tension wash out of his shoulders. It’s… nice, Dean thinks. He was right, a hug is exactly what he’d needed.

Sam pops Baby’s trunk and the groan of her hinges reminds Dean that he and Cas have probably been hugging longer than propriety dictates. He clears his throat and lets his hand brush down Cas’s sleeve before stepping back.

“Wanna grab a couple bags? We got some of that tea you like.”

Cas smiles and nods, and follows Dean to the trunk. Sam had divided all the shopping bags into three tidy piles, separated by their respective duffel bags. Dean stuff, Sam stuff, and kitchen stuff. Mary dives right in, grabbing up most of the bags in the kitchen pile. Cas collects the rest and then offers to carry something else with his free hand. Dean passes him a bag with a couple new flannels and a pair of jeans and they all make their way inside to get everything put away where it belongs.

“Just drop it on the bed,” Dean says when Cas follows him to his room.

The bed’s already half covered with Dean’s duffel and several other shopping bags, so Cas walks around the other side and sets it down. “I’ll take the rest to the kitchen.”

Dean nods, glancing up from where he’s dumped out his duffel full of dirty laundry, some of it extra dirty from spending the night passed out in the woods. He makes a face at the state of his green jacket and dumps it in the laundry basket. Hell, he can’t believe he actually wore the filthy thing within ten feet of any sort of food.

Cas watches all of this with interest, still hesitant to just walk out of the room like Dean expected he would. Cas isn’t normally one for dilly-dallying, and it catches Dean’s attention.

“I’m relieved to see you as well, Dean,” Cas finally says when Dean looks back at him.

Dean itches to take the three steps between him and Cas and just start hugging him again, but he thinks that would probably be weird. Instead he finds himself standing there with one outstretched hand. He looks down at his own hand as if it had somehow betrayed him. He has no idea what he’d been planning to do with it, so he clenches his fist and lets it drop to his side.

“What is it you’ve told me before?” Cas asks, letting a smile spread across his face before pinching his brows together in mock seriousness. “Don’t ever do that again.”

Dean can’t help it, and he knows it’s morbid as fuck, but he laughs. “Trust me, I’ll try my damndest not to.”

He remembers looking into the mirror as his last memory of Cas slipped out of his head like a wisp of smoke, remembers trying to hold on to it while everything else drifted away. He shudders, and then feels Cas’s arms around him again, warm and solid and pulling him back from that horrifying memory.

“You seemed like you needed this,” Cas says when Dean doesn’t respond right away.

Dean forces himself to breathe normally; he’d forgotten to breathe reliving his worst nightmare. He hugs Cas back and nods against his shoulder.

“Sorry. I guess it’s gonna take a while to get over that.”

“Don’t ever apologize for that.” Cas squeezes him tighter and whispers. “I won’t let you forget again.”

Propriety be damned, Dean lets Cas hold him together for a few minutes until he can reassemble himself, ground himself in the present. He leans back and sees the mix of fear and relief and something he can’t quite put his finger on in Cas’s eyes, and tries to lighten the mood.

“Did I tell you about the bunny?”

“Bunny? What bunny?”

Dean looks down and sees the grocery bags sitting by the door and smiles up at Cas. “Go put those in the kitchen and get us a coupla beers, and I’ll tell you about it.”

Cas comes back and hands Dean a beer a few minutes later. Dean had finished sorting his laundry and moved on to ripping the tags off his new shirts. Cas looks over the blue plaid shirt Dean’s inspecting for weird stickers or plastic things that would melt into the flannel in the dryer, and then tentatively reaches out a hand to touch the soft material.

“That’s a nice shirt,” he says, and Dean looks up at him with a grin and offers it to Cas.

“You want it?”

“I have a shirt,” Cas replies.

Dean rolls his eyes and pushes the shirt into Cas’s hand. “Variety is the spice of life. Just take it. It’ll look better on you anyway. The blue brings out your eyes…”

Dammit he hadn’t meant to say that out loud. He’d been thinking too hard about all the embarrassing shit that fell out of his mouth when he hadn’t remembered what a social filter was. He’d told Rowena she had plenty of snuff, for fuck’s sake. He’d called her hair bouncy. After that, commenting on Cas’s eyes seems pretty damn tame, especially considering the surprised pleasure his words bring to those sad blue eyes. He locks down his social filter before he can say anything about sparkling or twinkling or… or worse. But Cas is smiling, and that’s always a good thing in Dean’s book.

