#i guess? i mean. i tend to think that we’ve all read the book at this point. but perhaps that is not true fjskfjd

[arohuacheng]

k sorry i’m legitimately so insane about pei ming and shi qingxuan though. pei ming as someone who’s not just a womanizer but someone responsible and dear enough to shi wudu for That Man to essentially appoint him as qingxuan’s guardian should anything happen to him… for pei ming to take that responsibility on whole-heartedly, trying to protect shi qingxuan and keep them out of trouble and lead them on the right path even from the very beginning of the story… he’s trying to keep her out of the whole mess with pei su he’s trying to make sure that she does what she needs to do to survive in heaven (she has never learned that one needs to be cruel and unjust to advance because her brother has done all the unjust cruelty for her) he’s trying to make sure that he fulfills that trust that was placed in him and that’s all before there’s even a hint of anything that would incapacitate shi wudu. and sqx sees this and she must know at least some of it but she hates him. just doesn’t like his personality. i am out of my fucking miiiind

[hollowed-theory-hall]

What do you think about Hermione? Love her? Hate her? Any thoughts about her being given the time Turner? Because that's what made me dislike her. There's literally no way it makes sense for her to have that other than favouritism from Dumbledore. Because if they were really willing to give out time turners to any smart kid, Barty Crouch Jr. and Tom Riddle should also have gotten time turners.

Okay, there are two parts for this answer. The first part is that I got to defend Hermione on the Time Turner bit because it's not her fault Dumbledore plays favorites.

I'm pretty sure Dumbledore knew Sirius was innocent all along (or at least suspected it) and intended Harry and Hermione to have all the means to help him at their disposal.

“Dumbledore just said — just said we could save more than one innocent life. . . .” And then it hit him. “Hermione, we’re going to save Buckbeak!” “But — how will that help Sirius?” “Dumbledore said — he just told us where the window is — the window of Flitwick’s office! Where they’ve got Sirius locked up! We’ve got to fly Buckbeak up to the window and rescue Sirius! Sirius can escape on Buckbeak — they can escape together!”

(PoA, page 395)

They were still ten feet away from the forest, in plain view of Hagrid’s back door. “One moment, please, Macnair,” came Dumbledore’s voice. “You need to sign too.” The footsteps stopped.

(PoA, page 401)

The back in time Dumbledore, before he sent Harry and Hermione back in time, seems almost too aware of what's going on. Even though he hasn't sent them back in time yet. So, I'm suspicious he had a plan there.

“Where is it?” said the reedy voice of the Committee member. “Where is the beast?” “It was tied here!” said the executioner furiously. “I saw it! Just here!” “How extraordinary,” said Dumbledore. There was a note of amusement in his voice.

(PoA, page 402)

But even if Dumbledore didn't plan Sirius' escape and the Time Turner shenanigans, it's not Hermione's fault Dumbledore wanted her to have a Time Turner. Honestly, it's good she had it for Sirius' sake, but Dumbledore's favoritism isn't on her. I feel it's wrong to blame her for a decision that wasn't hers. It was Dumbledore's and McGonagall's decision to give Hermione a Time Turner and not to other students. We don't even know how common Time Turners are for students (my guess is not at all, and Hermione wasn't supposed to have one, but that's a different post), but it was still a decision completely out of Hermione's hands.

As for the second part, which is my opinion on Hermione:

I like Hermione, she isn't in my top favorite characters, but I do like her. She's interesting, adds contrast to Ron and Harry and I related to her a lot when I was younger.

I hate what the movies did to her. They stripped her of everything that made her interesting and made her this perfect figure who always knew what to do which Hermione just isn't. Hermione tends to panic and stress out in the books often. It's often Harry who comes up with last-minute plans under pressure.

And yes, she's smart, but she isn't always the cleverest or wisest (I'll say Ron has the most common sense in the Trio), and a lot of times she doesn't think her plans through (like with Umbridge, the centaurs, and Gwamp. She didn't plan anything other than not wanting to see Harry in pain). And that's an interesting character flaw for her to have. And she knows this about herself. I mean, she says herself there's more to magic than just reading books.

And book Hermione really loves Harry and Ron and appreciates their cleverness compared to movie Hermione who's just done with both of them and their idiocy constantly. Which is a disservice to the Golden Trio's friendship. All three are really smart in different ways. and the three of them know this (sorta, Harry has really low self-esteem so he doesn't think he's smart).

My biggest grief with Hermione's character in the books was always her complete faith in authority she trusts. Throughout the series, Hermione is the one of the Trio who always speaks up that they should trust Dumbledore and do what Dumbledore says because she respects him. Hermione, once she respects an authority figure, she tends to just have full faith in them and their judgment. And that really got on my nerves sometimes. But again, that's an interesting character flaw that contrasts Harry and Ron and creates an interesting dynamic. It's a character flaw that is an extension of Hermione's loyalty. I think her loyalty is a trait that is often downplayed too, but she is so loyal. Like, once she decides you have her loyalty you could do pretty much anything and she'll try to justify you. She'll make excuses and justifications so people she's loyal to are in the right.

And she does this justification with her own actions too. I like Hermione's ruthlessness that is so often ignored. She:

Set Snape on fire as a 1st year (but, yeah she loves all authority *sarcasm*)

Kept Rita Skeeter in a jar

Marietta Edgcomb (the curse on the DA parchment in general)

Came up with the DA coins and told Harry she got inspiration from the Dark Mark:

Harry looked sideways at Hermione. “You know what these remind me of?” “No, what’s that?” “The Death Eaters’ scars. Voldemort touches one of them, and all their scars burn, and they know they’ve got to join him.” “Well . . . yes,” said Hermione quietly. “That is where I got the idea . . . but you’ll notice I decided to engrave the date on bits of metal rather than on our members’ skin. . . .”

(OotP, 399)

6. Confounded Cormac McLaggen so Ron would get the Keeper position.

7. Basically everything she did in Deathly Hollows, I'm not listing all of it.

And there are more I'm probably forgetting!

The point is, Hermione is ruthless when she wants to be. She's not to be trifled with.

I think her loyalty, as I mentioned above, is a very distinctive trait of her character. She didn't have friends before Hogwarts (she was probably bullied for being a know-it-all. Like, it shows in her behavior) and she latched onto Harry and Ron and has been incredibly devoted to their friendship since. She's not only devoted to her friends but invested in keeping Harry and Ron as her friends (and each other's freinds).

And she actually is really smart. Yes, book smart, she can memorize books like a pro, but she's also a really good puzzle solver. From the riddle in the obstacle course in 1st year, figuring out the basilisk, finding out Lupin's a werewolf, figuring out Rita's Animagus form, etc... Hermione is really good at organizing information and putting the puzzle pieces together. And that's before I mentioned her magical talent, from brewing Pulyjuice Potion (a complex and advanced potion) in 2nd year in the girls' bathroom to usually being the first in class to get spells right.

Hermione's desire to know everything, as I mentioned in another post, I think is an extension of her desire to belong. She arrives in a new world as a muggleborn, and she takes each and every chance she gets to learn about the Wizarding World. To appear as if she was always there. Because she wants to be a witch so badly she doesn't mind Obliviating her parents and sending them to Australia.

I have more thoughts, but I'm just blabbering...

So, Hermione, while not in my top five, is an interesting and flawed character that I like a lot.

[samobservessonic]

We join the Freedom Fighters on the tail end of a successful mission, but what’s most intriguing about this issue is right there in the title box. While we’ve had a story from Lew Stringer already over in the poster mags, this is his first story in the main book. Not only that, but this story is called “Metamorphia” and if you have even a casual interest in StC, you’ve probably heard of this addition to the rogues’ gallery, who Stringer is about to introduce us to

Amy shoots her shot and gets shot down, as this bear mobian asks Sonic for help. Now, you might think they’re playing the old “Sonic ignores Amy in favour of another girl” card but as I’ve pointed out a few times already, Sonic is just really invested in helping civilians and shows them a kindness that he doesn’t seem to show his own team. Maybe it’s that he feels his team can handle him for being the asshole he is? But that’s besides the point right now

Also, I’m not going to beat about the bush with this. I’m sure you’ve probably already guessed that, with the villain in the title being a play on the word “metamorph”, this bear isn’t who she’s claiming to be

Amy might not be able to read the title, but she also gets bad vibes from this stranger and Tails agrees with her. But Sonic passes off these concerns as jealousy and is quick to head on his way, leaving the two of them behind

Yeah, sure, this looks like the safest zone I’ve ever seen

Sonic shares this sentiment and while he looks away, our damsel in distress suddenly looks a lot more sinister…

They get attacked by soldier badniks (I tend to call them Troopers, but I’m not sure if they’re actually called that?) and while Sonic thinks they’re the most dangerous thing here, he’s seconds away from being proven wrong

Here she is, Metamorphia! She introduces herself and her home, the Grim Zone, with Sonic having to admit that Amy & Tails were right not to trust her

Metamorphia transforms into a gas to knock Sonic out and like, damn, I know shapeshifter characters are often OP, but that’s pretty OP! Not that I’m complaining at all, since it’s always good to have more powerful threats on the villains’ side. Though unlike Captain Plunder, it turns out that Metamorphia is another agent working for Robotnik

Sonic wakes up in a some kind of prison cube, but it doesn’t even take him a few seconds after Metamorphia explains how it works for him to bust out of it lmao

Metamorphia escapes and Tails shows up, but I’m sure we can all figure out that Tails hasn’t suddenly developed the ability to back-talk Sonic

There’s something so funny about the villain being so blatant as to say “take a look over that cliff”. Also, I guess Metamorphia really hates Bluey. That’s my headcanon now

Sonic was about as fooled by her disguise as we were and leaves Metamorphia to her fate. Turns out that even if she can turn into a gas, she can’t mimic Tails’s ability to fly

I had wondered if Sonic would eat humble pie when he got back to Amy & Tails, but nope, he’s vague about what happened. Amy saying “Did your new girlfriend chuck you” is yet another reminder of exactly how British these characters sound. Meanwhile, our story ends on the confirmation that Metamorphia lives to see another day and we’ll certainly be seeing her again in future

Now, like the previous issue, this was a standalone story setting up lore to pull from in future. But I have to confess that I enjoyed this one a lot more. Even if I didn’t have much to say, I felt like there was a lot more stuff I wanted to hold up and go “Look at this!” Which isn’t me saying that I think Stringer is a better writer than Kitching by any means - both of them have wonderful stories that I enjoy and you wouldn’t have StC without either writer. But this was a strong start for Stringer and I’m looking forward to more

As for Metamorphia, I just like girl villains, so I’m obviously looking forward to her comeback. Having started reading StC with issue 80, the only story I saw of Metamorphia was the end of her character arc and the final story she appears in (which actually ends up being a Tails solo story), so I’m looking forward to seeing how her journey plays out before she gets to that final destination

[bamby0304]

Her Saviours- Ch.33

Series Masterlist

Summary: During an odd case, the Winchesters came across Y/N, a scared young Omega girl who had been used as a lure for a nest of vampires. After rescuing her from the monsters, John and his sons took her in knowing she was in no state to live among ordinary people. But three Alphas and one Omega is a mixture bound for disaster.

Warnings: Explicit language. ABO dynamics. Smut. Dirty talk. Fingering. Angst. Violence.

Bamby

You were laying on your stomach on one of the hotel beds. You were pretty sure it was Dean’s, which is what you were hoping. You were upset. It didn’t feel like you had a right to be, because you’d just told the guys it was okay for them to spend time with other girls. But there was something about this situation that wasn’t sitting right with you.

Dean was looking up a few more details about the symbol he’d found at the crime scene earlier. He’d already checked to make sure Meg was a real person, which she apparently was. It made Sam’s theory look like he was maybe compensating for other thoughts he might be having.

Pulling out his phone, Dean dialed a number as you looked up from John’s journal which you’re been flicking through. Dean angled himself away from the computer ever so slightly so he could meet your gaze. After a few moments whoever he called picked up.

“Let me guess. You’re lurkin’ outside that poor girl’s apartment, aren’t you?”

You looked away, chewing your lip. You didn’t want to think about what Sam might be doing with Meg.

“You’ve got a funny way of showin’ your affection.”

Tell me about it, you thought to yourself.

