#now the question is. is it actually subway. would the guy have opinions on other sub places. like idk you got jersey mikes and Jimmy johns

[pebblezone]

Fun fact! Pip’s the type of guy to only eat at subway

[leggerefiore]

Scorched Earth

cw: fluff, a bit of character building for dragon au, reshiram Emmet, dragon au,

pairing: Emmet x Reader

The Reshiram hybrid was always warm.

It was simply in his nature to always irradiate some heat, even if he was as cold-blooded as any other dragon type.

Which is why you laid pressed into his chest. His arm was around you tightly alongside his wings. The heat he gave off was always at its best in Unova's frigid winters. Snow had since piled up outside again, giving the region a soft cloudy appearance. It was beautiful but annoying.

Though, giving it some thought, you pondered the colour pairing with Emmet's own white feathers. While his flames burned a bright yellows and oranges, the rest of him remained soft, gentle cloud in tone. You would imagine how easily he could disappear into the clouds should he take on his proper Reshiram form. Closing your eyes for a moment, you tried to recall legends about the dragon.

He was one who helped those pursue truth and known for his terrifying flames.

You even recalled a legend from Galar about how Reshiram would burn down kingdoms consumed by greed and ignorance to truth. When you gazed at the man beside you, it felt impossible to imagine. He always wore a smile and spoke so gently yet bluntly in comparison to his older brother. While he clearly disliked being lied to, always able to know if someone was, he never was overly aggressive about it.

Still, he was a legendary hybrid, and they were not exactly known for being the most kind beings in the world. They had their duties and roles to attend to. Even though he and Ingo had taken to living more human-like lives than their counterparts, they clearly took their jobs as Reshiram and Zekrom seriously. It only made sense with their previous shared existence as the pokemon Kyurem.

You remembered reading about a certain king from the region of Paldea and wondered about what his opinion on him truly was.

“… It's been how many centuries since you stopped being Kyurem?” you asked him curiously.

“… Mmm, a long time,” he responded with a yawn, clearly having been pulled from just falling to a slumber, “Are you curious about my troubled past now, heehee?” A giggle followed, of course, but his eyes were now alight with intrigue about your unexpected question.

“Like… Say, two thousand years ago?” you asked him. He blinked.

“Mmm… Exactly two thousand? I had separated from Kyurem, and Ingo and I were…” his eyes darted to stare at the wall, “We were busy.” You felt like he was holding back information, but it felt unrelated to what you were pursuing. It was something that you would come back to later.

“… Do you know about the king of Paldea?” you asked him. He actually tensed up at your words. It seemed he did then. You also recalled that Zekrom would scorch lands that let go of righteousness.

“… Distantly,” Emmet replied, “I was verrrrry busy in Unova, but I did make a visit to those lands.” There was that word busy again.

“Did you and Ingo scorch Paldea for turning to greed and corruption?” This time, he let out a sigh. Sitting up, you watched him pout at you.

“… Somewhat…” he answered this time. You knew it. With wide eyes, you felt stunned.

“Wow, you guys did actually do your legendary duties at one point!” you gasped. Emmet's face shifted to offence.

“We still do!!!” he whined, “It's just peaceful now! There is no reason for us to intervene.” You laughed at his reaction. They probably still had jobs to do, yes, but they spent most of their time directing the Unovan subway system. You think they took that job more seriously than they probably did running Unova if you recalled the history of the region correctly. His pout was getting to you, though, so you gave a soft peck to his cheek for answering all of your questions.

Another whine came from him as he fluttered his wings a few times. You were pulled into his lap, where he nuzzled his face into your nape with a hum. More heat came from him as you realised just how cold it was out from under the covers. It was always nice to talk to the twins about their existences as legendary pokemon, but they obviously preferred you to view them as the funny train men in the Gear Station.

It was obvious that Emmet enjoyed the reputation of being Reshiram, but he would rather someone talk to him about his massive Joltik collection rather than how he once governed over Unova with his brother. Pokemon battling tactics were a better choice than how it felt to once be a Kyurem thousands of years ago. Your curiosity remained strong about their past, even when they mentioned how you were the mate of Emin, their name Kyurem. A sigh came from him.

“I'm not some terrifying dragon god all the time,” he told you, “Today. I am Emmet, and I am your cuddly boyfriend.” You could not disagree with that. Pressing your back closer to him, you linked your fingers with his and smiled at him.

“You are both a giant terrifying dragon god and my cuddly boyfriend,” you joked, “And enjoy both very much.” A loving peck to his lips ended the conversation as you both took to watching the snow pile up from outside your window.

Emmet felt a pit in his stomach, still.