“Thank you, Dean.”

“You’re welcome,” he replies gruffly despite the smile he can feel tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Are you going to tell me about the bunny now?” Cas asks, draping his new shirt over his arm and taking a sip of his beer.

Dean glances over at the bags of stuff he still has to sort through and waves a hand at the far side of the bed. “Sit down, this is probably gonna take a while.”

Cas gets himself situated on the bed, leaning back against the headboard with one foot still firmly planted on the floor and his new shirt draped across his lap, while Dean tells the story of how he woke up in the woods with a fluffy friend. It leads into a slightly muddled tale of the rest of the weird shit that happened on their last hunt, ending with his epic ride on Larry the bull.

“It sounds like I missed out on an exciting week,” Cas says eventually, when Dean’s down to unpacking the last bag.

It’s nothing but Valentine’s candy and the ridiculous boxers he still can’t fully believe he actually bought for himself. The bed’s otherwise clear, finally, so he sits down beside Cas and pulls the bag up into his lap. He rummages around for something to snack on and comes up with one of the tiny boxes of paste-flavored conversation hearts. He tosses it to Cas.

“What’s this?” He turns the box over and squints down at the big heart-shaped label that says Sweethearts and then looks up at Dean for an explanation.

That’s when Dean realizes he doesn’t really have one. “I don’t know. It’s almost Valentine’s day. I think there’s a law you gotta buy a box of those once a year.”

Cas doesn’t look satisfied by that explanation, but he sets his beer down on the nightstand and opens the box to investigate. He picks out a candy and holds it up for inspection.

“Yes,” he reads out, and then looks to Dean again for an explanation. “Yes what?”

Dean can feel his face heating up. Why had he done this again? Some sort of self-flagellation? Shit, he’d been through enough personal torture this week already. Cas gives up on waiting for an answer and puts the candy in his mouth and chews it up with a look of intense concentration, like he’s trying to rearrange all the molecules into the correct configuration to analyze the flavor.

“These don’t taste very good, Dean,” he says, picking another heart out of the box and reading out the message printed on it. “Love me.”

Dean gulps down the immediate impulse to blurt out I already do, and watches Cas pop the candy in his mouth. He stares dumbstruck as Cas makes a face but shakes another tiny heart out into his hand.

“Angel,” Cas reads, and then turns to Dean with a raised eyebrow. “I assume this one won’t taste any better than the other two.

And Dean’s newly reestablished filter cracks under the strain of holding back. “I bet it does.”

Cas’s other eyebrow shoots up level with the first one, and he stares at Dean. Dean just reaches over and plucks the box from Cas’s hands. He digs through the bag for something better.

“Here. Chocolate. You’ll probably like these. They don’t taste like chalk.”

They’re still wrapped in pink foil and covered with hearts, but hey, they were half price. He shakes a few candies out of the bag and hands them to Cas, and absently unwraps a piece of chocolate for himself while watching Cas’s careful fingers tease the foil off one of the chocolates, smoothing the wrinkles from it as he goes. Dean chews up the chocolate, letting the gooey caramel center squish across his tongue, but Cas sits frozen just staring at the wrapper in his hand with his candy half-raised toward his mouth.

“Do all Valentine’s Day candies convey romantic sentiments?”

“Wha’s that?” Dean asks, leaning over to see what Cas is looking at. The inside of the foil wrapper is printed with a message.

“You’re cute,” Dean reads out, and then grins. “Hey, Cas! Your candy’s hitting on you.”

“You’re the one who read it out,” Cas replies, squinting at Dean. He raises his unwrapped chocolate to his mouth, but stops to point out the crumpled wrapper in Dean’s hand. “What does yours say?”

Dean looks at it and debates whether or not to just wad it up and pretend it doesn’t say anything, but he sighs and flattens it out enough to see the words inside. It’s just a silly game. It doesn’t mean anything. He can play along.

“You melt me.”