“Sorry, man, she checks out. There is a Meg Masters in the Andover phone book. I even pulled up her high school photo,” Dean told him. “Now, look, why don’t you go knock on her door and, uh, invite her to a poetry reading, or whatever it is you do, huh?” There was a pause before he spoke again, “Yeah, that Y/N and I did have some luck with.” He turned back to the computer. “It’s, uh… turns out it’s Zoroastrian. Very, very old school, like two thousand years before Christ. It’s a sigil for a Daeva.”

Glancing over at him, you wondered what Sam might be saying.

“It translates to ‘demon of darkness’. Zoroastrian demons, and they’re savage, animalistic, you know, nasty attitudes. Kind of like, uh, demonic pit bulls.” Dean paused again, listening to his brother before he scoffed, “Give me some credit, man. You don’t have a corner on paper chasin’ around here.”

You gave him a knowing look. All the information he got was from John’s friend.

He rolled his eyes. “No, I called Dad’s friend, Caleb. He told me, all right?” Apparently Sam had called his bluff. “Anyway, here’s the thing. These Daevas, they have to be summoned, conjured.” As Sam talked on the other side, Dean nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I’m sayin’. And, from what I gather, it’s pretty risky business, too. These suckers tend to bite the hand that feeds them. And, uh, the arms, and torsos.”

You really didn’t understand why people liked to play with things they couldn’t really control or understand. It’s like back during the case where Dean nearly died, when the preacher’s wife was controlling a reaper. You can’t actually control something that powerful forever.

“Well, nobody knows, but nobody’s seen ‘em for a couple of millennia. I mean, summoning a demon that ancient? Someone really knows their stuff. I think we’ve got a major player in town,” Dean noted. There was a pause as he let that sink in before he playfully added, “Now, why don’t you go give that girl a private strip-o-gram?”

Meg was pretty. You could understand why the brothers were interested. Even if Sam wasn’t admitting it, there had to be something there at some point, otherwise he wouldn’t have told her everything he had. As for Dean, he wasn’t as reserved as his brother, and not that picky when it came to women. If they’re gorgeous, Dean’s interested.

“No, bite her.”

Your head snapped in Dean’s direction as your eyes went wide.

His attention was caught by your sudden movement as he realised what he’d said. Putting the phone down, he stood out of his seat. “I didn’t mean-”

“I know,” you cut him off, speaking shortly. There was a sudden tightness in your throat.

“Sam would never-”

“Mm-hmm.” You gave a short nod.

“Y/N-”

You interrupted him once more, not really wanting to hear it right now. “I’m fine, Dean. I am. Really.”

“Bullshit.”

The way he said the word so simply had you jump a little, taken aback.

He stood in front of you now as you continued to lay on your stomach on the bed. “You told us you don’t mind sharing. You said that moments before Meg came into the picture. But you’re not comfortable. Even though Sam is trying to make it clear he’s not going to do anything. So, what’s wrong?”

Chewing your lip, you looked away for a moment as you contemplated your thoughts, before you answered, “I just need communication.”

“Sam is communicating. And everything he’s saying is painting a pretty clear picture. He’s not going to do anything with her. I’m just joking around,” he tried to assure you.

“But… he told her things.”

There was a pause as he looked down at you, your words registering. “You do care that you’re not claimed.”

“I care that I don’t have an Alpha,” you countered. Rolling over, you pushed yourself off the bed and tried to walk away, to get away from him and the conversation.

His hand suddenly wrapped around your arm as he pulled you to him until your back was pressed against his chest. “You have us,” he whispered, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your cheek.

Letting your eyes flutter shut, you leaned into him. “Sometimes I want more.”

“Me too,” he admitted.

Turning to face him, you pressed your hands to his chest as you looked up to meet his gaze. “I know. And I know you can’t. I understand. I don’t want you to feel like I’m pressuring either of you.”

Reaching up, he caressed your cheek as he shook his head. “I can’t speak for Sam, but I know you understand.”

Giving him a small smile, you then cleared your throat and took a step back. “As much as I would love to indulge in a rare Dean Winchester chick-flick moment, we have a case we need to focus on.”

“There’s nothing else we can do,” he noted.

“Not true.”

Turning, you headed over to the dining table where the computer sat. There, Dean’s jacket was hanging on the back of the chair. Reaching into one of the pockets, you found what you were looking for and pulled it out. The number of the officer he’d been flirting with the night before.

“You need to get more out of her.”

“I got everything I could out of her,” he countered.

You gave him a knowing smirk. “You can get more out of her, trust me.”

He watched you carefully. “If you’re suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, then I think this is a bad idea. If it was any other day I would jump on the idea, but not tonight.”

“Why? Because I’m pouty over Sam?”

“Yes. Because you’re pouty over Sam. Your words, not mine.”

Rolling your eyes at him, you closed the distance between the two of you, grabbed his hand, and shoved the piece of paper with the officer’s number into his grasp. “We both know that if there’s anything else we can learn from the cops you can get it out of her, by getting between her thighs. So, Dean, do what you do best, and make her screaming putty.”

His jaw dropped. “Why is this turning me on?”

“Because an Omega telling an Alpha what to do is a sign of being claimed.” You gave his chest a pat. “And it makes you just as hard as it makes me wet thinking about someone having that power over you.”

Eyes wide, he just stood there and watched as you stepped back. “When I get back, I’m taking back the power. Don’t care how many times I gotta fuck you to do it.”

“Of course, dear.” You gave him a mocking smile. “Now off you go.”

With a huff, he adjusted the bulge in his pants and grabbed his things, before leaving. You had no doubt you were going to enjoy his antics later.

For now, though, you weren’t going to let yourself think about how he was going to get information from the officer, or what Sam might be doing. You had to let that go. It wasn’t healthy, and it wasn’t fair. You couldn’t expect the guys to be okay sharing you with each other, and their father.

So, with a deep breath, you decided to grab a few things out of the emergency duffle the brothers always brought to whatever motel room. Grabbing some candles and a lighter, you set them up in the bathroom and ran yourself a bath.

You were going to take this alone time to do something healthy for the first time in your life. You were not going to dwell on the fact you’d been, inadvertently and voluntarily, left behind. Those days were behind you. No, instead, you were going to enjoy yourself, even if you had to force it at first.

…

The water was lukewarm, but you didn’t care. You’d been laying in the bath long enough for the bubbles you’d made with the hotel room shampoo to disappear. The light of the candles danced behind your eyelids as you relaxed in the tub.

Your hands were wandering, gently stroking and petting. It was a comfort thing, your love language naturally landing evenly on physical touch and acts of service. Tonight you needed some of both, which is what you were giving yourself in the safe space you’d created in the bathroom.

In the next room you heard the door unlock and open as one of the brothers came back. Their scent was covered by the smell of your candles, so you couldn’t be sure who it was, and to be honest you weren’t sure if you wanted to know.

Finding out who it might be meant finding out what they’d been doing, and either way you were certain you didn’t want to know.

Shaking your thoughts away, you turned your attention back to yourself as you let your fingers gently stroke up and down your chest between your breasts. You were drifting back into your happy place when the door opened.

Opening your eyes, you found yourself looking up at Sam. He was a little out of breath, pupils dilated as he stared down at you. Your heart began to race as you instinctively sniffed the air, reaching out for his scent.

He smelt like Sam… nothing else and no one more. He hadn’t slept with Meg.

The rush of arousal that poured out of you in that instant fogged the air, slapping him in the face like a cold bucket of water.

Closing the distance between you and him in a matter of seconds, he reached down and grabbed your throat with his large hand, holding you in place, against the edge of the tub, as his lips came down to devour yours in a kiss. You gasped against him, clawing at his hand in desperate need as he growled against you.

Reaching down with his spare hand, he pulled back and held your gaze as he dipped his hand into the bath and between your thighs.

You spread your legs for him as your lips parted on a silent moan. He watched with hungry eyes, never looking away from you as he stroked your clit before slipping two fingers into you.

“Fuck, Sam!” you gasped as he quickly found your sweet spot and began to massage it. Grasping at the arm that still held your throat, you could only lay there, spread open for him, as he fucked you with his fingers.

He was breathing heavily, grunting as he watched you slowly fall apart in his grasp.

It was so intense, staring into his eyes as his fingers fucked you until your hips were bucking against them and your nails were digging into his arm. The muscles under your fingers bulged, veins pulsing as his grunting turned into growls. The scent in the room was a musky mix of yours and his arousal, drowning and smothering you until your vision began to blur.

Coming hard, you squeezed his fingers, clutching them inside you as you cried out. Sam leaned in and crashed his lips onto yours, swallowing your cries of pleasure.

Your grip loosened, your arms falling into the water as you let him go. He slipped his fingers out of you gently, aware of the aftershock waves of arousal that made you shiver as he moved. Eyes drifting closed, you barely noticed him moving until you felt him reach in to grab and pull you out of the tub.

“Your clothes are gonna get wet,” you told him, even as you leaned in to rest your cheek against his shoulder as he carried you out of the bathroom.

He chuckled lightly, the sound vibrating against you, warming you inside. “I don’t care.”

Humming happily, you felt him dip you down until you were laying against something soft. Now on the bed, you shivered ever so slightly as the cool air brushed against you. You weren’t cold for long, however, as Sam moved to grabbed you some clothes.

Going through the movements, you couldn’t wipe the soft smile off your face as Sam patiently and sweetly helped you get dressed. You were blissed out after having finally gotten some much needed release.

“You’re sweet.”

Leaning in, he gave your forehead a kiss once you were dressed. “You’re cute.”

Opening your eyes, you looked up at him and felt your heart swell as you met his gaze. The lust from before had faded as a look of contentment and happiness had replaced it. Sam looked like he was happy to be here with you, even if you were currently high on your fresh orgasm.

“Sleepy?”

“Hungry,” you corrected, finding a pout slip onto your lips then. “There’s no food here.”

“It’s okay, I’ll go get you something.” Leaning in, he gave your forehead another kiss before pulling back. “Try to get some rest. I won’t be long,” he promised before leaving.

Smile slipping back into place, you shrugged to yourself as you crawled up the bed and curled yourself up to do as he had told you to.

…

The bed dipped, waking you from your short slumber. You sniffed the air before fully waking and knew in an instant that the brother curling up next to you was a freshly showered Dean Winchester.

He leaned in to kiss your shoulder. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Shaking your head, you scooted closer to him. “It’s okay. Prefer when you do. Like to know you get home safe.”

His fingers began stroking your hair as you let yourself get comfortable enough to probably fall asleep again. “Sleepy?”

“Mm-hmm.” You nodded. “And hungry.”

Dean laughed lightly. “Sam gave you the goods?” Peaking an eye open, you looked up at him and he shrugged. “You’re always hungry and sleepy after sex.”

Watching him curiously, you wondered if his laughter was genuine or if it was a mask. Dean hadn��t really been given the chance to test whether or not he was really okay to share you with his brother or not yet. Sure, you’d been kissing and sharing beds with both of them, but getting intimate with someone was different.

“Um, well… we didn’t have sex,” you started. “Just… fooled around a little.”

“Must have been good if you’re this sleepy,” he noted, grin not slipping.

“I mean, I did say I was sexually frustrated.” You shrugged. “Must’ve really just needed it.”

“Wish I’d gotten here first.” Leaning in, he kissed you softly before pulling back and adding, “Love it when I get to turn you to goo.”

Slipping off the bed, he moved to the kitchen to grab himself a beer. You sat up, watching him, taking note of the fact there wasn’t a hint of aggression dripping off him.

“Either you just had the best sex of your life… or you’re really okay with me being with Sam,” you blurted.

Dean nearly choked on his beer. It dribbled down his chin, which he quickly wiped away as he looked at you with wide eyes. “Excuse me?”

“I just… I expected jealousy,” you explained.

“You told us there was no need to be jealous,” he noted, having a valid point. “You said we were all going to be open and honest with each other. You said we were a pack and we had to trust each other.”

“Saying something and practicing it are different things.”

He just shrugged. “Maybe not for me.” Taking a swig of his beer, he had a quick drink before going on, “And to answer, the sex was mediocre.”

It was your turn to laugh.

