#// he just has this slight excitement about bestowing new knowledge

[monogatcri]

Does Niwa like to tell dad jokes? If so, what's his best dad joke?

In moderation, Niwa loves almost everything joke-wise (don't barrage him with the same thing over and over again -- only his hobbies really warrant this level of appeal), but dad jokes do hold a special place in his heart. Sometimes he'll learn a joke and immediately deem it necessary to inform someone of it ASAP ; usually, the one who is subjected to it happens to be who he's closest to (relationship or radius, doesn't matter). His favorite kinds of jokes are the "expect the unexpected" ones -- no particular one stands out, but examples are as follows:

"Dad, can you put my shoes on?" "No, I don't think they'll fit me."

"Why did Billy get fired from the banana factory? He kept throwing away the bent ones."

"A guy walks into a bar... and he was disqualified from the limbo contest."

"I ordered a chicken and an egg from Amazon. I'll let you know..."

[riddles-fiddles]

Can we have a cat? Part 1

Synopsis: you ask your boyfriend if you two can raise a baby kitten together. Characters: all the housewardens Tags: fluff, silly scenario to warm the heart Notes: gender neutral reader, slight long post

•·.·''·.·•ˏˋ°•*•·.·''·.·•ˏˋ°•*•·.·''·.·•ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Says no immediately after your "can we-" without hesitation;

Is extremely annoyed by your request to take a pet; he's not the best to tend for himself, imagine taking care of a dependable being? By some magical coincidence, the following day you come to Savanaclaw to spend time with Leona, you're met by a fluffy, round and very noisy ball of red hair and twitching ears - Cheka. Taken aback by the unexpected sight, you let the door to Leona's room behind you close with an unattended thud, pulling the cub's attention from his annoyed uncle to you. "Ohhh! Unca's friend came to play too!" with a hearty squeal, the small boy finally easens his grasp around Leona's arm, eliciting a relieved huff from the older lion who seemed to sink more into the bedsheets, trying to disappear. "y/n, come and play house with us!" Your eyes drift around your boyfriend's room, noticing how chaotic and messy it looked - even more worrysome than the usual: clothes nested around some wooded animal dolls, coloring books scattered over the carpet... and a make-believe tent roughly made from a big blanket and two chairs complemented the setting. While you watched the surroundings with amused surprise, Leona finally noticed your presence, limiting his body to simply lift his head from the pillow with a sly smirk slowly musing his lips. "Weren't you asking for a baby kitten some days ago? Well, congrats, you just got the chance to take care of one. Have fun." With a sarcastic chuckle, he rolls over, officially passing over the responisbility of taking care of Cheka to you.

Surprised by your request; when he asked what'd you want for your birthday, he expected for jewels, new clothes or chocolate.

Is a bit reluctant at the idea, since he has absolutely zero experience with landdwelling company animals.

Azul is prideful of the amount of knowledge he has obtained along his devoted years of land studies, but never inclined himself to extend his knowledge so deep into human animal husbandry. He knew it was common to farm animals and some species were privileged enough to live graciously amongside humans, but the intrinsicability of how to care for them was something foreign. And yet, you made it clear that the only thing you desired for your birthday was a kitten. Determined to fulfill the wish of his beloved, Azul ate piles of books and educational veterinary videos on how to properly raise a healthy cat for days on end, even furthering his - scarce - knowledge about different breeds of felines. The octo-mer knew that raising an animal would demand harsh responsibilities and time to dedicate, which could collide with his management of Mostro Lounge, so he chose to search for a more independent breed. When your birthday finally arrived, Azul made sure to give you to a long day of princess treatment - he drove you to all the places you wanted to see, obliging to your wishes, and when the night befell Octavinelle's dorm, he reserved the Lounge exclusively to you two, a romantic dinner by candles and soft music playing on the background, simply enjoying each other's company and talk. "-And now, allow me to bestow my beloved with my most sincere and humble gift," with a dramatic clear of his throat, Azul disappears by the lounge's heavy curtains, only to return with a basket decorated with bows and a cyan blanket covering the mysterious content inside. "Happy birthday, my precious pearl." As he lifts the blanket, the small figure of a siamese kitten lifts its head, greeting you with a quiet, tender meow.

Excited as hell!!!!

Always wanted to get a pet after leaving his home, but Jamil wouldn't let him.

When you first requested Kalim about a kitten, boy's eyes went wide and sparkling, body fuming with joy. "Of course my love! What kind of cat would you like?" He would ask you excitedly, gently grasping your hands on his, a smile so large it looked painful. "Oh, wait, I know, I know!" Filling the air with playful laughter, Kalim pulls you to his treasure room, bringing down a tapestry with intricate drawings woven all over it, depiciting a very inviting oasis with a girl with important looks laying over a big, imposing feline. "The princess from the Scalding Sands was always followed by a tiger. Maybe we could adopt a cub together! He could grow strong and happy with all the room to run around!" Kalim radiated so much, it would be a sin to tell him that owning a tiger is absolutely unreal, but then there goes Jamil, ready to slam some world-shattering rationality, turning his bright smile into a frustrated pout. Some days after, though, you're certain to get a delightful surprise from Kalim! During one of your Oasis dates, the Asim boy brings you to a beautiful corner of the shared paradise between you two, laughing all the way while carefully leading you through the tricky sand, his hands gently covering your eyes. "Hold on a little longer my love... and... now you can see my surprise!" Finally, he dramatically reveals his loving gift: a baby bengal kitten. Not really a tiger, as you two had envisioned, but equally as stunning.