Cas puzzles at that for a second, and then nods in understanding. “Because it’s chocolate, and chocolate melts at body temperature. That is amusing.”

Dean tries not to choke at Cas’s interpretation of the sentiment, but goes ahead and starts unwrapping another one. Cas crams the whole chocolate in his mouth and bites down with a pleased hum. “You were right. That’s far more pleasing than the chalk candy.”

“Yeah, we’ll use the other ones to draw summoning sigils or something.” He dumps out the rest of the chocolates on the bed between them and drops the bag to the floor. He’s found something Cas likes to eat; hell yeah they’re gonna eat ‘em all.

“Hug me,” Cas says when he’s unwrapped his next candy.

“Huh,” Dean replies, holding up his wrapper for Cas to see. “Same here. Hug me.”

“Do you think it’s a command?”

Dean shrugs. “Dunno. Might be bad luck not to.”

Cas leans across the small pile of chocolates and wraps an arm around Dean’s shoulders. They lean awkwardly into each other for a few moments, and then break apart to tear into more of the candies.

“Sweet on you,” Dean says, and Cas replies, “You make me happy.”

Dean can’t help it. It’s probably just the sugar rush. He can blame it on a caramel overdose. Plus chocolate’s supposed to trick your brain into feeling pleasure or something, right? He grins and replies, “Aw, Cas, you make me happy too.”

“You didn’t read that in a wrapper, Dean,” Cas admonishes.

Dean shakes his head, looking Cas in the eye. “Don’t need a candy wrapper to tell me that.”

Cas turns as pink as the scraps of foil littering the space between them, but he’s smiling even broader now. Dean knows better than to try and pass it off as a sugar rush this time. They both reach for another candy without looking away from one another, rushing to be the first to get theirs unwrapped and read out their next confessions, because they’re both on the same page now.

“Be mine,” Cas reads out triumphantly, handing the wrapper to Dean.

“I’ve been yours since you collected me from the pit, Cas. Didn’t you call dibs or some shit?”

“I didn’t call dibs on your soul, Dean,” Cas replies, slightly scandalized and slightly overwhelmed at Dean’s confession. “I battled through countless ranks of the damned to reach you first. I didn’t need to call dibs.”

Dean grins. “So you won me fair and square. Impressive.”

Cas rolls his eyes and pops the chocolate into his mouth, pointing at Dean’s still wrapped piece.

“Fine,” Dean says, rolling his eyes and unwrapping the candy.

His heart heaves a mighty thud and then sets to racing when he reads the message printed inside. It’s just two words. He should be able to say them. Cas gets that this isn’t really a game anymore. At least, Dean hopes Cas gets it.

“Love you.”

It comes out a little hoarser than he’d intended, and he’s not entirely sure Cas answers at first because he’s too busy wondering if it’s possible to stare a hole through a piece of pink foil. He squeezes his eyes shut for a second, clears his throat, and then slowly raises his eyes to Cas’s face. Cas looks stunned, like he’s not sure he heard correctly, or if he’s not sure that Dean would ever have said those words if it weren’t part of some silly game. But he looks so damn hopeful that they’re true. So Dean repeats them.

“Love you, Cas. I really do.”

And that’s it, Dean thinks. Cas knows all his secrets now. Every last one. If anything ever happens to him again, he’d never truly be gone. Cas has the complete backup version. He’d thought it should terrify him, to lay himself bare like this, but Dean finds it strangely soothing, to be emptied out of all his long-buried feelings.

Cas just nods for a few seconds. “I love you too, Dean.”

“Does one of these say kiss me?” Dean asks, scooping up the rest of the chocolates.

Cas takes them from his hands and tosses them to the floor. “I don’t need candy to give me commands.”

So Dean leans in and kisses him anyway.

The next morning Cas wears his new shirt to breakfast. Dean beams when Mary tells him it suits him, that it brings out his eyes. Cas smiles over at Dean, and Dean grins back, wrapping an arm around Cas’s waist. He doesn’t need a candy wrapper to tell him to. Then again, he also knows Cas stole his goofy heart-covered boxers, and somewhere over Cas’s hip where Dean’s hand is resting, his fingers press all the most important words into Cas’s skin,  angel, all mine, true love, forever.