The door handle rattled then before it opened. Sam stepped in, a brown paper bag from some kind of fast food chain was grasped in his hand. Before he could move to give it to you, though, the brothers looked to each other.

“Dude, I gotta talk to you,” they both said at the same time.

“That’s hot.” You nodded, looking between them.

…

Comfortable on the bed, you were nibbling away on your fries and nuggets Sam had gotten for you as the two brothers filled you all in on what they’d learned throughout the night. You had obviously not learnt anything during your time in the bathtub, so you had nothing to contribute to the conversation, but you were more than happy with that. It meant you had more time to munch on your food.

“So, hot little Meg is summoning the Daeva?” Dean asked.

Sam shrugged. “Looks like she was using that black altar to control the thing.”

“And what’s the deal with that bowl again?”

“She was talking into it. The way witches used to scry into crystal balls or animal entrails. She was communicating with someone.”

“With who? With the Daeva?”

“No, you said those things were savages. No, this was someone different. Someone who’s giving her orders. Someone who’s comin’ to that warehouse.”

Dean got a look in his eyes at that. He turned away from Sam and moved over to sit at the dining table. He flicked through the paperwork you’d all collected on the case, before he seemed to find what he was looking for.

“Holy crap.”

Sam watched him with a curious frown. “What?”

“I pulled a favor with my,” he cleared his throat and glanced over at you before going on, “friend, Amy, over at the police department. The complete records of the two victims.” Turning the paperwork around, he pointed to the information Sam needed to see. “We missed something the first time.”

“What?” Sam moved over to look at what Dean had found.

“The first victim, the old man,” Dean started. “He spent his whole life in Chicago, but he wasn’t born here. Look where he was born.”

You could see Sam visibly freeze.”Lawrence, Kansas.”

The nugget you’d been eating got stuck in your throat. You coughed it up before you could choke on it, catching the attention of both brothers. Sam moved to help you, but you lifted a hand, gesturing for him to stop.

“I’m okay,” you insisted once you stopped coughing.

They both just watched you carefully, unsure.

Moving on, you focussed on Dean. “So… Meredith from Lawrence too?”

He nodded. “Uh, yeah, actually. Turns out she was adopted from there.”

“Holy crap.” Sam, who had turned back to Dean, dropped into the other chair at the dining table. “I mean, it is where the demon killed Mum. That’s where everything started. So, you think Meg’s tied up with the demon?”

Dean shrugged. “I think it’s a definite possibility.”

“But I don’t understand. What’s the significance of Lawrence? And how do these Daeva things fit in?”

Shaking his head, Dean didn’t seem to care about the details. “Beats me. But I say we trash that black altar, grab Meg, and have ourselves a friendly little interrogation.”

“No, we can’t,” Sam argued. “We shouldn’t tip her off. We’ve gotta stake out that warehouse. We’ve gotta see who, or what, is showin’ up to meet her.”

“I’ll tell you one thing.” Dean gave him a pointed look. “I don’t think we should do this alone.”

 You dropped the fry you’d been bringing to your mouth back into the bag it had come from. Pushing your food away, you slipped off the bed, your lips pressed in a tight line. You felt your muscles begin to tighten as your jaw ached and your heart began to race.

Sam and Dean watched your odd behaviour as you started clearing up your food and cleaning up the room.

Dean didn’t say anything, though, as he pulled out his phone and started to dial a number.

Getting out of his chair, Sam came over to you, sliding his hands onto your waist as he rested his chin on your shoulder. “You okay?”

“He won’t come,” you whispered so Dean couldn’t hear.

Not that Dean was listening. He was too focused on trying every number you guys had for John. Every number that you’d all tried several times since he’d disappeared.

Giving your waist a squeeze, he pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder. “We just have to let him try.”

“I know.” Letting out a sigh, you leaned back against him. “I have to clean.”

“You don’t have to nest for someone who isn’t your Alpha,” he argued.

Chuckling lightly, you turned around to lean against his chest. Breathing in his scent deeply, you felt yourself smile at the fact he knew you that well that he understood your instinctual movements more than you did sometimes.

“I gotta get supplies from the car. Wanna come?”

Nodding, you let him slip his hand into yours before leading you out of the room. You glanced over at Dean before leaving, finding him desperately dialling numbers. It broke your heart to think this was just going to be another disappointment for him.

…

“You should stay here,” Sam started as the two of you reached into the trunk of Baby to pull out supplies and fill the duffle you’d brought.

Dropping the shotgun you’d grabbed, you’d pulled back to glare at him. “You want me to stay back again? Why? Because its a demon? Because of Meg? Because of John?!” You were hurt. “I thought we were all passed this. I thought you guys trusted-”

He quickly cut me off, “I meant stay at the car.”

Your mouth snapped shut as your hurt turned to confusion. “Stay… at the car?”

“Dean will try and talk you out of coming with us. If you stay at the car then he won’t have much of a choice but to let you come.” He shrugged.

You were utterly shocked. Sam… Sam wanted you to join them on the hunt. He wanted you to go. Even though it involved demons, and possibly the demon that killed his mother, he still wanted you to come along. 

Sensing your surprise, he went on, “Hunting this demon, these things, its not just our mission. Our job. You were pulled into it the moment Dad decided to let you stay with us. This is as much your fight as it is ours. You deserve to see the end.”

Heart swelling, you suddenly threw your arms around him in a tight hug. “Thank you.”

When you pulled back the two of you finished filling the bag with everything you had before closing up the trunk. Then Sam and you went your separate ways as you crawled into the back of Baby and he went back up to the hotel room.

You knew Dean wasn’t going to like this idea, but Sam was right. You deserved to see this through, too.

…

To say Dean was pissed would be an understatement. Although he was more hurt by the fact you and Sam had tried to play him.

After Sam had spent half the car ride explaining the reasoning behind your decision, Dean had surprised you both by telling you he understood.

He knew you wanted to see the job through, and you deserved to as well. It had affected the majority of your life, after all. He just didn’t like that you two felt you had to scheme behind his back. He also admitted, however, that he still would have insisted on you staying at the motel if you hadn’t already been in the car, though.

None of that, however, currently mattered.

Right now the three of you had to be focussed, because you were currently climbing the walls of the elevator shaft in the warehouse Sam had told you and Dean about.

Sam had taken the lead. When he reached the top he carefully slipped through the bars before reaching back to help you. Offering his hand, he pulled you through the gap, trying to make sure you were both as silent as possible. Dean was next, although he had to hang by one arm and his feet for a moment. Pulling the duffle off his back, he offered it to Sam who then helped his brother out of the elevator shaft.

Meanwhile, you were facing Meg as she stood in front of an altar lit by candles, chanting away. Shotgun in hand, you kept it aimed on her as your boys got on their feet.

Gently, Sam slipped an arm around your waist as he guided you to follow them. Once you were moving he took the lead, arm slipping away as the three of you slinked into the back of the room behind some crates so you could watch Meg under the cover of darkness.

“Guys.”

The sound of her voice had your stomach sink as you realised she already knew you were all there.

“Hiding’s a little bit childish, don’t you think?” she asked.

“Well, that didn’t work out like I planned,” Dean mumbled.

From where you stood, you could see as she turned away from the altar to face the rest of the room, her eyes scanning the darkness to try and find you. “Why don’t you come out?”

Guns trailed on her, Dean, Sam and you all came out from hiding.

Meg’s eyes were focused on the youngest of the brothers. “Sam, I have to say, this puts a real crimp in our relationship.”

He scoffed, “Yeah, tell me about it.”

“So, where’s your little Daeva friend?” Dean asked, getting to the point.

She shrugged. “Around. You know, that shotgun’s not gonna do much good.”

“Oh, don’t worry, sweetheart. The shotgun’s not for the demon.” Dean smirked at her, his eyes cruel and menacing.

“So, who is it, Meg?” Sam started. “Who’s coming? Who are you waiting for?”

Watching him carefully, she let a coy smile slip onto her lips. “You.”

Out of nowhere a force threw you back. You landed on the ground hard, your head snapping back and hitting the concrete. The wind was knocked out of you as you felt yourself slip and fall unconscious.

Bamby

[cishetamine]

recently a friend asked me to come over to drop off my annotated copy of a book, and then we planned to kinda just hang out and check out the local bookstore and maybe get dinner or something.

this is a friend i like spending time with, and while we’ve only really hung out once before in person, our time together made a very positive impression on me!

anyway so after a couple times of planning to get together and then failing to do so, i finally make it over to their apartment and drop off the book. so far so good!

and we’re talking and it’s all very fun like before. we have a lot in common, & specifically they like to play Philosophy Debate with me, which is a game that i don’t usually play that much bc most people—including many ppl i consider otherwise very good friends!—tend to find it annoying.

so then we head over to the bookstore. and at first it’s all great—we start browsing, not really looking for anything in particular. But gradually i start feeling like i’m carrying more and more of the conversation, until eventually i start to get the sense that they don’t want to talk to me anymore.

we each find a book—fittingly, mine is a stray from the philosophy section, even though i basically only ever read fiction books these days.

(it’s weird, most of the short-form stuff i read is nonfiction—essays, articles, etc—but most of the long stuff i read is fiction. like i’m honestly not sure if i’ve read a nonfiction book all the way through since college?! which hasn’t been all that long, but still!)

anyway so my friend also gets a book, i forget what, i think it was mao? or they were just looking for mao. Anyway we check out and leave and then as we’re walking back to their apartment they tell me that while they were in the bookstore they got an email.

me : !??

anyway basically this email means that they need to be alone for a while. and so we can’t get dinner or anything that day, and i have no idea when (if ever) i’ll even see them again.

i kinda tried to politely ask them what the email was about, but they said they’d rather not say, so i used their bathroom, got on the bus, and left.

and i felt really bad for them, bc what the fuck kind of email could that even be?!! did their parent or sibling die?? did they not get into the grad program they really wanted? i wanted to give them a hug; i don’t remember if i actually did or not.

i hope they’re okay.

but now i’m left wondering: If i just wanted to get someone to give me their book and then leave, wouldn’t that be kinda the perfect setup?

Pretend everything is normal and then as soon as you’ve gotten what you wanted out of the situation, come up with an excuse to leave?

i don’t want to assume the worst, and i’m honestly not even sure if they’re capable of that level of guile.

But i know i am! like that’s a seinfeld/curb episode plot right there if i’ve ever heard of one. and it’s something i could do, though i don’t imagine i’d relish it—albeit mostly bc i’d be scared of getting caught rather than bc i think it’s inherently wrong.

anyway..if you’ve read this far:

What, if anything, should i do?

like i guess i should assume they’re telling the truth and that there really was an email and i should feel sad about their secret dead sister or whatever.

but if there wasn’t an email at all…well then damn, that would suck too but in a much dumber and pettier way!

[another-whump-sideblog]

Hypothetically— could we have a scene with barron helping liam learn magic or giving wise mage advice?

Yep! I had a lot of fun with this one, I hope it’s as entertaining to you as it was to me 😅

“Barron? Why does it feel like the people who wrote these books really don’t like other magical creatures?”

You’ve been sitting in Barron’s room reading while it painstakingly carves runes into some brightly colored rocks, asking questions whenever they come up. They come up a lot.

“Hmm. The relationship between human mages and other magical creatures is… strained. We’re not well liked by other creatures. Culturally, we’re very different.” Barron pauses. “I guess it’s not fair to say that they just don’t like us because of their culture. It’s… more complex than that.”

You expect Barron to keep going, but it doesn’t. “How so?”

“…Human mages have a very different approach to magic than other creatures, even other mages of different species. In order to be a human mage, you have to have sought it out, gone against standard human wisdom and believed that magic existed and was something you could learn without much evidence. I guess some mages are raised by other mages, and they aren’t always like that. And usually mages raised with magic connect with other magical creatures more easily, because to them magic is just a fact of life. One that influences how they live and how they will die and everything in between, in positive and negative ways. So mages raised with magic tend to have more positive relationships with other magical creatures.”

Barron pauses again. You push. “Why would seeing magic differently mean other creatures don’t like you?”

