brushingpast

[brushingpast]

like a stuck pig

had another dream! much more disturbing than the last on multiple levels, as you’ll soon find out if you read this. can’t even class it as a nightmare bc i didn’t wake up upset, but it’s pretty........not good, scoob.

warnings for: dehumanization, animal abuse, blood/gore, torture, cannibalism(kind of? depends on your pov i guess). i think i got them all but this is smth else so plz tell me if i missed one

“We pick people from a very specific pool.”

They turned the oddest people away. It’d taken a year just to figure out their resume requirements, and even then she felt like she barely snuck by.

“They can’t have family, or many friends.”

Usually, it was the opposite, at least with the friends. Most jobs wanted you to be some level of social, have some kind of people skills. But these guys— they wanted the quiet, the listless... the lonely.

“A history of payment defaults is a plus, especially on rent, if they have any history at all.”

What kind of place thought it was good to be late on payments? What kind of employer would want that in an employee? Even now, with the state everybody was in, who would go looking for that? How dependable could a person be, how suitable for a job this hard to get, if they never paid their bills on time?

“They have to need the money badly enough to obey without question.”

They wanted people desperate. They wanted people who were down, who were beaten, who were alone and without hope for anything better and truly, painfully desperate.

People like that’d do just about anything.

“At least, until they can’t question anymore.”

There was no way to anticipate something— something like this. A slave trade, they thought. Some kind of trafficking. Maybe a drug lord who figured out a good scheme just as the world went to shit.

“So, we get criminals.”

But those were the kind of people they drew in, not the kind of thing they were running. It was bigger. This plant was just one of many.

“The poor.”

They supplied the whole country. Expanding every day.

“Nosy. Little. Reporters.”

She’d bought their products. Everyone had. They filled a hole in a collapsed economy, more than one. Holes that needed to be filled so badly, no one questioned too deeply when they were. The freight system that recovered first— that was them, too. Maybe that was how they started. Not that it mattered. Not when she’d... she’d...

“It’s as close to a perfect system as anyone’s ever come.”

Oh god, she’d—

She retched, right there on their pristine steel floors. The two guards dragging her barely noticed, the one to her left leaning away enough to dodge the bile that came up, his stride never faltering. They marched her closer to the observation window. She tried to dig her heels in, to twist away, but they were strong, and they had their orders.

Show her.

She looked.

Not many kinds of magic worked anymore. They’d hurt the Earth too deeply to pull anything else from it, and that included power. Only the most dangerous things were possible, now. Blood magic. Soul magic. Things people might’ve done once or twice in their lives, if that, and only tiny, tiny things. The only way to channel them safely were runic circles, but they needed to be dug into the Earth, and so they were iffy now, too.

No one sane risked it.

These people... these people were so far beyond sane.

The floor inside the room was stone. Carved into it, deep rivulets glowing faintly red with the blood already spilled over them, were two runic circles. In the middle of one knelt a man, naked, expression tense and fearful. He wore a metal collar, chained to a post sunk into the very center of his circle. In the middle of the other, chained the same way, stood a cow. Docile, tail flicking away non-existent flies.

As if they’d been waiting for her, a chant began, smooth and fast and spoken in a language she didn’t know. The red glow brightened, the man in the circle cringing from it, the cow grunting its displeasure. For what couldn’t have even been a minute, the chanting continued, until it cut off and together, man and cow screamed.

“All that needed to happen was the end of the world.”

A lot of people saw it coming. It was hard to miss. Nature protesting, fighting back, telling us as clearly as weather and icebergs and bees can that we were doing something wrong. A lot of people listened, too. Tried to stop it, slow it at least.

The world used to run on magic. Cities: lights, weather forecasts, cars, ice boxes. Rural areas, too: plows, fertile soil, rifles, rain songs. Everywhere and everything. And then— it didn’t. It faded, got weaker and weaker until one day... nothing.

People panicked. In a single day, the world collapsed in on itself. It took a long time for any kind of recovery.

Of course, then people started experimenting with things they really, really shouldn’t.

“Now...”

Soul magic. Mystical even in a world full of the fantastic. The kind of stuff you read about in a romance novel and sighed at how amazing it would be if it really happened to you; or a fantasy book, and dreamed of the adventures you could have, if only. Not something real, not something practical.

And even if it were— you didn’t mess with souls.

But, well. Needs must.

“Free labor.”

They pulled her along to another window, practically carrying her as she stumbled every other step. All she could see was the ritual room, the man crumpled to the floor, curled up and whining; the cow, frantically trying to stand, feet skidding out from under it, used to more traction than hooves provided. She didn’t know if the window had been two-way, but the cow’s panicked gaze had locked onto hers, and her heart pounded so hard in her chest that she couldn’t hear herself think.

God. Oh, god.

This time, they pinned her in place before the backroom of a butcher’s shop. Her breathing was ragged, too fast as the man on her right gripped her hair and forced her to see.

There was a cow— not the same one, but it could’ve been, it would be— tied to a metal table, bit in its mouth not doing a thing to muffle its cries. Standing above it was a woman, wearing plain clothes akin to nurse’s scrubs and holding a large knife, stained with blood. Her face was blank as she carved into the creature beneath her, as it writhed and shrieked and bled. The way she wielded the knife was practiced, but she cut slowly, carefully, her motions mechanical.

Nothing behind them, no soul to them at all.

“Meat that tastes better, lasts longer.”

The gaping torso of the cow shined at the edges. Not a trick of the light, but the magic leaking from a body not meant to contain it. She knew it did more than that, sank into the tissue, the muscle and fat, made it more somehow— knew it would fade too quickly to do what they wanted if they simply, mercifully, killed the vessel— but she couldn’t focus on anything besides the wide, terrified eyes of something far too aware to be an animal.

Beside the woman stood a smaller table, atop it a bin filled with cuts of meat. As she watched, the woman cut another chunk free and set it aside.

She had no more bile to bring up.

“As long as meat keeps going out, and no one too important comes in...”

They dragged her along again, but she didn’t pay attention to where. Her feet worked this time, automatically keeping pace even as her mind spiraled. She’d bought— she’d traded fresh bread to eat—

The men at her sides tearing at her clothes was almost a relief, a welcome distraction from her thoughts, until she looked up.

A pig.

Two ritual circles.

The mage, ready to cast, sneering at her from between them.

She fought. She kicked and bit and yanked, but they were too strong, and she was too weak after being led through this place. “No, no, no, no, no,” she shouted, cried, begged.

