#and I just can’t get over the whole binary star system

[shiningstarr15]

Fated by the Cosmos ✨💫

Something about two stars being pulled into each other’s gravitational orbit and moving so fluid and in close proximity that they essentially become one, or whatever 😬🤷‍♀️

Doublestar Duo/Binarystar Duo fans rejoice ⭐️⭐️

Can you tell I’m obsessed with them?

Alt. Vers under cut

Original w/o text

Golden Princess and Little Knight 💛🗡️👑 (this one’s criminally underrated)

[asleepinawell]

Book Recs

I was gonna do one of these at the end of the year, but I’ve somehow managed to read 26 books this year already (12 novellas, 14 novels), almost all featuring queer authors and/or characters so this is already a long list.

Note: There’s a few on here I was kind of meh about, but in most of those cases it was a ‘book might be good but it’s not for me so i’ll mention it to put it on people’s radar anyway’ type of thing. Insert the usual necessary tumblr disclaimer about all of this being only my opinion and your opinions are valid too etc etc.

In order of when I read them:

Princess Floralinda and the Forty-Flight Tower by Tamsyn Muir - Fantasy novella from the author of gideon the ninth that’s a twist on the classic princess trapped in a tower waiting for a prince story. Quite fun. (novella)

The Monster of Elendhaven by Jennifer Giesbrecht - Dark fantasy about revenge and magic. m/m couple but like I said it’s pretty dark and twisted all around so definitely not a happy queer romantic story. My opinion was interesting premise that could have been executed better and probably should have been a full novel to embellish on the world building potential. (novella)

A Memory Called Empire & A Desolation Called Peace - Arkady Martine - Probably tied with murderbot as the best things I read this year. Scifi, f/f couple, wonderfully done exploration of what it means to fall in love with a culture that is destroying your own. More of the many queer anti-imperialist books that have come out recently and certainly some of the best. The second one is a direct continuation of the first. (2 novels)

The Tyrant Baru Cormorant - Seth Dickinson - This is the third in the Baru Cormorant series (The Masquerade) and was my favorite so far. The second and third book were originally one book that got split I believe and the second book didn’t stand alone as well (though was still great), but the third book really made up for that. Dark fantasy world starring a queer woc whose country and culture is destroyed by the imperial forces of that world colonizing and assimilating them. She vows revenge and decides to work her way up within her enemy’s ranks to enact it from within and bring an empire to ruins. Really really fascinating study of so many different aspects of our own world and the systems which enable and allow bigotry and how bigoted and violent narratives are used to control minorities. This is definitely a darker series and I was particularly impressed with some of the commentary on the racism prevalent in non-intersectional feminism as depicted through a fantasy world. Can’t wait for the last one to come out! (3 novels, 1 forthcoming)

The Murderbot Diaries - Martha Wells - There’s six of them--5 novella and a novel--and the first is All Systems Red. Told from the point of view of a self-aware droid/android that is rented out by a corporation to provide protection in a dystopian capitalist hellhole future that isn’t that unlike our current capitalist dystopia but is in space. Muderbot hacked the chip that controlled it and instead of going rogue just wants to be left alone to watch its favorite tv shows. Murderbot is painfully relatable and the books are both funny and poignant. Highly recommended. (5 novellas and a novel).

Winter’s Orbit - Everina Maxwell - This was a m/m romance novel with a scifi backdrop of royal intrigue. Generally I’m more into scifi with a queer relationship in the background than vice versa, so it wasn’t my favorite, BUT I think it was still well written and someone looking for more of the romance angle would enjoy it. Has all your favorite romance tropes in it, especially the yearning. (novel)

The Divine Cities - Robert Jackson Bennett - Three book series. I’m very conflicted about this one. Set in a fantasy world where an enslaved nation overthrew the country enslaving them and now rules over them. It’s a story of what happens after the triumphant victory and within that it’s also a murder mystery tied into the dying magic of the conquered nation. It also has a six foot something naked oily viking man fist fight a cthulhu in a frozen river. The second book was by far my favorite, mostly due to the main character being brilliant. My conflict comes from the fact I don’t feel like the story treated its women and queer characters well. Like it had really great characters but it didn’t do great by them overall. That and the third book didn’t live up to the first two. But still definitely worth a read, can’t stress enough how cool some of the world building was. (3 novels)

Into the Drowning Deep - Mira Grant - This might be the only one on here I disliked. It’s got a doomed boat voyage and creepy underwater terror and monsters and a super diverse cast of characters, but I just didn’t enjoy the writing style. While having a diverse cast is great, there were a lot of moments where it felt like characters were pausing to explain things about themselves that felt like a tumblr post rather than a normal conversation you might have while actively being hunted by monsters. I also bounced off all the characters. But a lot of people seem to have liked it so if you’re into horror and want a book with a f/f main couple then maybe you’ll enjoy it. (novel)

Dead Djinn Universe - P. Djèlí Clark - Around the early 1900′s, a man in Egypt discovers a way to access another world and bring Djinn and mysterious clockwork beings called Angels through. As a result, Egypt tells the British to get fucked and Cairo becomes one of the most powerful cities in the world. So Egypt, magic, djinn, a steampunk-ish vibe, oh and the main character is a butch queer woman who enjoys wearing dapper suits and looking fabulous while she investigates supernatural events. Her girlfriend is also mysterious and badass. And she has a cat. There’s three novella (one of which technically might be considered a short story) and then the first novel. You should absolutely read the novellas first (A Dead Djinn in Cairo, The Angel of Khan el-Khalili, The Haunting of Tram Car 015). Super fun and imaginative series. (3 novellas and a novel, more forthcoming)

River of Teeth & Taste of Marrow - Sarah Gailey - From the book description

“In the early 20th Century, the United States government concocted a plan to import hippopotamuses into the marshlands of Louisiana to be bred and slaughtered as an alternative meat source. This is true. Other true things about hippos: they are savage, they are fast, and their jaws can snap a man in two. This was a terrible plan.”

Queer hippo riders!!!! Very much a western but with hippos. Main couple included a non-binary character. Loved the first one. The second one I was more meh about due to one of the characters I was supposed to like having obnoxious man pain that a woman had to take the brunt of the whole time. Also there were less hippos. But queer hippo riders! Definitely read the first one, and they’re both novellas so no reason not to read the second as well. (2 novellas)

A Psalm for the Wild-Built - Becky Chambers - I may be the only person who hasn’t read the long way to a small angry planet at this point, but I did grab her new novella and I loved it. It made me want to go sit out in the woods and feel peaceful. The world it’s set in feels like a peaceful post-apocalypse...or diverted apocalypse maybe. Humans built robots and robots gained sentience, but instead of rebelling they just up and left and went into the wilderness with a promise that the humans wouldn’t follow them.The remaining human society reshaped itself into something new and peaceful. It’s the story of a monk who leaves their habitual monking duties to go be a tea monk and then later wanders into the wilderness and becomes the first human in ages to meet a robot. Very sad there’s no fan art yet. (novella, more forthcoming)

The March North - Graydon Saunders - This was such a weird book that I’m not sure how to explain it. The prose style is hard to get used to and I suspect a lot of people will bounce off it in the first chapter. There’s no third person pronouns used at all and important events get mentioned once in passing and if you blink you’ll miss them. Set on a world where magic is extremely common to the point that rivers sometimes run with blood or fire and the local weeds are something out of a horror movie and most of the world is run by powerful sorcerer dictators, one country banded together (with the help of a few powerful sorcerers who were tired of all the bullshit) to form a free country where powerful sorcerers wouldn’t rule and the small magics of every day folks could be combined to work together. The story revolves around a Captain of the military force on the border who one day has three very powerful sorcerers sent to them by the main government with the hint that just maybe there’s about to be a big invasion (there is) with the implication of take these guys and go deal with this. The world building is extremely complex and very cool...when you can actually understand what the fuck is going on. There is also a murder sheep named Eustace who breathes fire and eats just about everything and is a Very Good Boy and belongs to the most terrifying sorcerer in the world who appears as a little old grandma with knitting. It had one of the most epic badass and wonderfully grotesque battles I’ve ever read. But yeah, it is not what I would call easy reading. Opinions may vary wildly. I did also read the second one (A Succession of Bad Days) in the series which was easier to follow and had a lot more details about the world, but overall I was more meh about it despite some cool aspects. The chapters and chapters of the extreme details of building a house that made up half the novel just weren’t my thing. (novels).

The Space Between Worlds - Micaiah Johnson - In this world parallels universes exist and we’ve discovered how to travel between them, but the catch is you can only go to worlds where the ‘you’ there is already dead. This turns into an uncomfortable look at who would be the people most likely to have died on many worlds and how things like class and race would fit into that and what we would actually use this ability for (if you guessed stealing resources and the stock market you’d be correct). The main character is a queer woc who travels between worlds with the assistance of her handler (another queer woc) who she has the hots for. She accidentally stumbles on a whole lot of mess and conspiracy and gets swept up in that. Really enjoyed it. (novel)

Witchmark - C.L. Polk - Fantasy world reminiscent of Victorian England (I think?) where a young man with magical gifts runs away from his powerful family to avoid being exploited by them. He joins the army and fights in a war and comes home to try and live a quiet life as a doctor, but a murder pulls him into a larger mystery that upturns his life. Also he’s extremely gay and there’s a prevalent m/m romance. This one was a fun-but-not-mind-blowing one for me. (novel, 2 more in the series I haven’t read)

The Priory of the Orange Tree - Samantha Shannon - This was one of those that everyone loved but I couldn’t get into for some reason. I tried twice and only got about halfway through the second time. It’s got dragons and queer ladies and fantasy world and all the things I like, but I wasn’t that invested in the main story (which included the f/f couple) and was more interested in the smaller story about a woman trying to become a dragon rider. There are few things that beat out a lady and her dragon friend story for me and that was the storyline that felt neglected and took a different turn right when we got to the part I’d been waiting for. But, I know a lot of people whose reading opinions I respect who loved it, and if you like epic fantasy with dragons and queens and treachery and pirates and queer characters then I’d say you should definitely give it a try. (novel)

Bonus: I didn’t read these series this year, but if you haven’t read them yet, you should.

Imperial Radch (Ancillary Justice) - Ann Leckie - Spaceship AI stuck in a human body out for revenge for their former captain, but that summary does not come close to doing it justice. Another one examining imperialism and also gender and race.(3 novels)

Kushiel's Legacy Series - Jacqueline Carey - This is two series, six books total, and starts with Kushiel's Dart. Alternate universe Renaissance-y Europe in a fantastical world where sex isn't shameful and sex workers are respected and prized. Lots of political intrigue and mystery. A lot of BDSM and kinky stuff too (the main character is a sexual masochist, oh and also bi!). I first read this series when I was fifteen or sixteen and it definitely made a big impression on me. Same author also wrote the Santa Olivia series which I’d also recommend. (6 novels)

The Locked Tomb (Gideon the Ninth) - Tamsyn Muir - I mean, if you follow me, you know. If you don’t follow me you still probably know. I’d have felt remiss to have left them off though. Lesbian Necormancers in Space. Memes! Skeletons! Biceps! Go read them. (2 novels, 2 forthcoming, 1 short story)

Books On My To Read List:

Fireheart Tiger - Aliette de Bodard

The Order of the Pure Moon Reflected in Water - Zen Cho

Black Sun - Rebecca Roanhorse

This Is How You Lose the TIme War - Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone

Ninefox Gambit - Yoon Ha Lee

Also, if anyone has any recs for scifi/fantasy books starring queer men (not necessarily having to do with a queer relationship) and written by queer men I’d love them. There’s a lot written by women, and some of them are great, but I’d love to read a story about queer men from their own perspective.

[bornwantingmore]

Binary Stars

Summary: Castiel possesses Dean. 

(Yeah, I’m writing SPN fan fiction now. Mind ya business.)

Binary star system: Noun. Astronomy. A system of two stars in which one star revolves around the other or both revolve round a common center. Locked in the constant chase of hunter and hunted, the two stars spend their lifespans circling around the other’s orbit, never able to touch, always just out of reach. 

---

It started, much like everything else complicated in the lives of Dean and Castiel, with a hunt gone wrong. 

Read on AO3

The sunlight was filtering through the dingy hotel room’s curtains as Rowena examined Castiel with a series of powders, juices, and soft-spoken Latin chants. Dean watched as he leaned against the wall, subtly texting Sam an update on their hunt. Dean and Castiel had been trying to take out a witch just west of Lincoln when she blew a shimmering powder into Castiel’s face. He had spent the following few minutes coughing up a lung while Dean shot the witch between the eyebrows. Unsure what to do, they called Rowena when they returned to the hotel room. She was leaning over Castiel as he sat on the side of one of the beds. 

“It’s bad.” Rowena finally said, her eyes flicking between Dean and Castiel. “You boys tussled with the wrong witch.”

Dean sighed and kicked off the wall he was leaning on. “Awesome.”

“What did she do to me?” Castiel’s eyes calmly tracked Dean for a moment before they flicked to meet Rowena’s gaze. 

“You mean you can’t tell?” Rowena raised her eyebrows and looked away. “That’s not a good sign.”

“Cut the crap, Rowena,” Dean growled. “Can you fix it?”

Rowena sighed. “Aye, the spell’s not built for fixing.”

“Remind me why you’re here, then?” Dean took a half-step towards Rowena. 

“Dean,” Castiel said, stopping him in his tracks with just a word. He turned back to Rowena. “Explain. Please.”

“Well,” Rowena paused as she thought. She pursed her lips, choosing her words carefully. “It was a homemade spell designed to erase an angel’s grace. It starts slow, which must be why you can’t feel it yet. It will continue to get faster and faster as time goes on.”

Dean threw his hands up. “Awesome.”

“You said that already,” Castiel grumbled. 

The two men shared tense eye contact for a few charged moments. 

“You haven’t seen any hex bags today, correct?” Rowena asked, causing them both to look back at her. 

Castiel stood up and moved his eyes around the room before ending on Rowena. “I would be able to sense if there were any present.”

Rowena nodded and hummed her approval. “And the witch who cast the spell is now dead?”

“Yes,” Dean said, stepping forward. “I made sure of that.”

“Lovely,” she said, making it clear that she thought that it was anything but. “She must have been a powerful one then, if the spell is surviving past her.”

Castiel grimaced. “What can we do?”

“Do?” Rowena began to gather her supplies back into her large purse. “There isn’t much that can be done, I’m afraid.”

Dean opened his mouth to speak, but Castiel beat him to the punch. “But there is something.”

Rowena sighed. “You’re not going to like it.”

Dean and Castiel both leveled Rowena with steady stares. She closed her eyes to center herself before speaking again, opening them to look at Castiel. 

“You’re going to need to leave your vessel,” she finally said.

Her statement hung in the air for a few moments before anyone else spoke, heavy in the crisp air-conditioned room. Castiel hardly reacted except to blink, but Dean was visibly agitated. 

“No way.” Dean shook his head. 

Rowena laughed drily. “Have you got a better idea, then?”

“Dean,” Castiel cut in, nipping their cat fight in the bud. “I’ve been without a vessel before.”

“So, what?” Dean turned his attention to Castiel. “You’re just gonna find some other holy trench coat to possess?”

Castiel turned his head slightly to look at Dean directly.

“Not necessarily,” Rowena interrupted. “The spell is only affecting Castiel’s physical form. If he were to” —she struggled to find the word for a moment— “exit, the spell would run its course and eventually fizzle out. I don’t see why he couldn’t return after that.”

“And how long’s that gonna take?” Dean asked. 

Rowena made a noncommittal sound as she examined Castiel lightly with her eyes. “Oh, a few days to be safe. These things move faster when the mind isn’t present.”

“So what, right before he starts to rot away?” 

Castiel lowered his chin slightly and looked at Dean. “My vessel, Dean. It’s not me.”

Rowena held up a finger and rooted through her purse as the men had an impromptu staring contest. After a moment, she pulled out a small hex bag. It fit snugly in the palm of her hand. She loosened the string tying it together slightly to create an opening. 

“This will help keep your vessel in working shape while you’re away,” she said, presenting the hex bag to Castiel. “I just need a drop of dear Mr. Novak’s blood.”

As Dean was rustling through his pockets to pass Castiel his knife, Castiel just bit the tip of his index finger with his front teeth. He held the finger over the bag as the blood welled up and finally dripped down. When the droplet of blood hit the bag, a barely-visible puff of blue smoke was created. Castiel ran his thumb over his index finger, healing the small nip. 

“Perfect,” Rowena said as she retied the string, nonplussed by Castiel’s behavior. She passed the completed hex bag to Castiel. “This will keep the lights on while you’re not home. Keep it in one of your pockets until you return.”

Castiel nodded and put the hex bag in the inside pocket of his trench coat. 

Rowena continued, “I suggest that you leave your vessel before you go to bed. There hasn’t been any damage done that you won’t recover from, but that won’t be the case when you wake up tomorrow.”

“I don’t sleep.”

She smiled sweetly at him. “Sometime before whatever it is you do at night, then.”

The group eventually made their way through saying farewells and Rowena left, leaving Dean and Castiel alone. Dean was tense. It was hard for him to think of Castiel’s body as just an empty husk to be filled. 

“Dean,” Castiel said, breaking the silence that fell when Rowena left. “This is a manageable problem. There is no need to worry.”

Dean scoffed. “What, me worry?” He sighed and grabbed his keys from where they were sitting on the nightstand. “Let’s get back to the bunker before you do anything crazy.”

Castiel nodded and followed Dean outside of the hotel room. 

The two men continued in silence as they pulled out of the hotel parking lot. Castiel had come to appreciate silence in his time on Earth, but this particular moment rang with unsaid words. He knew that Dean would voice what he needed to say before too long. This time, he only had to wait for three-and-a-half Metallica songs. 

“So.” Dean said, finally breaking the silence. “You’re leaving your vessel.”

“Yes.” Castiel straightened his back and watched the dotted yellow lines disappear beneath them. 

Dean snuck a peek at Castiel. He nervously bit the inside of his cheek. No one spoke for another few moments. 

“Well, are you gonna ask me or not?”

Castiel replied casually, “Ask you what?”

“To be your new vessel.” Dean snuck another peek in Castiel’s direction, taking time to rake his eyes across his face. “If I can handle Michael, then I can handle you. Right?”

“Dean. I couldn’t ask that of you.”

Dean reached over to turn the music down. “Humor me.”

Castiel gave an angel’s impression of an eye roll. “Dean Winchester, are you willing to give your body and mind over to my cause?”

“Yes,” Dean said. His response was immediate. He looked over at Castiel, lips not fully closed. 

“You can’t mean that.” Castiel didn’t seem to be impressed. 

“It’s better than spending a week as a holy cloud of gas and you know it.”

Castiel moved his gaze in Dean’s direction, not quite looking directly at him yet. He couldn’t disagree. “Your history with Michael—” 

“You’re not Michael.” Dean shook his head lightly, turning back to the road. “Come on, Cas. If everyone was the same as their older brothers, Sam would be blacklisted from about twenty more bars than he already is.”

Castiel didn’t seem to be persuaded. He looked anywhere except Dean’s face. 

“Dean. I do not wish to cross any boundaries here.” He finally raised his gaze to meet Dean’s. “You understand that saying yes will give me unfettered access to your body and soul.”

“Look at me. I get it.” Dean quirked his lips humorlessly into a smirk. “I’ve been a hunter my whole life, I know what possession is.” He paused and sighed, tearing his eyes from the road to look at Castiel, speaking clearly. “I trust you. I’m saying yes.”

Castiel still didn’t look convinced. Dean sighed. 