“It… doesn’t, necessarily. We approach things differently, so conflict happens, but if it was just that… things would be different. There’s… some bad history, there. Human mages would… experiment on other creatures. Like I said, human mages seek magic out. Not all mages are so curious that they’d hurt other creatures to learn, not even the majority, but… enough. And it wasn’t condemned by other mages when stuff like that happened, back then.” Barron seems very uncomfortable. “Of course, that very rarely happens anymore. Now, mage society treats hurting other magical creatures the same as hurting humans. But other creatures haven’t, ah, gotten over it, for lack of a better term. Especially the longer lived ones. There are no human mages still alive who participated in that stuff back then, but there are a lot of victims of it still alive.”

Something about the way Barron is talking is kind of familiar, but you can’t quite put your finger on why. You think you would’ve been able to if you’d never fucked up your head, but that thought process will just make you frustrated, so you push it aside.

“They don’t trust us, and a lot of human mages see that as an overreaction, since we don’t do that anymore. We’ve tried to build more positive relations with the rest of the magical community, but for a lot of human mages the motivation for that is just to learn more about other kinds of magic, which makes other creatures feel like we haven’t changed at all. That we… still treat them as sources of information rather than equals. Not all of us do. But enough. And their lack of cooperation has led a lot of human mages to think of other creatures as… well, what you’ve been reading. Beneath us, incurious about the world, stubborn to a fault, etc.”

“…Yikes.”

“It is yikes, isn’t it? And I didn’t even think to give you that context before you started reading. I warned you not to take stuff too literally, but warning you about how one-sided the discussion of other magical creatures is didn’t even occur to me. I didn’t think about it. I… need more non-human friends. But I guess that’s just doing what I just talked about, seeking out friendship for information, to fill a blind-spot, rather than for the kind of motives other creatures think we should have. But yeah, don’t take the things said about magical creatures in there at face value.”

“Got it.”

A few pages later, Barron speaks up again. “It’s not like non-human creatures are perfect. You know how a vampire took Diya and a faery took Ray, and those species abducting humans isn’t super out of the ordinary. Not all, or even most, but enough. Though you’re much more likely to be abducted or hurt by a member of your own species than another. I just mean, like, I’m not saying what human mages did was okay, but we have reason to fear them too. I guess that’s less of a human-mage thing and more of a human thing, though. We’re less vulnerable than the average human. It’s just… complicated.”

You nod. “It feels… different, knowing that. Like I’m not just learning magic, I’m joining this group, and this group has done a lot of bad stuff.”

Barron shrugs, again sounding uncomfortable. “I guess. There are some humans that know magic that don’t associate with the human mage label, for that reason. Obviously I’m okay with being associated with that history, but you don’t have to be. I won’t pressure you to call yourself a mage if you don’t want to. I can’t promise other creatures will see at as different just because you call yourself something different, though. And any creature can be a mage, so you’d be associating with human-mage history, but also mage history in general.”

“…I’ll think about it.”

“Yeah, of course. There’s no need to choose what to call yourself right now. Hey, look at this.” Barron holds up a shiny red rock with a rune carved into its side. “Pop quiz, what does that rune do?”

You don’t recognize the rune. “Uh… does it make shields?”

“Not even close. It’s an invisibility spell. Want to try? Do you remember the words and motions?”

You don’t, so you flip through the book until you find it.

“Okay, you need to have an idea in mind of why you want to be invisible, outside of practice.”

“Hmm… like what?”

“To hide from something, to steal something, to eavesdrop. Or something else.”

“Would wanting to hide from Jane work? I always want that.”

“Maybe. You can try.”

Barron hands you the rock and you recite the words and motion the way the book instructs. You want to hide from Jane. You want go be so hidden that even if she finds the cabin she can’t find you.

The rock vanishes, consumed by the spell. Your hand vanishes too.

You look down at yourself, but don’t see anything. “That’s kind of freaky…”

“Did you know your eyes turn yellow when you cast?”

“I suspected. Diya mentioned it, when you were sick.”

Oh. Well, you did great with the invisibility spell, especially for your first time casting that one. It’s a very useful spell for all sorts of things.”

“I bet.” You try to look at your hands. They’re still not there. “It makes your clothes invisible, too?”

“This version does. Some don’t. Like if the rune was put on a different material.”

“Ah. How long does this one last?”

“Depends on the intention behind it. Not how long you intend to be invisible, it just works better with different intentions. This one lasts the longest with the intent to steal, so with the intention to hide it should only last an hour or so.”

“How long would it work if my intention was to steal?”

“Three to four hours. If you cast the spell several times in a row, it can go much longer.”

“Oh, cool! Is that true with other spells with a time duration?”

“Most of them.”

“Cool.”

You’re not sure what to do now. “I guess… I’ll keep reading? Invisibly, until it wears off?”

“If you want. How’s your head?”

“It doesn’t even hurt.” You lie. It’s not a big lie, though, it only hurts a little. You can read for another hour.

“I’m glad. I’m going to carve some more runes into these rocks. Do you want to try the shield spell next?”

“Ooh, yeah!”

Barron nods and gets back to work. You read a little, but mostly you end up distracted by how the book looks like it’s flying when you hold it.

You’re actually invisible. You’re invisible because of a spell you cast, because you’re learning magic, which is crazy. You never even imagined that you could end up like this.

You’re more powerful than ever, and Barron’s a good teacher. You’re excited to learn lots more magic from it. Maybe Barron can even teach Kit and Dollie some stuff when they get here!

[wornkindnessa]

but because @kenobiian posted this, i have not been able to stop thing about amelia's counter part to it, so here we go

My dearest Obi-Wan.

These are not words I ever think or at least hope you will ever have to read, as the likelihood of anything happening to me is far less than that of you. Though as we’ve said too many times to count now, tomorrow is not promised. So just in case, I write them all the same.

Despite all the languages I know, and all the books I have read, there are no poetic words, no neat way to properly articulate what it is you mean to me. No way to explain how much I love you. Perhaps the fact I fell in love with a Jedi, and was easily willing to stand beside you speaks enough for itself. Even as a secret, our secret, what we are, or I guess what we were, is something I will never regret, despite the fact at least at the start you thought I was deserving of someone else. An idea I think you still hold, however slightly. But there is no one else, was never going to be anyone else.

So many of the greatest loves have been spun into tales so many times over they might as well be considered myths, yet they were stories I grew up hearing. Set into example by those around me, my parents arguably might be considered one of them. Yet while as a girl I might have dreamed of it, never could I have properly imagined the greatest one of all falling right into my lap. And I doubt there would be a time or reality where I would not choose us. Just us, in everything that we are.

I know the sort of man you are, and in the face of grief and pain you tend to shut the world out. It was much harder to do when I was around, that much I’m sure of, and I can only imagine it increasing ten fold without me there. I remember still, what you said to me at the very beginning, about how I was needed in this galaxy, how losing my position and tarnishing my reputation was worse than you being banished from the Jedi Order. Something I struggle with even now understanding, try as I might. You are a light, my darling, a guiding star in the night sky, and the galaxy cannot afford to lose any more than it already has. Don’t shut the world out completely. If not for yourself, or for the galaxy as a whole, than for me? Try at the very least, it is all I ask for.

I know Jedi are not supposed to hold onto personal possessions, though it seems I might have been a rather terrible influence on you when it comes to bending the rules, seeing as how attachment is forbidden as well. But even if they could, I’m not sure what else I could give other than these parting words, ones I have chosen to write on paper, so you might choose to carry them with you. And of course my heart. Which you still have, now and always. I’ll always be with you, always be seen in the places you look when I am needed, will always be your guiding star in the night sky. And perhaps if we’re lucky, we’ll see each other again. I’d rather like to think we will.

Now and always yours, with all my love,

Amelia

[norahastuff]

Nine (9) people you'd like to know better

Thanks to @crackers4jenn for tagging me :) 

Last Song: I Am Easy To Find by The National. There’s just something about the lyrics that hits something in me, and I always put it on when I’m in a certain kind of mood. 

“There's a million little battles that I'm never gonna win anyway/ I'm still waiting for you every night with ticker tape, ticker tape.”

I mean, come on!

Currently Watching: Well, I was rewatching Succession, but I just moved back home after I graduated (gonna be here at my parents’ place for at least a couple months till I start working) and my little sister, who is very into Supernatural (I suppose I should accept part of the blame for that) wanted to pick up where we left off, so we’ve been watching that. Just finished s14 which is one of my all-time favourite seasons, and I actually found I liked it even better on a rewatch.  Honestly, it’s just such a well structured and enjoyable season, and everyone’s arc is handled pretty well. Well, apart from one really annoying storyline, but I tend to ignore it as much as is possible. Also Cas is fucking great in this season. As is Rowena. 

Currently Reading: The Secret History by Donna Tartt. I know, I know, I’m very late to the game on this one, but somehow I never got around to reading it before. Also re-read ‘How Many Miles to Babylon?’ by Jennifer Johnston a few days ago and that book always fucking kills me no matter how many times I read it. 

Current Obsession: Uh, well, boring answer, but my hair, I guess? More specifically, dying it blonde. I have very thick, curly dark hair, and a couple of months ago I got it into my head that I wanted to go blonde. I went to the hairdresser who told me they wouldn’t be able to do it, and no one could get my hair blonde. Well, my dumbass took that as a challenge and decided to do it myself. It’s definitely been a process, but I think I’ve done a pretty decent job all things considered. Well, I managed not to burn all the hair off my head at least, so I’m considering that a win. 

Anyone else who wants to do this, please do and tag me! Would love to learn more about you guys.

[thmgau]

CHAPTER 21 - TAKING FLIGHT [wattpad link]

---

“Nora. Nora, wake up.”

Something was shaking at Nora, rudely interrupting her awesome dream about applying to become a chair.

Opening her eyes & rubbing them, she could kind of see now: it was Sorrel awakening her.

“What do you want?” she yawned, stretching her arms. “There’s kids in our living room.” “Huh..? What are you-”

As she sat up in bed, Nora remembered what had happened the day before. She had let Spring & Storm stay at her apartment for the night. Nora guessed she had completely forgotten to tell Sorrel before she went to bed.

“Oh! You mean Spring & Storm?” Nora asked, shoving the blanket off of her. “I offered to let them stay the night here before we got their parents back together. Don’t worry ‘bout it.” “I thought you were a magical hero, not a marriage counselor.” “It's a long story.” “I’ve got time. Not like either of us have a job anyway.”

Hopping out of bed, Nora made her way to the kitchen as Sorrel followed. She made breakfast (pancakes!) while explaining yesterday’s events to them.

“So.. they’re like, gods or something?” “I guess so, yeah.” “& they want you to.. get their parents back together?” “Pretty much.” “I hope you’re gettin’ paid for this. Rent’s due soon, yea?” “Yea, but Cherry’s mom usually handles our rent for us.” “That’s.. nice of her.” “Yup. Not sure how much longer that’ll last, though.” Nora chuckled, flipping the last of the pancakes onto the plate. “Do you know if Spring & Storm are awake yet?” “When I walked in, they were fast asleep on the couch. Probably still are.” “Alright. You think you could carry a few of these plates for me?” “Sure.”

Nora & Sorrel each grabbed 2 plates each as they walked over to the couch, where Spring & Storm were. She had given them pillows & blankets to sleep with, along with some old clothes Nora had lying around for pajamas. She didn’t want them sleeping in jeans, after all. Spring was still asleep, but Nora could see Storm was waking up a bit.

“Hey, Storm.” “..g’mornin.” “I made breakfast,” Nora smiled, sitting the two plates of pancakes on the coffee table. “Thought you might be hungry.” “Oh, um.. thanks.”

Storm sat up & took one of the plates off of the coffee table. She grabbed the fork & cut off a small bite out of the pancake, eating it.

“Mm.. this is good.” “Thank you! I’m glad you like them so much!”

Taking another bite out of her pancakes, Storm took a glance at her sister, who was still sleeping soundly.

“Classic Spring. She always sleeps in at the Castle.” “I tend to sleep in a lot as well,” Nora chuckled, taking one of the plates from Sorrel’s hands & sitting down in the recliner. “I’ve missed a lot of classes this semester because of it.”

Sorrel, not wanting to attract the attention of Spring & Storm, went to go eat their pancakes in a separate room.