They shoved her to her knees, locked the collar around her neck, and backed away.

Her wide eyes shot over to the pig, agitated by her yelling but mostly still and calm. No, no this couldn’t—

The chanting began.

The light of the circle flared, and she shut her eyes against it. An aching, tugging, tearing sensation grew inside of her, so deep inside it felt like it came from her soul. It built, along with the red light past her eyelids, built and built until she was crying from the pain and not just the denial.

Then... nothing. No pain. No light.

She opened her eyes.

Across the room, curled up in a tight ball was a woman, whimpering.

It was her.

She tried to push herself up, stumbled and fell on feet that wouldn’t obey. Looked down to find a pink leg, a black hoof.

With the scratchy, piercing shriek of a stuck pig, she screamed.

“Why would anyone care?”

[brushingpast]

Summary:  Having another sapient being sharing your every experience and cataloging it for future reference might've freaked some people out, but not Jasper Ryder. He'd known the AI in his head for years before any of this had happened. It was sort of weird, but the good kind of weird. Still, there was something him and Sam needed to hash out.

it’s just a short thing that i’ve had written for months & finally decided to put out into the world. jasper & sam are having a smart, mature discussion about sexual consent & what it means to have another consciousness sharing your body but having no real choice in what that body’s getting up to.

[brushingpast]

so, i had a dream. it was the kind of dream that seemed perfectly normal even after i woke up, until abt three hours later when i actually thought abt what happened & realized it was. a lil disturbing?? me @ my brain: wtf

anyways i decided after typing up a summary that i should write a lil thing abt it instead. so i did. here it is. warnings for: body horror & unreality. plz tell me if i missed smth & need to tag it!!

"Hey, Jules," a deep voice calls.

I turn. Walking up to me is a man I've seen before, but can't place. His rich ochre skin reminds me vividly of desert clay as it transitions into cropped hair only a few shades darker. Clouds are thick above our heads, but it's midday and the light is thin yet plenty to see by. He stops before me with a smile, holding a long, curved needle and thread in one hand.

"I have a favor to ask," he says, and lifts the needle. "A friend's had an accident, and she could really use a pair of eyes. Not for long, of course - just until we figure things out. You know how it is, don't you, Jules?"

"Totally," I answer. I do know how it is. Things don't always stay where they're meant to be in this place. I wouldn't be surprised if her eyes had sunk down into her stomach, or floated out of her head. I hope they catch them before they get too far away. Replacing things always gets complicated. "Yeah, take mine. Just don't lose 'em, ey?"

He laughs. "No promises!"

Two steps and he's close enough. I don't even have to find a place to sit, because suddenly he's much taller. Or am I much shorter? Either way, he braces one hand on my jaw, the other guiding the needle past my lashes. The poke isn't painful; rather, it's like going for a straw and missing so that it goes up your nose instead - awkward and uncomfortable and pressing in oddly. I try not to blink, but it's almost impossible. Putting in contacts is one thing-!

The man is gentle, and very careful. He must know the theory, but I wonder if he's ever done this before. Still, he's good at it. The slight curve of the needle follows along the back so closely that I feel it as it slides by, pulling the rougher string along behind. He pulls it out by the tip as it pokes through the corner of my eye. When it's free, he grips both metal and thread on either side and smiles again. Perhaps he means it to be a reassuring expression, but his lips are too sharp and his teeth too dull.

It reminds me of falling.

He tugs, and my eye comes out. There's a plop as he catches it before it can escape. He drops it into a pocket and moves on to the other one. It goes much the same, and when he's done he pats my shoulder and leaves.

It's probably still midday. The shadows are thick, the world around me dark, but the ground is solid beneath my feet and leaves rustling are behind me. I am real, or as real as anyone can get. As real as the earth and the trees. So… maybe not so real.

I wander around for a time. The air cools as the day winds down, literally if the old wind-up clock tower in the distance is anything to go by. I follow the tick-tick-tick long enough to enter the woods and longer still. Whispers chase me until I turn and chase them back, and for a while there is nothing but me and the sleekness of the waterfall trees and the taste of wood burning in the air.

Between one step in the next, he is before me again. He doesn't speak, just presses my eyes back into my hands. I can tell they're mine the same way I can tell the fingers holding them are mine- they bear the same heat. I try to pop them back in facing the right way, but even if I don't things will sort themselves out. They turn and wriggle, getting comfortable after their time away. Once they've settled, I open my lids and see nothing. But it's night. There's no reason to panic. I find my way to the edge of the trees, look up, and yes-

There are the stars.

[brushingpast]

Death Lesson

english prof: gives me a choice between writing about family history, historical fiction, or big history

me: lunges at ‘big history’ aka ‘abstract fiction’

Every repetition, Time eagerly awaited the relative ‘first’ mortals to succeed in traveling through his distinct layer of reality. Their young planet had only just begun to develop primates, and humans ever craved more knowledge of their origins; this was invariably their ‘first’ stop. Intangible and incorporeal against a jagged cliffside, Death observed the bouncing, the wiggling toes, and the glowing complexion of eir companion. Time, like Death, possessed a vaguely humanoid figure. He was made up of glittering gold sand, similar to what might be found inside an hourglass; the only thing separating him from a particularly lively sediment sculpture was a long beard trailing from his chin down to his waist. Made of the same substance, if a bit lighter, it somehow managed to appear soft and light despite its density.

Death, in contrast, was plainly a snow-white human skeleton swathed in a cloak of shadows that swam around him like prey skirting a predator. Ey had always been fairly fatalistic, and didn’t often put effort into looking anything other than the humans’ future personification of em. Similarly, ey never truly understood Time’s fascination with mortal temporal travel. Only minor details ever shifted from repetition to repetition. What was the curiosity?

Time’s attention snapped to the ripple in the cosmos as it appeared below them, beard fluttering as he turned. For a moment, the air was uncomfortably thin, the foliage blew back by an unfelt breeze, and the scent of fresh fruit flitted by. The contraption that tumbled out of the rift dug deeper into the soil on one side and held two wide-eyed human women. They were from perhaps their 26th century, if Death remembered the nebulous impressions of the previous repetition correctly. The brief- vast- lingering- period between the Cessation and Dawning tended to smother those memories like arson-smoke.

Time swore and Death blinked. Rarely did the chrono-entity use language that hadn’t been released to the universe by the mortals yet, but then, this was an event special to him. Curious, Death hummed a low, echoing note.