Dean let out a humorless laugh as he rubbed his thumb on the steering wheel nervously. “Listen, man,” he said, his voice an olive branch. “I could learn how to say it in Enochian if English ain’t enough.”

Castiel finally met his gaze again. “I can remain unobstructive while we share a vessel.”

“I’ve already said yes, no need to keep selling,” Dean said, then hesitated. “So long as I get to stay behind the wheel.”

“Of course, Dean.” Castiel leaned imperceptibly closer to him. “I would never strip you of your autonomy.”

Dean nodded. “Good.” He paused, then echoed, “Good.” He looked back to the road. 

---

The bunker door slammed loud enough to ring through the halls. Dean gave a holler to Sam anyway, in case he didn’t hear him and Castiel come in. 

Sam walked into the room from the direction of his bedroom. “What the hell, Dean?” he said. “You can’t just text me, ‘Cas got witched. Be back before midnight.’ and then not respond.”

“Aren’t you the one who gets on me about texting and driving?” Dean smirked at Sam. “Just being a safe driver. ‘Sides, you could have used Cas’ phone. We got him one for a reason.”

Sam rolled his eyes and shifted his focus to Castiel. “I tried calling Cas, but it went straight to voicemail.”

“My phone stopped working a while ago.” Castiel pulled it out of his pocket. “It no longer turns on.”

Dean grabbed the phone from Castiel and examined it, testing the power button a few times. “When’s the last time you plugged it in?”

“Plugged it into what?”

Dean dropped his hands and looked at Castiel. “The wall, Cas.” He looked over at Sam pleadingly. Sam chuckled. 

“You have to charge it for a few hours every day or two,” Sam said. “I’ll put a charger in your room later.”

Castiel took his phone back from Dean. “I see. I will be more mindful of that in the future.”

Dean walked down the stairs into the main room area, Castiel following closely behind. 

“I’m going to grab a beer, want one?” Dean called over his shoulder as he headed towards the kitchen. 

Sam sat at the table. “Sure.”

“You’re getting one too, Cas,” Dean said, not waiting for a response from him. 

Castiel nodded and sat across from Sam as Dean left the room. 

“I’m beginning to appreciate the taste of beer,” he said to Sam. “The creation process behind it is very compelling.”

“I’m glad you like it.” Sam chuckled airly. “So, what happened with the witch? You look totally normal to me.”

“I’m glad I look normal.” Castiel sighed. “The spell is one that targets my grace, so humans are unable to see what the witch has done.”

Sam frowned. “Are you okay?”

“The damage so far is minimal.” Castiel shrugged. “I hardly noticed until Rowena brought it up. She said that the rate at which the spell devours my grace would increase unless I left my vessel.” 

Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “And you’re gonna do that? Leave your vessel, I mean.”

“I have no other choice,” Castiel said. “But my vessel will survive without me until the spell runs its course.” Anticipating Sam’s question, he added, “I’ll be able to return to this vessel in a few day’s time.”

“Huh.” Sam leaned back in his chair for a moment. “So will you just” —he waved his hand through the air nervously— “float around all day?”

“No, I—”

Castiel was cut off by Dean re-entering the room, holding three beers. “Brewski time!” he called, waggling the beers with one hand. He put a beer in front of Sam and Castiel, then took one of the open seats at the table and took a swig from his own bottle. 

“Dean, Cas was just telling me about what happened,” Sam said. He looked back over to Castiel. “Sorry, I’d offer to help, but I have a… history with angels using me as a vessel.” He gave an awkward half-smile. 

“I understand,” Castiel said, returning a small smile in Sam’s direction. 

“You don’t have to worry ‘bout a thing, Sammy.” Dean took another sip of his beer. For some reason, he felt nervous to tell Sam. He pushed it down. “Cas is gonna stay with me.”

Sam smirked and looked down at his beer bottle. “And you’re cool with that?”

“What? Lucifer didn’t wear me to the prom.”

“Dude.” Sam looked up to lazily glare at Dean. 

Dean was sufficiently cowed. “What, too soon?”

“Yeah, too soon.” Sam rolled his eyes and laughed under his breath. “Forever would be too soon.”

“I’m going to leave my vessel before morning,” Castiel noted, gracefully changing the subject. “Would you like to be in the room while it happens?”

Dean stiffened imperceptibly. 

“I’m sure you two can handle it,” Sam said, taking a sip from his beer. “I’ll be down the hall if you need anything.”

“Well,” Dean said, setting his beer on the table and moving to get out of his chair. “What do you say, Cas? No time like the present?”

Castiel’s eyebrows drew together. He looked up at Dean and then back down at his beer. “I’d like to finish this first. It’s pleasant to drink with you two.”

“Come on, Dean.” Sam laughed and lifted his beer in Dean’s direction. “Waste not, want not.”

Dean chuckled to cover his blooming blush. He relaxed back into his chair. “I’m just glad we corrupted an angel.”

---

Dean and Castiel ended up in one of the extra bedrooms, one which Dean liked to call Castiel’s room. Castiel hardly used it. He was sitting on top of the unwrinkled bed covers while Dean was pacing, trying to tamper his anxiety. 

“So, this possession thing.” Dean looked over carefully to Castiel. “Does it hurt?”

Castiel’s eyes tracked Dean’s movements. “What do you mean?”

“The whole...” Dean waved a hand around as he thought of how to word it. “Smoke-in-the-mouth thing. I mean, I smoked my fair share as a teen, but I’m no iron lung.”

The drug reference gave Castiel pause. “The process shouldn’t be painful. It may feel uncomfortable at times as your body attunes to housing a celestial being. You may experience sensations that the human body is not equipped to feel.”

“Lucky me,” Dean said breathlessly.

Castiel nodded. “Lucky you.”

Castiel swung his legs on top of his bed, shoes and all. He leaned against the headboard in a sitting position. Dean bit his tongue when he worried about the dirt tracking onto the sheets. 

“How would you like me?” Castiel asked once he settled. 

Dean tripped on his tongue for a moment. “Like you?”

“My vessel,” Castiel clarified. “How would you like it to be positioned while I’m away?”

A breath escaped Dean’s lungs. Castiel had to know what he was doing when he said things like that. 

“However you want, bud.” Dean flexed his jaw and swallowed. “It’s up to you, I won’t be coming in here until the spell times out.”

Castiel hummed and scooted forward so that he had the space to lie down completely, but he propped himself up on his elbows to keep Dean in his eyesight. He was lying on his back with his trenchcoat puddled around him like an aura. 

“Are you sure you’re willing to do this, Dean?”

Dean walked over to the side of Castiel’s bed. “My answer hasn’t changed since the last time you asked.”

“I’m serious.” Castiel’s voice compelled Dean to look him in the eyes. “I would not think any less of you for changing your mind in the eleventh hour.”

“You’re my friend, Cas.” Dean’s hand reached out to pat him on the shoulder before he realized that it was too far away to reach. For lack of a better location, he patted Castiel’s thigh where it was resting on the bed. “Friends help each other out.”

Castiel furrowed his brows as he watched Dean’s hand touch his thigh. Dean moved his hand back to its neutral position once he noticed Castiel looking. He felt a blush begin to heat his face without understanding why. 

“Besides,” Dean started, trying to distract from the building burning in his cheeks. “It’s a win-win. You get a vacation in Casa Winchester and I get to go a few days without seeing your ugly mug.”

Castiel’s eyebrows drew together even more. “You think I’m ugly?”

“Of course not,” Dean backtracked immediately. “I’m sure you’re, y’know, good looking. For a guy.” Dean would have to change the subject if he didn’t want Castiel to notice his blushing cheeks. “It’s just something people say.”

Dean wouldn’t know where to put Castiel on the traditional 1-10 scale of hotness. He lived on a different scale entirely. 

“I see.” Castiel relaxed his arms and allowed his gaze to trail up to the ceiling. “I never understood human beauty standards. I have a hard time evaluating my vessel.”

Great, Dean thought as he put a few feet of distance between him and the bed. I gave the angel a complex. 

“You’ve got nothing to worry about, man.” Dean tried to backtrack. “Chicks dig the whole dorky, just rolled out of bed look.”

Castiel hummed idly and then lifted himself to look Dean in the eye again. “Are you ready to be possessed?”

Dean had long since gotten used to Castiel’s abrupt non sequiturs. 

“Should I sit down?” Dean moved towards an empty chair a few feet away from the bed. 

“That would be smart.”

Dean carried the chair to the side of the bed and sat in it. It was strange to see Castiel laying down. The only other times that Dean had seen him in this position, he was bloodied from a fight. Castiel moved his arms to lie down completely, turning his head on the pillow to look at Dean. 

“Dean Winchester, will you let me in?”

“Castiel,” Dean breathed. He shivered in anticipation. “Yes.”

It wasn’t like the demon possessions he had seen, where the victim screamed as the demon’s black cloud rushed into their mouth. Castiel closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. A small, wavering tendril of bright smoke seeped out of his mouth. This was Castiel, more so than anything related to Jimmy Novak’s body. Dean’s adrenaline spiked as the tendril began to close the distance between them. It meandered through the air of Castiel’s bedroom like lazy cascading waves on a shoreline. Dean’s mouth opened and he tilted his chin towards the smoke without being aware he was doing so. 

The tendril of Castiel finally reached Dean’s lips. For a moment, it felt like he had used TV static as chapstick. The static feeling filled Dean’s throat. It spread over his head and spilled down his chest as more of Castiel flowed through him. It felt like the borders of his body were being erased, like he was expanding to fill the bedroom. His head was floaty and blurry, as if he was back to being seventeen and smoking Js with other nomads outside of run-down hotels. 

It was as if he had a whole new sense awakened in him. How could you explain sight to someone who was born blind? He felt his thoughts being pushed to the side to make space in his head for another entity. His body went blank for a moment before he scrambled to gain control. The feeling, which had to be Castiel, let him gather it up from the corners of his awareness. His limbs were left feeling like they fell asleep. He compressed Castiel to right at the base of his neck, behind his collarbones. He felt raw energy thrumming in the back of his mind. 

Dean opened his eyes. He hadn’t been aware that he closed them. Sam was banging on the other side of the door. They must have been making noise, even if he didn’t realize it. He stumbled up from his chair and almost instantly banged his shin against the bed frame. 

“Shit!” Dean yelped. The lightbulbs in the room popped in a sharp shatter of glass. He flinched at the noise. 

Sam yelled from behind the door, “Dean?”

“Yeah, give me a second!” Dean responded, traversing through the bedroom in the relative darkness. His adrenaline was still pumping, leaving him feeling tight and thready. He finally made it to the door and opened it for Sam. 

Sam looked different. It looked like someone had taken a long exposure photograph of him while he was moving. There was a glow to his body that made it look like he was radioactive. It made Dean feel like he was burning. He screwed his eyes shut. 

“Dean, are you okay?”

“Cas.” A growl came out of Dean’s throat and he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Whatever it is you’re doing, man, you need to pull up. This is too much.”

“Dean?”

Dean felt the fizzy numbness of his body recede even further. His body felt almost normal. His eyes opened hesitantly. 

“...Cas?” Sam asked, going out on a limb.

“Still me,” Dean said, shaking his head. He could finally look at Sam directly without feeling like his face was melting. He sighed. 

“Are you okay? Your eyes were...” Sam peeked around Dean to see Castiel’s empty vessel laying on the bed. “Is he…?”

Dean tapped the side of his head. “All up here. We’re good.”

Dean stepped aside so that Sam could enter the room. Sam flicked the lightswitch a few times but the room stayed dark. He looked at Dean accusingly. 

“What can I say? I got my go-go juice.”

Sam rolled his eyes and used his phone flashlight to examine the body of Jimmy Novak. Dean followed him and lingered by the bed. 

“He’s still breathing,” Sam said. He hesitated before adding, “Do you think he needs…”

Dean curled his upper lip. “Depends?”

Sam and Dean both stared blankly at Jimmy’s empty body. 

“I’m not opening that can of worms,” Dean finally said. He patted Sam’s shoulder as he moved past him to leave the room. “I’m starving.”

Dean stumbled as he walked down the hallway. He was in the kitchen for just long enough to grab bread, peanut butter, and jelly by the time Sam entered the room. 

“Do you feel any different?” Sam asked hesitantly, lingering by the doorway. 

Dean nodded while spreading peanut butter on a piece of bread. “I feel like I ran a freakin’ marathon.” He ran his thumb on the side of the knife to gather the remaining peanut butter and stuck it in his mouth. “I’m gonna eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, eat another, down a beer, and then crash for the night.”

Sam smiled and huffed air out his nose. That was the Dean he knew. “Is Cas talking to you?”

Dean looked up to tell Sam no, but jolted when he wasn’t standing by the doorway anymore. He looked around the room and flinched again when he realized Sam was a few feet to his side. 

“Son of a bitch, when did Cas teach you to teleport?”

Sam looked confused for a second before realization dawned on him. “Cas took over for a few minutes. He told me that everything is going according to plan. It will take a few hours for you to get ‘attuned’ enough to communicate. Whatever that means.”

“Damnit Cas, I told you to let me stay behind the wheel.” Dean said with very little heat behind his words. 

“He said that would be the only time.” Sam motioned to the counter where Dean was making his sandwich earlier. “He apologized.”

Instead of the half-made peanut butter and jelly sandwich that Dean was making, there was now a plate of two completed sandwiches (cut into triangles) and an opened bottle of one of Dean’s favorite beers, fresh from the fridge. Dean’s stomach growled.

Dean picked up the plate of food and the beer. “He’s forgiven. This time.”

---

Dean woke up and headed to the bathroom on autopilot, his bladder sending alarm bells to his brain. He went through the motions as usual, yawning and scratching his tummy as he relieved himself. When he looked down to make sure that the tank was empty, he felt a wave of embarrassment wash over him. His eyebrows pulled together and he touched his cheeks with a free hand. There was no reason why he should be blushing as he takes a whizz. He would have to do some googling later. He filed the feeling away in his mind, and the embarrassment passed as he put himself away and moved to the sink to wash his hands. 

Dean jolted when he saw his reflection move without him in the mirror. He furrowed his brows and looked pointedly down at the faucet. 

“Am I hallucinating?” he asked the empty bathroom. 

His own voice answered him. “If Sam were to walk in right now, he would see you talking to yourself.” Dean’s eyes flicked back up to the mirror. His reflection’s voice was grittier than normal, as if he ate a bowl of gravel for breakfast. “But you are not hallucinating. This is one way I can communicate with you.”

Dean laughed dryly and shook his head, looking away again. “This is weird, man. I feel like Jamie Lee Curtis.”

He had almost forgotten what had happened the night before in his post-hunt adrenaline crash. The reflection, which must be Castiel, had better posture than he’d ever had in his life. It looked like he’d gained an inch in height. 

“I can remain completely dormant if you’d prefer.” Castiel kept Dean’s body still as he spoke, save for the slight tilt of his head. “I do not wish to make you uncomfortable.”

Seeing someone using his meatsuit would normally make his hand itch for a silver blade, but something about this felt different. 

Dean shook his head slightly. “No big deal. Anything else I should know about beside this whole” —he waved his hand half-heartedly at the mirror— “Mulan thing?”

“I am passively aware of the sensory input you receive,” Castiel said, lowering his eyes. “But I am able to focus my attention elsewhere when you require privacy.”

Dean felt the tips of his ears begin to burn as he remembered what he had just been doing. He cleared his throat and changed the subject. “So what, you’ve been busy reading my thoughts?”

Dean’s reflection tilted his head and lowered his eyebrows slightly. Seeing Castiel’s mannerisms on his body made his hands twitch. He had to stop himself from touching the mirror. To shatter it or caress it, he didn’t know. 

“The mind of a shared vessel is difficult to describe in terms you can understand,” Cas shared after a pregnant pause. “There is no branch of human studies that can be used as an accurate reference.”

“You’re an angel,” Dean said, flexing his fingers. “I’m sure you can dumb it down for me.”

Castiel took a moment before speaking, no doubt firing a trillion of his and Dean’s currently shared synapses. “We share subconscious minds in this state, but our conscious minds remain our own. Instincts and emotions are shared before coherent thought.”

Something clicked in Dean’s mind. “Wait, was that…” Dean bit his tongue. He hesitated before speaking again, pointedly not looking Castiel in the face. “Were you embarrassed earlier?”

Dean’s reflection avoided eye contact. “I understand that humans are very protective of their genitalia. I apologize. I did not intend to—”

Dean cut him off. “Okay, we’re not going to talk about genitalia. New rule.” Dean worked furiously to think of a way to change the subject. Finally, “Why don’t I feel any different?”

Castiel looked thankful for the prompt. “Human senses aren’t accustomed to celestial intent. You felt that when I first entered your body. It will slowly become more comprehensible as we continue sharing the same vessel.”

Dean barked out a short laugh to distract from thinking about it too much. “Thanks for the fine print. Anything I should be on the lookout for?”

“Nothing major.” Dean kept expecting to see Castiel’s blue eyes when their gazes linked. Something about making eye contact with himself felt weird. “You were created to house the most powerful archangel in heaven, so there’s no chance of unintentional damage to your body on my behalf.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, bud.” Dean raised his eyebrows at his reflection. “You can be scrappy.”

Seeing his reflection give a small, easy smile was something that Dean hadn’t seen in a while. 

After a small pause, Dean swallowed and cleared his throat, speaking carefully. “Listen, can you—”

As if reading his thoughts, Dean’s reflection changed to Jimmy Novak, trenchcoat and all. 

“Is this better?” Castiel asked, back to his normal appearance. 

Dean’s lips quirked up. It was nice to hear his voice again. “Yeah.” His mouth was a little dry. He tried again. “Yeah, Cas. That’s better.”

Castiel smiled at him before dissolving into Dean’s reflection. Dean lifted his hand and rubbed his face, watching his reflection follow his movements exactly. Everything was back to normal. He nodded at the empty mirror and turned on his heel to start his day. 

---

After a cup of coffee for breakfast, Dean started to become aware of how dirty he was. He never actually had the chance to take a shower after the fight with the witch. Thankfully, she was staying in a classy apartment rather than a cabin in the woods, but still. He probably smelled like an entire gym locker room. He put it off for as long as he could, not knowing how to bring it up to Castiel. He almost made it to noon by reading lore in a storage room before Sam leaned over him to see what the book said and scrunched his nose. 

“Dude, come on. You stink so bad,” Sam said. 

Dean rolled his eyes and stood up from where he was sitting. He gave Sam a shit-eating grin. “I smell like a bed of roses.”

“Sure, maybe one that a dog just peed in.” Sam chuckled under his breath. “Maybe you can ask Cas to zap you clean.”

“I’ll just do it the old-fashioned way.” Dean scooted around Sam and made his way to exit the room. “Kids these days, always looking for the easy way out.”

“Dude, I’m 32!” Sam yelled after him as he entered the hallway. 

Dean chuckled at his own humor as he walked to his bedroom to grab a fresh set of clothes. Once he realized that he needed a shower, everything felt uncomfortable. It would be nice to get under the bunker’s perfect water pressure again. 

He spent a longer time than normal picking out clothes, still putting off having to deal with Castiel possessing him while he showers. Finally, he entered the bathroom he claimed as his own. There was just enough space for the basics: toilet, shower, sink, counter, mirrored medicine cabinet. 

He stood in front of the mirror awkwardly for a moment, unsure how to broach the subject. 

“Cas?” He said to the empty room. 

The mirror didn’t change. Dean wondered if maybe he imagined the entire possession. He clicked his tongue and turned away from the mirror, but jolted when he saw Castiel standing next to him. 

“Holy shit!”

“No,” Castiel answered. He tilted his head at Dean. “It’s me.”