He knew you would one day ask about the past with him and Ingo.

It was still a thing they wished to keep from you because of the shame that lingered from it.

[literallykenmaandshoyo]

Being in a long distance relationship with cc!Wilbur

cc!Wilbur x reader (gender neutral)

Requested: No

Proofread: No

Music: Riot by Hollywood Undead

Warnings: long-distance relationship, talk of cheating (no actual cheating)

Author's note: Aka Kenma's random thoughts about long-distance with Wilbur

-Mod Kenma

Long-distance wasn't your guy's first choice

It was a right person, wrong time type of situation

But, you two made it work

Wilbur sends good morning and goodnight texts every single day, he never forgets

He even has a timer just in case he forgets (He always beats the timer though)

Your time zones (if there is one) is remembered fairly quickly

You two try to have at least one meal together over facetime

Most of your nights are spent on the phone

When one of you fall asleep, the other does whatever they were doing before but more quietly

You're usually in calls when he's doing streams, watching him do stupid shit

Secret personal Minecraft world for the two of you do explore

He plays you personal songs he wrote for you whenever you feel down

Wilbur always asks for your opinion on songs he's working on and even calls you when he's working with Love Joy

You have accidentally called him when he was hanging out with Phil and Tommy

Now that was a disaster (/lh)

Tommy asked you the most random questions while Phil tried his damndest to embarrass Wilbur

You just sit and enjoy the show while Wilbur tries to fight off Tommy and convince Phil to leave him alone

You end up getting along fairly well with the two and it makes Wilbur so happy

Since you get along well with Phil and Tommy, you are invited into SBI streams

Techno, on the other hand, was an awkward conversation

He does trust you and is happy that Wilbur found someone...he's just bad at showing that level of emotion with a new person

You're faceless for the most part, just being known as Wilbur's S/O

Wilbur posts about you but they're mostly old throwback photos or him complaining that he misses you (mostly on priv)

He makes a sub goal going to see you (he always travels to you)

When he reaches it, he gets super excited (ends up getting a noise complaint)

He packs his bags and gets on the next bus/subway/plane to your house

Normally, he'd bring something to stream with but he'd prefer to just be with you and not bother about social media

When he gets to you, he demands cuddles

You two cuddle up on your couch and throw something random on the tv for background noise

Whenever you two aren't doing something, you two are cuddling

He tries to wake up before you so he can make you coffee/tea/hot chocolate

He wants you to wake up with a warm beverage

Breakfast is made with the two of you

Wilbur does vlog a little bit but not much

He does take a shit ton of photos though

This would be his communities first time seeing a more 'modern' day you

Whenever things get rough, Wilbur calls you

Yes, the call may be angry, awkward, and stubborn but it's worth it

Whenever there is a rumor going around that he's dating somebody, he shoots it down immediately

He doesn't want you to think that he's cheating on you so he makes it 100% clear that his heart belongs to you and you only

His nicknames for you are baby, sweetheart, darling, and love

Call him your meow meow and he will laugh every single time (especially if it is in a baby voice)

You have a handful of his clothes (mainly shirts, sweaters, and beanies) and he loves seeing selfies of you in them

If you wear a specific type of perfume or cologne, send a bottle to him, he will cry (/pos)

Moving in together one day is the dream and goal that you both work super hard to get to

[dmsden]

A Cast of Thousands - Giving life to minor NPCs

Hullo, Gentle Readers. This week's Question from a Denizen comes to us from tenivan, who asks, "Hi, do you have any suggestions for making minor NPCs interesting? I'm having trouble showing a clear personality difference between, for example, two different city guards that the players likely won't talk to more than once."

Well, ten, I can certainly give some advice. But I'm also going to throw a little curveball into it and ask, "Why?"

I think, sometimes, as DMs, we want to make everything about our worlds unique and interesting. And sometimes, we forget that, in life, there are people who come into our lives for brief moments, who don't make much of an impression, and who are then essentially forgotten.

So when you're designing a social encounter with someone the PCs aren't likely to speak to ever again, the question might be, "Why do you want the PCs to remember these people, or, in fact, do you?" The reason I put it that way is that I, as DM, have a lot of work to do. I think there are better uses of my time than developing memorable quirks for a character I doubt my players will ever have a reason to interact with again.

Now, having gotten that out of the way, let me actually answer your question. What makes people stand out in our memories are two things - familiarity and eccentricity.

Familiar people are, of course, going to eventually embed themselves in our memories naturally. My local convenience store has a few folks whom I recognize and have varying opinions of. There's a friendly young guy whom I always chat with briefly, because he's always very nice, smiling and asking how I am. There's also a very grouchy old woman there sometimes whom I have as little to do with as possible. I've seen them many times because it's a store I've visited many times, and so they linger in my memory.