“I owe Life a fountain of youth,” Time sighed, in a dialect of the previous repetition’s gaseous consciousness- the last to give their energy to the Beyond. Specifics had always been easier for Time to grasp. “I was so certain it’d be spotted.”

It took Death a long moment to pick out his meaning. The humans inside the machine were pressed against its polished windows, chattering excitedly as they pointed out each towering plant, ragged geological feature, and bumbling insect they could see. If the sky had been visible beyond the thick layer of clouds rumbling ominously overhead, they no doubt would’ve been exclaiming about it as well. Looking at them, Death remembered countless times this same event had occurred, remembered their lifespans stretched out. Ey didn’t need to look now to know that they would not live more than three months past the day they returned to their time. Such was the danger of testing a spacetime device powered by dark energy.

Ah, Death thought, and rolled the pitch-black orbs that stood for eyes. Such was also, it seemed, the danger of testing a spacetime device that lost Time a bet because it was striped rather than spotted.

“Why not simply look ahead to obtain your answer?” Death rumbled.

“That’d be cheating!”

“I’ve no doubt Life did just that.”

Time pouted and his beard fluffed itself up indignantly. “She said she wouldn’t, but if Space found out...” Death inclined eir skull. Space tended to bend most things she came across- especially rules. “Still!” Time continued. “It’s better to let yourself be surprised once in awhile. You could do more of that, Death.”

Death frowned. The travelers embraced, wide grins stretching their lips. They pulled apart just as the storm finally broke, keeping hold of each others’ hands as they watched nature’s furious beauty in a setting more pure than they’d ever seen before.  The automatic reversal of their trip began seconds later. Death could feel the energy building by the way it submerged the area in a clump of jittery static, the way the trees bowed, and the way the smell of charred berries blew past. It was all identical, or close enough, as far as Death could tell.

“If each repetition is exactly like the last, what surprises await?” Death questioned as the cosmos opened up once again and swallowed the humans whole. When it closed again a sharp zip rent the air.

“There!” Time exclaimed. “Do you see?”

Death turned at Time’s gesture, eyeing the muddy hollows before them dubiously. Time motioned again and now Death saw it. An imprint left by the humans’ machine. It dipped deep into the ground, malleable earth and sparse grass having been no match for the cold steel. Ey barely remembered the same thing occurring before and almost missed the difference. The dent was rounded, as opposed to the sharp slices the last repetition’s machine had sliced into the mud. A simple design change, nothing more- any number of little details could’ve caused it, much like the stripes-

“Oh,” breathed Death. That was the point, wasn’t it? The little details, because the big things were truly inevitable, but each repetition- no- each revolution was unique in an infinite number of miniscule respects. And those respects were... well, they were everything but death, weren’t they? Death always went the same way, after a point, but the others...

While blithely peering into the fading energies, the decaying lives, and the escaping souls, ey had pulled away from the others without ever noticing. All paths lead to the same end, after all, and in many ways ey was that end. Seeing those paths unchanging for untold eons had allowed em to believe any fluctuations that made themselves known insignificant and uninteresting. Ey hadn’t considered that by that way of thinking, ey was dismissing the others as much the same.

Ey had, perhaps, been taking eirself a bit too seriously.

It was no wonder Space had been avoiding em, and Time had been dragging em along to events such as this for... quite a while.

Time grinned, his smile a rising sun. “Cause and effect’s one of my favorites, but being affected isn’t always fun. I wonder what’ll happen because of those curved edges.”

For an instant- for an age- Death could see it: the device popping back into existence ten minutes from whence it left for its grand expedition, off balance enough to tip, the resulting early medical scans on the mortals-

“No peeking!” Time chastised, and it was gone. Death let it go and stared at the hexagonal canal as it filled with rainwater. The endless possibilities... how had ey forgotten?

Death glanced up at Time and offered an apologetic tilt of jaw.

Time laughed and watched with em as the water overflowed the outline. “Oh, I can’t wait until next time!”

[brushingpast]

Minnesota Gothic

It’s four in the morning just outside the fast food joint you work at, the full moon glowing a bit too brightly in the sky. A few metres away a garbage truck lifts the metal bin. You see nothing but a few stray napkins fall, yet you hear shattering glass. The bin is set down with aching slowness. A loud crunch echoes, all four wheels bent unnaturally. That’s the second time this week. The manager’s going to be pissed. Something slow and glinting a suspicious red oozes out from under the bin. The driver waves when he notices you.

The last parents have herded their children away from the slide and the jungle gym. You are alone on the playground as the sun sets, swinging gently and ignoring the marks the chains holding you up are branding into your skin. Underfoot, the sand turns to glass. The rubber of your shoes starts to melt, and you pretend not to notice the scent of charred meat, or the figure now swinging beside you. The fire pit across the park is now a well, bucket and crank and all, overflowing and cooling the glass with long hisses and rising steam. Your companion giggles. You do not look over.

All the lights inside the city bus are working fine, but the shadows are missing. The very back is hoarding them, entrenched in darkness so thick it’s impossible to know if there’s really a wall or if it leads somewhere else. Thorny vines wind their way out of the dark, twining around passengers’ ankles. A man grimaces when one digs into his shiny dress shoes. The smell of rotten apples is overpowering. Someone stands to exit and the vines let them go, but not alone.

A small, cramped bookstore has a mirror along one wall. The shelves are so close together that two people can barely stand back to back between them without touching. Thin purple smoke escapes from the pages as you flick through your selection. Two to the left, black sludge drips from the binding of another. You happen to look up, glancing through the gap where the book in your hand used to be, and catch the eye of your reflection. It winks. You did not. There is breath on the back of your neck.

You walk circles around a mall bigger than it has any right to be. Mid afternoon on a weeknight means that most people are still at work, but that says nothing about the ones that aren’t people. By now it’s as easy as pie to avoid their eyes. The stores rearrange themselves around you, and the third time you pass the underwater exhibit you decide to take the hint. An electric eel nearly as long as you are tall swims beside you in the waist deep water and you step politely aside to let it pass.

You fish on the lake beside a stranger with a tackle box so big he must be compensating for something. The air is still apart from the singing of your lines with each cast, each throw a new note in a symphony of patience and abduction. Below the surface, the schools come to know it as the British did the sirens in the second world war. Above, the stranger hooks a big one. The water rages in crashing waves, the dock shudders, the stranger’s grin is manic. When the rod snaps in half, he follows it in with a whoop of glee. The lake calms. The stranger’s tackle box is open, and contains only a single Big Mouth Billy Bass. It stares longingly out at the water. You cast again.