Dean shook his head in shock. “How are you here?”

“I’m not, physically speaking.” Castiel lifted his arms to show off his form. “I’m a visual representation constructed by your mind.” He looked down at himself. “I’m surprised. It normally takes months for seraphim to harmonize with their vessel’s brainwaves enough to present themselves without the aid of a reflection like this.”

“Look at you go.” Dean checked the mirror quickly. Castiel had no reflection. 

Castiel seemed to realize where he was for the first time. “Are you about to take a shower?”

Dean nodded.

“I assume you wish to have privacy,” Castiel said.

Dean felt his cheeks heat up. “Please.”

“I will put my attention elsewhere.”

“How?”

Castiel thought for a moment. “If you’re willing to try, you may be able to create an illusion of something for me to distract myself with.”

Dean hummed an affirmation. He tried to think of something that Castiel would like. He closed his eyes shut and imagined Castiel holding it. 

After a few moments, he heard Castiel say, “The Bible?”

Dean opened his eyes to see Castiel holding a copy of the Bible. It was small and leather bound, with the title embossed in gold. It looked like an exact copy of the one that his dad used to keep in the trunk of the Impala. 

“Yeah, the Bible. You’re an angel, aren’t you?”

Castiel flipped through the pages. He smiled. “Have you ever read the Bible, Dean?”

“Uh, no. I never got around to it, surprisingly.”

Castiel turned the book around so that Dean could see the pages. They were all blank. “Your brain didn’t know what words to add. Try something that you know.”

Dean took a deep breath and closed his eyes, picturing what he wanted Castiel to have in his mind’s eye. 

He opened his eyes to see Castiel examining it in his hands. “What is this?”

“My old walkman,” Dean said. 

It was beat up, with countless chips in the plastic. The wire to the headphones had a kink or two in it, but Dean knew that it would still work. It was loaded with an AC/DC track that Dean stole from the Impala’s glove box when he was 17. 

“This is before I turned it into an EMF detector.” Dean wanted to reach for it, but hesitated. His hands would probably pass right through it. “It’s nice to see it again.”

Castiel looked at it fondly. “How do I use it?”

“Here, put these over your ears.” Dean grabbed the headphones on instinct. They felt solid in his hands. The feeling stopped him in his tracks. “I can touch this?”

“It’s all in your brain, Dean.” Castiel set the walkman body on the bathroom counter and took the headphones from Dean. Dean felt the soft brush of his fingers as he did. “The same brain that is letting you see and hear illusions can let you feel them too.”

Dean licked his lips. “Okay. Awesome. I can handle this.”

Despite feeling anxiety grow in his gut, Dean felt calmness attempting to wash over him. He looked at Castiel. 

“Pretend I’m here physically,” Castiel said, not mentioning the jedi mind tricks he was no-doubt pulling. “Show me how to use the walkman.”

What’s the big deal, Dean? Dean thought to himself. Never taught an illusion of an angel how to use a walkman in your bathroom before?

Dean forced himself to take a full breath. “Okay. Okay.” He shook his head slightly to shake off his anxiety. “Put the headphones on.”

Castiel did. He picked up the walkman from where he set it on the counter. “What button should I press?”

“It should be all rewinded and everything. Just press the play button.” After a moment, Dean added, “It’s the triangle.”

Castiel nodded and pressed it. He looked at Dean with a smile. “It’s working!” he said, a bit louder than normal. 

Dean gave him an awkward thumbs up. “Just close your eyes and listen for a few minutes.”

Castiel gave him a thumbs up back. “I’ll just… um…” He looked around for a place to be while Dean undressed. He pulled the headphones off for a second. “Where should I go?”

Dean suddenly realized that the bathroom didn’t have much room for privacy. He looked around for a moment before lowering the lid of the toilet. 

He pointed at the now-covered toilet. “Sit here. Turn the volume up.” “Okay.” Castiel sat. He put the headphones back on and fiddled with the buttons. He closed his eyes. “I’ll be here.”

Dean just looked at Castiel for a few seconds. This was so weird. He trusted that Castiel wouldn’t try to spy on him, but he was still sitting less than a foot away. He hesitantly took his shirt off. Castiel didn’t react. Socks were next. Pants followed soon after. 

He was standing in front of Castiel in his underwear. 

Right, he needed to turn the water on first. He had to awkwardly bend around Castiel’s knees to reach the faucet handle, but thankfully Castiel ignored the movement. He could almost feel the warmth of Castiel’s imaginary body heat on his torso. He adamantly ignored it, for Little Dean’s sake. 

The water was running. Moment of truth. Dean took a deep breath and pulled his briefs off. He didn’t dare to look at Castiel in this state. He had to bite back a hysterical laugh from the absurdity of it all. 

Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think about it. The thought ran circles around his mind. He’s in your head, don’t think about it. He can feel what you feel, don’t think about it. 

Dean hopped in the shower. He gave a sigh of relief when he finally pulled the curtain back, blocking Castiel from his line of sight. He could pretend like it was any other day. The water hit him like rain. 

He sang Shoot to Thrill under his breath as he washed himself clean. 

---

Thank God that Dean’s tastebuds were still working. If he started tasting molecules instead of flavors, he would have to kick Castiel out. He piled his plate up high with the chicken alfredo that he spent the past few hours cooking. Sam had already served himself a plate of the pasta before Dean added the chicken and was sitting at the kitchen table, reading something on his laptop with one hand while he ate with the other. Dean grabbed some silverware and sat down across from him. 

Without thinking, Dean wove his fingers together on his lap and lowered his head. He sat in relative silence, mouthing something inaudible under his breath. 

“Dean, what are you doing?”

Suddenly, Dean snapped back into reality. He unclasped his hands and moved them from his lap to above the table. He quickly picked up his silverware and started to spike pasta with his fork. “I’m eating dinner, Sammy.”

“No.” Sam laughed. “No, before that. Were you… saying grace?”

Dean felt a blush begin to rise in his cheeks and pointedly ignored Sam’s gaze. “That must have been Cas.”

“Or Jimmy.”

“What?”

Sam slid his laptop to the side so that he could look at Dean directly. “I’ve been doing some reading about angel vessels. There isn’t much out there, but we know that angels leave behind a trace of grace in the vessels they occupy.”

“Yeah, of course,” Dean said, having completely forgotten about that part. 

Sam took a bite of pasta and chewed quickly to continue speaking. “What if the opposite is also true? Cas has been inside Jimmy for years now. He could have picked up on some of his habits.”

“Dude,” Dean said. “Never say that again.”

Sam paused for a second, then rolled his eyes when he understood. “I’m just saying, Dean. This is uncharted territory. Who knows how angels and vessels affect each other? The Men of Letters’ research on them is all theoretical.”

“I’m not going to church anytime soon, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Dean paused. “Are you asking to research me?”

“No. Well, it would be helpful since you’re already here.” Sam looked up at Dean hopefully but shook his head when he saw the look on Dean’s face. “But no. Definitely not.”

Dean rolled his eyes. 

Sam changed the subject. “Good job on dinner, by the way. Thanks for making it.”

“Nesting has its perks.” Dean gave Sam a smile with cheeks filled with pasta. 

---

The nighttime was when it felt truly bizarre. Dean had to lay in bed and try to fall asleep, knowing that Castiel was just a sharp inhale away. He had been tossing and turning for almost an hour. Angels didn’t sleep, so Castiel must have been just watching this all happen. He couldn’t fall asleep if he thought about it. 

“Cas?” he finally voiced into the empty room.

Castiel appeared, sitting on the side of Dean’s bed. He turned his head to look down at him. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean sighed and relaxed into the pillow. “This is weird.”

“How are you feeling?” Castiel asked. Dean barked out a laugh on instinct. 

“Me? Peachy.” Dean pushed himself up into a sitting position. “How’s Hotel Dean? Do I need to call housekeeping?”

Castiel looked out into the darkness, giving Dean a view of his side profile. “You’re the strongest vessel known to man. I am… exceedingly comfortable.”

“Good. That’s… good.” Dean felt embarrassment in his gut from the compliment, unsure if it was his own or Castiel’s. “You aren’t bored?”

Castiel returned his focus to Dean. “I do not find being this close to you boring.”

Dean forgot what he was going to say. His mouth was suddenly dry. He licked his lips and broke eye contact. He could still feel the weight of Castiel’s gaze. 

“Um, what’ll happen when I fall asleep?” Dean had to clear his throat to get his words out clearly. 

“Nothing unusual. I will remain dormant.”

“Would it wake me up if you took over?”

Castiel furrowed his brows. Finally, he answered, “No. It would be less invasive than sleepwalking.”

“I don’t see why you couldn’t take over while I’m getting my few hours,” Dean said carefully, looking back at Castiel. “If I can’t tell the difference.”

“Dean…” Dean could already tell from his tone that Castiel was going to decline the offer. 

He adjusted his position on the bed. “Come on, man. You’ve gotta take what I’m giving to you. I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”

Castiel looked into Dean’s eyes for a few seconds before responding. “I understand.”

“Just don’t do anything weird.” Dean relaxed back into laying down on the bed. “Take care of my body.”

“Of course, Dean.” Castiel looked away before blinking out of existence. 

Dean didn’t have trouble falling asleep after that. 

---

Sam was walking to the kitchen in the early hours of the morning when he heard sound coming from Dean’s lounge (which Sam refused to call The Dean Cave, no matter how many times Dean threatened to cut his hair off). He changed course to investigate, his socked feet making soft pat-pats in the morning silence. The door was slightly ajar, so he pushed through to see the TV on and Dean sitting on the couch. Sam could have sworn that he recognized the show, from some article or meme that he saw online. Finally it clicked. 

“Is that… Riverdale?” Sam asked incredulously. 

Movement came from the couch. “Don’t be too loud, you’ll wake up Dean.”

Sam was caught off guard for a second before he put the pieces together in his mind. This would take some getting used to. 

“That’s creepy,” Sam said, pointing at Dean’s body. “So, I’m talking to Cas now?”

“Yes.” Castiel turned his attention back to the show. “Claire recommended this show to me. She said that I would find it funny. I’m not sure I understand the joke.”

“Yeah, I don’t think anyone does.” Sam chuckled breathlessly. “Does Dean know you’re making his eyes watch this?”

Castiel closed his eyes for a moment, opening them to meet Sam’s gaze. “He is currently dreaming about being in a high school musical theatre program. I assume that on some level, he is processing the show alongside me.”

“Um…” Sam floundered for words for a moment, suddenly struck by the strangeness of the situation. “Do you want any coffee? I’m starting a pot.”

“I don’t.” Castiel paused. “But bring a cup anyways. Dean’s about to wake up.”

Sam walked back to the kitchen, muttering, “So creepy…” under his breath. 

---

Maybe Dean shouldn’t have been so adamant about taking a case while Castiel and him were shacking up. 

Side note, Dean thought as he struggled to breathe. Find out whether shacking up is only about having sex.

It was easy to feel regret now, as he was being held against the back of a gravestone psychically by his neck. But hey, pobody’s nerfect. Maybe it was Sam’s fault for agreeing to come with him. 

The case was supposed to be a simple salt-and-burn for a ghost that had been spotted a few times in a Topeka graveyard. Just a quick day trip. Everything was going according to plan until… Well, Dean’s neck hurt. Thankfully, they had dug up the grave before the ghost showed up. Double thankfully, the ghost’s attention was entirely on Dean. 

He couldn’t help but smile a little as Sam dropped the lit pack of matches on the ghost’s salty and gasoline-drenched bones. Said smile turned into frightened eye contact with Sam when the ghost didn’t disappear. 

“Dean, something else’s keeping it here!”

“Y’think?” Dean gritted out his words through clenched teeth. He made a snap decision. “Cas, take the wheel!”

What Sam saw was Dean breaking out of the ghost’s psychic hold, thrusting his hand through its chest, and the ghost burning away from the inside out. 

What Dean saw was different. 

He felt brisk air as it hit his exposed forearms, cooler than the warm summer night he had just been in. He opened his eyes to see himself standing in the middle of the countryside in front of a barn. A familiar barn. 

The wind picked up as Dean walked closer to the barn’s doors. The roof started to stutter and creak. The doors began to shake. 

He knew this barn. 

He reached his hand out for the door handle, but the doors opened in a burst of sparks and splintering wood before he could even touch it. The inside of the barn was revealed. 

There were sigils and graffiti painted all over the walls. He knew those sigils. He painted them with Bobby. 

He could make out someone walking over to him from the shadows. 

“Are you gonna stab me with a knife?” Dean asked, holding his arms out. 

Castiel continued to walk closer to Dean. “I apologize for the abrupt change in scenery. This is the first location I could think of to take you.”

“This is fine, Cas.” Dean huffed out a laugh, still coming down from an adrenaline high from the hunt. “This is just fine.”

Castiel smiled contentedly. 

Dean suddenly remembered what situation he had just escaped from. “Wait a minute, if you’re here, who’s handling my body?”

“Still me,” Castiel said, somewhat smugly. “I’m able to multitask.”

“So what’re we doing right now?” Dean couldn’t help but circle around Castiel slightly, echoing his footsteps from years ago. 

Castiel noticed his repetition and watched him idly. “Sam and I are refilling the grave. Would you like to take back over?”

“Nah, I’ll let you handle the heavy lifting.” Dean finally planted himself by the table of various weapons and leaned against it. “How does it feel?”

Castiel tilted his head at Dean. “I don’t experience physical exhaustion like you do. It doesn’t feel like anything.”

“No, not the digging.” Dean’s thumb rubbed against the rough wood of the table. He lowered his gaze slightly, too embarrassed to say it while looking at Castiel. “Do I feel any different than Jimmy?”

Castiel tilted his chin up and inhaled as he thought. “You have a higher white blood cell count than Jimmy. Your cholesterol is higher than his as well.” He paused. “You also have more” —he squinted his eyes slightly as he decided on a word to use— “brightness to your vessel.”

“What, I’m blowing sunshine up your ass?”

“No,” Castiel responded, drawing his eyebrows together. “You’re the righteous man. You’re divine.”

He said it as if it was the easiest thing in the world. The sky was blue, two and two was four, and Dean Winchester was from the heavens. 

Dean scoffed and shook his head. “I’m not divine, Cas. I’m just a guy.”

He heard cracks of lightning. Castiel was no longer looking at him, deciding to move his gaze to something behind him. 

“Dean,” Castiel said, eyes twinkling in mirth. “Look behind you.”

Dean only had to turn his head slightly to see them. 

There were wings growing out of his back. Big and black, exactly like the ones he saw on Castiel. 

“No.” Dean shook his head. “This is all backwards.” He looked back at Castiel. “Am I dreaming?”

Castiel didn’t say anything, choosing instead to close the distance between Dean and him. For a second, Dean thought—

“Dude, you need to get a sleep apnea machine.” Sam laughed from where he was sitting behind the steering wheel. “You sound like an airplane.”

Dean tensed in his seat and checked his surroundings a few times to comfort himself. He was in the Impala with Sam. 

“I was sleeping?” he asked. 

Sam quickly glanced at him, keeping his attention on the road. “I don’t really know. Cas took over to kill the ghost and clean up, but then he just sat silently in the car. It was creepy.” Sam shrugged. “I just said something when you started to snore.”

“Gee, thanks.” Dean rubbed his hand over his face. It hadn’t felt like a dream. Castiel must have done his forehead-touch thing to send him back to the land of the living. “Remind me to stop crashing after hunts. I get the weirdest dreams.”

“Yeah, you love it when I tell you what to do.” Sam checked the mirrors dutifully. “How’s Cas?”

Dean raised his eyebrows at Sam. “Weren’t you the one who just talked to him?”

“Yeah, but I’m not the one he’s riding shotgun in.” Sam’s mouth quirked. “What’s that like?”

“It’s great.” Dean adjusted his position in the seat. “There, we talked about it. Can we stop by a store? I need to pick up some protein.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Sure thing.”

---

Dean was lying awake in his bed sometime between day two and day three when he finally asked it. 

The words rang in the silence of the night. “What’s it like needing a vessel?”

In the blink of an eye, Castiel appeared. This time, he was lying in the bed next to Dean, under the covers in three layers of clothing. Dean felt underdressed in his pajama pants and old band shirt. The two men were lying on their sides and looking right at each other. Dean thought about telling him to give him some space, but it didn’t matter. He wasn’t physically there. 

Castiel was silent for long enough that Dean started to wonder if he was going to answer.

“It makes me feel demonic,” Castiel confessed. His eyes almost glowed in the dim light. “It should not be the will of heaven to ruin a life just to exist on the physical plane. Having to tear someone from their family, from their entire life. I admit, I feel some semblance of comfort knowing that Jimmy is in heaven.” He lowered his eyes in shame. “But Claire, Amelia. Even those in his life he wasn’t close to. Every human has such an intricate web of relationships and reasons to live. Using them as a vessel erases the beauty of humanity.”

Castiel paused. “Jimmy wasn’t my first vessel.”

Dean looked at him in silence, willing him to continue. 

“She was a young woman. Carlotta Richards.” Dean thought he could feel the phantom puffs of Castiel’s exhales on his cheek. “She left her family as a teenager. They didn’t approve of her.” Castiel looked at Dean meaningfully. “She saw me as a blessing. She didn’t realize she was cursed from the moment she let me in.”

Dean’s mouth was dry. “What happened?”

“The mission I used her for ended and I returned to the celestial plane.” Castiel continued to avoid Dean’s eyes. “Her heaven is beautiful. She spends her time in an eternal Saturday sunset on a picnic with her soulmate.” Castiel finally looked at him. “Dorothy.”

Dean held his breath. He was transfixed, completely and utterly. 

“What else?” 

“You,” Castiel said in a low voice. “This body is no closer to what I look like than yours is. I’m not a man with dark hair and blue eyes. I’m not a man at all. Angels’ true forms are their most personal expressions of the self. You deserve to see it.” Castiel’s voice was soft, so soft. He was nearly whispering when he spoke again, his eyes burning into Dean’s. “I wish that you could see who I truly am.”

Both of them wondered, in that moment, if this would be when it happened. Neither moved. 

Dean finally exhaled. “This is who you are.”

Dean blinked. Castiel was gone. 

He didn’t sleep a wink. 

---

It had been a few days. 

Dean could tell that Sam knew it was time for Castiel to go back. Dean knew too. He was eating breakfast when the man himself made an appearance. 

“It’s time for me to return to my rightful vessel,” Castiel said, sitting in the chair across from Dean that was empty a moment before. 

Dean nodded and finished the last bite of his cereal. “You sure?”

“I’ll do an examination of the vessel before I return.” Castiel watched Dean wipe the milk off his lip. “But I believe so.”

“Awesome,” Dean said. He stood up and brought his bowl to the sink. “Let’s get you back home.”

Castiel disappeared after that, leaving Dean to walk to his room alone. He knocked on Sam’s door as he walked by it. 

“Cas is going back to his vessel, you good?”

He heard a muffled, “Let me know how it goes!” from through the door and continued down the hall. Dean was vaguely grateful that Sam didn’t want to be in the room for it, but he didn’t care to examine why. 

Castiel blinked into existence again when he opened the door to his room. Dean turned on the light (thanking Sam for replacing the lightbulbs) to see him staring at his prone body from where he was standing at the foot of the bed. 

“What’s the verdict, Doc?”

Castiel hummed. “The spell seems to have run its course. It should be entirely safe for me to return to my vessel.”

“Good, good.” Dean went over to grab the chair he used before. “Sitting down again?”

Castiel nodded. 

Dean pulled the chair up to the same position, mind only spinning a little bit from seeing two Castiels in the same room. 