There’s no way either of them will forget again.

if you enjoyed it, here’s a link to the ao3. Thanks! :)

[simthorium]

Rae was a student at a small liberal arts school for horticulture and decided to take a break from tending to plants to go to a frat party. She’d invited Nathan, but doubted he’d show up considering how freaked he’d been at the last party they went to together. But, it was nice to kick back and have a beer and people watch, so she wasn’t too bummed out.

A few more minutes went by and Rae was feeling like she was ready to leave when she was spun around by a pair of very familiar hands and pulled into a kiss. She shook her head to regain her balance and looked up at her boyfriend. “I thought you weren’t coming!” she exclaimed, more than happy to see him. “I had a few things I had to take care of, but I wouldn’t leave you hanging like that,” Nathan said with a smile.

“Well, it’s a total shit show,” she said. “Frat guys are stupid. The only good thing so far has been the free beer and watching idiots fall over. Like that.” As soon as she’d said it, two dudes on the dance floor fell into each other, knocking over an entire cluster of cups on the beer pong table. Nathan couldn’t help but bust into laughter at the two drunk guys stumbling to get up.

“This is my kind of party,” Nathan laughed, watching them lean on each other to stand. “I’m glad someone’s enjoying this mess,” said Rae. “It’s been like this all night.” “I need to come to more frat parties then.” “Trust me, you don’t. The novelty wears off real fast.” Nathan was still laughing at the drunk bros on the dance floor, one of whom must’ve heard the laughter, because he turned his head to look at Nathan and scowled, or what looked like a scowl underneath the sunglasses he was wearing at night for some reason.

“Uh oh, I think that one’s coming over here,” Rae said with a laugh. “Dude, what the hell!?” the scrawny sunglasses-wearer shouted. “You think it’s cool to point and laugh at me at my own party? Who the hell even are you!”

“Calm down dude, it’s not a big deal,” Nathan said. “I’m just having a good time, you’re having a good time, it’s all cool ok?” “Nah bro, nah. It’s not. I don’t know who you think you are, but this is my house, ok? And you don’t get to come in here with your bigfoot ass and do whatever the hell you want.” “Ok Trent, relax,” Rae said. “We were just leaving anyway.” “Stay out of this, Rae.” “Hey, man, don’t talk to her that way,” Nathan said.

“Like I said, this is my house, I’ll do whatever I want,” said Trent. The other dudebro who had fallen all over Trent stumbled over as well. “We got a problem over here?” he asked. “Everything’s cool,” said Nathan. “It’s not cool dude, this dude thinks it’s ok to come up in here and laugh at us.” “Ohhhh, is that so dude? Wait a second, I know who this dude is. Yeah, yeah, it’s Nathan Zarro! The dude that went to juvie! They finally let you outta prison? What’d you do again, kill a guy?”

“Nathan, let’s go,” Rae said, realizing this whole thing was a bad idea. “No, I’m fine,” he said, balling his fists, then turning back to the manbun guy. “I am the dude that went to juvie, and no I didn’t kill a guy. But I don’t appreciate you calling me out my name, so I’m gonna need the two of you to back up off me or we’ll have a problem, alright?”

“Oooooh, mister juvenile detention’s gonna show us what’s what, huh?” Trent laughed. “You gonna show us some scrappy fighting moves you learned in the pen, huh Zarro?” “You need to take a step back right now,” Nathan said sternly. “Or what, you think you could fight both of us?” manbun asked. “Try us, Zarro. Let’s fucking do this and see.” Nathan could hear the blood thumping through his head, feel his own anger rising inside of his chest and he was ready to land blows in both of their faces.

“Nathan,” Rae said beside him, taking him out of his stunned state. She grabbed his hand and looked him straight in the face. “Let’s go.” Nathan felt that anger start to release and he looked back at the frat boys to his side. “You’re right,” he said. “These guys ain’t worth it.” He gave a small wave at the dudes and grabbed Rae’s hand right back.

“So that’s it, you really wanna be known as the dude that backed down from a fight!” Trent screamed. “What, you can’t take us? Learned nothing from all those years in prison huh, pussy!?” “Goodnight, Trent,” Nathan said with a wave before he and Rae left.