“Anyways..” Nora hummed. “We’re supposed to get your parents together again today, yea?” “Yup.” Storm nodded. “We’ll have to go up into space to go it. I suppose you haven’t been there yet, yea?” “Yea, no. We’ve never been to space. I’m not even sure how we’re supposed to get there.” “Well, you have the book. I’m sure there’s definitely something in there about it. I haven’t read most of it myself, but.. y’know.” “You haven’t read the book?” “No. Only Fate & Betty were allowed to read it before sending it down to Earth.” “Ah.. I see. Well, Kalani has the book, so I’ll have to text him about bringing it over here.”

Setting her pancakes aside, Nora took out her phone & sent a text to the group chat.

Nora: yo can u all meet up at my apartment Nora: bring the book while ur at it kalani

“There we go!” Nora grinned. “It’s only 8 AM, they should be waking up soon anyway.”

The moment the words fell out of Nora’s mouth, she spotted Spring waking up.

“Good morning!” she yawned, stretching her arms out. “Yo.” “Good morning, Spring! I’ve made breakfast if you’re hungry.” “Ooh,” Spring said, sitting up. “Those look good.” “They are.”

The next 5 to 10 minutes consisted of the girls eating their breakfast & waiting for the others to show up. As Nora finished her pancakes, there was a knock at her door. She got up & answered it, & lo & behold: it was the rest of the group.

“G’mornin, y’all!” Nora smiled as her friends entered her apartment. “Good morning!” “Yea, good morning. Do we have to do this at 8 in the morning?” “Hey, nobody said we were leaving right now.” “..fair.”

As everyone got settled in, Kalani set the book down on the coffee table.

“One magical book, as per your request, madam.” Kalani said, winking at Nora. “It’s an absolute pleasure,” Nora said, opening the book up. “Now let’s see.. what page are we supposed to go to?” “I dunno. Just flip around until you find something relevant.” “Alrighty.”

Nora flipped through some of the pages until she landed on a page titled “Flight”.

“This seems on-topic, I think.” Juniper hummed. “Yea, let’s see what this says..” Nora said, leaning in to read what was written. “‘As heroes, you will need a way to get around quickly without hassle. This is why we have granted you with the power of flight.’” “Ok, first of all, that’s sick as hell. Second of all, since when was flight considered not a hassle?” “Flying would definitely help us get to class faster..” “‘In order to fly, you will need to enter Hero Mode-’ Of course. ‘-& simply lift yourself up into the air.’” “Sounds easy enough. Let’s try it.”

Pulling on their necklaces, the group transformed into Hero Mode.

“This’ll be fun to watch.” Storm chuckled.

“Alrighty!” Leslie grinned. “It says we just have to lift ourselves off of the ground, right?” “Yup. That’s what it says.” “So we’re supposed to jump?” “Maybe? Are we allowed to jump in here?” “I don’t think anyone lives below me. I’m sure it’s fine.”

Kalani jumped up. She landed right back onto the ground.

“It didn’t work.” “Maybe I should have kept that pull-up bar my dad gave me when I was 9. That would be pretty helpful right about now.” “Have you tried double-jumping?” “Double-jumping isn’t real.” “Yea, you’d be the one to know double-jumping isn’t real, wouldn’t you, Cherry?” “Oh, whatever. It wasn’t that bad.” “You literally tried to double-jump onto the school roof & ended up banging your face against the wall.” “So? It could have ended worse.” “How do you even attempt a double-jump in the first place?” “I don’t know, but it’s not whatever Cherry did, that’s for sure.” “Remember that one video of those dudes fighting & there was the one guy who jumped & hung there in the air for a solid 2 seconds?” “How could I forget? That was fucking cool.” “What if we tried to do that?” “But how?” “Maybe we just have to think about it! Like with the weapons!” “Surely that’s not gonna-”

Leslie hopped up into the air. As a surprise to everyone (including Spring & Storm), it managed to stay in the air.

“Woah! I’m doing it!” “Well. I stand corrected.” “Nice job!” Spring grinned. “Thank you!”

Leslie floated down to the ground, landing with a little trip in their step, but mostly calm. “Maybe we shouldn’t be flying in the apartment, though. Might be safer to try it outside.”

“Well, thankfully, outside is where we need to go next. So let’s do it.”

[uncloseted]

Have you ever been on a social media detox? I'm considering doing it and focusing on my summer reading and my other hobbies and getting things done productively, but I don't wanna miss out on stuff that is trending? - but the problem is once I scroll, I end up doom-scrolling and almost an hour has gone by.

Not really. I get why people do it, but for me it doesn’t make sense for a couple of different reasons. The first is that a lot of social media just doesn’t really capture my attention- Instagram and Facebook have become more or less unusable for me, and I have no idea how to find new people to follow on Tumblr anymore. With TikTok and Reddit, I make a really concerted effort to keep it showing me things I actually want to see and that I feel like are contributing to my life in some way, so they’re usually a positive experience for me. TikTok legitimately brings me a lot of joy these days because it shows me things that expand my way of thinking, that teach me something new, or that inspire me (and sometimes just dumb things that make me laugh).

The other reason I don’t do social media detoxes is a little more esoteric, but I’m someone who has always been really fascinated with culture and cultural criticism. What’s going on with our culture and what that means in a larger sense is really fascinating to me. Our fascination with liminal spaces aren’t about liminal spaces; it’s about our feeling that we’re all trapped in a transitional stage of our lives that’s never ending. Our fascination with this Titanic submarine situation isn’t about the titanic or submarines; it’s about our feelings of disillusionment with income inequality. And so on and so forth. I’m someone who’s favorite philosophy buzzword is “simulacra”. Detoxing from social media gets me out of step with what’s going on in the culture, and I don’t like that personally.

Finally, I’m also trying to view activities as being neutral. We’ve assigned this weird morality to social media the way people used to assign morality to watching TV (or back in the day, reading books). Whatever thing is the new version of entertainment tends to get lambasted as being unserious or not a worthy endeavour, but I don’t think that has to be true. Obviously it’s good to have hobbies that encourage you to actively engage with them, but productivity for the sake of productivity seems like a foolish goal to me. There’s more to say about that in the context of like, cultural Christianity and the Protestant work ethic, but I’ll spare you all the lecture unless someone actually wants to hear it 😂

I guess my point is just that I don’t think there’s anything wrong with going off of social media, engaging with it regularly, or trying to engage with it thoughtfully. What matters is the impact it’s having on the individual’s life and whether or not that’s adding to their life or taking away from it.

[jamesellisjournal]

( Here’s an exclusive extract from my brand new book ‘These Angelic Devices.’ )

Exclusively available on Booksie, Friday 7th June 2024.

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Image listed as in the public domain

EXTRACT # 4

Later, on her way back past the church of St Andrew and St Mary she saw its pastor, Father Francis tending to some shrubs in the cemetery. She would often see him when she came to the village, sometimes they would talk, other times exchange a wave and a smile.

Today she thought a talk would be nice, especially now she felt more calm, and beside he always had something interesting to say.

“Hello Father.”

He looked up, gazing over his half moon spectacles. “Kira, my child. How lovely to see you, I don’t usually see you this time of day.”

He was a tall, thin, elderly man in his late seventies, aged but not frail in any way, with his dark hair only partly greyed and his skin tanned and worn like old leather. He had kind eyes but there was a sadness in them too which often made Kira wonder about his past, though she hadn’t inquired too much, nor would she, his past was his own business and she would not pry unless invited.

“I felt like a walk,” she said then admitted. “I’m supposed to be training.”

He straightened up. “Ah, I see, but it’s not going so well I take it.”

She smiled awkwardly. “Let’s just say it could be going better.”

“And who have you fallen out with this time?

Father Francis knew the situation all too well after their talks.

“Arthur.”

“Not Miss Snow.” A fair question, Kira thought, it usually was.

“No, not today anyway.”

Father Francis smiled knowingly. “Ah, I see.”

Kira sighed with frustration. “I don’t mean to get upset with them, it’s just I feel so angry sometimes. They want me to focus more …”

“But you’re not finding it easy?”

“No.”

“Your uncle?”

“Yes.”

“Kira, I was wondering, from what you’ve told me, if maybe there’s something more to it, rather than just the fact of his death.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, your uncle wasn’t just killed by anyone but by an angel.”

Kira felt herself taken aback by this. “I don’t know, I hadn’t thought …”

“No, of course not, let me explain what I mean, when we’ve talked before you said you felt like something was missing, like something was broken, and you didn’t know why you felt that way.”

“Yes, but I felt that before his death, maybe since my mother.”

“And you always dreamt of leaving home, yes?”

“Yeah, when I was growing up in Harrows Cove I couldn’t wait to get out to the world, I wanted to see all of it. I’d heard so many stories, read so many books, I wanted to meet the angels who stayed behind after the Great Separation, like everyone does I guess, but when I finally saw the world, when I finally met the angels, it didn’t feel right, none of it, it felt like something was missing.”

Father Francis frowned, his aged forehead creasing in thought. “Kira, I think the very fact that an angel was the one who killed your uncle may the be the thing that is stopping you from moving forward. You see, I think we hold the angels to a higher ideal than our own. Many of them strive to live up to that, of course they do, but I believe in the end they’re as fallible as we are. Angels are supposed to represent everything that is good in this world and for an angel to have been responsible for taking the life of someone you loved, well, that’s not an easy thing to reconcile. Your uncle’s death may have heightened what you already felt.”

Kira thought on this, it was certainly something she hadn‘t even considered. “So, you think that’s tainted how I see the world as well? I mean, I didn’t see how things used to be, I read about them, I wasn’t even born until after most of the angels had left, but sometimes it does feel something is missing, that things are broken.”

Father Francis nodded, seemingly in understanding. “It’s not an uncommon view. The angels even have a name for it, The Dimming.”

Kira had never ever heard of the term before. “The Dimming?”

“It’s not just the angels either, there are many who believe any magic in our world came hand in hand with the angels, that they’re essentially one and the same if you will, each indistinguishable from the other. It‘s believed one cannot exist without the other. The angels were of course in this world long before we were, so the theory believed by some is that if they are no longer truly a part of the world then surely we have lost something that was intrinsic to the very fabric of everything in our lives.”

“And do you believe that Father?”

“My belief is a little different, a little more prosaic shall we say.”

“Please, tell me.”

“Well, I think it’s easy to view the past as a special place. I think sometimes we remember things how we wish they had been rather then the way they actually were. No one is immune to that. It can be all too easy to forget the bad stuff that happened back then because we naturally want to remember the good. Maybe now isn’t any worse or any better, maybe its just different. Do I miss the angels being such a presence in our lives, yes, of course I do, but the unchanging fact of life is that nothing ever stays the same, Kira, which is probably how the Creator intended it, so that we might treasure each good moment when it does come our way.”

[hereallbecauseofsoup]

January 7, 2023

The 7th Day of 2023

-Dear God, dear God, dear God

I’m sat upon the kitchen bench with my back against the wall, I’m not a child anymore but there’s something comforting about sitting as if I am. This year hasn’t begun how I anticipated it would. I’m feeling a whole lot and very little at the same time. Today grocery shopping didn’t have its usual therapeutic appeal and even though I found peace in cooking I thought writing might help process things. So as “Soft Sounds from Another Planet”  by Japanese Breakfast echoes through the kitchen I’ll reflect. Somehow lately every year has started the same, "Vulnicura" by Björk. 

Love will keep us safe from death.

I saw Abby this week, we got all dressed up just to sit in a carpark and eat takeout. Typical. I’m worried about Taliah, like me she hurts herself in helping others. I’m trying my best to be here for her but a voice in my head assures me I’m not good enough at this. I showed her Sisyphus 55’s newest video “do you want to be loved or do you want to be yourself?” Based on the title, I wasn’t sure this video would mean a whole lot to me, but it really resonated. The parts on Gabor Maté’s take on Type C Personalities and how they’re fabricated in childhood especially stuck with me. I’ve been thinking about Harrison again, this isn’t inherently bad, but I had hoped my feelings for him would subside in the new year. I guess I should’ve known that wouldn’t be the case. Time isn’t real and I’m not capable of forgetting my feelings at the moment. I’m left hung up like my clothes in the wind that ended up in the dirt. 