“So, what do I do?” Dean asked. “Just exhale really hard, or what?”

Castiel placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder, standing behind him. “I will take care of it. Close your eyes.”

Dean did. 

The reversal process was the same level of strange. It felt like someone was painlessly turning him inside-out. He could still feel the static over his lips as the white light trickled out of his mouth. He felt Castiel’s grace rubbing against the inside of his skin as it retreated up his body. Dean was glad he was sitting down, because his knees felt like they were made of Jell-O. 

Castiel began to rise into a sitting position as he returned to Jimmy Novak’s body. Dean subconsciously trailed after the white smoke as it left his mouth, closing the distance between him and Castiel’s true vessel. They both inched closer to contact as the cloud that was Castiel transferred between them. 

Dean wasn’t aware that he had been kissing Castiel until Castiel started kissing him back. 

It was like touching the surface of the sun. Dean leaned into Castiel’s body for a moment before pulling away. He felt like he was burning. 

“Woah, I—” Dean fought out a breath. 

Castiel was a deer caught in headlights. He scrambled off the bed and started moving away. 

Dean suddenly realized that he didn’t want him to go. He grabbed his forearm. 

“Don’t leave,” Dean pleaded. 

Dean didn’t let go of Castiel’s forearm. Castiel didn’t say anything. Dean kept not letting go. 

“Dean.” Castiel’s body was tense, like a rubber band about to snap.  

To Dean, It all made sense in that moment. Every hidden glance, choreographed touch, charged moment. Dean couldn’t imagine being content without him. He felt like a puzzle whose final piece had just clicked into place. 

Dean took a deep breath. “Cas, you’re my only happy ending. It’s you.” It was a revelation. “And I want a happy ending. I want a happy ending so bad it hurts.” Dean moved his hands to grip his trench coat by the lapels. “I’ve fought for it. I’ve died for it. I need the sun to set, Cas. I need you to be by my side when it does.”

“Dean,” Cas said. 

“So yes. Of course, yes.” Dean let go of Castiel’s now-crumpled trench coat, leaving his hands to slip and rest flat on Castiel’s chest. “Yes back then, yes today, yes tomorrow. Yes to you every day until I’m dead in the ground. Yes to every day after that.”

“Dean,” Cas prayed. He lifted a hand to cup Dean’s cheek. 

Dean’s eyes threatened to fill with tears, but his eyebrows were set sternly in place. “Please, Cas. I won’t ask you twice. Stay.”

“Yes.”

Castiel was the one who closed the space between them. It was electricity in motion. Their kisses were clumsy, awkward, but neither of them would change a thing as they fell onto Castiel’s bed and the kisses began to deepen. 

---

Dean would scratch the back of his neck as he stood next to Castiel, looking at Sam sitting at the table. 

“Hiya, Sammy,” he would say, getting his attention. “Cas and I are... Well…”

Castiel would interrupt. “Your brother and I are having sex now. We don’t plan on stopping.”

Sam would be caught off guard for a moment, but he would smile and laugh kindly with them at the absurdity of it all. 

“It’s about time,” he would finally say. “You two have been circling each other for a while now. It was either killing each other or…”

Dean would smile and say, “Falling in love.”

“Well.” Sam would laugh again. “I was gonna say making out. But that’s good too.”

Dean would feel embarrassed and lower his gaze to the floor for a moment. But Castiel would grab his hand, squeeze it, and everything would turn out alright. 

[olivinesea]

In the Golden Dark, pt. 2

Part 1

a/n: This was already pretty much done so here you go. These parts are all rather short but that can be nice right? ~1.6k

i can’t concentrate if i keep seeing your face showing up in tea leaves lit up on my tv i can’t stand up straight under your gravity so i lay awake with my eyes closed

“Did you know 12% of people dream in black and white?”

“Wha-what?” Hotch groggily looked at the time on his phone. He had answered it blindly, autopilot kicking in to attend to the buzzing beside him on the couch. He blinked again and brought the phone back to his ear to hear Spencer’s voice more clearly.

“Yeah! It used to be a lot more when television was only in black and white but now that’s shifted obviously. Elderly people are still a lot more likely to have dreams that are—“

“Spencer,” Hotch interrupted the way the words were beginning to tumble out. When he was met with an abrupt silence he realized he didn’t have a follow up, he just needed a moment to breathe. To take in the dark living room, the flickering light of the television, its muted colors and grainy film showing a syndicated rerun, the kind only played in the middle of the night or the middle of the day, times when no productive person was meant to be watching. Something soft in its age, he found it comforting to put it on when he couldn’t sleep, woken again by nightmares that some monster had found their way to Haley and Jack. That they were suffering and he didn’t even know.

On the other end of the line, Spencer held his breath. He had been nervous about making the call, he wasn’t sure if it was too intrusive, too far across the boundaries they normally worked within. It wasn’t that he was worried about waking Hotch, he knew the other man was already awake. Even before they had started talking more, casually sharing details about the time they spent away from the office, it was obvious that Hotch did not sleep like a normal person. It was something else that they shared.

Seemingly endless minutes passed without another word from either man and his fear that he’d made a mistake grew. He told himself that Hotch was not pleased with the interruption. That he was being too assuming—why would Hotch be interested in anything he had to say at three in the morning? He’d called spurred on by the acute need to share a thought and, though he wasn’t totally conscious of it, a wish to hear that comforting voice, maybe even a quiet chuckle. He had smiled imagining that gentle sound, only he hadn’t realized it, the corners of his mouth moving without informing the rest of his mind. He touched his lips now with cold fingertips, running them over the dry skin, oblivious to the way his jaw clenched.

The silence between them hung like a bridge. There was a moment where both of them looked out at their respective living rooms, mentally steeling themselves to take a step and hope the other would meet them. Hope that they wouldn’t find themselves suspended over the water, alone as ever.

“I’m sorry for calling so late,” Spencer sounded so remorseful Hotch felt guilty immediately. He hadn’t meant cause him any anxiety with his long silence, he was just trying his best to gather his thoughts. To make sense of what he meant to do.

“It’s ok, really, I—“ Hotch hesitated, unsure how much detail to go into, how much reassurance was the right amount. He felt unreasonably awkward suddenly and twitched his fingers in irritation, “I wasn’t really sleeping anyway.”

“Really?” Spencer scrunched his eyes up, disliking the eagerness bleeding from his voice. He couldn’t help it though, the prospect of having the other man’s attention, even if it was only his voice reflecting from a satellite, knowing that Hotch was listening made him feel more secure. He’d spent too many restless nights pacing his apartment, starting and abandoning tasks in attempts to distract himself from the way the night was pressing uncomfortably close, threatening to overtake his mind. To have a friend to talk to, to reflect back his own reality, was a gift he could barely believe he deserved.

Hotch grunted as he adjusted himself on the couch cushions, supporting the back of his head on the pillows, resting the phone between his shoulder and ear. With his free hand he pulled up the blanket that had tangled at his feet. “Wide awake,” he said dryly. “What were you saying about dreams?”

Spencer’s smile was so big Hotch could hear it through the phone as the man stumbled ahead with the details of some completely unnecessary study. Hotch wanted to ask what had led to him reading such a thing but he was enjoying the happy way Spencer was running through all the new material he’d learned. He adored listening to Spencer speak, how he sometimes stopped short when remembering a related detail and how there’d be a pause while he took a split second to make the choice whether to jump to the new train of thought. Hotch smiled to himself and was pleased enough to offer hums of interest at inflection points. He let his eyes wander back to the television, as the title credits of another episode of Bonanza played across the screen, the pale wheat and horses and cowboys, already a distant fantasy in the 1960s, ancient history by today’s standards. His eyes fell half closed as he continued to listen to Reid’s voice.

“And, they just published a new study about how sleep deprivation decreases the body’s pain tolerance.”

Hotch snorted softly at this. “They really had to get a bunch of scientists together to figure that out? Someone paid for that?”

“Well it is always important to gather data and scientific evidence for these types of things. Anecdotal testimony won’t lead to any developments in the care for conditions like chronic pain,” Reid paused when he heard more quiet laughter from Aaron. He grinned.

“Do you want to hear something really crazy? They’ve found a connection between a person’s favorite sleeping position and their personality. Can you imagine!”

“Hmmph,” Hotch sank deeper into the cushions, settling in for whatever came next.

*

The calls became as regular as the midnight pancakes. Spencer would call with some piece of trivia, every night a new topic. He had a seemingly endless well of knowledge to draw on. In truth he spent the day trying to think of new ideas to share, new information he thought Hotch would appreciate. For no reason other than his own private satisfaction, he grouped topics thematically. This week they were going to be talking about space.

Now Hotch was ready, drowsy but checking his phone every few minutes to see if he’d somehow missed it ringing. He was looking at it yet again when it buzzed. He stared at the screen for a moment before answering, letting the name that flashed send a small thrill up his spine. He was not sure how it’d happened but he had come to rely on these calls. They still hadn’t discussed it, hadn’t acknowledged what this extracurricular time spent together might mean. They were simply seeking comfort, not questioning how this might be perceived outside these invisible moments.

“Hey Spence,” he barely got the words out before Spencer launched into that night’s prepared curiosities.

“Did you know most of the visible stars are actually multiple star systems? The singular stars are so much harder to see that astronomers used to believe that it was fairly uncommon to find a singular star like our sun.They hypothesized this was a contributing factor to why we hadn’t found evidence of extraterrestrial life. It is much harder for a planet to have the stability necessary for a habitable atmosphere with the potential fluctuations of a binary star system. Without as many single stars it made sense that it was exceedingly unlikely for life to form outside of our solar system.”

“I think it’d be nice,” Hotch murmured, not really thinking about what he was saying.

“What’s that?”

“Oh, ah,” Hotch stammered, a little embarrassed to have the comment acknowledged. He felt his neck growing warm as he tried to make out a reply. “Well, having two suns. I think it could be nice."
 “Why?” Spencer was genuinely curious.

“Um, I guess, I imagine it would be warmer for one,” he paused before adding on, waiting to see what Spencer’s reaction might be. He could almost hear the wheels of his mind turning with all the reasons Hotch’s logic was faulty. He hurried on before he became too self-conscious to finish his thought. “And, I’ve just never really liked the night, all the darkness. Maybe with two suns we could have a little more light in the world.”

Instead of responding, Spencer remained quiet, surprised by this uncharacteristically whimsical thought. Hotch could feel his whole neck had turned red, along with the warming tips of his ears.

“I—I don’t really like the night either,” he tried to sympathize. “It can feel…overwhelming.”

They sat for a moment, not sure where to take this or how the facts had turned into feelings.

“I’m happy I have you to talk to though.”

It was simple, but it was true and sweet and Hotch smiled, closing his eyes to better absorb the words.

“I’m happy too, Spencer.”

Now they were both blushing, the depth of meaning behind these brief statements readily apparent. For a moment, feeling the heat dancing across his face, Hotch wondered if this wasn’t a mistake. Maybe he was allowing things to become something irresponsible, something he couldn’t so easily walk back. He pictured Spencer, sitting across from him, animated and full of life, pulling further away from the shadows that teased around the edges. It didn’t matter, he decided. It didn’t matter what this was, only that they had found a hand to hold through the night.

“So, what else have you got for me?”

~Part 3~

[juminsqrincess]

RFA + saeran’s petnames headcannons

GENDER NEUTRAL 

something small to start the blog off hehe~ here are the RFA’s and saeran’s (minus v because i literally haven’t played his route or looked at him HJGHGJ sorry-) favourite pet names to call you: (minor spoilers for saeran)

yoosung:

not gonna lie, poor baby yoosung is probably the one *being* called the pet names most of the time; but after a while he does start to get more comfortable and less anxious and flusterable (is that word? LMAO) when giving affection to the MC. he starts off very slowly, calling you the pet names when you’re both sleepy, or when you’re focused on a game with him, so you don’t notice it too much (though his face still reddens in anticipation to your reaction) and then pet names become a more natural thing for him, and just start slipping out- especially if you give him a positive reaction because he just wants to see you happy! 

pet names include: - honey (delivered with a cheesy grin, he thinks he’s all smooth and classy) - bubby (literally just baby but with extra yoosung sweetness added - it started out as something he used in his sleepy voice and then you picked up a liking to it- it still kind of embarrasses him)  - birdie (likes the concept of you being all small and fluffy- *is small and fluffy*- yoosung’s version of the classic pet name ‘dove’) - snuggles (definitely WAS NOT the name of his old teddy bear that he MAYBE still keeps as a SECRET to cuddle when he misses you-) - his little pogchamp

zen:

pet name GOD - shamelessly started using pet names as SOON as you two hit it off, this man is a pet name machine he has TRICKS UP HIS SLEEVE. bro. he uses as many pet names as he can to figure out your weak spots and then TAKES ADVANTAGE OF THIS KNOWLEDGE. it boosts his ego to see you flustered because of him of course - though he wants you to feel special too! he has a few favourites listed here with special meaning~

pet name include: - babe/jagi/jagiya (duh bro?? its like canon or sum) - beautiful/handsome/gorgeous - whatever suits you most~ (NEED I SAY MORE? SOMEONE AS BEAUTIFUL AS HIM WILL ONLY BE WITH SOMEONE EQUALLY AS GOOD-LOOKING?? he also give constant compliments be warned) - cutie (wholesome zen moment) - good-lookin’ (said as he casually pulls you in by the waist to kiss your forehead, wow zen you’re so smoo0th) -  sexy (IT’S THE BEAST BRO)

jaehee:

unfortunately none of us have really seen jaehee’s more lovey-dovey side in the game - she probably prefers calling you by your name the most, and she speaks it almost like it’s a praise, but the odd time she calls you pet names just as a way to appreciate you, or to remind you that she cherishes you. does it very casually and naturally, she’s quite a steady-paced girl so she needn’t force pet names to come, they just do whenever the moment calls for it really.

pet names incluude: - love  - darling (you are dear to herr!! she’s so busy all the time - moments with you are cherished and precious - you’re like a pocket of hope and sunshine in such a grey world full of deadlines and schedules... someone she can truly relax with!) - beloved - dear(est) - sweetheart (BCS. YOU. ARE. SO SWEET! you’re always looking out for her and being so patient with her as she works - you have a heart of gold, and she admires how kind you are to the RFA members - she’s truly lucky to have won a place in your heart <3)

jumin:

this man. this man is so nonchalantly smooth. he doesn’t even know it - or maybe he does - you can’t tell because he’ll just slip in a pet name mid-convo and make you mELT. when he gets soft... pet names are maybe one of his favourite things to tell you, because he gets to show you his more vulnerable and affectionate sides. he uses pet names as a way to spoil you - and spoil you he does because HIS VOICE *IS HEAVEN*, and the light kisses and touches he places on you as he speaks to you so fondly are a BIIG BONUSS. it takes him a while to start using more ‘personalized’ pet names - he sticks to the generic ones at first, they’re classy and simple - but after a while he conjures up newer ones out of his sheer emotion for you - only to be used in private though.

pet names include:  - the usual at first, dear, beloved, honey, love - AND THEN BOOM: precious (you are the most precious thing in his life HANDS DOWN. gets so sentimental when he uses it aswell - will whisper it to you before bed or when he’s trying to comfort you - nothing in this world compares to how much you mean to him) - kitten (yeah you thought i would stop myself - no.) - mr/mrs/mx* han (after you get married he does this a lot in public - maybe to show off a little bit and see everyone’s surprised faces as he follows it with ‘dear’ or something - he isn’t big into PDA but he has his smug sneaky ways of letting you know that he is thankful to have you) - HIS prince/princess/your majesty/highness: (DUUUDE... he wants the BEST for you - you’ve finally shown him what the wonderful feelings of love do! you hold that power over him at least! ...will kiss your hand when he uses this)

saeyoung:

saeyoung has... stranger more unique ways to show you affection, and the pet names he uses do not escape his whacky tendencies - uses pet names as a way to put a smile on your face and to make you laugh, to see that cute bright smile on your face! of course though, saeyoung has a (small) share of pet names that are more sensical and have some sort of more obvious meaning behind them. he starts off using dumb pet names, then as he gets emotionally attached stops, then he accepts he loves you and starts using really cheesey pet names, theenn he regains some of his happiness with you and becomes more jokey again (WHEW!). 

pet names include: (besides the normal boooring ones /j) - his star (you guided him to his happiness... you shone for him brightly when he had no shine himself - you cheered him up with your beauty and warmth - and you guys did kick ass stuff in his good end like it was a MOVIE or something – also spaaace??) - weird food names - starts off as honey and sweetie pie - gets weird fast... will call you his chip and his nurse pepper ( doctor is reserved for the drink - otherwise it gets confusing) - LOWKEY MAKES FUN OF YOU... if you’re short he’ll call you shortie - if you’re tall he calls you tallie (haha funny.) if you’re blonde he calls you blondie, and if you have freckles or dimples OR GLASSES - consider it your new name. also starts calling you after the things you wear - if you wear chains, he calls you chains, if you wear dramatic makeup, he starts calling you a diva - will call you noob i’m sorry - sweet cheeks (SEVEN WHICH CHEEKS-) - boople snoot (yes.) - his galaxy (the seven alternative to my world)

saeran:

okay so - it’s assumed that saeran is actually a DID system but i’m writing for good end saeran because um - lets be honest the alters were not the most healthy and probably wouldn’t have been doing any pet name calling (ray being too insecure, black suit saeran and unknown... being black suit saeran and unknown? it would have been sarcastic and mean)

after all of the hardships you guys had gone through... saeran was TERRIFIED that you would leave because why on earth would you want to stick by with him i mean?? all he had known his whole life is literally mistreatment he thought you were too good to be true. but you stuck by and you gave him what he had needed for so long - you always made him feel safe and he finally belonged somewhere, felt like the world wasn’t ALWAYS out for him, he could breathe easier now. very reluctant at first - messing up with you especially gave him paralyzing fear. but then you showed him such loyalty, he looked at you and saw that yes you made mistakes, that you were human, and you reminded him that it was okay to be human too. so slowly he trusted that you would accept him being affectionate back - he wanted to appreciate you like you appreciated him - despite all of the flaws he saw in himself constantly. (WHOO I LOVE SAERAN SO MUCH OMG CAN YOU TELL??)

pet names include: - angel (do i need to explain this?? you’ve saved his life - his future, everything. he sees you with a halo around your head constantly, even at your darkest moments, because he’s been there before too!) - flower (at first glance may seem like a cute thing because ray liked gardening - which sure part of it is that - but moreover he talks about your beauty when he uses this pet name, about how happy you make him, he sees you as someone delicate and gentle yet at the same time someone bold and bright - someone that the world NEEDS) - sunshine (you brighten his day, his month, his year, his life - aaand well a garden does need sunshine doesn’t it? you keep him going when he feels like giving up) - love and dear (too classic not to be included with a man that wore fancy suits JHGH)  - sweetheart/sweetie/honey (along with his big sweet tooth - he thinks you’re the sweetest person he’s ever met) - sugarplum (pls let me have this)

*mx is like m(r)s and mr but for non-binary folks :)

[lovelivingmydreams]

Paper Flowers: By any other name

Happy New year! I’m back with the fifth chapter. Other chapters are listed in the master post under Paper Flowers.

Thomas gets tmakes a fun youtube Video. Patton thinks there might be a breakthrough with Virgil. And Roman gets a surprise.

Thomas and Joan are sitting down at Joan’s kitchen table for a youtube video.

Earlier that week Thomas had sent out a tweet to ask the Fanders to send in questions and links for them to react to.