Fervently refuses it

Vil dislikes seeing you sad, but he can't simply be talked into adopting a kitten. Too much hair, it will ruin his perfect clothes.

"Mon moitié..." he sighs, cautious with his tone. His voice above a whisper as he gently caresses your palm. "I understand the desire to care for a cute, vulnerable being, but it wouldn't work." Despite all your efforts to try and charm Vil into your idea of taking mutual care of a kitten, the man was harder to convince than you expected, showing how determined he was on keeping his looks always the living definition of perfection. Although stubborn on his decision against it, he proved to be patient enough to endure your contant bickering. You passionately tried to show him the bright side of owning a kitten; health benefities, dozens of magazines talking about how animals makes you look even more attractive, but nothing was nothing to ring his bell, only eliciting exhausted sighs and repetitive 'no's from him. Eventually, you decided to take matters into your own hands. As usual, Vil came over to Ramshackle Dorm during the weekend for a sleepover and skincare session date. It wasn't until he was about to settle down on bed to snuggle by your side that he felt something fluffy and squishy, quickly moving away from him that he noticed something off. "Mon amour, is that...?" he asks, a slight anxious tone on his voice as Vil slowly lifted the warm blankets, eyes widening by the sudden vision of big yellow eyes staring back into the shadows. "So, you decided to go against my desire to not adopt a cat, uh?" He lets out a defeated sigh, pose slumping off for a moment before his gaze locking onto your pleading eyes. A quiet chuckle falls off his lips, amused by your adorable antics. "Fine, I guess it couldn't be that bad..."

Just like Kalim, he's over the ceiling with the idea!

Idia loves cats, and now he won't need to charm Grim or Lucius into his lap anymore! "Y-you're serious about it?! We can finally have a kitten of our own?!" Poor boy can hardly contain his joy; eyes half lidded and smile large, baring all of his shiny, sharp teeth. With a spring in his feet, slightly rocking, he wastes no time from pulling his tablet up, quickly searching for adoption centers as million of result windows popped right in front of you two. "Which kind would you like? I've been looking forward for a kitty just like Lucius TBH..." He mumbles to himself all the while, his pale face finally drawing some rosy colour to his cheeks as the boy made sure to schedule a million adoption appointments. Though you needed to do all the social business of talking to the volunteers and staff responsible for the kittens, it was already a true demonstration of how much the shy boy was excited for the occasion by the way he followed through with you with every step of the process, and when you two were finally granted access to the cells, you watched with gleeful delight the way Idia finally let loose, rolling around the could floor with a horde of kittens in his gentle embrace. "This is the happiest super event of my life! If this is a dream, please don't wake me up", he babbled between breathless giggles, cradling a bunch of kittens close, before pulling you along a careful, half hug. "I get to adopt a kitty and spend time with you..." In the end of the day, you two exited the adoption center with not only one, but a full litter of kittens on your arms. After all, how could you deny the lively sparkle on your boyfriend's eyes?

Secretly excited about it; he always wanted pets, but was denied by his strict mother

He needs to stop and think about his duties as housewarden, though.

The idea of adopting a kitten stings something within his heart - a fluterring, warm feeling washing over his being as Riddle contemplates the sincere joy of tending over a dependable, beautiful and frail being like a kitty. What wondrous delight would it be to care for it and see it grow every day. "That sounds mos pleasing, my rose," he mumbles, the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. However, the vision merely lasts a second, before his frowning features once again graces the moment. "But I'll have to put some thought on that matter first." As much as Riddle longs for the idea of cultivating something beautiful like a life by your side, he needs to consider a lot of things - a kitten can be feisty and curious, too much for its own good. The ruler of roses would not tolerate any kind of disarray, although he learned to be less harsh on the matter. He was also worried regarding the animals that lived within the Garden of Roses; the kitten could mistake the dormouse for a toy or even try to eat it, and Riddle couldn't bear the thought of the flower bushes turning into total messes. He would dwell on the final decision for days, trying to find a way to keep both parties happy and satisfied - worry not though, as all he needs to make his mind is for you to bring the kitten over and show him just how much well behaved it can be, always keeping an eye out for any mischievous intent of climbing over the roses, of course. While alone, you could even delight on the way Riddle would dress your kitten with special clothing. "Since he is basically a member of Heartslabyul, I thought it would be the most appropriate to dress him with our dorm uniform."