[brushingpast]

A brief intro to one of my many Dragon Age ocs. Hawke, Anders, and Fenris meet up with their templar contact inside one of the circle towers they’re bent on freeing. Darren’s more than just your average sympathetic Chantry boy.

“No guards,” Anders murmured as they snuck up to the massive stone tower.

“Which either means our guy came through, or it’s a trap,” Hawke said, just a bit too brightly.

Fenris grunted. “Nothing new, then.”

The front doors of a circle tower were rarely locked, and they weren’t tonight. The three of them crept inside, each wielding their weapons of choice and eyeing the empty, eerily silent space around them suspiciously. It was not the first time they’d snuck into a tower, and would likely not be their last, but it was the first time their contact was an honest-to-Maker templar. There was no proof of treachery, and the Ostwick circle needed to be freed, so here they were.

“There,” Anders breathed, gesturing to the doors shut tight at the end of the hall. It lead to the atrium, just where they were supposed to meet their contact. Hawke and Fenris stood back, and Anders waited a beat before throwing the doors open, keeping them from slamming against the walls with a bit of force magic.

The sight that greeted them had all three coming to an abrupt halt and staring, just for a moment. A single templar stood, without helmet nor gauntlets nor weapons, amidst a sea of his comrades. It didn’t seem any blood had been spilt. There was a glyph array covering the entire floor, glowing a faint green, and every now and then a snore would tear through the silence.

“A sleeping array?” Anders asked incredulously.

Hawke was pursing her lips to keep from smiling. “Effective.”

“I had thought templars... sturdier,” Fenris mused.

To their surprise, the lone templar standing laughed. “Templars, unlike mages, are taught to resist more- brute force attacks on their minds. If your spell is strong enough, or sneaky enough, it will often catch them unawares.”

Hawke could see Anders committing this to memory even as he watched the man warily. He was average height, with light brown skin and hair as dark as the night’s sky. He looked them over curiously, lingering both on Fenris’ brands and Anders’ person a bit longer than strictly necessary. It put her a bit on edge- people usually eyed Fenris, but what had he seen in Anders?

“This is all of them- us, I suppose,” the templar continued with a sweeping glance around the room. “A bi-annual gathering, past curfew so most mages wouldn’t notice a thing.”

“Why isn’t the array affecting you?” Hawke asked, drawing his attention to her. “You’re standing right in the middle of it.”

“I was expecting it,” he answered. “However, I am not as unaffected as I might appear. It’s trying to coax me to sleep. I feel as though I’ve been awake for days, standing here.” He took a deep breath, let it out in a heavy sigh. “If you would accompany me to the First Enchanter, we can set about properly freeing the tower.”

He indicated a stairway to his right with an outstretched arm, and they followed him up.

“How long have you been working against your brothers-in-arms?” Anders asked when they were in a more open corridor, attempting to goad.

“Actively?” the templar responded, no hint of hostility in his tone. “Since the rebellion started. Subversively? Nearly five years, now.”

He didn’t look a day over twenty. “How old are you, exactly?” Hawke asked.

The templar glanced back with a small, amused smile. “Coming up on 22.”

“You were barely more than a child when you joined,” Fenris added.

“I suppose that’s true,” the brunette admitted.

They climbed another staircase, and Anders prodded in a mildly scathing tone, “Subversively?”

“Keeping my fellow templars from abusing mages when I could,” the templar explained. “Creating safe spaces. Making it known that I was safe. Sneaking things in and out. Little things- trinkets and letters. A few times, homemade meals from distant family.”

Yet another staircase. Anders was staring at the back of the man’s head like he wasn’t sure whether to believe him. Which was fair, Hawke thought. Templars could be sneaky bastards.

“It’s stricter, here, than in Antiva,” the brunette continued. “The Knight-Commander’s not unreasonable, but he isn’t kind, either. There’s-”

Light, pattering footsteps caused him to trail off, frowning past the curve of the wall. The feet sounded too quiet to be boots, too quick to be fully-grown legs. Still, it paid to be cautious, but the templar waved them down when the reached for their weapons. He took a few steps forward, put his hands on his hips, and waited.

Not a moment later, two small children, a boy and a girl, came barrelling around the corner. Anders took a step forward as if magnetically drawn to their worried expressions, but when they caught sight of the templar they ran directly to him with barely a glance at the strangers with him.

“Darren!” the boy gasped, and they both bent over their knees to catch their breath.

“It’s Marcus,” the girl said as quick as she could. “You have to come.”

“Of course,” the templar murmured, laying a gentle hand on each of their heads. The way they calmed instantly had Hawke blinking at the odd scene. Fenris was frowning slightly, and Anders looked like he couldn’t decide whether to be angry or concerned. Darren turned to the three of them with a furrowed brow. “I need to see to this, immediately. The First Enchanter is in her office on the top floor; or, if you’d like, you can follow me.”

Anders didn’t miss a beat when the templar started off, the two children at his heels, so Hawke and Fenris followed behind.

“Is Kevin with him?” Darren asked.

“Yes,” said the boy. “It’s better than the last time. They were meditating like you told them, and when it happened Kevin started humming right away, but it didn’t echo like when you do it.”

“Was he shaking?” the templar prodded.

“A little,” the boy answered.

Darren nodded to himself, seemingly satisfied. “And did Sora put your watcher to sleep again?”

“Yes!” the girl agreed happily. “She’s getting very good.”

“That’s good,” Darren praised with a smile.

“What’s wrong with this Marcus?” Anders asked, and the children blinked up at him like they’d just noticed he was there.

“Who’re they?” the girl questioned.

“Friends,” Darren answered the quicker question first, and then turned to the apostate. “A... traumatic event. Before he was brought to the circle. He... sinks into his nightmares. It takes a special method to bring him out.”

There was obviously a lot being left out, but they’d reached the correct room and Darren strode in without pause. There were more children, the oldest of them apparently reading them a story by candlelight. They all looked over when Darren came in, but made no move to rise or greet him, other than a few waves. The templar waved back, nodded to the one reading, and made his way over to the couch tucked into the corner.

A rather thin boy lay asleep on it, shivering badly. An older boy with cropped blond hair was leaning over him, humming softly, when Darren’s boots on the stone made him turn.

“Darren!” the boy exclaimed, obviously relieved. “We were meditating, like you said, just breathing, but I guess we went on too long. I didn’t know anything was wrong until he started shaking!”

“It’s alright, Kevin,” the templar soothed, setting a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You’ve been humming like I taught you. It’s been helping. You’ve done very well.”