The video was a lot of fun so far. They saw cute dog video’s, inspiring coming out video’s, and then there was the artwork inspired by his vine stuff. Some fanders made misleading complement themed cards, and there were cute drawings of his teacher and dad character. And of course there was that stainglass/yingyang drawing of the Prince and his nemesis.

“This is just amazing, you guys are all so talented.” He gushes, not for the first time as he studies the gorgeous detailing on the latter. This must’ve taken hours and he can’t get over the fact that something he did inspired that.

The questions were fun to answer too. What subject is teacher’s favorite? What is Dad’s favorite cookie? What was the funniest interaction he’d ever had after a storytime? Some serious ones too. How did Joan know they were non binary?

What made him decide to come out as gay to his Christian parents? How did he know it was the right time?

Is it hard being out and proud while being a public figure?

Tips on how to handle social anxiety.

“Okay, final question, I peeked on this one,” Joan admitted, making Thomas let out a dramatic scandalized gasp. “I wanted to make sure we’d end the video on a fun note. Go on read it.”

Joan is chuckling already, so Thomas quickly reads the comment.

“Thomas love your content! But the people need to know. Is it Marcus or Kevin?”

Thomas frowns in confusion. There is a link and when he clicks on it he is brought to a long reblog chain on tumblr. He quickly reads through the first few posts and snorts.

“Oh My Goodness, that is just amazing!” he squeals in delight. He loves that the fanders are so enthusiastic about those two. And from what he can tell both ‘armies’ are battling it out in good fun.

“Well, I can’t confirm, nor deny either name at this time. But I think he’d very much approve of the one his faithful minions have chosen for him. Personally I do think Kevin would be hilarious though.”

Joan chuckles and nods in agreement.

“We might learn the dark overlord’s true name someday,” Thomas smiles. “But for now, take it easy guys galls and non-binary palls. Peace out!”

“Are you quite done Princey?” Virgil huffed. Roman had been laughing nonstop since Thomas heard about the debate going on in the Fanders comunity.

“Sorry. I’ll stop. Honestly it’s not that funny. Please do forgive me… Kevin,” And just like that he was doubled over again. Virgil groaned in annoyance.

“Okay, okay, I’m done. I honestly didn’t mean to. You can’t always help it when you laugh though. And you must admit it is a little funny,” Roman said once he got a hold of himself, whipping the mirth out of his eyes.

“What’s all this commotion about?” Patton wondered as he entered the commons.

Virgil tensed up. Patton had been… Different lately. He’d been checking if Virgil took enough food when he ate in his room, and that he ate everything when Roman coaxed him into eating with the others. He knocked more often to check if Virgil had laundry to be done, or to tell him that it was time for him to go to bed. He was taking this whole dad thing a little too seriously.

And some part of Virgil wanted to just accept and appreciate the effort, but the other kept wondering why Patton was doing all that for him when he clearly wanted him to just move back downstairs already.

It was in the little things. The way Patton would tense when he entered the room. How he would hesitate before smiling at him or greeting him. The way his voice wavered when he asked him stuff. And sometimes Patton would say stuff like “I don’t care how Deceit does things, but up here we…” Insert whatever rule Patton was trying to get Virgil to accept.

Honestly. He didn’t mind doing chores. Even if it was redundant when you can just will stuff to be clean. He didn’t mind making an appearance in the commons once a day either. Patton had just jumped from not involving him in anything into expecting him to fight him on everything.

Sure he’d roll his eyes and huff a little, but he wasn’t that difficult. Patton clearly expected him to be though. Perhaps even expected him to get tired of the rules and leave.

The problem was, Virgil had actually tried a few times in the beginning, and he couldn’t go back downstairs. Not really. Not for more than a visit when Thomas was asleep. The rest of the time, he was stuck in the in between only able to go to the upper commons.

Virgil’s best guess at how this worked was that Thomas had acknowledged his existence, but was still trying to push him down most of the time.

It’d been Janus’ decision to reveal this truth, when Virgil had been triggered into a panic attack one morning out of seemingly nowhere. Janus and Remus had been very calm that day and that had been exactly what had made Virgil worry that something big was coming. Janus realized this was not a healthy environment for him. So he lifted the denial on Thomas’ anxiety and told Patton and the others that Virgil would be living with them from now on.

Next thing Virgil knew his room was moved up, just not all the way.

He wasn’t sure, but he felt like he’d gotten closer to the upper level since he and Roman became friends. Logan didn’t seem to care one way or another. So that left Patton as the one to push him down right?

Virgil closed his eyes to calm his reeling thoughts for a moment. He couldn’t get swept up by his own head when in public. Princey got it by now, but how would he explain this to Patton.

“Oh, hello Padre. Kevin and I were just discussing the latest video and…”

Then Virgil found himself crouching on the kitchen counter ready for an attack. Patton’s high pitched squeal had been unexpected and terrifying.

Roman, once he recovered from his own surprise, moved a little closer to Virgil, putting himself in between him and the perceived danger. It helped calming him down a lot faster and adjust his position to look more casual and less terrified.

Patton was still squealing and clapping. It seemed like he had missed Virgil’s panicked reaction.

“Your name is Kevin?” he gushed.

“No,” Virgil objected immediately. Holding up both hands in a stop sign.

“That’s just one of the names the fanders gave the villain character. Princey thinks he’s hilarious for calling me that,” he explained.

Patton deflated. “Oh… Well, it’s nice the fanders enjoy your character so much,” he smiled awkwardly. Virgil suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. He wanted to get out of here, like now.

“Padre! You just must see the gorgeous artwork this fander did about the prince!” Roman declared as he grabbed Patton by the arm and led him away.

Virgil finally fully relaxed. Roman was really pulling through on every level.

Protecting him from Patton’s parenting, deflecting Logan’s tough questions, and even making Virgil feel appreciated. Whenever Virgil had had a rough day of keeping Thomas safe, Roman would come find him in the field and just hang with him, humming his favorite music, set up one of his favorite movies with him, telling him stories of his grand adventures. Just hanging out. Once they did each other’s nails. That was a lot of fun. Virgil had actually quit nailbiting  all together because he didn’t want to ruin them.

At first Roman had tried gifts and lavish praise, but that did not sit well with Virgil. He panicked over not being able to live up to the praise or give good gifts in return. And Roman listened and adapted.

Virgil in turn had been trying to give Roman verbal praise whenever he did something nice for him, or did a good job with Thomas. It was hard for Virgil to say this stuff out loud though.

Virgil entered his room trying to think of a way to thank Roman for today without making it awkward for the both of them.

His eye fell on some purple craft paper. One of Roman’s early gifts. He’d thought that maybe Virgil might enjoy creating things to take his mind of off his worries every once in a while.

Virgil had never really found a good project to use it for… But now.

When Roman got back to his room after bidding Patton a good day he could feel a slow rhythmic knock on his door. They never agreed on a code, but he could tell that this was just Virgil trying to get his attention, but that he could take his time if needed.

He decided to note down his new idea for a Vine first so he wouldn’t lose it. When he opened the door, Virgil was nowhere to be seen. Not that Roman noticed right away, he was far too focused on the purple paper rose hanging from the doorframe by a piece of yarn.

It was clearly hand crafted. Which must have taken Virgil quite some effort. He carefully untied the flower and brought it to his room where he put it on his vanity in a little vase.

He smiled softly at the little token of appreciation. A friendship with the emo knight wasn’t always easy to navigate. But it was definitely worth it.

He picked up the idea again, confident it would be another hit.

The dark overlord scowled at the bright morning sky. "Curse you, eternal sun." He turns his attention to the star map on the table in front of him "and every single one of you stars." He raised a picture of the solar system and glared. "And to hell with all you planets! I hate you all!" Then he dramatically turned and picked up a small ball resembling a certain non-planet. "Except for you,” he says softly stroking the ball delicately as if to comfort it. “You get me. You may stay."

Next: everyone falls

[unwhithered]

Jedi Musketeers + Reunion Cuddles pretty please?

Somehow I also made it sharing-a-bed soft.

Aramis does not resent his duty, but he does miss his friends. The better part of a year is a long time apart, a long time to be away from the Temple, and his apartment is cold and empty and covered in a thin layer of dust when he finally returns. It’s a place full of potential; the couch he picked because it was long enough for Porthos to stretch out on and wide enough for Aramis to curl up in all manner of strange positions, covered in the ugly little pillows that his Master knows he hates but will never get rid of because they are soaked in memories of his time as her padawan, shelves stacked with paper books he knows are filled with notes in Athos’ cramped hand and his own graceful writing in a silent conversation kept up for over a decade now, the kitchen full of devices Porthos bought so that Porthos himself can use them (”your kitchen has better light than mine,” a wordless understanding that this is how he takes care of them). It’s full of potential, yes, but it’s bare of memories.

He misses his friends. He misses his Master, and the warmth of their shared space. For weeks he sleeps restlessly in his big empty bed that smells only of soap and a hint of his own cologne.

---

Athos does resent his duty, but is glad to have it. It’s the only thing that keeps him sane when he’s on his own at the far side of the galaxy. (His friends, not his duty, kept him sane when it mattered.) He stops at his own quarters just long enough to shower and find clean clothes in the top of a still packed box. It’s a sign of attachment, a weakness, that he can’t bear to unpack and look at the reminders of life with his Master, and he can’t make himself get rid of them either. He leaves the whole lot of it behind and lets himself into Aramis’ unit down the hall in the dead of night - tomorrow, he will make Aramis change the passcode he’s used since childhood, really he will. 

There are signs of life here. Shoes by the door, a cloak thrown over the back of a chair, a tunic laying forgotten on the floor. Athos follows them toward the bedroom and throws himself down on the bed that smells like Aramis’ cologne and his excessive hair products and the warmth of his skin, burrows under the covers another body has already warmed, and lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding when Aramis throws an arm over his chest.

“Tried to wait up for you,” Aramis mumbles into the curve of Athos’ neck, where he has decided to warm his nose. It’s unpleasantly cold. Athos falls asleep smiling anyway.

----

Porthos comes home last, appearing in Aramis’ bedroom doorway (Athos has keeps conveniently forgetting to make him change the passcodes) looking tired and thinner than he was when they parted ways after Athos’ knighting. He doesn’t even bother stopping by his own quarters first, and he trails his fingers over every piece of furniture between Aramis’ front door and the bedroom. His psychometry is limited at best, but he can feel the echoes of them here. Aramis humming as he searches for a book on the overburdened and badly organized shelves, Athos cursing at the kitchen counter with a faint impression of smoke on the back of Porthos’ tongue, the two of them together on the couch with just their feet touching.

When he hits the bed it bounces, earning a glare from half-awake Athos and a high pitched shriek from a rudely awakened Aramis, who then sits up so fast he nearly breaks Porthos’ nose with his forehead. “Fuck, fuck, sorry, I didn’t know you were coming home!”

“Neither did I, ‘til last night,” Porthos manages to grit out. His eyes are watering from pain, turning Aramis into a blurry smudge of color. He rubs his eyes and takes a second look and can’t help his smile, big and toothy despite his exhaustion. Athos is propped up on the pillows, still a little drunk and loose-limbed, and Porthos can see the impression Aramis has left on the mattress next to him. Doubtless clinging like an octopus in his sleep while Athos pretended not to like it. 

Even after a year apart, Porthos knows exactly where he fits with them. He puts his hand in the center of Aramis’ chest as he draws breath to continue apologizing and pushes, just hard enough to tip Aramis back into the warm place against Athos’ ribs and go quiet. Porthos follows him down and, after a few moments of pushing and prodding and too many elbows, curls up against Aramis’ back. He shoves his face into a pillow that smells like Aramis’ hair and Athos’ tea-and-whiskey scent and breathes deeply. 

“Being a Knight is kind of awful,” he grumbles once all the remaining tension has bled out of his body. “Haven’t seen my own bed in a year.”

“You still haven’t seen your own bed,” Athos points out. His fingers tangle in the collar of Porthos’ loose shirt and rest warm against his collarbone, just where the bump is from when he broke it at age twelve. 

Porthos just smiles and reaches across Aramis to rest his hand over the steady thud of Athos’ heart. With his eyes closed the men beside him glow like a binary star system, and he’s glad to be caught in their orbit again. He falls asleep easily surrounded by the warmth of twin suns.

Aramis rolls over and uses Porthos for a pillow instead. Athos follows, probably without even realizing he’s moving, because that’s the way of things with Aramis. Since they were children he’s been pulling them both along in his wake. “What he means is that we missed you, too.”

[gender-snatched]

in no particular order whatsoever, I present you some good queer media: ((very minor spoilers for some things))

- black sails! it's a series, 4 seasons, 30 something episodes total, I haven't watched it yet but someone just recommend it to me and it sounds amazing. they're pirates, it's got a lot of queer characters, characters of color, and it deals (really fucking well, from what I heard) with topics of racism, misogyny, cissexism, poverty and how all of these relate and how systems oppress marginalized people and a bunch of other stuff. there's also at least two different poly relationships (a triad and a V). also it's got legit really fucking good writing, like legit legit good.

- the penumbra podcast!! I have listened to this one and it's a fucking masterpiece. it's got two main storylines; the first one (Junoverse) is a noir detective type but it's in Mars in the future (with a non-binary he/him bisexual lady as a main character and it deals (really well) with a lot of mental health issues, mainly depression) and it turns into space pirates in the third season and I think there's only one canon cis/straight person in the whole thing everyone else is queer and the other main storyline (Second Citadel) is more classic fantasy knights and monsters with a lot of questions of morality and "what's really a monster" and a poly relationship (and scaley monsterfuckers) and honestly a lot of queer characters

- Welcome To Night Vale!! I feel like this would be right up your street, honestly. it's a podcast, it follows a radio show from this town, Night Vale, where a lot of really weird supernatural shit happens, and the radio host, Cecil telling us (the town) about what's up. it's really fun and weird, it's not scary at all if that's a concern, it's very explicitly queer (in the very first episode Cecil falls in love with a man and tells the whole town about it) and it depicts a very healthy gay couple and great character development and it's honestly really fun, you get to know a lot of the townfolk and their stories and it's great

- The Adventure Zone! it's an actual play podcast, the McElroy brothers (you may know them?) and their dad play d&d. they just finished their third campaign and are starting the 4th one this week I think. the first campaign is by far my favourite. it starts kinda rough, they're playing dnd for the first time and the story and characters are pretty weak, but by the third or fourth arc you can tell how much they've learnt in the process. the fourth arc is where the story starts picking up and by the end (there's 69 (ha) episodes divided into 8 or 9 arcs) you'll be sobbing your eyes out for the last ten episodes. it's classic dnd fantasy stuff with at least three explicitly queer relationships (one of the main characters is gay and in a relationship) and w at least one explicitly trans character. it was their first time, they tried and did fairly well tbh. the second campaign is shorter, settled in modern real life Kepler, West Virginia where basically cryptids are real and the main three kill monsters in a monster of the week type of thing. (one of the main three is bi and in a queer relationship, there's one nb they/them character). and the third campaign just finished, it's real fun too, three college students of a heroes and villains school, in a (fantasy) world where heroes and villains are like A Thing and The System sucks and the message is basically to overthrow capitalism lmao

I swear I consume more media than just podcast but rn I just can't think of any...

also not exactly queer media but:

- Phineas and Ferb, it's a classic, you probably watched it on TV as a kid (I did) but it merits a rewatch

- Gravity Falls, same thing, I'm still not over how fucking good this show is

- Steve Universe, I know things got heated up in the fandom at some point but I ignored the fuck out of everyone and enjoyed it anyways because it's good

- how to train your dragon, they're all good okay, they are, watch them again

- Big Mouth. you're like 15 right? you can watch big mouth, I highly recommend it, it's really good. it's for some queer characters but they're even the main focus of some episodes/storylines, but it doesn't even matter, the whole series is just really good.

- Megamind, it's probably better than you remember

- also, you're into star trek right? have you watched discovery? I haven't watched s3 yet but it's good

I went completely off the rails halfway through this but still, hope you check out some new thing!! (and if you do post about it, I wanna know) (also can you guess who I am? I feel like it's kinda obvious sjsksk)

- j

Thank you!!! I really like WTNV, and I've been meaning to watch/listen to those other ones! And I never actually watched Phineas and Ferb, but I've heard it's good. Gravity Falls and Steven Universe are both on my list! And I hella hyperfixated on HTTYD in sixth grade. Megamind is amazing!!!!! And I sadly can't watch Disco cuz I don't have Paramount+, but I wish I could!

And surprisingly I can't guess who you are but that's probably due to me being a dumbass who can't really tell typing styles apart

[umbrellalad]

An Excerpt from a Book I’ll Never Finish

The Galaxy and all it’s Stars

Why is quiet so hard to hear? Sitting in the quiet, listening and thinking and all I can hear is the static in my brain. No matter what I do I can’t turn it off. Even when I try to use it all the thoughts do is jam together, running into each other jumping around until all it’s caused is a headache. I try to sort them out, to figure out what it is the universe is trying to whisper in my ear, but all I hear is noise, noise, noise, until I have to just stop trying. 

My thoughts are as vast and as jumbled as the universe itself, so you’d think we speak the same language, but I guess the two don’t mix, because all I can hear is static. My room reverberates with the stuff. A box full of echos only I can hear. Still, it’s better than outside, where all of my thoughts are trapped inside my own head. Outside they swirl in the wind, forming a cloud around my head. I have to reel them in, chain them up to keep them from running out. I don’t know why they’re so hard to control. Others don’t seem to have a problem with controlling their own heads. They walk around perfectly content with the way they’re thinking, the way they’re acting, the way they’re talking. To them the world is nothing but hopscotch for one to enjoy. For me the world is a tight-rope across a windy canyon. One wrong step and it all goes tumbling down, down, down.

I find comfort in the universe. With something so colossus and magnificent, how can anything I do possibly ruin it?

Still, at times it feels like the universe is shrinking in on me. Gravity increases and the galaxies collide in on themselves. Then I go to bed. Wake up. And the universe has begun expanding again. 

Waking up today was easy. Summer had begun. I no longer had to worry about the load of homework or projects piling up while I sat in my room doing nothing.

I roll over and look at the clock at the side of my bed. It’s a retro rectangle of an alarm clock, because somehow turning the clock face into a rectangle made it more desirable then. 

9:26. Not a bad time to wake up. Early enough that I haven’t wasted the day away, and late enough to feel like it’s too late to go back to bed. 

So I get up. Whatever extensional crisis took it’s turn last night has retreated back into the basements of my brain. If it was a good day hopefully I wouldn’t have another one until at least four.

Downstairs my mom is cooking breakfast for my sisters and my brother. I can smell the bacon as I walk into the kitchen. What would be described as a peaceful, welcoming scene to wake up to is anything but. There’s not so much serenity and love in the air as there is simply hunger and tension.

My youngest sister Brielle is sitting at the table, smearing scrambled eggs on the table. Now with this behavior one would guess Bri is three? two? She’s ten. My theory is she doesn’t have that little voice in our heads that tells us our actions will have consequences. Or that she does have this voice, but only listens to it when the consequences include her. She knows that she could get up from the table right now, and Mom would go over and clean it up without a second thought.

The twins Adalyn and Asher are play fighting. A game that will without doubt turn into a real duel the moment one of them knocks their elbow the wrong way on the couch. They’re both 13. Old enough to know that actions have consequences, but still too young or too sociopathic to care. 

My mom sees me first. She’s making more eggs for Adalyn and Asher along with frying bacon. “Morning sweetie, do you want anything?”