Eccentric people also embed themselves in your memory, because their behavior is so far out of the norm as to be remarkable. For example, I certainly remember the man on the subway platform who stripped down to his underwear and started sprinting back and forth, screaming at nobody at the top of his lungs. Even though I've only met him once, he definitely stays in my memory.

If we're planning an encounter or improvising an encounter with someone who the PCs won't likely meet more than once, then we don't have the benefit of familiarity, so we can move forward with eccentricity instead.

For NPCs, eccentricity doesn't have to be eccentric behavior, though it certainly can be. I usually try to ascribe one or more physical or social traits to an NPC I want to be memorable. This gives the players something to attach their memories to.

Physical traits can be something that stands out, but, if this NPC isn't showing up more than once, it has to be something really distinctive. Some examples could be:

- They've shaved one side of their head and let the other grow long.

- They have a bright-red mohawk.

- One of their eyes has been replaced by a multi-faceted gem.

- One of their hands has been replaced by a dagger blade or a hook.

- They have a large purple birthmark that looks like a chubby dragon over one side of their face.

- They have numerous lip and eyebrow piercings.

- They have the word "oathbreaker" tattooed across their forehead.

Social traits aren't something likely to be immediately noticeable, but they'll certainly come across if anyone speaks to them for any length of time. They might have something about the way they speak, or about their voice, or even a mannerism. Some examples of this would be:

- A very distinctive accent, lisp, or tone of voice. (I guarantee you that, if you speak in a falsetto voice, the PCs will remember it.)

- They always say the word "Yes?" at the end of every sentence. Think Mr. Deltoid from Clockwork Orange.

- They use the phrase, "And that's the gods' honest truth!" to emphasize their statements, probably more than they should.

- They fidget nervously with their hands constantly, or they have a fidget-spinner like object they're always playing with.

- A tiefling constantly strokes the trio of spines that protrude from his chin, and the make soft musical notes, like a marimba, when she plucks them.

- A halfling constantly shoots glances over his shoulder, muttering to himself in-between speaking to the PCs.

- A creepy warlock of the Great Old One stares at the PCs unblinkingly.

These things will be dramatic enough to make the PCs remember that NPC. The tricky thing about making an NPC memorable, of course, is that the PCs are likely to want to encounter that NPC again, especially if they enjoy the performance you give. So be prepared to play that NPC again down the road.

If you're looking to make two NPCs distinctive and memorable vs each other, such as in your example of the town guards above, is to pair them off against each other in some way. Make one of them surly and grumpy, while the other one is cheerful and pleasant. Give one of them a high-pitched voice or distinctive accent, and have the other one mostly grunt. Have one of them talk rapidly and voluminously, while the other is blunt and succinct in speech. These sorts of "opposite pairings" are a classic element of comedy acting, and they make the pair memorable by making the players remember how different from one another they are.

Another good trick is to base them off of characters or actors who often work as a pair. You could use classic comedy movie pairings like Lewis & Martin, Abbott & Costello, Laurel & Hardy, or even Ernie & Bert or Legolas & Gimli. They're all great examples of the opposite pairings I suggested above, and they'll be easy for your players to tell apart.

I hope this advice helps, tenivan. It's all tricks I've used. Don't feel afraid to let an NPC fade into the background, though. I definitely don't remember someone I've asked for direction in the past, or any number of bored kids who've checked me out at various Targets over the years. There's nothing wrong with having some people pop into the scene, play their parts, and then fade away again into obscurity. Whatever you choose, however, I hope your games are going well.

Until next time, may Baba Yaga's Dancing Hut choose to dance in your neighbor's yard and avoid your prize tomatoes.

[land-of-brains-and-chocolate]

Rec list for Eddie and Symby being vaguely to very gay?

I'm sorry for coming to you with my monsterfucker agenda 😔👊 (no I'm not)

i mean, i probably could’ve seen this coming.

venom is dominated by two opposing narratives. let’s call this the “relationship narrative” and the “control narrative”. they’re not perfectly separated, like, you’ll definitely get elements of one in the other, but generally one of them describes what the story, at its core, is using the symbiote for.

now comics are an endless tug-of-war at the best of times, much less the gayest and slimiest of times. there’s a neverending backlash and backbacklash going on between these two takes. what you want is the relationship narrative.

everything very much started out with that take. eddie and the symbiote are two characters who forge an evil alliance because it lets them do what they wanna do (kill spider-man, more or less) and they have the same kinds of neuroses and complexes and syndromes. lots of early comics are also very fun about the merged consciousness, merged identity deal. that’s kind of the textbook relationship stuff.