“Let me see him,” Anders said, stepping closer, raising glowing green hands. Kevin was off the bed like an arrow, planting himself between the unconscious boy and the apostate, a low level fire spell building in his palm.

“No!” the blond said firmly, angrily. Anders lowered his hands slowly, let the magic fade away. “No magic, or I swear I’ll-”

“Idiot,” Darren said, though it was fond. It was enough to make the fire spell wither with the boy’s concentration, but he was still glaring at Anders. “You want him to stop and you go right for a fireball? Why not freeze him in place?”

“Oh,” the kid said, and started to build up an ice spell.

Darren sighed loudly. “Don’t actually do it. We’re going to have a long talk about your ego later.” He tugged the back of the boy’s robes so that the blond sat on the edge of the couch. “Magic makes it worse,” Darren told them, Anders specifically. The apostate’s brow furrowed. “The trauma. He was possessed, for a short time. The demon was expelled and he was brought to the circle, but sometimes his memories drag him down. The pain, mostly.”

The brunette turned from them, then. “Kevin. You help him this time.”

“But-” Kevin protested, eyes wide.

“No buts,” Darren told him. “I’ve taught you what to do. Now it’s time to do it.”

The boy’s expression firmed. “Right,” he agreed determinedly. He crawled up onto the couch, straddling Marcus’s hips and leaning down to press his forehead to the younger’s.

“Make sure to focus on my voice,” Darren instructed as Kevin began to hum. “You’ve already got a connection, from the meditating and then the humming. Focus on widening it, just a little. Dip your fingers into the Void like I taught you.” The boy’s humming began to echo faintly, not off the walls but off of the people present. Hawke felt it vibrate through her spirit.

“Good,” Darren encouraged. “Don’t reach for him. Let him come to you. A port in the storm. Nod when he’s with you.” The few moments it took stretched on for an age, but eventually Kevin nodded slightly against Marcus’ head. “Good. Now pull back. Gently. Away from Marcus first, then the Void. Very good. Take a deep breath. Open your eyes, but don’t move.”

Kevin followed every instruction to the letter. They watched as Kevin stared down at Marcus, evidently waiting for something, and finally the younger boy’s eyes blinked open.

“Now watch his eyes,” Darren told him. “His pupils are very small right now. Watch him until they’re about normal, and then sit up.”

Again, they waited. Longer this time, but when Kevin finally leaned back, Marcus blinked a few more times and truly seemed aware of his surroundings for the first time.

“Kevin?” the boy asked, voice a bit hoarse. “But-” He turned his head and caught Darren’s smiling face. “Darren?”

“I’ve been teaching Kevin,” the templar said. “He’s the one who pulled you back.”

Kevin beamed at Darren, and his grin softened and shrank until it was something tender when he looked down that Marcus. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” Marcus answered, and then surged up off the couch to hug his friend.

Darren watched them with soft eyes for a moment before standing from where he’d knelt and leading them quietly from the room, back on their course for the First Enchanter. “The rebellion has not caused nearly as many abominations or blood mages as the Chantry would have people believe, but there are still... some.”

“He seemed young for a demon summoner,” Fenris observed.

“He didn’t,” Darren said tiredly. “It was... something akin to a Harrowing, from what we saw when we got there. Only the younger ones weren’t expected to best the demons so much as give in to them.”

“That’s... horrifying,” Hawke said softly, and glanced at Anders, only to find him a few paces behind, frozen in place and eyes flickering blue. “Anders.”

“Great,” Fenris muttered.

The templar was either incredibly reckless or incredibly stupid, for he took the steps necessary to stand right in front of the glowing apostate. Hawke reached out to yank him out of the way, but it was too late, it was Justice now rather than Anders, and-

-and the templar did not flinch away. Justice did not attack, did not even speak.

“What are you called?” Darren asked. “Why show yourself now?”

“I am Justice,” the spirit answered, righteous fury filling his voice. “The mages you spoke of- that would harm their own in such a despicable manner-”

“-have felt the wrath of Justice,” Darren cut in, words oddly deliberate, and they stared at each other for a very long moment. “They have paid for their crimes with their lives. All that is left is to care for their victim. You are not needed right now, Justice, not so much that you must overwhelm this man so completely.”

Hawke was certain the templar was about to find himself missing his head, but Justice only scrutinized him silently, judging his sincerity and his honor in a way only a spirit could. And then he nodded once, and the glow faded, cracks in Anders’ skin sealing up as if they’d never been.

Darren let out a long breath and shook his head, pointedly ignoring the flabbergasted look Anders was shooting him. “Well,” he said. “Now that we’re done with that, how about we get up to the First Enchanter, hm?”

The templar started off, and for a second, all they could do was stare.

[brushingpast]

Title: Luck

Rating: Explicit

Fandom: Dragon Age; Pairing: Zevran/M!Warden

Summary: Kyle meets Zevran. He's got a bit of sixth sense for trustworthy people, and may or may not take advantage of the fact that Zevran is such a person.

Warnings: m/m smut, minor knife play, minor d/s

[brushingpast]

May your greaters guide you shrewdly and your friends remain long beside you. May your equals stay within your sights and strangers step warily aside. May your lessers beg your wisdom and your enemies fall to their knees before you.

best wishes of a comrade

[brushingpast]

Card Back Doors

He sets his pile of cards on the ground and takes a deep breath, puffing up his chest before letting it out in a whoosh. The room he’s in smells like dirty socks and Cheetos, he thinks. He tries to crack his knuckles like he’s seen on some of the movies the older boys watch, but nothing happens when he laces his fingers together and straightens his elbows out in front of himself. Oh well. He’ll figure out how to do it one day.

He slowly picks up one card at a time and brings it close to his face, just to make sure it’s what he thinks it is and it’s not gonna trick him into putting it in the wrong place. He sets it down just as carefully into its proper pile. It goes on like that for longer than he thought it would. Just when he’s setting the last card down, a huge gust of wind comes through a window he’s sure was closed. He doesn’t have time to cover the cards, and the wind blows them all around. Some even fly up over his head!

When the wind calms down, he looks around the room and sees that, in three different spots, there’re two cards upright, leaning against each other. Did the wind know he wanted to make a house? Did it try to help him? The cards he’s watching start to wiggle a tiny bit and he wonders if he’s seeing the floor laugh even if he can’t feel it, but then he sees something coming off of the card. Maybe it’s a dust bunny the wind scared out into the open? But no, it’s something coming out of the card! It’s... it’s one of the mermaids! And another! They’re swimming in the air like it’s water!