White Dwarf

A white dwarf, also called a degenerate dwarf, is a stellar core remnant composed mostly of electron-degenerate matter. A white dwarf is very dense: its mass is comparable to that of the Sun, while its volume is comparable to that of Earth. A white dwarf's faint luminosity comes from the emission of stored thermal energy; no fusion takes place in a white dwarf.[1] The nearest known white dwarf is Sirius B, at 8.6 light years, the smaller component of the Sirius binary star. There are currently thought to be eight white dwarfs among the hundred star systems nearest the Sun

My mom is a white dwarf. She was once a shining star, a radiant young woman, full of life, energy, and excitement. When she was young my mom would go on spontaneous adventures with her friends. They would go skydiving or cliff jumping or bar hopping or just go on a road trip to the middle of nowhere. I’ve seen pictures from back then. She looks so free, so unburdened. When Mom had kids that part of her life took a decline, and when my dad left it ended completely. No more time for spontaneity. No more opportunity for it either. Now she’s only a remnant of the woman she used to be, but she still manages to give off the same warmth. 

I know she has a lot on her plate, so I try to stay out of her way most of the time. I do my best to be self-sufficient and try not to cause her too much worry. 

I wish I could be more like she was, when she was a kid. I find it hard to even leave the house without planning it a day in advance. She would board a plane and fly to Italy without a second thought. My life consists of the same thing everyday, no changes, no excitement. Is it because I made it that way or is it the way it was made for me?

I say no, like I always say no. Not because I don’t want to accept her hospitality, but because I don’t want to add to her plate of things to do. 

Nor do I want to partake in this mess we call a home life.

I grab a banana from a bowl on the table and sit on the opposite side of Bri. I look down at the egg she’s using to decorate the table. She stares at me challengingly. 

I take a bite of my banana.

Adalyn and Asher’s voices rise. Someone hit someone else a little too hard. 

Bri glares at me harder, increasing her pressure on the eggs.

Asher screams.

The banana feels tough in my throat.

The sizzling of the bacon rises.

Bri smooshes her eggs.

Adalyn yells.

My head hurts.

The scent of bacon gets thicker.

My heart picks up pace.

A cry.

A scolding.

A challenge.

A throbbing.

A yell.

I get out of my chair and go back upstairs.

My room is safe. In my room I don’t have to worry about screaming children or a messy home. The only things I have to worry about in my room are the things I create myself. Still challenging, but at least here I have a sense of control.

My headache lessens and my heart slows to its normal pace.

This house is like a prison. Everyday it feels like it’s closing in on me, tightening it’s hold on my life. There’s nowhere to go, no escape. It just drives me deeper and deeper into my own brain. 

I’m sitting on the floor. I’ve found that sitting in places where one wouldn’t normally sit when there are chairs available, is calming. It gives me a fake sense of personality.

Looking up I examine the face looking back at me in the mirror. I inherited my mother’s thick blond hair. It falls past my shoulders in ringlets. Needing something to do, I part my hair and braid it into two plaits. 

Full lips. Brown eyes. A freckled face.  Heavy brows. A pointed nose. Thick lashes. 

This is who I see in the mirror. It’s me. This is the body which my mind, my soul, my essence is encaptured. An infinity of possibilities, an infinity of features and these are the ones I’ve been graced with. An whole wide universe to choose from and this is where my soul settles. 

Oh look there’s the existential crisis. In almost record time.

I sigh and fall back onto the carpet. Stare up at the ceiling. The quiet is nice.

A crash sounds from downstairs. More yelling.

A sudden urge strikes me. Like my chest will explode if I don’t do what it says. 

I need to get out of this house.

I pull on my shoes from my closet and jog downstairs.

“I’m going to go on a walk,” I call to Mom.

She’s busy trying to talk Bri into eating some fruit with her eggs. She doesn’t hear me. I stand in the middle of the kitchen. I don’t see Adalyn, but Asher is sitting on the couch, looking very upset about the book he’s most likely being forced to read. No one sees me.

I’m used to being invisible.  As soon as the first attempt to be seen goes unnoticed, all of the others just melt away. 

I go out the front door, not bothering to take my phone with me. I don’t have to worry about getting texts. I was never really one for making friends anyways. Whenever I did find people to hang out with it always felt superficial, like they were just pretending to tolerate my company. Besides, I could never find the right thing to say. My mind wouldn’t go with the flow of their conversation, it would pick at each word, each voice inflection, each micro-expression. Trying to decipher the hidden meaning in every one of their simple sentences. 

When I was 14 I had a friend named Blake. She was my first real friend. We had met at school when she said something funny in history and I laughed. She turned around and smiled at me and I smiled back. We exchanged numbers and then every night we would text for hours. We talked about school and the teachers we hated. She talked about the boys she had crushes on and I told her why they weren’t good enough for her. We traded music suggestions and talked about how Sherlock deserved a fifth season. 

I would lay on my side in bed and smile in the glow of my phone screen. It was the best feeling in the world.

But then the spaces between her texts got longer. And I started to realize that the only nights we talked were the nights where I texted her. And then that feeling started to melt, to harden in my stomach. I worried that she felt obligated to text me back. What if she didn’t actually want to text me, and only did because she felt like she had to?

So I stopped texting her, and I waited for her to text me. 

And the text never came.

A couple times after that she would say something like “Hey we haven’t talked in so long!” and I would reply “omg what’s up?” But it was just that. An obligation. She had gotten bored of me and after a while I began to wonder why it hadn’t happened sooner.

My feet slap against the hot concrete as I walk away from home. I don’t know exactly where I’m going, but it feels good to go. I keep walking until I find myself at the edge of the sidewalk. Trees, tall and proud, loom over me. 

I step into their embrace. In the trees the air feels cooler and the light is muted. Sun shines in through gaps in the leaves, trickling over the stones and the roots. I go deeper into the woods and I feel the pressure in my head drop with each step. The world seems to sparkle and I find solace in the quiet beauty of it all. This is a place untarnished by whatever messes us humans decide to create. 

Eventually, I find what would become my refuge. It was a large pile of  massive stone blocks, shaped so that if there was a fourth side it would have been a square. But the fourth side must have fallen out, must have given way to nature, because all that remains are a few scattered blocks leading up to the top.

I like to think that it was once part of a grand castle, and that this structure was all that remained from that era we’ve romanticized so. But I live in the United States so that’s unlikely. I don’t know why it was built, or what it was meant to be, but now it stands in solitary, unbothered by whatever expectations were once put onto it.

Excited, I move towards the stones. It stands over four times taller than me, but still I climb. I crawl over the blocks and pull myself up until I stand at the top of the ruins. My heart clenches as I look down, but it’s not a completely bad thing. It’s… exhilarating. For the first time in a while I’m not stuck inside my own head. The thoughts that normally ping ponged around in my head had flown out. My mind was clear.

It was amazing. 

I felt like I was alone, sitting on an island of time just waiting. I don’t know what I was waiting for, but I didn’t mind the rest. I laid down across the stones and looked up at the sky. It was framed by the trees, a perfect little viewing spot just for me. 

I laid there for a long time. Watched as the clouds raced across the sky, eventually moving out entirely and leaving the sky open for the stars. It’s so funny how when we think of stars we think of tiny little dots sprinkled across the heavens, while in reality stars are massive, flaming orbs of heat and gas, so big we can’t even comprehend how big they really are. The sun is the closest star to Earth and we are so used to it that its mass settles slightly better in our tiny brains. But if you think, if you truly think about how immense stars, the galaxy, the universe is… Our brains aren’t big enough. 

Proxima Centauri

Proxima Centauri is the closest star to our sun. It is a small, low mass star and is a member of the Alpha Centauri system. It is located 4.244 light-years away from the Sun in the southern constellation of Centaurus. This means that even if traveling at the speed of light was possible, it would still take 4.244 years to reach the star.

The second closest star in the entire universe, and at the height of technology right now it would take 73,000 years to get there. An amount of time past comprehension. We think that time is something we observe, but time will continue long after everything else is gone. The only thing we do is give time a little more meaning, a little more use. Time goes and goes and goes and goes every if there’s no one and nothing to observe it.

I don’t know how much time I spent laying on those ruins, but eventually I stood up, climbed down, and walked home. 

Quietly pushing open the door I stepped inside. It’s moments like this I don’t mind being at home. When the house is silent everything seems a bit more bearable. The shadows give everything mystery, making each step a small adventure.

I tiptoe upstairs, making sure to step over that one stair that always groans. I peek into Mom’s room. 

She’s asleep, sprawled out across the bed. She had probably thought that I was just in my room all day. I couldn’t blame her. It wouldn’t have been off brand. 

There’s just a small part of me that wishes she would have stayed up so that we could have talked without the commotion of my siblings wrecking the house. But it’s unreasonable, it’s late and she’s tired. 

I’m tired too. Closing the door to my room I fall onto my bed. My head is still clear from my little adventure.

It was a pretty good day.

[recipeforme]

A Good Kid: FAQ

Book: A Good Kid

Welcome to the Frequently Asked Questions for A Good Kid. I don’t want to draw things out so let’s get started! Please note that I did change the wording of some of the questions, mostly because I don’t know if the users who asked them want to be known.

--------

1.  Are you referencing The Lightning Thief Musical with the title of this work?

Yes. The book title and some of the chapter titles are from Light Thief: The Musical the rest are from songs that I thought fit the book.

2. You are really accurate with your description of the Foster Care System.

Thank you. I really wanted to be as accurate as possible. So I did as much research as I could.

3. Are there going to be any ships in the series?

No. I might reference a ship here and there but otherwise no. I wanted to leave it to everyone’s own interpretation. But for me it’s all platonic. However, I am thinking of including Thomas/Nico towards the end of the series. Is that something you would all like to see?

4. Have you had any water today?

Yes I have. *Sips at a blender full of water.* Okay but seriously, I do keep a water bottle by my bed which is where I spend most of my time.

5. Do you think it would be possible for you to go back through and edit so the POV changes are more clear? It really confuses me at times.

Yes! When I started writing I instinctively wrote it in First Person Point Of View (for some reason). And once I started writing it didn’t make sense to switch over to Third Person Point Of View.

But now that I am officially done I am going to go back and rewrite everything to be Third Person Point Of View. The story will stay the same but I might edit a couple of things. However, the first section of the first chapter will stay in First Person Point Of View. But after the line break it will be in Third Person Point Of View.

6. It feels like we only get to see Virgil, Patton, and Thomas in this fic.

Yeah I’m really sorry about that. That wasn’t the plan but since Virgil is the main character and living with Patton and Thomas it made more sense to include them more. But I still love Roman and Logan which is why I gave them bonding chapters with Virgil. Don’t worry though, you’ll see a lot more of them in the series.

7. What’s yours and all of the character’s favorite cookie?

Mine is chocolate chips. Virgil’s is anything with chocolate, Roman likes sugar cookies, Logan loves thumb-print cookies with Crofters, and Patton likes just about every cookie but oatmeal raisin.  

8. Did Virgil change his last name when he got adopted?

I actually had a scene planned out that explained this but didn’t end up writing it. I might write a one-shot for it but we’ll see.

To answer your question, Thomas and Virgil talked about it. Thomas gave Virgil the choice to change his last name to Sanders or keep it as Storm. Virgil chose to change his last name and make Storm his middle name. Virgil didn’t have a middle name at the time and wanted to honor his mom and his past.

9. Where can I find extra content for the series?

I have said this a couple of times but there is this Tumblr Blog. Here I answer questions about the series and include drawings of the characters. I sometimes also release lines from future chapters!

I am also planning on starting a one-shot book which will include extra scenes from the books that didn’t make the cut or events that happened in between each book.

10. What will the other books be about?

Each book with be in the order as followed:

Virgil’s which (as you all know) is about the Foster Care system, anxiety, and PTSD.

Roman’s is the next book and will be about his struggle with an eating disorder, specifically  anorexia.

Logan’s is about his struggle with emotions and his identity. Along with trying to fit into the friend group more.

Patton’s will be about depression.

The last book will be about Janus (Virgil’s bio brother) and trying to redeem himself and him wanting to try and be Virgil’s brother again.

11. Will Remus get a book?

No. I’m sorry Remus’ fans but I can’t, I tried to figure out how a book starring Remus would fit into the whole mesh of the series. But I can’t figure out how to do it in a way that makes sense. Maybe one day I could do it as a side book but it would be after I finished the main series.

That being said, Remus will be in Roman’s book a lot. Remus plays a role that’s similar to the role Thomas’ played in A Good Kid.

12. What is the timeline?

Yeah, I know that I wasn’t very clear on this. Sorry about that.

So, A Good Kid takes place during their Freshman year of High School and started late September. The school year had already started but it was still early enough that Virgil could still register and get caught up with classes. A Good Kid ended in mid May after the school year ended.

Roman’s Book will take place during their Sophomore Year. Logan’s Book will take place during Junior Year. Patton’s book will be in between Junior and Senior year. And then Janus’ book will be set during the groups’ Senior Year. But Janus is in College during the course of his book.

The one-shot book will be during all of those gaps.

13. Which book are you writing next? And when will the first chapter be posted?

The next book is Roman’s and it will be called Shatter Me. I am currently working on an outline for the story and getting a general idea of what I want it to cover.

I am working on rewriting A Good Kid in Third Person Point Of View right now and I want to focus most of my time on that. I’ll probably write a little bit for the first chapter here and there but I’m not sure how long it will take me to finish.

Luckily, I’m almost done with classes. I did find a couple of jobs for the summer and I am taking a summer class but I’m hoping to have enough free time to write. Still, I can’t guarantee a date when the first chapter of Shatter Me will come out. I am hoping (key word hoping) that it will come out by the end of May. But I can’t guarantee anything.

-------

Thank you guys so much for reading A Good Kid and sticking through all of the craziness that came with it. Thank you for all of your comments, they really make my day. I hope all of you enjoyed this fic. I hope you’ll stick around and read Shatter Me too!

I love you all, have a great day. If you have any more questions put them in the comment or go over to my Tumblr.

Take it easy Guys, Gals, and Non-Binary Pals. PEACE OUT!

-Isabel

[hollowleggedwolf]

Rambling thought of an older Enby

I am in my 30′s.  I found the term non-binary and embraced I was trans only about 5 years ago.  It isn’t the whole of me but it is a large piece of the puzzle called my life. Its been a hard road to get to that embracing of who I am and its still rocky at times.  I sometimes wonder how I’m still alive.  I wonder way did my road have to be so hard. Why did I have to have one more thing on top of all the other things.   I tried so hard to be what the world wanted me to be.  And it almost killed me.  

 I look out and so all the other hard roads people are walking down and I just want to help them. I want to fix the systemic systems that forced them to walk those hard roads. I trying to be a voice, a teacher, a fighter, and advocate not only for people like me but for all the others who have been been told they are nothing for being other, not normal.  I know I got my privilege's and I’m trying to use them to help.  I got my own learning to do.  I am also have to you know pay the bills and all that adult stuff.

I can’t do enough.  I’m trapped in a Sisyphean system that I keep fighting against.    We can all admit 2020 is full of suck,.  It scary if you fall into the other category in any way.  Its hard to find the good in so many ways. Sometimes it feels like people just want the world to burn.  These are not new issues they are just all coming to a head in one glorious disaster year.   

Last year I was able to get top surgery.  It saved me.  I had what was at the time a small window with health insurance to get it and I took it.  (Since than I have gotten a job that pays very good and has excellent medical care)  I was prepared for complications, to get told no, that insurance wouldn’t cover it, even moments before I gave into the anthisia in the surgery room I was still thinking this won’t happen someone will say no I will never get this.  I will be trapped for the rest of my life.  I woke up hours later and it was real, no complications, insurance covered it, and I healed up really good. Three weeks after my surgery I started a new job. Still with bandages and T-rex arms with new hope and also fear that the no was still to come.  I told my supervisor my pronouns and my name and I got support, and acceptance.  It was freeing in its own way.  I know so many don’t get that acceptance.

Jump to a year later.

In the midst of having an anxiety attach because 2020 is shit for mental health (especially if you already got depression, OCD, anxiety before you know plague).  I curled up in a big minky blanket without a shirt on trying not to scream/cry/meltdown.  When I actually feel this minky blanket against my skin, against my chest, against my scars.  Soft, warm, made for comfort, made for protection, made to be a hug on a cold hard day.  I have had this blanket for ten years it has kept me warm through winter when I lived in rentals that had no heat and it was so cold things froze inside my living space.  It propped me up me up when I was healing from surgery so I could sleep, it has hidden me away when my mental health makes me trapped inside my own head and away from the world.  I have rended at it with tears, thrown it in frustration, cuddled into it with blissful joy reading so many books.  Its just an old worn blanket, not even in a color I like.  A gift given to me.  But in that moment as it touched my new body healed after a year, waited for most of my lifetime I felt this old minky blanket as if it was the first time.  It has never felt so soft, so much more than a blanket.  I dissolved into that blanket not with tears or anxiety but with a sigh.  A sad smile came over me. I just sat there in quiet under that old new blanket and just let the moment be.

I didn’t know I could sit quiet and just be anymore.  I don’t know how long that moment lasted.  But it felt good to not be running, moving, fighting.  So long I just kept myself busy so I wouldn’t have to think about anything.  That is how I deal with things.  I constantly say if you stop moving you die.  I have lost loved ones and how I dealt with my grief was to disappear into work.  Hell its why it took me so long to figure out who I was.  When I was a kid/teenager I used to sit for hours looking at the stars just being quiet and letting them drift by.

A year later I still am surprised by the person I see in the mirror because for so long I didn’t recognize them.  The mirror for so long was my enemy, a necessary evil to go about the routine of daily life. I felt like I had been in someone else life.  I jokingly told friends that who ever body I was living in was going to be real pissed when they got it back because I haven’t been taking very good care of it.   I had buried myself so far away under what I was suppose to be, under work, expectations, the cruelty of this world.  That I was not enough and I can do nothing of substances. 

So what is the point of this rambling thought. Something grand about acceptance or finding your true self.  That things get better and society othering you doesn't define who you really are.  Keep up the good fight.  I guess you could read this as all or non of that.

To me right now in the writing.  Sitting quietly just listening and being still wrapped up under a blanket.  I want to say thank you to an old minky blanket for being new for a moment.  For merging a moment of what was is the new me with something I didn’t know I was desperately missing from the old me.  For giving me a moment that was descending into being lost to being one of rising peace which turned into a form of hope.  Thank you for being there and letting me rest, so I can rebuild the energy to fight again.  

To anyone that reads this rambling thought about my own journey and an old blanket.  What has given you a moment a peace so that you can continue along your road (which I hope is not all hard)?

Ok I’m going to go curl up in my blanket and read.  Good night internet and try to be kind. 

[how-do-i-write-plz]

Trans! Tim Drake

Commission for @prygelknabe

This was so much fun to write! (be sure to read the notes at the end!)

With a heavy sigh, Tim plops down onto his bed with the Robin suit in his hands. He stretches it above is head and furrows his brow in confusion.  Before now, things didn’t feel this... complicated.  He was so sure of himself and his want to be the next boy wonder.  He was so excited, but once the costume was actually on he felt so uncomfortable. 

He of course blamed the suits tightness, but hearing how that woman referred to him as the boy wonder made him feel so conflicted.  Perhaps it was the pressure of living in Dick and Jason’s shadows?  There’s so much to live up to, was he truly ready?  His head rushed with so many scenarios of what made him so uncomfortable. Now his head was pounding and with frustrated grunt, he threw the costume away from him as he turned over and hid into the pilloiw he was clutching onto.

“Ok geez I’ll come back later.”  A joking voice came from the doorway.  Tim felt a course of fear, thinking for a moment that it was Bruce, but it was Dick.  The joking look he had on his face softened into concern when he saw how upset Tim looked.  He sits on the bed as Tim desperately tries to dry his tears.