personally i absolutely think the original stories (venom was created by david michelinie) have romantic undertones, even starting in the villainy days. eddie describes their first meeting as “a shadow moved, caressed me.” he takes the rejection of the symbiote still being “in love with” spider-man really hard. he sobs his eyes out when he thinks it’s dead and promises to avenge it bare-handed. they totally expect to live happily ever after on a deserted island together.

then there’s venom: lethal protector, which is cute on its own, but if you’re reading for slime romance, i very specifically recommend the novelisation. i won’t even spoil it. and then, planet of the symbiotes is the first comic that i would say has outright queer themes, intentional or not.

so all those recs until now are collected in this post.

we're trucking along through the 90s, we explore elements of one take and then the other and sometimes we ignore the symbiote completely, but not too much changes, overall. the next BIG stop in Gay Venom is, of course, the hunger.

miniseries by len kaminski, just venom: the hunger. plenty of people have written their essays on it, but what’s always important to me is that it DID NOT come out of nowhere. as said above, it expanded on themes that were there, it references michelinie venom very explicitly, like you get your SECOND “tenderly touching the green glass tube” scene.

but yes this one is specifically about, like, stigmatisation, otherness, mental illness, meeting all those things with care and empathy and optimism, tentacle sex. again, many essays. a venom comic that can go “look at the twisted deviance of this relationship” and then turn it around into “but how are you looking at it” is good. god how good would it be if they also did that to eddie more. anyway.

a few years later you get the first MAJOR fucking backlash, culminating in the SECOND story titled the hunger. spectacular spider-man: the hunger, from 2003. completely reboots venom and retcons their motivations and backstories, makes very spiteful references to planet of the symbiotes and the hunger, like it is not also called that by sheer coincidence. literally starts out, in a comic that wants to tackle and redefine venom, with the line “the PROBLEM is that you guys are like an old married couple”. so the new status quo is that the symbiote only ever used eddie to be with spider-man, and eddie only ever used the symbiote to not die of cancer.

the “control narrative” that really kicks in here uses the symbiote as, you know, a thing to control, eddie’s demons personified or even a completely foreign force to torment him. if eddie is evil, it’s not because of what he thinks and believes and wants, it’s because he couldn’t control the symbiote and gave in to its inexplicable bloodlust.

this is an unambiguous downgrade in terms of complexity, in my humble opinion, completely fucks up eddie’s responsibility themes, and is also a pretty clearly petty reaction to venom’s absolute oversaturation in the nineties. the bitch was everywhere and most of it wasn’t good. so there was LOTS of “look at this creepy loser” content by writers cringing themselves into self-awareness at the time. the 00s were going to be GRITTY and MATURE.

this of course means that we get to see eddie slit his wrists and bleed to death on panel after selling the symbiote to supervillains as an attempted act of redemption???

wild fucking times! it’s not exactly worth recommending as ~shippy~, but the first real backbacklash to this first round of retcons comes from dan slott, who just kind of ignores it all in new ways to die. drags eddie back to the land of the living and relevant, makes the symbiote refuse to let its new host kill him, telling that host, and reestablishing, that it loves eddie. and then, to keep him living and relevant, slott makes eddie anti-venom.

don’t even worry about it. anti-venom is essentially eddie seeking redemption with symbiote powers, but without the symbiote, except he pretty much acts no fucking different at all, just keeps on being a murderous vigilante with cracked ideas about innocence and guilt. people still act like he’s better now because, in its metatextual ways, the hunger was right.

then fucking uuuuuuhhhhhhh. agent venom. symbiote goes to flash thompson and the us military, and the writer, rick remender, goes really, really, really hard on the control narrative. the symbiote becomes a substance flash is addicted to, gives a voice to his past abuse, it’s dark times all the times.

people very much do like that narrative for flash, like at least from that perspective it was worth it. i don’t like it much for the symbiote. for the symbiote, representing everything fucked up with flash and forcing him to murder kill bite all the time is resolved via the good guy avengers literally lobotomising it so flash can wear it without further resistance or input. imagine doing that to a human person. you’re uncooperative so we’re gonna turn off your higher cognitive functions and wear you like a meat suit. happy ending for everybody! truly we’ve conquered our demons this day.

then! at the same time, there’s a cartoon coming out, it’s called ultimate spider-man. THAT one does the control narrative take with harry osborn, but then does the relationship take with flash, making it the only cartoon to outright redeem the symbiote and let it find friendship and be valued as a person.