I also saw Eric this week. I find him sweet, intuitive and inquisitive. These are all traits I admire, and at any other point in my life, I’d be absolutely head over heels for him. I suppose taking things slow for once could be a positive thing. I really do like him but I hope to like him some more soon. Anyways, we got dinner and were interviewed on the street. We walked and we sat in a park too. Up until now, we’ve been fairly platonic though our closeness this time is memorable. At some point we swapped jackets and at another, we held each other in the middle of the square for the whole world to see. He keeps on telling me I have a humanitarian superpower within, I’m not quite sure what he means by this but so far he’s done well reading me. Speaking of guys I should be in love with by now, Julian texted me. He hadn’t replied to me because his Australian number is no longer in service. He says he has stories to tell me and that he’s not enjoying Indonesia too much at the moment. I weirdly, really look forward to seeing him again in February, I tend to listen to his stories like they’re a book. Also, I imagine solid company, sex and weed will do wonders for me. 

I should really read a book this month. I’ve been listening to “BURN TO ASHES” by Backxwash at nauseam again. It’s really become one of my favourite songs of all time. Verse 2 always hits me like it’s a freight train. I had the honour of seeing Remi Wolf perform at The Forum, on the day of I hadn’t eaten so I was in pain but it all went away once she stepped on stage. She is very easily one of the most excitable and talented performers I’ve witnessed in person. At the show, I met a mysterious character whose name I can’t recall at the moment. She’s here from the Philippines, visiting her sister. I found her aura to be interesting. That night I got off the train and danced the whole way home. Mum was asleep but I kissed her on the forehead goodnight and continued dancing as I got ready for bed. Kobe watched on confused. I felt so happy in that moment. Afterwards, I didn’t sleep, Alex and I played PlayStation until 6 in the morning. Some things never change. 

I also got to see Shygirl this week. It was fucking incredible. During “Coochie (a bedtime story)” the crowd transcended sound itself we were so loud. I really love music venues that are underground, there’s no reception so it allows everybody to be there and nowhere else. Despite how important this night was to me, it didn’t come without the lingering of darker feelings. I went alone but really wanted to make friends there. I know it’s trivial but as well as having the desire to meet people I felt superbly introverted too, I wanted to make friends but not to be the one to initiate it. I left without any new friends. Oh, to be approachable. In the midst of the show I was on top of the world but my surroundings soon got the best of me. Post gig I walked along the river solemnly as if I was in a shitty movie. Drunk people make me dearly uncomfortable. For me, queer-dominated spaces seem to only incite indescribable loneliness. I hate that this happens, I guess I feel as if amongst these people I should fit in but I always seem to be just as out of place as ever. If I don’t belong in the settings meant for me to belong where do I? I felt disillusioned but found peace and camaraderie in an unusual place: Skateboarders who were too young to be out that late. I’m not sure why they approached me or how meeting them in that brief moment has stuck with me but I’m glad it happened. To witness the innocence of youth, to see their rebellion, to understand that freedom, everyone else in our carriage seemed bothered by it but I just hope the kid was finally able to snap his board. Also, I may have somehow made a friend who attended Shygirl, just not how I thought I would. The guy who stood beside me at the show and in line has been messaging me. He seems interesting, I wonder where this will go. 

[mistangumbah]

After many years of playing it seems like we’ve hit a wall. A wall that is unwanted but was inevitable. The way video games are set up nowadays, it is only a few ways the games are set up. Whenever there’s a new game announced, people can tend to guess what the gameplay is going to be about. The stories are different but what you’re doing in a game is the same. When a game is released, you can pretty much guess that it is going to be a RPG (Role Playing Game), a simulator, a linear story, a shooting game, a sports game, a open world game or a creative building game.

The problem comes when the AAA studios shows no innovation because they’re scared. They’re scared of experimenting on new ideas and new gameplay. In doing this, there is no real innovation in the games. There isn’t any new genres that are being published. I’m tired of doing the same thing with different characters and different stories. I want a new product not just a rinse and repeat game. It’s gotten so bad that many studios are deciding to “remaster” their old games which means they are remaking it with better graphics and re releasing it to make more money off of an old game. I’m tired of investing in a character only when it ends, I have to build another character the same way with a different story. I understand the story is important, but if I wanted only a story, why am I playing a game when I could be watching a movie, tv show or even read a book. Isn’t a game supposed to be something you play? If it is, why am I playing the same thing? When flappy bird came out, it wasn’t that it was a game that was ground breaking graphically or had a great story, no it became the biggest game because it was different. At the time, AAA studios were spending hundreds of millions of dollars on games and they had less users and made less money on a game that was made by a guy that was bored. That showed how much the world wanting something different not just the same running around and shooting. If people wanted to just run around and shoot all day, why not just release one game every 5 years and keep giving updates to add more maps, more guns and more characters? Why release a whole new game just to add more stuff? We are at a stalling point in video games. No company is risking making something new. It’s like we are reading the same story but with different characters. It’s like having 5 different “Luke I am your father” versions with different names and characters. You know how it’s going to play out and you know how its going to go. I think its time we get something new. A new type of game, a new genre and a new way to play.

How could this be solved? This could be solved by people asking for it. People keep giving money to these companies that make the same games. They need to stop investing so much in the story and start investing more into gameplay. Why am I PLAYING a VIDEO GAME for a story? I’m here to PLAY the game. What really made me start on this is a video game called “the quarry”. This game is not even a game. You literally move the controller once every 10 minuets… Now why even call it a game if you’re just sitting here watching it!!! Just make a movie or a TV show!!! Every 10 minutes I’m reminded that I have to press a button and it’s stupid. It’s not a bad story but it is a terrible game.

[collecting-stories]

Inventory - Daryl Dixon

Request: you can write anything tbh! just something small and sweet, if you don’t mind :) (daryl anon)

A/N: This is honestly just random established relationship fluff or something.

The Walking Dead Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

You weren’t entirely sure that you liked Alexandria. It felt like someone had captured the old world in a time capsule and you were viewing all the things that you had forgotten about. Shower pressure and hot water and actual running water weren’t things that you took for granted and you’d practically cried in the bathroom when the toilet flushed but all the other parts felt uncomfortable. Like clothing that didn’t fit you anymore. You weren’t Daryl, waiting with his hand on a gun for the moment everything went to shit, but you certainly weren’t about to done a cardigan and act like a soccer mom getting ready for a bake sale either. You would let Carol handle the assimilating and gossip. Or at least the former, the latter, you couldn’t escape.  

“I wouldn’t’ve pegged him as your type.” Olivia mentioned, hellbent on making inventory a gossip session.  

“What?” You looked away from the open garage door to where Olivia was stacking cans of corn and writing down their number in her composition book.  

“Daryl. I noticed you watch him a lot...is that like, you guys got a thing going on or you just looking?” She asked.  

You paused in your rearranging of cans to look back out the garage door again. Daryl was across the street talking to Aaron and Michonne and you tried to formulate an answer that made sense for Olivia and for you. She hadn’t technically asked if you were ‘together’ (that ominous word that felt so weighty when you said it to yourself) but she was definitely asking for a definition. Were you more than friends, absolutely. That wasn’t even something you needed to think about. You certainly weren’t sharing beds with your friends the way you did with Daryl. But he’d never given any definition to your togetherness and somehow, even defining it felt like such an archaic thing. Another piece of the old world pulled from the time capsule.  

“I mean...” you shrugged, “both I guess?” There was a thing, for lack of a more concrete term, but you also liked looking at him a whole lot. You’d been enjoying looking at him for a while now and sometimes on the road you’d thought, if something happened, who would you look for in a crowd. It wasn’t just that you liked the view, it was that feeling of something that anchored you into the moment, made your head a little less dizzy, made all this more bearable.  

“I guess he’s not bad looking.” Olivia laughed a little, her cheeks reddening at the thought and you wanted to agree. He most certainly was not bad looking. And you had told him so plenty of times, in the privacy of your own room. “He doesn’t seem very...” she paused, looking over at you as if she had caught herself speaking out of turn.  

Small talk and social etiquettes felt like something you’d left behind too, far too used to being direct with people. It almost felt odd for her to be so unforthcoming.  

“Friendly?” You asked. She didn’t need to say it for you to know what she was thinking. It seemed to be a consensus throughout Alexandria. The community had differing opinions about all of you but the one thing they all agreed on was Daryl’s lack of acceptable behavior. He wasn’t particularly friendly with any of them (aside from Aaron maybe) and he acted more like a caged animal than someone who was grateful for shelter and protection.  

“Uh, yeah.” Olivia nodded, pink cheeks staining darker, “I mean, I’m sure he talks to you, of course...it’s just, I’ve never found him to be particularly...warm.”  

Warm, you felt like the word echoed in your mind once she said it. You’d never really spent too much time thinking about the way you would describe Daryl, he was just, himself, and that was it. You didn’t linger on what he was, what you expected him to be. Even if you didn’t ever think of yourselves as ‘together’ you knew exactly what you were.  

You thought about offering up a defense for him, explaining that he was warm. He was being wrapped in a blanket on a cold night or feeling the sun on your shoulders in the early morning. It wasn’t something you considered often, that you felt like you needed to name, but you knew it right away. The words came on the tip of your tongue, like you’d been waiting to think them. But you didn’t get the chance.  

Daryl came up the driveway while you were staring at him and the softest of smiles graced your features as you watched him, giving a small wave. Maybe you wouldn’t have thought about it if you hadn’t been talking to Olivia but, as Daryl held your gaze the whole up the drive, you were reminded of when you might’ve categorised his behaviour as more shy than reserved. Now it felt like he held back because he chose to, deciding what parts of himself other people got to see. When you’d first known him it was more a defense mechanism than an ordinary occurrence, and he’d never been comfortable meeting your eye.  

“Did you come to help with inventory?” You teased, already hearing the grumbled response in your mind before he said it.  

“Just passing by,” he replied, glancing over to the far corner where Olivia was still sitting, notebook open in her lap. “Morning.”

You wondered if she was scrutinising the interaction. Trying to see for herself what you saw in Daryl, as if that was possible.  

“I’ll go check to make sure we’ve got all the dry foods from upstairs.” Olivia announced, standing from her spot and bumping her chair back against the sorting table. It rattled but nothing fell over and she went so quickly out of the room she looked like she was power-walking.  

“What’s a matter with her?” Daryl asked, taking your water bottle from the ground by your chair and unscrewing the cap so he could drink some.  

“She was asking about you, weren’t your ears burning?” You joked.  

He glanced down at you, unamused, before finally taking the bait, “why’s she asking?”  

“Said I stare at you all the time.”  

“So quit staring.” He capped the water bottle and set it back in its place before fiddling with different cans on the shelves, pulling them off and reading the labels.  

“Easier said then done,” you replied, grabbing your notebook off the shelf in front of you, “besides, I don’t wanna forget what you look like.”  

“Why? You going somewhere?”  

You scrunched your nose at his words and shook your head, “no, but you are right…saw you talking to Aaron.”

“Think ya watch me just ta spy on what I’m doing.”  

“I’m right though, you two are headed out?” You asked.  

“Don’t make it something it ain’t…I’ll be back in a few days time.”  

Daryl was good at coming back when he left, you knew it from experience. He’d come back when he’d left with Merle, he’d come back when he’d left to find Beth, when he went off on his own to hunt he always came back. As sure as you were that he would leave, you were just as sure he would find his way back again. It wasn’t something you had to think about or reassure yourself of but sometimes it was easier to give in to that worst case scenario that sat in the back of your mind.  

“I know,” you said it like you were promising him, “but that’s a few days without seeing you…who am I supposed to look for?”  

Daryl set down the can of beets he was looking at and walked the short distance back to you. His hand wrapped around the end of your ponytail and he gave a gentle tug, guiding your head all the way back so you were looking straight up at him. You thought it was probably a good thing Olivia wasn’t here, she’d seemed scandalised enough at his presence in the room, you could imagine all the things she’s knock over if she saw him now, one hand holding your ponytail and the other on your neck as he leaned down and kissed you.  

It was a softer kiss than the hold implied and you considered the juxtaposition of Daryl’s softness and roughness your favorite thing about him. It’d taken a while, to see the soft bits, but now you saw them all the time. How he kissed you so comfortably, like he’d always been doing it. His tongue brushing your bottom lip almost teasingly but he pulled away before you could do more, standing back up straight and dropping his hands. He gripped the back of your folding chair and you leaned against his hand, feeling them press into the skin between your shoulder blades, bare from your tank top. You kept your head tilted back, a little more comfortably though.  