“I-I didn’t know you were coming today?” The corner of his eyes felt raw as he kept wiping away the leaks from his eyes. 

“It was a surprise visit, wanted to see how your first real mission as Robin went.  From the looks of it not so good huh?”  Tim looks at him with surprise and shakes his head causing Dick to look confused.

“No, no the mission went surprisingly well.  This,” he gestures to himself and the suit, “is nothing.  I’ll be fine.” He forced a smile, but Dick didn’t look convinced.

“It’s not nothing if it’s making you this upset.  I know Bruce has this whole thing about emotions when in uniform, but right now you’re Tim not Robin.”  He puts a hand on his shoulder and gives him a reassuring smile.  After a few moments of contemplating, Tim broke down and told Dick everything; how he felt about the costume, his worries of not living up to the expectations of being Robin, and how he’s disappointed since he’s dreamed of this for so long.  Dick listens carefully, letting Tim get everything out of his system before offering his advice.

“Are you sure that’s the issue?”  Tim looks even more confused.  “From what you said, this all stems from being called the boy wonder.” Tim stiffens at the name, unaware of how much until he relaxes. “So is it the stigma behind the name, or the name itself?” Tim’s brow furrow’s with frustration.

“I-I don’t know!” He covers his mouth suddenly; he didn’t mean to yell.  “I’m sorry I just-  I don’t know what im feeling and its- its so hard.”  The tears blur his vision as he holds himself, but immediately melts into the hug Dick gives him.  He sniffles softly as his lip trembles.  “I love being Robin, it’s something I've always wanted to be...” he tries to wipe the tears from his eyes, but fresh tears immediately form, keeping his vision blurry. 

The two sit in silence for what felt like hours.  Dick wanted to help, but was drawing a few blanks.  He rubs Tims back softly just waiting for him to calm down.

“Do-” Dick freezes a moment, unsure if he should say anything, but if he doesn’t mention it how could they cross it off the list. “Do you think that you’re having issues with being the /boy/ wonder?”  Tim tenses, especially they way Dick says boy.  “It’s possible that being a boy makes you uncomfortable, not being Robin.  Fresh tears fall.

“I- I don’t know...” 

“We can try using different pronouns.  Maybe start with they/them and then try she/her if you want.”  When dick receives a small nod he smiles.  “We can also just call you Robin.  It’s a pretty gender neutral name. “I’m sure Bruce can have a new outfit made for you.”

“I don’t want Bruce to know!” There was fear in their eyes. “N-not until im sure y- y’know?” Dick offers a smile before ruffling their hair. 

“Bruce doesnt have to know until you’re ready Robin.”  They felt themselves calm down the moment they are referred to as Robin.  It felt better then Tim.

“Thank you Dick.” They hug him tight before laying down, now physically and emotionally drained.  Dick offers a smile before leaving them to rest.  It’d be hard to hide from Bruce, but luckily Bruce knows better than to bombard Robin with questions or accusations.

Over the course of two months, Dick varies the pronouns for Robin.  At first he starts using they/them. Robin visibly seemed happier with this change. When dick began using she/her though, Robin told him that they liked they/them better. 

 The costume hadn’t changed though, Robin was afraid of Bruce finding out too soon.  Dick decided that when he could, he would deter the crowd from using he/him pronouns.  For the most part, the crowd went with it.  They claimed to see that Robin had long hair or that its too dark to really see. It made Robin feel better.

Robin sits by themselves, enjoying the clear night sky.  They’d be lying if they said they weren’t skeptical at first.  They never even considered themselves non-binary, but they do admit it feels nice. Only Dick knew about this, but having one person was better then nothing.  They continue to think about who else they could trust with this information.

“You need to tell him, or at least tell him that you want the costume changed.  Your comfort is important.”  Dick says as he catches Robin sitting outside by themselves. Robin jumps slightly, not hearing him as they were lost in thought.

“I- I know...”  They sigh softly before coming through their hair.  “I’m just scared... what if-”  They shake their head before covering their eyes. “What if he kicks me out?”  It took a lot to surprise Dick, he never even considered that being Bruce’s reaction.  “I mean, I just hear all of these horror stories of kids getting kicked out and it makes me worried.  It’s so hard to tell what he’s thinking sometimes...”

Before Dick could say anything, Bruce walks past him.  He was definitely too quiet.  Robin freezes when they see Bruce and begin to panic.  What was he going to say; is he angry?  Not knowing almost brought Robin to tears, but they couldn’t cry.  When Bruce was close enough, he stares down at Robin.  He opens his mouth to speak, but closes it quicky.  That did it, and Robin couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

With wide eyes, Bruce kneels down before pulling Robin into a tight hug.  Dick smiles at the sight while Robin looks up at the sky, the stars looking streaky and blurred from their tears.  Bruce whispers softly, so softly they almost can’t hear it at first.

“I should have never made you think you couldn’t come to me.  I’m sorry.”  Robin’s eyes widen before hugging Bruce back and burying their face in his shoulder.  Relief courses through them and the worry washes away. This was their home, and they were loved.

(A/N:  ok i just don’t want anyone getting mad at me for using he/him pronouns in the begining. My idea was to start using they/them pronouns when they realized they were in fact nonbinary. I’ve talked with the commissioner and they are fine with it)

[shy-marker-pliers]

High school AU thingamabob

Dark

17 year old senior

class president and is kinda high and mighty about it tbh

“yes i know student council can’t really make any changes without the input of the superintendent but IM THE PRESIDENT AND YOU’RE NOT SO SUCK MY DI-“

does sound/lights for all the shows the school puts on

dating wilford and no one knows how or why they’re together

had a deep as hell voice and a beard the second he hit puberty

takes every ethics/psychology class he can

wants to be a lawyer

that one kid that everyone fears but is actually kinda chill if not a little surly

wears a collared shirt and tie to school every day and would totally get made fun of for it if he wasn’t terrifying

listens to classical music unironically

“oh my god i’m so going to fail this test” *proceeds to get the highest grade in the class*

protector of the gays™️

person: *says something mean to a student because they’re lgbtq+*

Dark: *teleports in front of said student* omae wa mou shindeiru

Wilford

19 year old senior

Yes he still has the mustache

doesn’t give a fuck about what anyone thinks of him

deadass wore a dress to school after one of his friends got made fun of because she wore a suit to a school dance

b u f f a s h e l l

could bench press a teacher if he really tried

on the cheer team

“no i’m not wearing pants, this miniskirt makes my ass look great!”

everyone’s bodyguard

usually attracts a crowd of nervous underclassmen

has mild dyslexia

tol

gives his friends piggyback rides

president of the drama club

works hard enough in school to pass his classes but that’s pretty much it

sleeps in class

Bim

15 year old freshman

vice president of the drama club

wilfords shadow

first freshman to help run the drama club and shoves it in everyone’s face

shouts his gayness from the rooftops

secretly super insecure

loves plants and helps out in the schools greenhouse

named all of the plants but if you tell anyone he’ll stab you

gets mostly B’s and C’s

has mild ocd but not enough to affect him severely

talks like a game show host cause he thinks it makes him sound attractive

it doesn’t

Google(s)

16 year old juniors

identical quadruplets

they have to wear different colors every day or else no one knows which one is which

they’re called the googles because their backpacks match the colors of the chrome logo and they’re super smart

straight A 4.0 GPA students but Oliver has to try a little harder than his brothers

all of them are in the robotics team except for ollie

Blue works on programming and red and green are on the build team

Ollie is the sweetest day of sunshine to ever exist and everyone loves him

he’s basically adopted Eric as his lil bro

tutors people in the library every tuesday and thursday

the other googles disapprove of his relationship with bing but he makes ollie happy so they don’t do anything about it

they all work in a supermarket and they’re saving up for college

ollie wants to be a vet, red and green want to be engineers, and blue wants to be a web developer

Bing

17 year old junior

mostly A’s, a few B’s.

his full name is zachary bing but people call him bing because he’s always trying to one up the googles

dudebro

was pining after ollie for months before chase finally felt sorry for him and told ollie how he felt

they’re dating now and it’s adorable

so soft for his boyf

a really good skater and wins a lot of local competitions

doesn’t study but still gets p good grades

wears sunglasses all the time because he has light sensitivity

Has ADHD

s t r o n k

always challenges people to arm wrestle him

can sing really well and plays gitaur

shares a youtube channel with chase where they skate and to challenges and stuff

Dr. ipiler

18 year old senior

Everyone calls him doc because he helps the school nurse and takes every single biology and health class there is

all A’s

really wants to be a surgeon

best friends with Schneep

huge star trek/harry potter nerd (ravenclaw if you’re wondering)

almost always at schneep’s house studying or just chillin’

kind of a control freak

thinks he’s charismatic but he’s actually kinda annoying

but annoying in a funny way

has a pet ferret that he sneaks into school

feral

espresso and sugar flows through his veins

“i actually got a good sleep last night.” “oh really?” “yeah bro i got a whole half hour!”

super dark bags under his eyes

Host

17 year old junior

all A’s except for in gym class

he has eyes in this

his real name is Simon Charles Teller (there are specific meanings to those names btw look them up) but he’s called The Host because he does morning announcements every day.

has gold eyes and a lot of people find it unnerving

“hey i have a podcast you should totally listen to it”

nocturnal

spends all of his free time in the library

always reading in class but the teachers don’t really care bc his grades are good and he does his homework

wants to be an english/poetry teacher

crushing on the cute shy kid from his english class

doesn’t talk much but he’ll still be nice to you

that one kid who’s always correcting the teachers

Runs the D&D club (he’s the dungeon master)

Eric Derekson

16 year old junior

Mostly high B’s, a couple of A’s.

lives with his uncle mark after he ran away from his abusive dad and is living a happy life

the guy that always volunteers to take care of the class pets over the weekend

animals love him

has anxiety, mild paranoia and autism.

animals, harry potter, and pokémon are his hyperfixations.

he also really likes gardening

crushing big time on hostioli

spends his entire english class staring at him and blushing

is seriously considering joining D&D club just to be able to talk to him

he’s in the art club

wants to be a vet and maybe do some freelance art stuff on the side

Ollie keeps yelling at him to just ask host out already but he’s too nervous

my poor bb boi

Wears sweaters all the time

wears headphones to block out noise if it ever gets too loud at he goes into sensory overload

disaster bi

Yan

18 year old senior

gets C’s

non-binary

has a makeup tutorial channel on youtube and has a pretty decent following

That one weeb

dyes their hair a new color every week

also has a new crush every week

everyone knows who their newest victim is because they never stop watching them

draws anime or cute animals for every art class

wants to be a a fashion designer

does MMA

everyone kinda stears clear of them

writes their first initial along with their crush’s on every notebook they own

has gotten suspended for beating kids up on multiple occasions

doesn’t really have that many friends but they don’t mind

spends their lunches watching their crush

in the drama club and the art club

Randall Voorhees

18 year old senior

C’s and D’s

Eric’s cousin/bodyguard

they have a lot of the same classes and walk everywhere together

loves animals and has like 10 pet rats

he doesn’t really care about his grades because he knows that he wants to be a woodworker/construction guy

makes little houses out of scrap wood for his rats and Eric thinks it’s adorable

always sneaks his rats to school and lets them have play dates with dr. iplier’s ferret

“nO IM NOT RELATED TO JASON VOORHEES HES NOT EVEN REAL SO SHUT THE HELL UP-“

used to live in nyc in queens and still has a pretty strong accent

completely incomprehensible when he’s excited or angry bc of the accent

everyone is jealous of his hair

spends like 100 dollars on shampoo and conditioner and stuff but it’s worth it

acts like the straightest guy in existence but could not be more gay

his boots are always muddy

Yancy

16 year old sophomore

his name is Yancy Bird

g...get it? like jailbird? ahaha...ok i’ll stop

permanent resident of the detention room

but he gets to just chill out and read for an hour so he doesn’t really mind

mostly gets detention for beating up kids that bully others

fuck the system

always wears a leather jacket and blue jeans

“hey, the 50’s called and they want their-“ SMACK. “shut up.”

takes a lot of criminal justice and psychology classes ironically

in the botany club but if you tell anyone they’ll never find your body

everyone is surprised when they find out he’s friends with Eric and ollie

pan but in denial

“i’m not gay guys, that ain’t me, i’m just comfortable with my sexuality. so i can admit when i see a guy with a handsome face and pretty eyes-“

that song is great btw you should listen to it

anyway

always makes really dark jokes and everyone is like “are you ok?”

except for his friends they just laugh

“lmao wouldn’t it be funny if everyone like...died”

[tiramisiyu]

【未定事件簿】 Tears of Themis: 【夏彦拜访剧情】 Xia Yan’s Personal Story 2-13 Translation

Translated parts: Xia Yan’s Personal Story Chapter 2: 2-1 / 2-2 / 2-4 / 2-5 / 2-7 / 2-8 / 2-9 / 2-10 / 2-11 / 2-13 / 2-14 Translation Masterlist: here

Video: https://www.bilibili.com/video/BV1xV411m79T?p=10

A quick explanation of how this feature works is that each boy has their own section that you can “Visit”! Part of it is like MLQC’s GSH feature, where you can talk to the boys (with Live2D!) and raise intimacy by interacting with them. The other part of it is a storyline that centers on the MC running around with the respective boy to deal with a certain case or situation.

Outside the Church

After leaving the police station, Xia Yan and I headed to a church.

“Three years later, Marivisa left a message: “If you are willing, then miss me. If you are willing, then forget me”.”

“Zero responded by using his own methods to input this into his heart: “For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”.

Xia Yan: “For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also” – this phrase comes from the gospel of St. Matthew.

MC: So, the place that hides your treasures is a church.

In the many churches of Stellis City, they all display steles – but after searching on the big data lab, we confirmed that there was only one church with this phrase on its stele.

MC: Over there – there’s a storage cabinet!

Beside the stele engraved with that phrase, there was a smart-cabinet.

MC: The storage cabinet’s password should be hidden in the poem’s first line.

MC: “If you are willing, then miss me. If you are willing, then forget me.”

MC: This is the poem by English poetess Christina Rossetti – “song”!

Xia Yan very quickly understood my words, repeating that poem verse’s original English verse.

Xia Yan: And if thou wilt, remember, and if thou wilt, forget.*

Xia Yan: To Zero, his answer would definitely be “remember”.

MC: “Using his own methods” – could it be binary system again? So we need to convert “remember” into numbers…

Xia Yan: That’s not right. A letter’s corresponding binary code has 8 digits.

Xia Yan: “Remember” has 8 letters. If it’s completely converted into binary code, then there will be 64 digits.

MC: The password can’t be 64 digits. Is there another way to convert letters into numbers?

Xia Yan: There is! Morse Code is also a kind of two-base code.

Xia Yan: We can first convert “remember” based on Morse Code, and then use 0 and 1 to distinguish between Morse Code’s short sounds and long sounds…

Xia Yan: Like this, the converted numbers are 010, 0, 11, 0, 11, 1000, 0, 010.

Xia Yan: After converting these into base-10 system, it’s… 39810.

Xia Yan entered the password 39810 into the system. Immediately, one cabinet door beside his hand popped open with a “click”.

Suddenly somewhat agitated, he looked inside, then quietly released a breath.

I was a little doubtful and was about to ask him, but my attention was caught by the thing that he took out from the cabinet –

It was a little ball pit decoration.

MC: Ah, this…

When we were little, there was a time when I bubbled in my answer sheet wrongly for a test. The result was, of course, extremely tragic.

Because it was my own mistake, there was nothing I could complain about. I could only wallow in sadness on my own.

And then, Xia Yan dragged me to go to my favourite ball pit park.

This ball pit’s decoration was our souvenir from that time.

MC: Why did you keep this?

Xia Yan: Because – this is the proof that a certain person once set up a promise with me.

Xia Yan: She swore that she would tell me everything in the future, regardless of if it was a big matter or a small matter, or a happy matter or a sad matter.

Xia Yan: She really did do as she said, telling me everything. Even when I left the country, she didn’t stop sending me messages.

MC: …

The past flashed in front of my eyes, scene by scene. He still remembered so clearly about something that had happened so long ago…

Xia Yan: Ah, it’s just a pity that after separating for eight years, she completely forgot about this promise.

Xia Yan: Getting locked on the balcony, getting cut by glass, getting threatened… she didn’t tell me anything.

MC: Uh…!

Xia Yan: I know it’s because of me… I disappeared for eight years… letting her have no choice but to get used to facing everything on her own…

Xia Yan: And because of this, she started to learn to try and be brave…

Xia Yan: Now, I’ve returned. I won’t leave again.

Xia Yan: I just don’t know if she would be willing to establish this promise again…

MC: Xia Yan…

Xia Yan held up my hands, gently holding them in front of his chest. His eyes were facing the sunlight, crystal clear.

Xia Yan: Whatever happens, tell me.

Xia Yan: No matter if you were locked on the balcony, or if you’ve encountered a troublesome case.

Xia Yan: No matter if it’s something big or something small, something happy or something sad – tell it all to me.

Xia Yan: I’ve returned. You’re no longer alone.

Xia Yan:  Whether you’re capricious, lonely, or scared… I will accompany you. I’ll accompany you through anything.

My figure was clearly reflected in Xia Yan’s eyes. Right now, it felt like they would solidify me in them.

MC: Okay, I promise you.

Xia Yan: Gotta do as you said!

As Xia Yan said this, he laughed. In my trance, I felt like the whole world had been lit up by this smiling expression.

Thinking back on his promise just now, my face suddenly became somewhat hot. The hands overlapping with his also followed in heating up.

MC: …

Xia Yan: R-right! There’s a place I want to take you to!

MC: What place?

Xia Yan: You’ll know when we get there!

Xia Yan led me along tightly. The palms of our held hands became more and more hot, but he never let go for a second…

Amusement Park

Xia Yan tugged me along, back to the amusement park. At this time, night had already fallen.

MC: Why did we come here? Plus, the park’s already closed.

Xia Yan: It’s better this way.

Xia Yan winked at me and climbed up the wall.

Xia Yan: Here, give me your hand.

Following Xia Yan, I got past the wall. Bounding down the route, we arrived at the themed ball pit.

MC: Wait, Xia Yan! This-

Xia Yan scanned the code to pay for entry very quickly.

Xia Yan: Alright, entry price is already paid! The Great Lawyer can relax!

Xia Yan: During daytime, weren’t you taking into consideration how other adults weren’t playing and having fun? Now, you can happily play all you want!

Xia Yan: Between us, there aren’t any of the burdens that adults have to carry!

Laughing, Xia Yan extended a hand to me.

Xia Yan: My dear Watson, are you willing to accompany me to return to our childhood together, and to indulge?

I placed my hand lightly in Xia Yan’s palm and nodded at him.

MC: … Yes.

Holding Xia Yan’s hand, I walked into that ball pit again.

--

Inflatable castles, trampoline, slides, ball pit – after growing up, each time I felt stressed and exhausted, I would often think about playing these.

As if doing that would be able to get rid of all my worries, letting me return to a childhood free of worry and concerns.

But whenever I had the chance, I would often be like how I was, as if my hands were tied.

I’ve always thought that this just might be reality. No matter how much I desired it, maturity was irreversible – and after all, I had nowhere to hide.

People must often learn to grow on their own, to become independent on their own, to bear everything on their own…

Bam – a big bunch of balls bounced off my entranced self.

MC: … Xia Yan!

Xia Yan: Hahahaha!

I picked up some balls and tossed them towards him. Xia Yan nimbly dodged them, then immediately moved to climb the slide.

Holding a pile of balls, I chased Xia Yan, climbing up the ladder.