He looks at the other cards and sees the bike riding fairies and the monkeys are coming out of their cards too! One of the monkeys hangs off the corner of its card, and a fairy rides its bike down the edge of the one it came out of. Mouth hanging open at the surprise he just got, he watches as each group of card-people starts gathering their scattered cards up and... building houses!

After a few cards are set up, he’s pretty sure they’re having some kind of contest because of how they’re looking at each other. They’re not being mean or anything, but one of the mermaids sticks its tongue out at a monkey and the monkey sticks its thumbs in its ears and waggles its fingers back. He’s also pretty sure that they got more cards than he had from somewhere because the monkeys have already made a tree out of cards and are starting work on the actual house up in it. The fairies look like they’ve decided their house would be better if it had a bike ramp on the roof. The mermaids are making a pool in their backyard. Too much stuff for how many cards he had.

When they’ve all finished, they swim and ride and jump over to him. They stare at him and he stares back. Nothing much happens until a monkey waves its hands above its head. He sees a mermaid roll its eyes, and then it swims up to him, so close that he goes cross-eyed trying to look at it. It makes sure he’s paying attention, which he is, and then points to all of the houses one at a time. It then shrugs with its hands up in the way that usually means ‘huh?’ but right now he thinks means ‘which one?’

He looks over each house. The mermaids have a fancy looking big one with a pool in the back that looks longer than the actual house. The fairies made a house that’s taller than the mermaids’ but also skinnier. It’s also got the bike ramp, which seems like it’s aimed at the mermaids’ pool when he looks at it right. The monkeys have a short tree and then a small house set up in the branches. There’s also a banana made out of a whole card, which makes it huge next to the monkeys themselves. He likes all of them, and he tells card-people so.

They all seem to like that well enough, because they each go back to their houses without making a fuss, and he’s seen plenty of fusses and made a few himself, so he knows what to look for. After a while of watching the mermaids in their pool, the fairies on their ramp(and then in the mermaids’ pool, making speedy escapes each time), and the monkeys in their treehouse, he hears footsteps out in the hall. He can tell they’re coming for the room he’s in. None of the card-people seem to care. He looks at the door as it opens, and then quickly back to the cards, but the card-people are gone and the houses are just messy piles.

The person at the door isn’t looking for him, and leaves right after they see he’s not who they want. When the door closes and he looks back at the cards once again, they’re still in piles, but he doesn’t have time to really feel sad because the smallest of breezes comes through the window. The cards shift around just a bit, and he catches a glimpse of a monkey waving at him, and he smiles.

[brushingpast]

You're so sexy, its not healthay.

am i, now?

tell me more.

[brushingpast]

i wrote this originally around a year ago, but even then i knew that i had to rewrite it. since i just got done doing that, i figured i'd post it. it's based off of a dream i had that went pretty similarly, though this is way more detailed and fleshed out than my dream could ever dream to be. it doesn't have a title bc i've called it 'space thingy' for over a year and don't feel like changing that.

----

“In here,” Oscar said, grinning not a little maniacally and shoving a crate out of his path. The teen dropped to his knees and didn’t hesitate to crawl through the rusted grate he’d revealed. The gang of adventurers followed him easily, having had enough experience with similar scenarios to know the drill. Ryan ruffled his blond hair to rid it of a cobweb and, being the last person through, dragged the crate back where it was, throwing the cramped room into darkness. Pressed shoulder to shoulder, they stood and waiting for Oscar to reveal whatever it was he was going to reveal. As their eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, Jenn glared at Patrick, who apparently hadn’t noticed he was standing on her foot.

A hollow echo filled the room, and the group looked over to find Oscar, his smug smirk lit faintly by the glowing object beside him. The thing looked like an antique, old and finely crafted. It was about the size of two end tables pushed together, and had swirling designs painted across it. Soft blues and greens emanated from it. The areas that weren’t touched by the lights were the long opening at the bottom, which was similar to a ball dispenser of an arcade game, and the nine, randomly sized holes that dotted its face.

“What’s that?” Maya asked quietly, her words ringing through the silence.

Oscar grinned, bouncing on his toes. “I don’t know!” he answered, much more boisterously.

“Okay,” Ryan said, and opened his mouth to continue, even as Jenn shoved Patrick, finally dislodging his foot. “What-” The dark haired boy fell against Ryan, and the blond cut himself off, stumbling and barely keeping himself from slamming into Maya on his other side.

“Something cool!” Oscar enthused, seemingly not noticing the near domino incident, but his amused look said something different. “It teaches you about space, and it’s fun!” He aimed the last bit mostly towards Patrick, who was not the biggest fan of most teaching methods. “I don’t want to spoil it, so I’ll just say that it’s like a cross between an omni theatre and a holodeck.”

“What about space?” Jenn asked curiously.

“The planets!” exclaimed Oscar. “Stars, galaxies, black holes, maybe even the big bang! All kinds of shit.”

“Let’s go, then!” Patrick prodded impatiently. Oscar grinned and did a little twirl to get himself to the other end of the box. He grabbed Patrick’s wrist and tugged him over.

“Hand here,” Oscar ordered, pointing to a particularly bright green corner. Squinting, Patrick was pretty sure he could make out a handprint and obediently fit his hand over it. A loud clang sounded and a fairly large ball dropped down into the holding area of the contraption. It glowed dimly gold and had flickering yellowish rings around it. The rings didn’t seem to be connected to the ball, and when Patrick picked it up and rolled it around in his hands, parts of the rings disappeared and reappeared as he covered and uncovered what they all guessed were ‘holodeck’ emitters.

“Is that Saturn?” Maya asked, intrigued.

“Yeah, I think so,” Patrick answered with wide eyes.

“Now you find which hole it fits into, and you push it through,” Oscar instructed, tapping the box. Patrick crouched and tried to fit the ball through a hold that turned out to be just a bit too small. He shifted and tried another, and this time the ball fit perfectly. The expected sound of the ball hitting the inside didn’t come, but after a few seconds, the contraption started clanking loudly. Patrick stood up and took a few steps back, watching it intently.

Horizontally through the middle of the box, a faint line became noticeable and then more pronounced, the newly formed top and bottom halves pulling apart. The movement revealed a foreboding abyss. Peering into the darkness, the group saw nothing more than seemingly endless black. Everyone glanced at the grinning Oscar in question.

“It’s a slide,” Oscar answered without being asked. “It’s fun, seriously.” Patrick looked at the tunnel dubiously, but then shrugged and walked up to it.