Surprised and excited by your request

Since he's basically still learning about humans intrinsicities, the idea of experiencing the pleasure of taking care of an animal amused him

"Oh, a little kitten, you say?", he mused almost immediately after the exposing of your wish, a compliant grin gracing his features. "And what stirs that sudden desire, child of man?" Malleus learned to admire and revel on the few occasions where he was privileged to spend time between animals, as most of them seemed to fear his imposing nature - and maybe that was the biggest reason he grew anxious by the days, playing the encounter with the kitten on his head over and over. Like Azul, he spends his free time learning more about felines - all the things about their diet, behaviour, health issues... he wants to be useful while helping you take care of the baby, while also avoiding bigger mistakes. The fae prince makes his excitement clear even with his usual face and mannerism, always telling you little facts he learned while studying or asking you something about cats that really piqued his interest. When you two would lie down and talk until falling asleep, Malleus would suggest a line of names for your kitty, or then hear your suggestions intently, sometimes cooing in agreement. When the day to meet your beloved furbaby finally came, Malleus was overjoyed, but a little hesitant still. The prince took the small feline carefully into his hands, fearing it would break from the slightest brush of fingers, only to gasp in wondrous surprise by the way the tiny animal curled up against his chest, seekin his warmth and safety. "I see you're an exquisite one, little kitten. I'm absolutely smitten with your frail figure." You watched in awe as Malleus gaze softened with a tenderness much similar to the one he reserves to you, the glimmer on his eyes a silent promise regarding the kitten.

[silaswritesthings]

Ghost hunting with Albedo

Summary: As the title suggests, its just reader ghost hunting with Albedo

Starring: Albedo, reader insert

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none

Author’s note: This was fun to write and I hope it will be just as fun to read. Likes, comments and reblogs will be greatly appreciated!

Word count: 620

“Ghosts are not real.” Albedo started in monotonous tones for the nth time that night and you cursed the wind that howled against your ears, drowning out his gentle voice.

“What if they are just that good at hiding?” You raised your voice as you skipped to the next ‘haunted location' labeled on your map which swayed violently in your grip. “I know if I was a ghost I’d hide from science guys like you who would do unethical experiments on me.”

Albedo sighed as you approached the entrance of the Wangshu Inn. “Why would I waste my time doing experiments on something that doesn’t exist?”

You pouted at his words but that was soon replaced by a wide smile when you realized you had reached your destination. “We’re here!”

Albedo paused before speaking, expressionless. “Why is one of the locations a nationally well-known 5-star inn?” He rolled his eyes. You giggled.

“I don’t know about you but if I was a ghost I'd play smart and hide in plain sight.” You winked before you turned to the door and walked in while missing the slight pink that painted his cheeks for your attention was caught by the bright lanterns that lit the doorway as well as the scent of almonds coming from the kitchen invading your nose. You had stopped skipping and opted for a slow pace to admire the various types of people that littered the bottom floor from fatui diplomats to merchants, scholars, and adventurers.

After a moment of watching you admire your surroundings, Albedo smiled to himself before regaining his composure and walking in after you. You both journeyed to the reception where you discussed with the receptionist whether she has witnessed any supernatural phenomena.

The receptionist smiled at Albedo. “I had no idea ghost-hunting dates were a common thing among the youth.” With eyes widened, you tried to reject her assumption but Albedo beat you to it.

“Is that so? They have become quite popular.” His blank expression did not give anything away as he lied to the receptionist.

She smiled knowingly. "Third-floor, room 269 has a haunting reputation. Nobody has booked it in almost a year now.” She gave Albedo the keys. “Enjoy!”

Albedo took your hand and lured you out of your stupor and the reception area then you both made your way to the wooden elevator. When you arrived in silence Albedo hummed, “It seemed more efficient to make her believe we are on a date.”

You pursed your lips as you wondered whether Albedo would mind it if he found out you secretly considered this as a real date. You hugged yourself before looking away from him as the elevator began to rise along with your wandering thoughts.

“Is something the matter?” Albedo questioned. You denied it with a single shake of your head. He hesitated, ”I… have a confession to make.”

After hearing his words, you gave Albedo your undivided attention, a habit you’ve yet to recognize on your own but Albedo noticed. He always did. He noticed whenever you would gaze upon him as if he was the sun in the sky lighting your world and he shamelessly bathed in that attention you would bestow upon him beyond your knowledge because Albedo was in love. And his love for you never filled him with fear but with the sudden urge to try something new, hence why he entertained your pathetic beliefs in ghosts.

While your beliefs were unscientific and absurd, they were endearing. So endearing that he couldn’t help but let your excitement influence him into accompanying you on your unrealistic venture. “Would you mind if we considered this as an actual date- perhaps the first of many?”

Your eyes widened.

“Huh.”

[stetervault]

Hey, love the blog!!! I was wondering if you had any fics where Talia is terrible to Peter and/or Stiles? I know that's a lot of fics so maybe ones where it's a notable plot point? Thanks!