“When do you leave?” You asked, half expecting him to tell you he was headed to the gate now. Your brain still felt a little dizzy from the kiss but that was a normal occurrence.  

“Tomorrow morning.” He replied, letting go of the chair to run his knuckles along your spine. “Shouldn’t be longer than a day or two.”  

There was a quieter bumping noise and a soft curse as Olivia peeked back into the doorway, a few boxes of pasta haphazardly held in her arms. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”  

“It’s alright,” you replied but truthfully you were just being nice. Because Daryl had already retracted his hand you felt goosebumps on your skin in his absence, as if your body was trying to chase the sensation of him.  

“Ya need help?” He asked, motioning to the boxes as she dropped them onto the sorting table.  

“Would you mind? I’ve got another laundry basket full of them to bring down here and I dropped like five on the staircase.” She explained, following after him to point them out.  

Daryl disappeared through the door, Olivia right behind him, and you went back to organising the latter half of the alphabetically arranged cans. Olivia tended to be more loose-lipped than her other Alexandria counterparts and you couldn’t help imagining her asking him questions, trying to dig out some part of a person under the cold exterior he’d given off while he was here. Searching for the warmth she thought was lacking. They weren’t gone long, Olivia’s chipper voice carrying down the stairs.  

Daryl came through first, laundry basket piled high and the slightest hint of a glare as his eyes met yours, as if you’d somehow put him up to the task of helping.  

“You can set them on the sorting table,” Olivia instructed, “I’ll go through them once I’m finished the canned goods.”  

Setting them down, Daryl just nodded in agreement. You stopped from saying you’d see him tonight, in case that information was somehow on a need to know basis. But he was obviously being less purposefully withdrawn than you’d thought because he took another sip from your water bottle before telling you the exact thing you’d been too reserved to say.  

“I’ll see ya tonight,” he promised, putting your water bottle back and giving your ponytail a playful tug before leaving back down the driveway.  

You watched after him until he turned the corner and was out of eyesight.  

“I can see why you like him so much…” Olivia finally said, getting your attention as you looked back at her.  

“What?” You asked, wondering if he’d said something to her that changed her mind.  

Her cheeks tinged pink again and she looked down at her notebook, “I wasn’t trying to spy or anything…just, you know, wanted to bring those boxes in.”  

You nodded, prompting her to continue.

“I saw him kissing you…” she let out an airy sigh, “I’d be staring at somebody all day if they kissed me like that.”  

[thefanficmonster]

Infatuation

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: FLUFF, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: It’s not a secret that Corpse prefers taking care of his hair himself rather than going to a hair salon to get it trimmed and/or tampered. However, he only has so much knowledge of how to properly do it without having to obliterate his budget. Luckily, his girlfriend comes to his rescue.

Requested by Anon. Hi lovely! Thank you so much for the incredibly fluffy request! I’ve been very pumped to write it and now here it finally is - so sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post it but I still hope you come across it and give it a read! Love, Vy ❤

“Um, what are you doing?“

I just walked into Corpse’s apartment to find him barricaded in the bathroom, giving himself a hair appointment. We were supposed to have a chill night in watching movies, but it seems to me like those plans will either have to be delayed or canceled, given the chaotic state both Corpse and his bathroom are in. I mean, how dumb was I to expect he was actually doing his hair justice when he told me he styled it himself? Why didn’t that immediately raise an army of red flags in my head and lead me to question his methods?

I’m honestly quite jealous of Corpse’s hair. It’s always so soft and silky and no matter how much or how little effort he’s put in it, it always looks good: either evidently carefully styled or boyishly messy, it leaves me with heart-eyes regardless. But to see him massacre it like this, it makes me wish I could report it as a crime.

“Ain’t obvious?“ He sounds rather frustrated and I feel at least slightly better due to this fact. He deserves to be as frustrated as I am by the sight of the crap he’s doing. “Sorry, you’re gonna have to wait for me for...a little while. I just need to get this under control and, um, clean the mess. Sorry for ruining your night like this, babe. I-I really wasn’t planning on it to take this long but I forgot to buy one of the products and I thought I could wing it without it but...I very clearly can’t so...“

“Please, stop talking. I don’t need to know what sins you’ve committed - if I do I’ll probably have to give you the silent treatment for like a week or so.“ I call out to him as I quickly skip over to the kitchen to leave the food I bought on my way over before returning to the bathroom and carefully taking a step inside, mindful of where there are hair strands on the tiles. Even severed, his hair is beautiful and I have a ton of respect for it - ok fine, I adore it. Corpse definitely doesn’t appreciate it properly. I walk over to the shower, reaching out to the two shelves inside which are lined with different types of hair products. “Oh fuck...“ I let out the whisper without even realizing it because I’m so stunned by the brands I see on those shelves. “Corpse, um, what the actual fuck?”

He turns to me, eyes wide and terrified because of my menacing tone. “What? What is it?” His gaze searches the spot where mine was just pointed at, looking for anything that could’ve provoked such a reaction from me. Seeing nothing but the hair products, he meets my deadly glare yet again, “What’s wrong?”

Alright, this man-child needs some serious help

“I’ll tell you what’s wrong.“ I say, stomping towards the exit of the bathroom, “You’re gonna stay here and wait for me to come back and don’t you DARE, even touch your hair, let alone bring a pair of scissors or any chemical near it. Copy?“

“Copied and pasted, ma’am.“ He salutes me, knowing better than to ask questions when I enter my commander role. There are quite a few things that set me off into this bossy-ass persona, and hair mistreatment is most definitely one of them. Thing is, Corpse doesn’t know that. Well, he didn’t know that, pretty sure he’s guessed it by now.

Feeling myself soften at his obedience and trust, I give him a smile and a wink over my shoulder as I go to grab my bag and leave the apartment to complete my mission, “Good boy.”

                                                              *  *  *

“Isn’t that a lot better?“ I ask, gently running my fingers through Corpse’s freshly cut, washed and dried hair. I’ve spent a good five minutes just smoothing through it with my fingers. I bet he’s expecting me to say ‘my precious‘ at any moment now, and trust me it’s tempting, but I still don’t, I won’t give him the pleasure of predicting my actions. Wow, we’ve really reached that level of being familiar with one another that I predict that he’s predicting what I’m gonna do next. While I’m a guessing game for him, I tend to think of myself as more of an open book. You just gotta be fluent in the language it’s written in to understand it.

I’ve gone off-topic, my bad.

“Yeah, you’re a lot less scary now.“ He tells me, his hand finding mine in his hair and taking it to his lips to place a kiss on my knuckles.

We’re positioned so that we’re in front of the bathroom mirror with Corpse seated in a chair in front of me and I’m for once in my life towering over him from behind. Our height difference was threatening to be a hinderance in my work on his hair, but we easily figured it out.

I can’t help but laugh, “You know what I meant.“ I curl one of his already curly strands around the pointer finger of the hand that’s still wandering around the soft dark curls while the other remains in his gentle hold, resting on his shoulder.

“And you know what I meant.“ He shifts in his seat to look at me directly, not via the mirror, “Since when do you have a hair infatuation?“

I roll my eyes and retract my hands, defensively folding my arms over my chest, “It’s not an infatuation with hair, dummy. It’s an infatuation with your hair.” I correct him, doing quick work of styling the stray strands that fall over his forehead and eyes. “I really like your hair, you already know that. I can’t handle the thought you’re doing such a shitty job taking care of it.”

He shrugs, furrowing his brows, “Hey, I was buying top-shelf products, cost me a fortune every month, my hair was being treated like royalty.”

I roll my eyes once again, “High price doesn’t always equal high quality, Corpse. Did you ever stop to read what was in those products?” I don’t let him answer, I don’t need him to confirm what I already know. “Even if you did - which you didn’t - you wouldn’t know what each of those ingredients do to your hair. You see, taking care of hair, especially hair like yours, takes patience and knowledge. It’s practically an art form. It’s not like you can just buy any product that has ‘suitable for curly hair’ on it. There’s a lot more to that.”

It’s only after I finish my monologue that I realize he’s looking at me with amazed amusement in his gaze, almost like a parent listening to their kid talk about their wish of becoming an astronaut. “Since when do you know so much about hair? You’ve been using the same shampoo and conditioner since I know you and now you wanna lecture me on hair care?”

I raise an eyebrow at him, exasperated by his stubbornness on the matter, “Who said being consistent with your hair products is a bad thing? You know, frequent changing of brands has the potential of being damaging as much as aiding.” I explain with the most amount of patience I can muster, now taking over the parent role myself, “And as for your previous question, I know so much because my mother is a hairdresser.”

His eyes widen in surprise. I can practically see the gears in his brain turning as he tries to recall if I’ve ever told him this before.

“How come I don’t know that?“ He asks finally after a long moment of silence. “Why haven’t you told me?”

“You ask that as though I just tell you things like that on the regular. Did you also want me to drop the info that my dad’s a mechanic in passing conversation about video games? Cause that’s a little hard to shoehorn in....“ He cuts off my sarcastic rambling with a brief peck to the lips. He’s the only person allowed to shut me up, and only like that. Anything else will earn him either an earful or a silent treatment. 

Just kidding....unless...

“So, does that mean you’re continuing the family business?“ he asks when he pulls away, “I mean, you’re technically my personal hairdresser now.“

I furrow my brows playfully, “Wait, what? Since when?”

“Since I hired you approximately an hour ago.“ He beams up at me, satisfied that I’ve fallen in his trap.

“And what about my payment?“ I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.

He looks to be contemplating for a second before he stands up from the chair, taking my hand in his leading me out of the bathroom, “Well, each appointment you’ll give me a different price, Miss Y/L/N. But, considering today was your first day, I choose to pay you with dinner.“ He sends a wink my way, laughing when he’s met with an unamused expression on my part as I stop in my tracks, causing him to halt his movements as well.

“You really plan on paying me with the dinner I bought?“ I raise an eyebrow at him, freeing my hand from his so I can put both my hands on my hips for the complete 'I’m far from impressed’ look.

“Yeah...? Problem?“ He asks, faking nervousness and guilt as he closes the distance between us, once again returning to the default of towering over me instead of it being the other way around.

“Several actually. First of all...“ I raise my finger in the air accusingly, ready to go off but the arm that wraps around my waist and lifts me off the ground causes my words to die down, evaporating in a frightened squeal, “Corpse no!! Put me down!“

Of course, he ignores me, carrying me into the living room while I don’t know whether to thrash or stay as still as possible. 

Tsk, so much for gratitude

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[milliedazzledust]

Somewhere Only We Know (Bucky Barnes imagine)

Request: @the-craziestone story about Bucky x Reader, where Bucky is really obsessed with Reader - But not in a creepy way, more like he's really really in love with her and he can only see her, like she's his world Anon: can you do something with reader gifting Bucky Barnes the 3 Lord of the Rings books? They were published after WWII, and reader knows he liked The Hobbit so she thinks it's something he'd like

Words: 2943

A/N: this is pure fluff with no warning, also I changed a tiny bit the second request to fit the story - enjoy ;)

He couldn’t explain the sadness he constantly felt every time he was walking through the streets of the city he used to know by heart. A stranger in a strange land was the best way to describe him. More than seventy years had passed, and he hadn’t witnessed any changes. While he had been a puppet deprived of freewill and controlled with the sole purpose of killing, he had missed the birth of a whole new world. Now, as he strode around the streets, he could easily remember each of their names, but none of them were familiar. His mind remained in the 1940’s and in the middle of the noises, surrounded by the sound of first responders vehicles, the children running around and cars piling up on the road, he was a stranger in his own home. It was an unsettling feeling, a pining melancholy that reminded him in every step he made that his Brooklyn didn’t exist anymore. 

He was furious in a way, but mostly confused. Haunted by memories he had gotten back a second ago, and they didn’t fit this new reality. He wasn’t even nostalgic, but the loneliness was getting heavier every day. He could still picture the park he used to take his sister, the alley where Steve had gotten beaten up one day, the bakery his mother used to go to every morning. Treasure of souvenirs he would keep forever. And although the park, the alley and the streets names were still here, he was left alone walking down Brooklyn. 