“Anything else I should know before I-?” Patrick gestured to the opening to get his meaning across. Oscar grabbed his chin in an exaggerated thinking pose for a few seconds before shaking his head. His grin told Patrick something else entirely, but the brunette just rolled his eyes. He gripped the top of the box and sat in the entrance like it was any other slide. Glancing back at the others, he found them watching, torn between concern and curiosity. Patrick faced front again and released his hold on the edge, scooting forward to gain a bit of momentum. He heard the panels click shut behind him, and then he was speeding down the slide much faster than he was sure was safe.

The slide was smooth all the way down, with no rivets like normal slides had. Patrick didn’t know if friction was working how it was supposed to because of his ever-increasing speed and the lack of static that playground slides were always full of. There weren’t and quick turns or bumps. It felt like it was delivering him somewhere, like he was a package marked ‘urgent.’

The solid bottom abruptly ended and the brunette yelped, flailing his arms around, but there was nothing to grab hold of. Only a few moments of freefall went by, long enough for him to get the shock of his life but not long enough for him to start to panic, and then some kind of resistance began to slow him down. It happened gradually, but soon he was floating in place. There still wasn’t any light, and he couldn’t even see his hand when he waved it in front of his face.

He’d never seen anything like this- it was so... void. None of his senses had anything to latch onto, and that probably would’ve gotten to him pretty quickly, but then a chuckle came out of nowhere. Patrick dropped his hand to his side and glanced around. That laugh had sounded as if it’d come from everywhere at once. Another chuckle, and this time it was much more distinct, as if it’d come from only a few feet in front of him, and he squinted into the darkness in an attempt to spot whoever it was.

“Forgive me,” the laugh’s owner said, their tone still tinged with amusement. “I am ELI- Educating, Lively Intelligence. I will be your guide while you’re here.”

“Awesome,” Patrick replied, nodding as if this entire situation was something that happened everyday. “Is there any way I could... see you?”

“I suppose,” the voice answered thoughtfully. “Do you have a particular image in mind?” Patrick’s mouth opened and closed a few times, not knowing what to say.

“Someone easy on the eyes,” he settled on after a long few seconds. There was a short pause, and then a surprisingly realistic hologram faded smoothly into existence a yard or so away. Patrick stared at the man for a moment and then whistled lowly. “You’re good.” ELI blinked bright amber eyes and smiled.

“Thank you,” he answered. Patrick was unused to feeling short around others, so the height of the newly visible program gave him pause, as did the wide shoulders. The guy could be a linebacker. Maybe that was where ELI got the look. Just because Patrick didn’t recognize him didn’t mean anything- he knew next to nothing about sports. The hologram’s skin was so dark it seemed to blend in with the background of the place, and Patrick struggled to keep track of his outline. “Shall we begin?”

“Yeah, of course,” Patrick replied quickly with a smile. ELI didn’t move, but a vaguely orange object approached then rapidly. The closer it got, the bigger it became. Once it got close enough for him to see the rings, Patrick knew what it was. The planet rushed towards them and, in another second, they were both standing on the far edge of the outer ring. Not really standing, though, because Patrick still felt like he was floating. Looking up, he thought he might’ve see where the plant ended and the darkness around it began, but there was no way to be sure- it was way too big.

“Saturn’s rings are mostly made up of ice chunks,” ELI informed in a surprisingly casual voice. Teachers were usually at least somewhat formal when they spoke, but ELI was talking like he’d just observed the fact himself. “There are also pieces of rock, but ice is much more common.” Patrick paid closer attention the the lumps floating past him, crouching and tilting his head at a hunk of ice that matched said noggin in size. A few other pieces around him looked to be bigger than his entire person, which had him wondering... “The largest of the ice pieces is around the size of a mini-van,” ELI answered without having to be asked. Patrick stared at him.

“How-” Patrick barely got the first word out before ELI answered that, too.

“I’m programmed to sense any question you may have and answer them promptly and efficiently,” ELI informed. “Some of your species are shy and do not ask question when they have them. I was designed to work around such traits.” Patrick frowned, but he supposed ELI had a point. “The smallest, however, is around the size of your thumbnail.” Patrick blinked, glad he’d had practice following swift changes in conversation, or ELI would’ve left him in the dust.

“Though the rings are quite wide,” ELI continued as Patrick registered a barely-there sensation of sinking. When he glanced down, he found that he was moving deeper into the dense middle of the ring. “-almost one million kilometres in diameter,” The thought of, I wonder how many Earths that’d fit, flitted through his mind and was gone again so quickly he only absently registered it, “they’re only about one kilometer thick.” ELI met his eye. “78.48 Earths could fit, lined up from pole to pole, across this ring.” Patrick nodded, barely remembering wondering about that first place.

A piece of ice about the size of a basketball passed through Patrick’s middle, and he finally realized that it wasn’t just the ground he couldn’t feel- it was everything. Curiously, he reached out to a golf ball sized chunk. He expected his hand to pass right through, but it didn’t. The brunette grabbed the chunk, but his fingers didn’t even have the chance to curl around it before he released it with a pained cry.

“If you concentrate, you can touch the things around you,” ELI confirmed, moving closer. Patrick loosened his grip on his wrist as the pain faded suddenly. There wasn’t even a mark on his palm. “However, whatever you touch will feel just as it does in reality.” ELI’s hand hovered over Patrick’s, and after a moment of concentrating on the teen’s part, ELI’s hand brushed his own. It felt real. “Space is cold,” ELI said as he examined Patrick’s hand like he’d never seen one in person before. “Cold can burn. But injuries here are not permanent, and you will always heal quickly.”

“Good to know,” Patrick said quietly. ELI moved away abruptly, and the scenery shifted. The planet rushed towards them once again, and Patrick was surrounded by what seemed like thin air, though if he looked down he could see a blurry, lightly colored spot.

“The surface of Saturn is a mixture of different gases, none of which are visible to the human eye,” ELI explained. With an overly dramatic wave of his hand, they were enveloped by immense streaks of color. Patrick’s eyes couldn’t track them with how fast they were whizzing by. “Winds can reach around 1100 miles per hour,” ELI said, possibly in answer to Patrick’s passing thought, possibly just another fact on his list of things to impart.

Despite that incredible speed, the clouds of gas were so long that he could at least see their colors before they were gone. Yellow, blue, pink, and red flew past. Though the blue was almost overwhelming, flashes of each caught the brunette’s eye as they rushed by. The gases suddenly slowed to a crawl, though without an extravagant hand motion from ELI this time.