Here are some I know, with various levels of bad alpha/sister/all-around person!Talia (some have her redeemable, others not so much):

IBDC: Teen Wolf by moonstalker24 --> Pretend to be dating AU Part 1 & Part 2

Peter pretends to be Stiles' boyfriend, which quickly evolves into being his actual boyfriend.

The Sphinx of Beacon Hills by Guede (Stetopher)

Stiles is a sphinx, and he’s winging his way to visit his buddy Scott when a storm drops him in Beacon Hills, the craziest, crankiest, coldest place ever. And somehow, he ends up with a bunch of werewolves.

The Other Husband by Therapeutic_Steter

Tumblr Prompt: You start working with your spouse and everyone thinks you're cheating because they don't know that's your spouse.

Home by Ragga

Don't be like him, they would say, and then add, or else you get burned.

Unable to bear the whispers any longer, This One left. He forsook those who forsook him, left him bear his scars alone, the scars he bore for his herd. It was better to be alone, stay off the currents, than swim with those most undeserving of his loyalty. So mote it be.

That is, until he met That One.

Ink Blossoms by Triangulum

"So, you're going to ruin your niece's baby shower with flowers in the wrong color?" the florist, Stiles, asks when they reach the counter. He pulls out a binder and starts flipping through it.

"Not ruin. Mildly inconvenience," Peter says.

"Right, messing with a hormonal pregnant woman seems like a great plan."

"To be fair, her fiance and the father of her baby is my ex-boyfriend," Peter says. "And we weren't broken up when they started 'dating'."

Stiles looks up at him in surprise. "And you're still getting her flowers?" he asks.

"It's under duress, I assure you," Peter says. He absolutely wouldn't be here if his alpha hadn't ordered it.

"Well, shit, yeah, let's get you some purple revenge flowers," Stiles says.

God Only Knows by katiemorag

Peter still couldn't quite believe he was being made to attend his niece's wedding, reason number one being that her fiancé was Peter's ex, who had cheated on Peter with Laura.

There's also the slight issue of his entire family refusing to believe that his boyfriend, Stiles, actually exists.

You Are so Much Better Than I Ever Knew Before by lavenderlotion

“Oh sweetheart,” Kate cooed, voice sickly sweet and obviously fake. “You didn’t think you were dating...did you?”

Stiles just stood there, still in shock and only coherent enough to shrug his shoulders. “Oh sweetie, that is just too cute. No, Der-Bear here just needed something to keep his cock warm while I was away visiting family.”

what the dust reveals by WindyRein

That one where Stiles and Peter are soulmates and there's spy-assassins and wings and other stuff.

You Just Got Ghosted! by Ragga

“What’s your name, angel?” little Stiles murmured even as his eyes fell closed, quickly losing his battle against sleep.

Stiles smiled. It was a little sad but also heavy with the knowledge that what he was doing was the right thing—heavy with the knowledge he didn’t deserve the moniker bestowed upon him.

“You can call me Mietek.”

Or the one where there's time travel, feels abound, two Stiles in one timeline, and one of them stuck somewhere between the planes of existence. Yet a ghost can still manage to save the day and get the girl. Or the wolf. Manly wolf. Because Peter.

Toothed Morality (Send Me Flowers) by rightsidethru

“The world is a dark place, moje kochanie; it is one filled with monsters, always ready to gobble you whole. Be wary of the promises they give: seal every vow with blood and bone and Name. A True Name, one that will bind them to their word.”

“But how will I know that they’re telling the truth, Matka? Couldn’t they lie…?”

“You’ll know, mały płomień.”

Send Newts by Bunnywest

The first thing Peter notices is that Talia’s smiling, and that in itself makes him suspicious. When he sees that Laura’s smiling too, his distrust intensifies. “What?” he demands? “What is it?” Talia’s smile widens as she serves him a cup of tea, made just how he likes it. “Just wondering if your new husband knows you’re such a curmudgeon in the mornings,” she says sweetly. Peter’s cup clatters against the table and the tea spreads in a puddle, ignored. “My what?” “New husband,” Laura chimes in, and then she’s wrapping her arms around Peter’s neck, and saying, “Thank you, Uncle Peter,” and hugging him tight, and the memory of last night tugs at him again. What happened again, exactly?

The Various Triumphs of Mischief Bilinski by Whispering_Sumire

"Hello, Chris," sings a honeyed voice from behind.

Chris' attention snaps toward the intruder, his gun already out of its' holster and aimed at whoever it is — a boy, apparently, with braided russet hair, a red jacket, and wise eyes. He's wearing a gas mask, but Chris can tell by the way his eyes crinkle around the edges, the way sun-burnt sand swirls in his irises, that he's smiling.

Chris cocks his gun.

"You killed my father," he says.

"No offence, but he totally deserved it," the stranger agrees with cheerful solemnity.

"What the hell are you doing in my home?" Chris demands. The kid is perched on a windowsill in Chris' office, as nonchalantly as if this were something he did every day, as if they were familiar.