“Hey, Y/N!” He heard a voice shouting. “Where do I put those ?” 

His head mechanically turned to a young boy carrying a heavy box of what looked like antics. Without thinking he crossed the road and when his eyes laid on the small shop, he gasped. There it was, one small piece of his past still here. It was an old bookstore he used to go to with his sister. The man, a friend, an immigrant from France with a thick accent, would let them stay for hours. Bucky loved reading to Rebecca. They would sit inside and she’d insist to hear The Hobbit. François, the man owning the store, would make coffee and stay with them, relating the stories he had heard around the world, telling them all about the France he had known. It was all still here. ‘Au Nom de la Rose’ was still here. 

He didn’t hesitate a second and rushed inside the place, an honest smile on his face. His eyes roamed over the room and he took a deep breath. It was just like he remembered, a place filled with murmurs and whispers floating above his head and through the roof, indistinct conversations between friends, huge windows bringing in a powerful light at this hour of the day, plants in almost every corner. Even the atmosphere was the same, this powerful smell of imagination coming from the laying books on the shelves, begging to be read, mixing with a distinct smell coming from the dust. The small couch and the old table he used to sit by with his sister were also there. The wooden pieces had many rough and sharp edges but looked just as smooth and clean as he remembered. Finally, his eyes landed on a woman there. He watched her rearranging a bouquet of daffodils, breathing in the perfume of the vibrant flowers as she tended to them meticulously. 

For some reason, he couldn’t look away. She felt familiar, like he had known her all his life, yet he had never seen her before. When she turned around he took an instinctive step toward her. She noticed, raised her head and that was the moment their eyes met. His breath caught in his throat when she smiled at him. He stood, frozen on the spot, staring at her. He couldn’t comprehend that instant connection. There was an inexplicable sense of excitement yet weird feeling that they had known each other forever, that they were meeting each other again after a long journey. He was transfixed, almost stuck by the confusing mixture of emotions but oddly comforted by them - all at the same time. 

“Can I help you ?” She asked him.

He surprised himself thinking there was something eerily calming about her voice, that he could listen to her for hours.

“Do I know you ?” He quickly wondered out loud, mentally facepalming himself for his lack of tact. 

“Shouldn’t I be asking that question ?”

“Why ?”

“You’ve been staring at me for the past five minutes” She grinned.

“I’m … I’m sorry” He apologized profusely. “I didn’t mean to…” 

“Look weird ?” 

He could swear his heart skipped a beat when he heard her laugh.

“This place is beautiful”

“Thank you” 

“How long have you been working here ?”

“Forever” She smirked. “The store belongs to my family. Passed on from generation to generation” 

Bucky raised an eyebrow, surprised.

“You’re related to François Y/L/N ?” He questioned.

She tilted her head, crossing her arms.

“Now I’m intrigued” She told him. “How do you know about my grandfather ?” 

“We’ve met,” He answered without thinking. He rapidly realized his mistake when she narrowed her eyes in utter curiosity. “I … I didn’t mean … I mean … It was … It was a long time ago”

He gulped, hoping she wouldn’t push it. She looked him up and down, assessing him. 

“What’s your name, weirdo ?” She inquired, giving him a skeptical glance.

“Bucky. M’am” 

She smirked.

“Let me guess, a soldier ?” 

“How … ?” 

“You all have the same manners, and the same eyes”

“What do you mean ?”

She was now standing in front of him, staring at his face with the most adorable smile he had ever seen.

“You carry the same sadness and the horror you’ve seen” She replied honestly. “My father was a lot like that too” 

Her answer had the effect of a punch in the gut he hadn’t been expecting. He felt naked under her gaze, a stranger with the power to see through his soul.

“I’m Y/N” She introduced herself, raising her hand to shake his.

It was rare for him to smile truthfully but the unexpected bliss slowly growing made his lips twitch before he could even acknowledge it.

“Hi, Y/N” He greeted her.

She chuckled, amused. 

“Hi, Bucky” She murmured. 

After that encounter, he made a point of coming back as much as he could. He stayed for hours sitting on the couch, reading the same book over and over again. They shared quick words but he didn’t dare to start up a conversation, too afraid he would say something he shouldn’t, something that would scare her away. He was content like this. There was no Winter Soldier, no war, no fight, no one else than Bucky. Being next to this girl was in itself a medication for him. It made no sense but she was so bright and radiant. Like a magnet, he was sucked into an invisible gravitational pull toward her.

By the second week of him coming into the store, she started to notice the small marks of attention. He would come so silently she wouldn’t hear a thing, bringing a fresh cup of coffee he would lay on her counter when she wasn’t looking, replacing the daffodils before they could fade, carrying the heavy boxes filled with new books. When she wasn’t working, she would grab something to read and sit next to him. They would exchange a smile but wouldn’t talk. The proximity was enough. Their presence was louder than any word. A quiet routine they were slowly creating. 

By the fourth month, nothing had changed and that day was no different. Rain was pouring outside and the store was empty, except for Y/N and Bucky. Just as usual, he was reading in a corner while she was working. New stacks of books had arrived and she was methodically putting them on the shelves. Standing on a ladder, on the tip of her toes, she was so focused on the task she had failed to notice the soldier walking up to her. 

“Do you need any help ?” He offered. 

Surprised to hear his voice so close to her, she lost her balance and slipped. She yelped as her ankle hit one side of the ladder and automatically closed her eyes, anticipating the fall. She tried to brace herself but before her body could touch the ground she felt something cold holding her waist. Suddenly, instead of laying on the floor, she was against his hard chest, in a protective embrace. She recognized his arms around her and shivered at the odd coldness. He  felt it immediately and was quick to put some distance between them, making sure his metal arm was no more on her body and only his human hand was steadying her. 

“Are you alright ?” He questioned. She pursed her lips, trying not to show that she was hurt when she heard how worried he sounded. 

“Yeah, it’s fine. I’m fine”

He looked skeptic but didn’t say anything about it.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” He apologetically told her.

He took the books scattered on the ground, putting them away, and helped her walk to the couch.

“You know, if the goal was to literally make me fall for you, I’d say you did a pretty good job there” She flirted, making him chuckle. 

He sat on the table in front of her and grabbed her calve, gently laying her leg on his thigh to assess the damage. From the corner of his eyes, he could see her blushing. It made him insanely happy to know he wasn’t the only one affected by their closeness. They tried not to look at one another, too embarrassed by the situation. This was the closest they had ever been and the touch on his skin on hers was more than enough to make her heart ready to jump out of her chest. When he clasped her injured ankle, she cried and instinctively pushed him back. 

“Fine, huh ?” He repeated her own words with a smirk.

She huffed and rolled her eyes.

“It’s not a big deal, Bucky” She reassured him. “I’ve got to get back to work”

“You’re not moving from this couch” He ordered.

“Is that an order, soldier ?” She ironically threw at him, crossing her arms in annoyance.

“You bet it is”

She watched him, intrigued, as he stood up and piled up some books on the table to put her ankle to rest on it. 

“No moving around, got it ?” He made sure she would follow his advice.

“Aye, aye, Captain”

He chuckled 

“Technically speaking, I’m not a Captain” He confessed as he continued what she had been doing earlier and started putting the books carefully on the right shelves. 

“Would you have preferred Sergeant ?” She replied, bitting her lips, unsure this was the wrong moment to admit she knew who he was.

He instantly stopped what he was doing and slowly turned around to stare at her.

“What did you say ?” He asked, more scared than ever.

Up until that moment, he had avoided telling her who he was. Becoming part of the Avengers meant his identity wasn’t a secret anymore, and although he had done a terrific job staying hidden among the mass of people, it wouldn’t have taken more than a little push to find who he really was. He stood in front of her, frozen, not having a clue how to react.

“Sergeant Barnes, isn’t it ?” She sounded nervous, almost frightened to say his name out loud.

“I… “ He tried to say anything, but as the rain kept pouring outside, slowly turning into a thunderstorm, he blankly stared back.

“Would you have told me ?” She whispered.

“Eventually”

She humorlessly snorted. 

“We’ve known each other for more than three months, Bucky. I see you practically every day. Be honest, eventually would’ve never come” 

“It’s not like that” He tried to explain.

“I’m not mad, don’t worry” She sadly smiled. “I just wish… I guess I wish you could’ve trust me” 

He rubbed his jaw in frustration and made a step toward her. Without breaking his gaze, he slowly took the glove off, revealing his metal hand. Still, he didn’t look at her, too afraid of her reaction. The cold metal had never felt so hot against his skin, a burning reminder of the stranger he had become.

“I didn’t want you to be scared,” He admitted in a broken voice. 

“Of you ?” She was surprised. “Why would I be ?”

“I’m not a good man, Y/N”

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that ?” 

“You don’t understand…”

“The red box under the counter” She interrupted him. “Can you take it for me ? And turn the sign of the shop, we’re closed.”

He gave her a puzzled look, but did as she said anyway. He locked the front door and took the box she asked for before walking to her and putting it directly in her hands.

“Sit” She instructed him.

He didn’t dare to stay near her and chose to stay on an opposite chair.

“I found this a little after you and I met” She told him, motioning to the box. “It was in the basement, hidden under old junks my parents had kept over the years”

He let her speak, not understanding where this was going or why she was telling him about that. She slowly opened the mystery box and took a small envelope out of it. It looked old, so old the paper had turned into a deep shade of yellow.

“My grandfather wrote this” She confessed. “In 1957. It’s addressed to Bucky and Rebecca Barnes. I believe it belongs to you” 

She handed him the letter that he took with shaky hands.

“How did you… ?” He started to ask.

“It was a long shot,” She explained. “The first time you were here, you said my grandfather's name like it meant something to you. Like you really knew him. When I found the box, and the envelope, I didn’t make the connection with you right away. But your name was all I needed to start my research. My parents kept pretty much everything so it didn’t took me too long to find an old photo with you and him, back in the 1930′s” 

He wasn’t moving at all when she showed him a picture François had taken of them right before he was enlisted. 

“I wanted to wait for the right time to tell you, I guess. I mean, you have enough ghosts as it is”

“Still not scared ?” He inquired in a humorless chuckle.

“Not one bit” She didn’t hesitate to reply.

She softly smiled and motioned for him to come closer. When he sat next to her, she moved the box from her lap to his. 

“We were friends, François and I” He recalled, his eyes glued on the letter. “He was married to Eloise. This bookstore was their treasure. He kept repeating that I shouldn’t go to war when I could stay hidden under the pages of books that would take me around the world without risking my life”

She took his metal palm between her fingers when she heard his voice breaking. He almost tried to remove it but she tightly entwined their hands together.

“Maybe he was right” He muttered under his breath.

“Or maybe you and I were meant to meet almost a century later” She shrugged.

He snorted before turning around the envelope to open it. Y/N gently laid her head against his shoulder and let him read in silence. She didn’t move when she felt his body shaking with tears but only held his hand harder.

“They’re originals, from 1954 I think. He kept them for you” She told him as he slowly took what was in the red box. A set of three old books. “Why Lord of the Rings, though ?” 

He laughed,sniffing, before brushing the tears off his face and staring down at the woman. At that very moment, he felt like the journey was done. His soul had stopped the search it had been on for a time that felt like forever. Like a century. 

“My sister and I, we used to come here often,” He said in a melancholic grin. Sorrow was finally starting to be replace by something much better, happiness. “We would sit on this very couch and she would make me read the Hobbit. She used to love that story so much.”

“How many times has she make you read it ?” The woman smirked.

“Enough to remember every single word” He exaggerated, making her giggle. “When I told François I was leaving, he said he would send me books to help me travel away from the war, even just for a moment. I guess he kept them, hoping I would come back. Even after I was declared dead” 

“Maybe deep down he knew you weren’t”

“And he planned this whole meeting with his granddaughter ?” He ironically added.

“Oh no, that was beyond him. That was fate, Barnes”

“I was meant to find you” He agreed, a deep feeling of love and utter contentment forming in his heart. He bent his head down and let all he needed to say be spoken through the kiss they shared. 

“Will you read it to me ?” She playfully requested.

Overflowed with joy, he smirked and kissed her forehead before opening the old book on his lap. There it was, the only choice he needed to make. The only home he had yearn to create. Her.