MC: Heh heh, I saw where you went to hide—

I pounced at Xia Yan, but he just took my waist into his arms, sliding down the slide while holding me in his embrace.

MC: Ahhhhhh-

Bam - Xia Yan and I rushed into the ball pit.

Slides, trampolines, inflatable rock climbing, rubber boats…

This time, holding his hand…

I finally integrated into this simplest of games. No distracting thoughts, no worries, returning to humanity’s earliest, simplest pleasures.

--

After coming out of the amusement park, Xia Yan and I prepared to return home.

The night wind was crisp, mixing with the green grass and blowing a new scent, breezing past my forehead. The sky above was full of sparkling stars.

I suddenly didn’t want to ride a car. I wanted to return home under these stars.

MC: Xia Yan, let’s not hail a car. I want to ride a bike home.

Xia Yan: Okay.

MC: But I’m tired. Could you bring me along as you pedal the bike? Just like before!

Xia Yan: No problem!

Xia Yan found a bike very quickly.

He got on the back, patted the backseat, and smiled at me.

Xia Yan: Get on, and put on your seatbelt!

MC: Mhmm!

I held my arms around Xia Yan’s waist, just like before.

The bike road had a slightly cold night wind. The corner of my skirt flapped in the wind.

On the road, there were some ramps up and down, but the space where I nestled tightly against Xia Yan’s back was always warm and stable.

--

TL Note:

* I kept my more colloquial translation of the original Chinese renditions of the verse before this part, to kind of maintain that difference between the Chinese and English that can easily be seen in the game.

[alecmagnuslwb]

Soulmates

Writer’s Month 2020 Day Five

Read on AO3

Everyone has a soulmate, even impossibly a bastard like John Constantine. Not that he thinks he’s got some great, beautiful souled person out there that’s destine to be his. No John assumes that a bastard is destine for a bastard, no matter their gender.

He hasn’t really thought about soulmates in years, not since he was a child and his mother told him stories about the moment everything bursts into color and you suddenly know the names of every color before you. He’s grown accustom to the way his eyes see the world, but lately the black and white vision he lives with every day has grown tiresome. He plays with his magic, still learning and growing stronger every day and wonders if it casts in different colors, wonders what those colors are if they do. He lights the flames in the palms of his hands and can only feel the burn without being amazed by the orange and red glow he’s been told they have whatever that might mean.

He's barely over twenty but he’s old enough to know that the world isn’t black and white by any means. It’s mottled with greys and shades of everything that he can’t see, but he can sense.

Tonight is another black and white night for him. He pushes open the door to the bar he’d seen a few nights ago when heading back to the motel he’s been crashing in. A rush of noise washes over him as he steps inside some hokey rock band that fancies themselves the next Billy Idol playing a horrendous cover of ‘White Wedding’ onstage.

John grits his teeth praying they don’t butcher something by The Clash next, he’ll have to leave America immediately if they do.

He shuffles over to the bar, taking a seat on an empty stool near the far end and flags down the bartender ordering himself a whiskey. He gives the man behind the bar a wink when he places the drink down in front of him and the bartender walks away completely ignoring the flirtation.

John just shrugs unbothered by the rejection and spins around watching as the band plays the last chorus. When they’re done the other patrons clap and John hopes they’re all drunk with the enthusiasm they’re putting behind it. The room transforms into a clutter of voices and clinking glasses after that so John swivels back around downing his first drink and ordering a second.

Behind the bar a poster catches his eye, a top hat adorning the center. He’s just reading the words Mistress of Magic across it when a deeply bad and deeply fake British accent sounds into the microphone on stage. John turns back around to find the lead Billy Idol wannabe yelling for everyone to quiet down.

“Alright, now we know your claps for us were bullshit and this is the real show you’re here for,” he says gesturing to the space around. “So, without further ado, the Mistress of Magic, the silver-tongued siren, everyone’s favorite majestic magician Zatanna!”

If John had known there was a magic show tonight, he might have found a better drinking hole. He’s got no need to watch someone pull cheap tricks and poorly concealed rabbits out of a hat.

John’s about to swivel back around, order one more drink and be on his way, but he finds himself frozen halfway when Zatanna appears on stage, not through a cloud of smoke hiding a trap door in the floor, but through a real bonafide portal.

That alone would capture his attention, but the woman herself has him sliding back to face the stage completely. She’s stunning, the goth princess of his dreams in knee high boots, fishnets, leather shorts and a corset with a bowtie.

Her arms are bare something whispered under her breath sending a trail of sparkling magic down them as she flips her long dark hair over her shoulder and gives the patrons a dazzling smile.

John doesn’t need to see color to know she’s a vision, but he’d pay good money to know what colors that magic is flowing down her arms and how it looks against her skin.

“Ready to see some real magic tonight boys, girls and non-binaries?” she says, her voice a melody. The audience roars and if John wasn’t so frozen in place he might too.

That’s when the show really begins, she conquers the stage, keeping everyone’s eyes on her the entire time. She twists magic around the room, her power strong and thick in the air. She speaks in languages he doesn’t recognize until eventually he realizes it’s backwards magic, a rarely used magic that she’s clearly no novice in.

There’s something about her that’s familiar, but he doesn’t have the right of mind to think too hard about it. To think beyond the absolute captive hold she has on him with every move she makes and every spell she utters.

Zatanna knows how to work a stage, how to hold an audience in the palm of her hand.

He’s certain he could meet his soulmate right this second and have the world burst into color and he still wouldn’t be able to tear his eyes away from the front of this bars.

He doesn’t so much as blink for the forty-five minutes she’s on stage.

“Alright, for my last trick, I need another volunteer,” she says and hands shoot up all across the bar, even the bartender who seemingly has a job to do sticks his high in the sky.

She scans the audience carefully tapping her finger to her lips until her eyes fall on him.

“You,” she says pointing his way. “At the bar.”

John pulls his eyes from the stage for the first time certain she’s pointing at someone else, like the eager bartender behind him.

“Yeah you in the tie, that’s right, come on,” she says making a come-hither motion with her finger that John couldn’t resist if he was chained down on his deathbed.

John slips from his seat picking his way through the bar and onto the stage. And if she was gorgeous from far away up-close John’s not sure how anyone could resist those piercing eyes. He wonders what color they are.

“I’m Zatanna, as you know,” she says smiling at the audience quickly before holding out a hand in his direction. Her nails are painted with little clusters of shimmering stars on them, a tiny detail he couldn’t see all the way from the bar. “And what’s your name handsome?”

He tries to force down a smile and fails, there’s no doubt she calls every poor schmuck she pulls up on the stage that and makes them blush, he’s not special even if he wishes he was.

“John,” he says putting his hand in hers and that’s when it happens. His vision blurs for a moment and then like paint being splattered on a canvas color blooms all around him. The curtains are red, the stage a deep brown and Zatanna’s eyes a deep, dark blue. She’s looking into his eyes too, a small soft smile on her lips.

Her eyes drop down to his tie briefly and she chuckles then quickly as if their whole worlds hadn’t just changed she’s turning back to the audience. A performers quick mind keeping up appearances for the show.

John barely recalls the trick he assists her with just knows that he trusts her implicitly and at one point ends up floating. When it’s over and he’s stepping down from the stage she touches his hand softly, a silent request to stay so she can find him after the show.

John nods stepping away as she gives the audience one last light show. A burst of rainbow sparks from her fingers before she disappears into another portal casting him one last glance.

John’s finally pulled from his daze once she’s out of sight and immediately books it for the door. He should stick around, really meet this person who’s his person, but he can tell from one look at that soft smile she’d given him she’s far too good to be stuck with the likes of him.

The universe fucked up, there’s no way a man like him deserves a woman like her.

He doesn’t get far, just barely out the door when a shimmering portal like the one on stage appears in front of him and Zatanna steps out now in a leather jacket with a shining silver top hat pin on the lapel.

“Oh, you’re here,” she says looking at him with that same soft smile.

He looks up and around her wondering if he can make his escape.

“Oh, you’re leaving,” she says disappointed. Her hands fall to her side uselessly.

“Look, it’s not you,” he starts and she lets out a sharp wounded breath.

“Ouch, I’ve heard that one before,” she says attempting to laugh off what she’s seeing as a rejection. He’s not rejecting her though, far from it, he’d love to curl up next to her and never leave he’s fairly certain. He’s rejecting the universe cursing this soft smiling magical being to getting saddled with jaded, piss poor soulmate like him.

He shakes his head. “It’s not that, I swear it, I’d stay in a heartbeat if it was only my heart on the line. It’s just there is no way a woman like you deserves to get stuck with a mess like me, trust me.”

He sidesteps and starts to walk past her, but a hand on his forearm pulls him to a stop. She spins around so she’s standing face to face with him.

“Look I won’t act like I understand the magic or science or whatever it is behind this system and I won’t act like it’s perfect, but something out there thinks you and I fit, thinks we could fit. So, shouldn’t I get to decide what I deserve?” she says with pleading eyes. “Please, don’t take that choice away from me.”

John takes a deep breath. He really doesn’t want to hurt her, but if he leaves right now that will hurt her more than if he stays and maybe one day down the line messes up. She’s right. He’s a coward who tried to run.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” John says pulling his pack of cigarettes out. He pats around for a lighter and Zatanna leans in saying a quiet ‘erif’ her fingertip bursting in a yellow orange flame and lighting the cigarette he sticks between his lips.

“You’re forgiven, as long you don’t run off on me again,” she says smiling as she blows out the flame on her finger.

He takes a long drag blowing it off to the side and away from her.

“I won’t,” he says hoping he can keep that as a promise.

“Great. So, let’s try this again, I’m Zatanna Zatara,” she says holding out her hand. Zatara. Suddenly the familiarity of her makes sense, the backwards magic coming so easily for her much clearer now. If he was worried he wasn’t worthy of her before the last name doesn’t help that worry lessen. She’s a magical dynasty doing stage work in a dive bar.

He doesn’t run just because of that shocking development however.

“John Constantine,” he says putting his hand in hers. This time there’s no blurring vision, no burst of color, just a warm, soft hand holding onto his.

She smiles, “I like your tie John Constantine.” He looks down noticing the bright red of it for the first time. The irony that the rest of both of their outfits are black and white on the night where color came into their lives is not lost on him. “It’s a nice pop of color.”

He laughs, letting go of her hand to tug at the tie.

“I didn’t actually know it was red when I nicked it.”

“Nicked it?” she says eyes going a little wide. It sounds a little funny coming from her lips with no British accent.

“Uh,” he says twisting up his face. “Bought it?”

The question mark on his words is clear and she just laughs threading her arm through his as he tosses his cigarette at his feet stamping it out.

“Come on we’re having dinner and you’re telling me all about how you stole that tie, soulmate,” she says tugging him along into the neon lit night.

He likes the sound of that, even if he’s convinced the universe made a colossal mistake.

[shipaholic]

Omens Universe, Chapter 13 Part 2

Nearly made it to Alpha Centauri!

Warnings for this chapter: the terrifying vastness of space; vertigo; and more child endangerment than we’ve seen so far.

Link to next part at the end.

(From the beginning)

(last part)

(chrono)

---

Chapter 13, cont.

Of all the infinite spaces they’d found themselves in recently, this one truly made each of them feel small.

Nebulae crackled in the corner of their eyes. Comets sparked across the heavens like distant fireworks. There were stars, billions upon billions of stars, a riotous tumble of them. And planets, cold and grand, passing by like ships.

Aziraphale had never been here before. For the life of him, he had no idea why. No - perhaps he was afraid of the vastness. Of feeling engulfed.

He leaned, half-consciously, towards Crowley. Their fingers brushed. Slowly, as if moving underwater, Crowley gripped Aziraphale’s hand.

Aziraphale tore his eyes away from the magnitude of space and looked at Crowley. He was in profile, lips slightly parted. His eyes shone with starlight. Aziraphale wanted to kiss him and keep watching him forever. He remembered Crowley had probably seen this room before. Thousands upon thousands upon thousands of years in the past. Perhaps it hit him harder to come back than Aziraphale to see it for the first time.

“Did I ever mention I helped build some of these?” Crowley whispered.

“Yes, dear,” Aziraphale whispered back. His heart brimmed over.

He happened to know the only part of Her creation missing from this room was the Earth. That was because it was on the top floor. He saw it the last time he presented his weekly report to Gabriel, floating in the air like a large, sedate disco ball. They would all use it in three days' time to transport themselves to Earth for Armageddon. Every angel in Christendom, pouring out of the sky.

Aziraphale peered around. There didn’t seem to be much of a filing system in here. Maybe all he had to do was…

“Alpha Centauri?” he said.

It was like going for a gentle stroll and accidentally stepping off a skyscraper.

Space lurched. The detritus of the universe streaked towards him, and past him before he could think about screaming. Two blue dots came out of the darkness like all-knowing eyes that meant the end of all things. They expanded until they were the size of suns, filling his vision, pinning him under their gaze, until with a heart-stopping wrench -

It all stopped.

Space was still again. The binary star system of Alpha Centauri lay before them, winking blue.

Aziraphale shook off the feeling he’d just freefall dived from a million miles up. He glimpsed Crowley’s face, and got a sudden idea of what it must have felt like for him, before all this happened. The Fall. He squeezed Crowley’s hand. Crowley’s eyes were glazed. Slowly, he came back to himself and squeezed back.

Aziraphale remembered, a fraction later than he should have, to check on Adam.

The boy’s face was white with exhilaration. “Wicked,” he whispered to himself.

Spacedog yipped and scratched his flank with his cybernetic back leg. His ears jiggled inside his fishbowl helmet. He didn’t look impressed. Aziraphale supposed he was made for this environment. Then he went back to deliberately ignoring Spacedog, because while Spacedog’s existence was remarkable, Aziraphale found him far too ridiculous to dwell on.

“We want Proxima Centauri B,” he said.

This time they all braced themselves. There was a relatively short, painless lurch forward as the room zoomed in on the planet orbiting one sun, Proxima Centauri. The planet was pockmarked like porous stone. It turned ponderously in the light from its star.

“Oh!” Crowley leaned forward in wonder. He pointed down at the craggy little planet. “I remember this! This one was one of mine.”

Aziraphale watched him puff out his chest and smiled.

“Yup. I totally helped with this one. Well. I looked over the plans. Well. I graffitied a rude word in some space dust.” Crowley paused. “They probably took it out.”

“How lovely,” Aziraphale said, dryly.

This was it. Triumph rang through his head. He was about to become an outer space fugitive. He couldn’t believe they’d got this far. There was only one step left, and they were home free. Or… not home. Not yet. But definitely free.

“Crowley, do you trust me?”

Crowley’s head snapped round. “That’s a funny question at this stage,” he said, sounding perturbed.

“Sorry. I need to be sure, though, or this next part won’t work.”

Crowley’s golden eyes regarded him.

“I trust you, angel.”

Aziraphale turned to face him. Crowley did the same, mirroring him. Aziraphale caught his other hand, holding them both, bare and gloved.

“Fuse with me.”

Relief lifted Crowley’s face.

“Oh, thank Satan. I was worried for a moment.”

Aziraphale gave a chuckle. “Sorry for being dramatic. I wasn’t -”

He broke off. He hadn’t been sure. If Crowley had truly forgiven him, yet. It would be understandable if he needed more time.

Apparently not. Crowley was attempting to loosen up in the receptionist’s tailored trousers. He stretched his inhumanly bendy spine, wiggled his snaky hips. It would have been rather alluring if Crowley wasn’t, as Aziraphale well knew, an awful dancer. It still was quite alluring, actually.

“Remember how to do this?” Crowley grinned.

“Of course. Like riding a velocipede.”

Crowley groaned and laughed. He began… a kind of shimmy, Aziraphale supposed. It was very wriggly. It had a slight drunk-wedding-guest-cum-gay-bar aspect, not that he’d been to a wedding or a gay bar in over eighty years.

Now that push came to shove, he felt rather foolish doing this in front of an audience. He avoided looking anywhere near Adam and broke into a modified Gavotte.

They danced towards each other. They were taking it slower than the urgency of the situation asked for, if he was being honest. But it was thrilling, the build up without touching, the coy flashes of eye contact. Aziraphale felt Crowley’s body heat through his silk blouse. Crowley’s long, skinny chest wiggled inches away from him. His gem glowed softly, like it was warming up.

Aziraphale clasped his arm, and his own gem flared.

They melted together.

Zadkiel stumbled out, wide-eyed and flushed.

“Wow. I need to get a room.”

He noticed Adam.

“Ummmm. Hello there. We’ve sort-of met, sort-of haven’t. I’m Zadkiel.” He held out his hand.

Adam glared as he took it. Some weird grown-up stuff had just happened, and he was ready to zip away from it at the speed of light.

“They just… turned into you,” he said.

“Yup.”

“They’re really bad dancers.”

“So am I!”

“Right. Why’d they do that, then?”

“Well… they’ve been apart for a while, and while they’re not human, as you know, er, I know for your species the whole dancing thing can be something of a mating ritual… has anyone ever given you the Talk?”

Adam looked deeply disgusted.

“Why’d they turn into you?” he asked, in slow, measured tones.

“Oh! So they can’t track us.” Zadkiel flashed a grin. “The people we’re running away from can tell whenever Aziraphale or Crowley use their powers - their alien powers, that is - but I don’t show up on their, errr, alien scanner things. So they can’t follow us to Proxima Centauri.”

This was going to require a lot of discipline, he realised. If they wanted to be good intergalactic space fugitives - and Zadkiel absolutely did - there would have to be no more performing of miracles unless fused from now on. One thoughtless snap of the fingers from either of them, and it would all be over. Zadkiel hoped the other two were up to it.

He squared up to the orbiting planet below.

“Enough explanation. It’s time to go. Are you ready?”

Adam nodded. The blue lights of Alpha Centauri shone in his eyes.

“Brilliant. Hold on to my arm and don’t let go no matter what.”

Adam scooped up Spacedog,[1] along with the Book, and looped his spare arm through Zadkiel’s. He may have shown up unexpectedly, but he was a reassuringly large presence.

Zadkiel performed the ritual on himself and Adam. Nobody needed to leave their gems behind accidentally at this stage. He guessed it would be messy in Adam’s case.

“Here we go -”

Zadkiel reached out.

His fingertips dissolved as they neared the planet. Then his whole body melted into a stream of atoms, and this really was a freefall, dimensions compressing around him, his body stretching back miles, stars streaking across his vision. He was made of mist and he was rushing through a cold tunnel faster than any living thing had ever moved

~*~

They popped out at the other end, mouths agape like fish.

The first thing was the silence.

It was crushing and absolute. It was the silence of a void. A sea of darkness full of pinpricks of light that only made the darkness more infinite. He remembered, from two different perspectives, rowing across a lake that had been like this.

Then, the planet.

It spread out below him. A hard, mountainous, canyon-pocked waste-scape. He could see where it curved, the crescent of light like the rind of an orange. He could see the shimmering corona of its atmosphere. He could see the granite and sandstone and marsh-coloured patches of its body, all merging like a paintbox left out in the rain.

He had never seen anything like it. A new world. Untouched. Alien.

He had to admit it was a cracking view.

Adam’s fingers dug into his arm. The green dog yipped at a hysterical pitch.

Zadkiel looked down at the boy and noticed the third thing.

Adam gasped for breath that wouldn’t come. He stared into Zadkiel’s eyes, terrified, as his lips turned blue.

---

[1] Neither of Zadkiel’s components knew what to make of the dog. They’d each secretly hoped that fusing would bring some wisdom on the subject. Zadkiel was happy to report: nope. The dog thing was really weird.

(Link to next part)