“The different gases are visible to your eye with the added coloring. Hydrogen, which makes up most of the planet, is blue. Helium is yellow, methane is red, and ammonia is pink,” the hologram continued, and then glanced down as if just noticing the expanse of the planet beneath him.

“Below us there is a molecular Hydrogen layer, as well as a liquid metallic Hydrogen layer, and a solid core.” Patrick looked down, then, and though he didn’t know what exactly all that meant, he saw the colors, the glowing layers under him, the stars now dotting the darkness beyond the planet he was learning about now. It was cool, just as Oscar’d said, but humbling, too.

There was a long pause before ELI continued, and when he did, it was in a softer tone. No doubt he’d caught Patrick’s train of thought.“While the atmosphere is quite cold,  at about -190 degrees Fahrenheit, the surface can reach up to 21,140.” The teen wondered at that, tried to imagine that kind of heat, and failed. The closest he’d ever felt was 102 on a hot summer day, or 350 leaking out of a stove.

“Saturn radiates more heat into space than it receives from the sun,” ELI said, sounding almost distracted as he looked out at the cosmos. Somehow, Patrick doubted that he was, but the brunette certainly would’ve understood such a thing if he were. The teen followed the program’s gaze and saw red waves of heat rolling away from the planet, far above the two of them, and he realized then that he wasn’t standing on the planet, but in it. “It’s also less dense than water.”

Considering this, Patrick wondered what would happen if he... The brunette saw a concerned look on ELI’s face, the hologram opening his mouth, no doubt to advise against Patrick’s little experiment, just as he focused a little too hard on the gases around him and fell. It wasn’t like before, where he slowed almost immediately. No, now, he was plummeting, and all he could see were the gases as he passed through them and he couldn’t stop thinking about them, so he couldn’t stop falling and hell yeah he was panicking-- But then, ELI appeared directly in front of him. The teen caught the hologram’s eyes, held them, and thought very hard about how bright they are. Not a second later, he came to a jarring stop.

“You weigh seven more pounds on Saturn than you do on Earth,” ELI said slowly as Patrick calmed his racing heart. So maybe he didn’t exactly enjoy falling to what felt like his death even if he knew that it wasn’t. Sue him. “A day here is about eleven hours, and the planet’s shape is oblate because of its quick rotation.” The hologram’s smooth, deep voice and simply stated facts had Patrick’s shaky hands stilling, and he took a few deep breaths before he opened eyes he didn’t remember closing.

Glancing over at ELI found him staring off into the stars as peacefully as any number of people Patrick knew would relax against a grassy hill and watch the clouds float by. His eyes traced the hologram’s profile for perhaps a bit longer than necessary, and then he turned to stargaze as well.

After a long, lazy time had passed, ELI turned to look at him. Patrick blinked over at him, lids a little heavy and overall a bit lethargic. It was rare that he had time to just be at ease, what with school, work, friends, family... The closest he got was sleep, but that didn’t really measure up. There was just something about laying back and watching the stars without any chance of being interrupted. Well, other than ELI, of course, but the hologram seemed to enjoy it as well.

They both stood, though Patrick only vaguely remembered them sitting in the first place, and ELI took a step back. As he did, Saturn faded away. Patrick felt like he was being pushed upwards (way better than falling, let him tell you), and with neither him nor ELI appearing to move against the endless expanse of stars around them, it was an odd sensation. Looking up as if he might see where they were headed, Patrick saw nothing but stars against a black backdrop. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed ELI glance up as well, and then there was a glowing ring of light directly above his head. Not a halo, but almost as if one had been turned on its side. The brunette raised a brow, and the hologram’s smile seemed to turn the slightest bit sad as he answered Patrick’s unspoken query.

“The exit,” ELI explained.

“Already?” Patrick asked, a little blue, now, himself.

“Each time you come, the number of sites you learn from increases,” ELI assured, and Patrick nodded, content with knowing he could return

“I’ll see you next time, then,” Patrick said, grinning. He twisted his head to look back up at the not-halo, but saw that it was no longer above him. Looking down, he found it at about hip level. Patrick grabbed the edge of what he supposed was another slide and prepared to haul himself into it, but stopped at the last moment, turning to look back at ELI. “But hey, if you don’t mind me asking, how does all this-” He cut himself off as he saw no sign of the hologram. “-work?” Rolling his eyes and huffing amusedly, Patrick pulled himself through the portal.

Immediately finding himself standing on slightly unstable legs, directly behind the object Oscar originally showed the group, Patrick spun on his heel to find his friends all staring at him with wide eyes. All except Oscar, of course, who was smirking insufferably. Shaking his head, Patrick caught himself on the wall as he almost tipped over.

“Well?” Jenn prodded when he didn’t say anything fast enough.

“Made a new friend who taught me about Saturn,” Patrick answered, smirking at his friends’ reactions to his vague answer. He walked over, less wobbly now, to Oscar and clapped him on the shoulder. Patrick gave him a secretive smile, to the annoyance of everyone else. “You were right. That was pretty cool.”

“I’m next!” Maya called loudly, deciding to see it for herself instead of listening to more non-answers. A surprisingly quiet argument between the teens who hadn’t had a turn started up. Patrick grinned a little, wondering silently how long it would be until he got another chance to visit ELI again. Maya suddenly lunged toward the box and fit her hand onto the print before anyone could do anything to stop her, and Ryan shoved his hand into the slot to try and get the ball before her. Oscar, grinning, started scolding them about their lack of patience, telling them to wait their turns, and Patrick snorted.  Not too long, then.

[brushingpast]

[brushingpast]

A Hedonistic Angel and a Drug Dealing Graverobber.

Balthazar wants to try some Z, so who does he go to? Graverobber, of course.

Rated NC-17.

Read More

[brushingpast]

Gonna re-post because I need this in my writing tag. xD

Dean/Impala. NC-17. Utter crack!fic.

You’ve been warned.

Read More

[brushingpast]

Cash. NC-17. Read at your own peril.

Read More

[brushingpast]

12 Supernatural Crack!ships.

Read More

[brushingpast]

So, this was an assignment for US History. I wrote it a while ago but I decided to post it cause my mom’s been showing it to everyone under the sun and everyone under the sun’s been telling me how good it is so I figured WHY NOT.

So yeah I had to pick like 3 events and create a character and write journals like I was that person during that time period. It was around the time of the Revolutionary War. There are 5 entries cause you needed an intro, the 3 events, and a conclusion. Kind of.

So yeah here it is enjoy or something.

Read More