"I was just wondering," the kid speaks softly, fond amusement sewn through with a peculiar resignation, "how you'd feel about putting down some nazis?"

[Or: The one where Stiles goes back in time and subsequently fucks with everything.]

The Devil You Know by Triangulum

Hell is busy and Peter is understaffed. There are too many evil people being sent down below and there are only so many demons Peter has to torture them with. He needs to reorganize. They don't utilize group torture nearly as much as they should. Stiles probably has some ideas on that.

Or

Peter is King of Hell, Stiles is his second in command, and Talia summons them for a favor.

Call Me Mary Poppins by Triangulum (Stetopher)

Chris pinches the bridge of his nose and says, "You're telling me you want to fuck the nanny?"

"Don't be ridiculous, it's nothing as stereotypical as that, Christopher. This isn't porn. I want to seduce her," Peter says.

Or

A Stetopher nanny AU that wasn't really asked for.

Follow My Lead by Inell (Peter/Laura/Cora/Derek/Stiles)

Peter can’t quite figure out what’s so appealing about the young agent questioning them about his sister’s murder, but he does know that Agent Stilinski is more than he seems.

The Perceptions of You and I by lavenderlotion

“Baby, why did your secretary ask me if I was here under duress?”

Peter looks at him, blinks slowly, and then tilts his head to the side before asking, “She what?”

“She asked if you were forcing me to be here,” Stiles says, eyes flicking across the room to where said assistant is standing at the punch bowl. “She wanted to know if you were blackmailing me or threatening me.”

“She thinks you’re here under duress because Peter is such a terrifying bastard there’s no way a human Omega would be with him otherwise.”

Rent-a-Date by RebaK1tten

If Peter has to spend Christmas with his family, he's going to have a buffer. Even if he has to get him off a website.

Pissing Off The Straights by Therapeutic_Steter

platypusesrneat asked: Peter's family is alive, rich, and complete assholes. Peter can't stand them and is trying to get out of going to their stupid party. Cue Stiles saving the day!

Prayers to a Lesser God by Green

When the Hales are trapped in a house fire, Peter prays to every deity he's ever read about. Miraculously, one answers his call.

this (let's remember) by sinequanon

Peter has always done his pack's dirty work, but it's not until his sister locks him away in Eichen House that he realizes that he has other priorities.

OR

A Romeo and Juliet type story featuring less suicide and more murder.

Don't Come For His Family by lavenderlotion

In the three years Stiles had been with Peter, the man had only talked about his family a handful of times - and as far as Stiles knew had never once spoken to them. So he wasn’t exactly excited to see the mans family, even though that’s exactly what they were about to do.

It does not go to plan.

Beautiful Like Birds by Whispering_Sumire

"Stiles?" he asks, turning on the light, and Stiles looks at him- eyes wide, a flicker of utter devotion and heartbreaking joy passing his features before his whole face crumples and-

"Daddy?"

John has never seen his son like this, or maybe he has, when Claudia died, but it's different somehow, more, and terrifying because he has no idea why. He's closed half the distance between them before he even has time to think it through, but it doesn't matter because Stiles has bridged the rest and flung himself into John's arms.

He falls apart like that, holding onto John so tightly that it's hard to breathe, but he can't care about that right now because his son is sobbing and chanting "Daddy," desperately into his shoulder.

[Or, the one where Stiles goes back in time to save the world, and surprisingly, survives to tell the tale.]

We Three Can Rule The World by Whispering_Sumire (Steterek)

"Hello," he says softly, setting his fiddle down in his lap, not bothering to stand.

"Hi," Derek replies, half-gruff, then, because he should, "that was- that was beautiful but... you know this is private property, right?"

The boy throws his head back and laughs, and laughs, and laughs. The sound of it is overwhelming in its childish joy, and his eyes positively sparkle when they land on Derek again.

"Yes," he says, unashamed "I knew." Then he's standing, fiddle and bow in one hand, the other stretched out toward Derek, friendly and welcoming, "My name is Stiles."

[Or: The one where there's a fiddler, and two werewolves whose eyes flash blue, and a whole fucking world to conquer.]

The Alpha Thief by Triangulum

Something changes around the time Peter turns thirty. His wolf becomes malcontent and angry. His control, impeccable since he was a child, starts to slip, that inner rage leaking out. Talia's iron clad control over the pack chafes him. He can't explain why, but it feels like his world shifts. Pack members he's grown up with suddenly leave with barely an explanation, without a goodbye. His parents' deaths, something that occurred over five years ago, suddenly feel raw, everything after their passing he remembers feeling stilted and wrong.

Or

What if Malia's existence wasn't the memory Talia took from Peter? And what if memories weren't the only thing she stole?

[hekate1308]

Page Turner

I am a huge fan of Jasper Fforde’s work, so enjoy this Destiel fusion!

When the Literary Agency had first knocked on his door, Dean had told Sam and his brother hadn’t stopped laughing about it for a week.

He’d stopped when Dean had informed him that he had accepted the job offer, and that one of the reasons he’d never read as many books as he liked was simply that he had always been a natural book jumper – in fact, he was much too good at it. “Remember when I used to read Knights of the Round Table to you, Sammy? I stopped after I one day landed right in front of King Arthur himself, and let me tell you, A Kid in King Arthur’s court made it out to be much more fun than it actually was.”

Sam never laughed about his new job again after that.

Anyway, that was how Dean ended up as a Literary Agent – in the he-actually-went-into-books-and-tried-to-make-sure-no-one-ruined-the-plot-or-did-anything-else-stupid sense, not the other one.

In the eight years since he had joined the Agency, he’d had many adventures, but he’d never found a partner he was comfortable working with.

“Guess what” the smile of the Cheshire Cat (Dean continued to call him that, any regional changes be damned) asked.

He didn’t even look up from his desk in the Headquarters – located at Norland Park from Sense and Sensibility, in the ballroom that conveniently wasn’t mentioned in the novel. “The March Hare and the Hatter have finally made peace with time and have become sane.”

“No.”

“Miss Havisham has decided to abandon her grief and raise Estella into a nice girl.”

“No.”

“Sherlock Holmes actually went down the Fall and now we have a problem.”

“You are as cheerful as a mouse in a fridge full of cheese.”

“Wouldn’t that make them really happy?” Dean asked.

“Not if they were lactose-intolerant.”

He had learned long ago not to pay attention to what the Cheshire Cat was saying – unless it was important.

“You are getting a new partner.”

“I thought I was allowed to work alone after –“ Dean stopped talking abruptly. The last attempt to partner him up with someone was not something he liked to think about.

There was a reason a syndrome was named after Peter Pan. If Dean ever had to speak to that permanently sugar-flashed kid again, he was going to Neverland and joining the pirates.

“The Bellman seems to have found the perfect candidate, as perfect as a bike for a fish.”

“Cheshire” Dean said tiredly, “I do have to finish the report, and you know how K. is – he’ll try to have his two executioners from The Trial come here again to deal with me.”

“Fine, fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

The smile vanished, but the cat without its mouth appeared instead. Dean simply rolled his eyes as he took his sweet time to finally dissolve into thin air.

“Agent Winchester!” the bellman called out, as excited as if he’d finally found a Snark that wasn’t a boojum. “I have found a new partner for you!”

He forced himself to smile at his boss. “How wonderful.”

The Bellman frowned. “I have tried many weeks, I have tried many days –“

“Yes, yes, of course, sir” Dean said quickly to interrupt what would undoubtedly turn into a weird poem of giant proportions if he wasn’t careful. “So where is he?”

“He’s on his way here” the Bellman answered, pouting because Dean hadn’t allowed him to recite what he considered some of his best work.

Ten minutes later, Dean’s new partner entered the ballroom and the Bellman introduced them.

“Agent Winchester, this is Castiel Novak, from the Castiel Novak – Private Eye series.”

Dean had never heard of those books, but that didn’t have to mean anything; hell, one of his best friends in the Book world, Crowley, the King of Hell, came from a rather pathetically selling little-known series called Supernatural by some wannabe named Carver Edlund.

Now, not having any knowledge of the qualities the author of Castiel Novak – Private Eye had bestowed on his main character, he still had his experience and it wasn’t difficult to gather information.

For one thing, the author had definitely been one of those who felt that their detective wasn’t going to draw in reade3rs unless they made him ridiculously hot. Tussled dark hair, blue eyes, slight stubble... Not even the trench coat distracted from how he looked, and that was saying something.

Which, by the way... Dean almost winced. Those trench coats must have been old-fashioned when he was first conceived.

“Dean Winchester” he introduced himself.

“Hello, Dean. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Really, and a deep voice too? What the Hell? Was he really a Private Eye or was this another soft porn series for bored housewives (not that Dean saw anything wrong with that; he’d had quite a few adventures in fanfiction).

Cas was now staring at him and – ah, of course. Hot guy, socially awkward, solving murders, probably with an equally hot female assistant in the novels who looked after him and eventually dragged him before the altar.

“So” he asked the Bellman, who was writing down something (could have been about his and Cas’ introduction, but Dean doubted it; more than likely it was another stanza about a Snark), “What’s the case?”

He looked up and blinked. “Oh” he finally decided, “Just something easy for you as a new team. The wife has decided to elope with her lover in Fitzgerald’s short story The Cut-Glass Bowl.”

Dean sighed; no matter which one, ever single piece of Fitzgerald’s fiction was drowning in booze. This wasn’t going to be fun. “You ever tried Fitzgerald before?”

Cas blinked. Then, he answered mechanically, “I am looking forward to the experience.”

Whoever had written him that love interest he had to have, they wouldn’t have it easy.

“Ugh” Dean sank down on his chair, breathing the fresh, clean air of Norland Park. “I like to take a drink or two, but this is...”

“It certainly seemed excessive”  Cas agreed, sitting down at his own desk next to Dean’s the Bellman must have arranged for him while they were chasing down Mrs. Harold Piper and Mr. Freddy Geddney.

Problem was, all of Fitzgerald’s fiction had been written by a man who had had a.... tumultuous relationship with his wife, and it showed. Dean rubbed his forehead; she’d actually thrown the cut-glass bowl after him.

To his credit, Cas had wrestled her to the floor and they’d done a decent job of convincing both to go back to the one scene they shared in literature.

“I think” he said, “We’ll make a good team.”

Cas looked up from his desk, somewhat surprised it seemed; but then he just nodded.

They turned out to be indeed a very good team; over the next two years, they became as legendary as Edgar Allan Poe and The Headless Horseman, or Thursday Next and Miss Havisham.

Cas and Dean became close friends, the later incredibly baffled when he visited Cas and found that no love interest had ever been written for him in a book series that consisted of ten rather heavy volumes; and then he’d just felt sorry for him when Cas confided in him that sometimes, he felt very lonely because of it.

This bastard of an author had never even given him a friend, for crying out loud; it was just him in his dingy little office and the cases he solved.

So Dean visited him on a regular basis, or invited him back to his place in the real world, when they weren’t on a case. Cas always came, absolutely delighted to finally have a reason to go there.

“Do you know” he said to Dean one day as they were visiting a bee farm because Cas happened to be fascinated with them, “That there are no bees in my world? My author forgot to put them in.”

Cas deserved bees, Dean thought, as he watched his face light up at seeing the hives.

Cas deserved a lot of things.

And yet, Dean wasn’t completely honest with him.

Because there was one thing Dean hadn’t told him.

But how was he supposed to confess to a fictional character that he was falling for him?

Sam, of course, tried to be logical about it.

“You need to get out more – in the real world, Dean. You know Cas can’t – reciprocate your feelings. He wasn’t written for romantic affection, you said.”

“I said he had no love interest in the books” Dean replied flatly. He didn’t know how he was supposed to explain to Sam that many of the book characters were nothing like the way they had been written originally; it was difficult to understand for someone who wasn’t  a natural book jumper.

“Still, Dean – he’s fictional. He’ll never age, or die.”

“I know, alright? I know it’s hopeless”.

And yet, his heart beat faster the next morning yet again when Cas gave him a gently smile as he greeted him.

“You’ve got it bad, darling” Crowley drawled. “So, so bad.”

Wasn’t that freaking ironic, coming from him. Crowley had originally been written as the antagonist of the two main characters, the king of Hell, a bad-ass demon, but was busy changing the narrative.

There was simply that one small detail Carver Edlund hadn’t realized: Crowley was actually quite decent once you got to know him.

Dean didn’t say so, however, and just shook his head. “I know. And my brother already told me it’s useless, so don’t even think about it.”

“What, me doing the right thing? Sorry, Squirrel, you’re barking up the wrong tree here.”

“I think you got your metaphors mixed up.”

“That’s what happens when the quality of writing varies from instalment to instalment” he sighed. “Did you know that in the last book I was supposed to die?”

“What?”

“Don’t worry, I changed it.”

How Crowley got away with doing stuff like that, Dean would never know, but he was damn glad he was sitting next to him, as alive as he’d ever be.

“Well this is... different” Dean said as he stepped into Cas’ apartment. Before there’d barely been any furniture except for seemingly a million shelves to hold his book collection.

Now, there was a couch and a TV stand, and a few pictures of –

Cas and Dean.

He’d actually managed to bring pictures of them into his –

“How did you do that?”

“Oh, this is my apartment from the second novel. There’s not a single scene set in my place, so it –“

“Like Norland Park’s ballroom.”

“Exactly.”

Dean nodded. “Smart.”

“Crowley gave me the idea.”

Dean frowned. “You know him?”

“We met at your last birthday party” Cas reminded him.

True. Both his friends from the real world and the Book World had shown up at Dean’s apartment, and it had been surprisingly difficult to differentiate who belonged where.

“He gave me a few tips” Cas explained, “How to... move around your plot, so to speak.”

“Oh?”

Cas nodded. “Since this scene doesn’t exist in the novel – I’m free to do as I please.”

He stepped up to Dean and reached up to gently cradle his face in his hands. “is that... okay?”

“More than okay” he breathed and went in for the kiss.

“Dean...” Cas said much later. “I – I have wanted this for a while, but I’m fictional, and you’re –“

Dean kissed him again. “We’ll manage” he decided, “We always do.”

And they did.

[maybrandon]

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[lifewaters]

Struggle On

I have struggled mightily with the results of this election.  I have felt fear and disgrace, disbelief and the profound sense that we have lost our way as a country.  And sometimes, I have wondered if it is not that we have lost our way but that we never truly found it in the first place; the bubble in which I was living has been shattered by the reality that people in this country have turned to Donald Trump as their champion. 

Mostly I have struggled with how I will treat the 45th president of these United States.  For eight years I have stood firm in my belief that as much as you disagree with the man you must respect the office. I have argued that it is inappropriate to belittle, insult, or otherwise demean President Obama and that I refuse to listen to what may be salient points while you do so.  I have become enraged when conservative outlets called him Mr. Obama as a subtle sign of disrespect by denying him the title he deserves, if for no other reason than it has been bestowed upon him by virtue of fact.  He IS the President.

Now, tomorrow, our President will be Donald Trump.  And I have struggled with the idea that I have to live up to my own belief and show him a respect, in my opinion, he has done nothing to deserve.  Part of me screams that my own high minded ideal may have been naïve, that there are some people so undeserving of respect.  It wails and rages that when you call an entire nationality "rapists," when you advocate grabbing women by the pussy, when you refuse to denounce the leader of the KKK, when you tweet childish responses to every perceived slight; then truly you are undeserving of respect no matter what job title you may hold.   But there is another, quieter part of me calmly reminding me that if I cross my own line in the sand, then I cannot defend myself against those who follow me.  If I say that all of the above entitles me to disrespect the office of President, then how can I defend when someone says that something Obama has done makes him deserving of disrespect.  It becomes a fight of degrees and opinions.  And I'm learning quickly no one can win those fights. 

I think my solution is to navigate the ground between actively showing respect to the office and actively disrespecting the man.  I will not disrespect the office, I will not disrespect the man, but neither will I give him my respect until that day that he deserves it.  I understand, mostly agree with, and am sympathetic to those who protest with #notmypresident.  But to them I say this; he is your president, by virtue of fact, and no hashtag can change that.  He is not the person I voted for and I disagree with him, vehemently, on most things.  But he is, or will be tomorrow, the President of the United States.  He is MY president and I will make him hear MY voice.  He is MY president so he must represent ME.  He is the president so I will call him by that title when I must.  He is the president and any act that embarrasses him for the sake of embarrassing him only harms us as a country and a people.

I was abroad when President Obama took the Oath of Office in 2009.  I watched proudly with the other students in my study abroad program.  I celebrated by doing the most American thing I could; going out to eat at McDonalds.  And sitting there, eating what they called a Big Mac, a man came up to our group of about 10 and told us we had a great new president.  That he was as excited as we were to see what President Obama could do for our country, and the world, because we cannot deny we are a global community now.  I need not imagine how the world thinks of our current election.  I've seen it all over social media.  My own family in Italy has shared their thoughts with me.  So I have no delusions that there is not already some embarrassment to be felt for the election of this man. 

That brings me to this point, we do not need to further embarrass this country by embarrassing the man for the sake of it.  If the allegations in the dossier prove true, if he did engage in non-conventional sexual acts with prostitutes in Russia, if the Kremlin has proof and is using it as blackmail, then by all means the American Public has a right to know and a right to demand he answer for that.  But if it proves true and there is no blackmail, no relevance to the revelation other than embarrassing him, we need to stop talking about it.  Because his personal sexual history is no more important than yours or mine and pasting it on every magazine cover helps no one.  Insulting the size of his hands, the color of his spray tan, the style of his hair serves no purpose other than to embarrass and enrage him. It is its own form of bullying.  Bullying a bully to be sure.  But bullies respond to disrespect by lashing out and we cannot have a bully in power lashing out.  We must face him with strength and facts, with reasoned arguments, and when those fail, with a refusal to be silent and put our heads in the sand when he does something unacceptable.  But insulting his hands brings us down and we are so much better than that. 

I go to sleep tonight secure in the knowledge that the President of the United States for the last eight years cares about making a better world for me and for everyone in this country.  That he has worked tirelessly to improve life for any number of marginalized people AND that he has worked tirelessly to improve life for the unmarginalized, mainstream, middle class American. Because he has represented us all, not just one group. Tomorrow I am afraid.  Tomorrow I am no longer secure in that knowledge.  I do not know who Donald Trump is working for.  Probably himself.  Possibly for some subsection of this Country that I have never been, and will never be a part of.  But just as I am afraid because the man taking power is a man who cares not at all about me; I know there are others throughout this country who are going to sleep tonight excited that a man they believe cares about them is coming into power and a mistake of eight years is ending.  They are as steadfastly in support of Donald Trump as I am opposed. They are as convinced of the rightness of their position as I am afraid of what will happen now. We are a country divided. 

So I say this.  To every person who voted against Donald Trump, should you be willing to stand and fight for what you believe it, I welcome you.  To any person who voted for Donald Trump, should you one day come to believe you made the wrong choice and want to oppose him, I welcome you.  To any person who voted for Donald Trump, should you still believe you made the right choice but think some of his actions are wrong and want to oppose them, I welcome you. To any person who voted for Donald Trump, should you believe he is doing right and good and want to help me understand why you believe that, I welcome you to try. We don't have to agree on everything, but we do need to try and understand each other. 

We may be a country divided. But we ARE the United States of America. So you grab your bootstrap and I'll grab mine and lets pull this damn thing back together.