and people loved it! so brian michael bendis gets it in his head that he’s going to redeem the symbiote and make it partner up with flash. and he does redeem it by the highly fucking questionable means of having it be “cleansed”, aka brainwashed and relieved of its memories and personality. not that it matters for long. nothing fucking matters in comics. take this with you if it’s the only thing.

so then for fun friendship times you get venom: space knight, flash and the symbiote’s adventures in space! and then that gets cancelled. eddie is off somewhere being toxin and hunting carnage (2016). many good comics but you did not ask for them.

and THEN.

it is time for the next MOTHER of backlashes.

flash gets literally discarded at fucking roadside to put the symbiote back on eddie and turn back time on their relationship to RIGHT before the FIRST backlash happened. you know, all those 2003 retcons. gone. ignored. no more. venom’s themes are now those circa 1996 again. full fucking on relationship narrative. ROMANTIC relationship narrative, and that after the symbiote was turned into eddie’s evil shadow, after he hated it and spent a LONG time seeking to eradicate all symbiotes (and not even for the first time).

the COSTA run. venom (2016). reviled and beloved.

like this comic is fucking ANGRY about symbiote treatment. i HAD to tell you all of that so you’d understand ANYTHING it’s doing. the first thing it does is flip it completely around, puts the symbiote on a military guy who’s making IT do bad things, makes his ability to control it horrifying and abusive instead of heroic and admirable. one of the later things it does (in the follow-up venom: first host) is outright feature a villain who lobotomises symbiotes, ending on a symbiote serving him swift and sweet payback by doing the same thing TO HIM. it’s exactly as unsubtle as the hunger (2003) was about its hang-ups.

comics... are a conversation.

flash remains a symbiote friend but still got fucked over big time by it all, symbiote-focused writers slott and costa also kind of use him to literally, in case anybody hadn’t caught on, literally spell out the REAL story that’s been going on in the writer's room for the past THIRTY YEARS:

you’ll notice i didn’t actually list any of the Gay Shit for you, you’ve probably already seen it or you’ll get to see it for yourself. yes, they are deeply in love, yes, it’s fucked up and flawed, yes, it is real and taken seriously and has ultimately redeeming potential. yes the concept of that nearly knocked me off my feet and in front of the subway at one point. yes there’s mpreg

it’s also fucking riddled with events, which spin off into other comics, so either ignore those and rely on the recaps OR click yourself forward through the “next issue (story)” button on marvel wikia to know what to read.

and after that must of course come the backbackbacklash, as certain as death or taxes. in the next run, we retcon everything once more, eddie just needs to control his darkness, the symbiote was an evil abuser all along, nothing on earth is ever new.

i’m not gonna go through it, i’m just gonna point you to the backbackbackbacklash issue that came out during this time: venom annual volume 2 number 1 - it’s confusingly named, it’s the one that has a blue-skinned space lady on it. this one ignores the backbackbacklash going on very pointedly and goes “it’s not ABOUT control” again, it’s pretty explicitly romantic.

and then there’s also marvel comics presents (2019) #5, which, oddly enough, does not particularly feature the characterisation you’d typically see in the relationship narrative? but it does feature eddie and the symbiote literally fucking, so you’d want to know about it.

that’s the overall, like, frame of eddie and the symbiote being in a relationship (nuh uh) (yeah they are) (NUH UH) (YEAH THEY ARE)

some stuff that’s smaller but still notable, uh.

nova (1999) 6 - 7, that’s the “we’re space married”

venom: dark origin, that’s an ALTERNATE (!!!) take on the character, don’t expect a likeable eddie but it’s very darkly funny and gay so what can i say.

venom: the end, which i would absolutely fucking hate to be canon, i think its characterisation is quite regressive, but the symbiote sure is in love, i guess.

venom: separation anxiety, the dawn of the control narrative but eddie’s characterisation did not have to go so wrong from here, like if they’d just figured out AT THIS STAGE that he's STILL acting like venom without it... i digress. it has the symbiote going eddie eddie eddieee

venom: sinner takes all, this is the first she-venom comic so that’s. hm. interesting. healing symbiote blanket

don’t read venom: license to kill just look at this panel with me

if i think of more comics worth adding i’ll add them.

the subtext slash text is heavy enough to be present to some degree in literally every cartoon adaptation of eddie brock. spider-man: the animated series goes FULL control narrative, in fact it started the “the symbiote corrupted peter” take that we to this day cannot escape, but the first few venom episodes are VERY playful about their relationship.

in spectacular spider-man it’s canon, but horrible. eddie’s in love with it, but eddie's a good boy and the symbiote is played very, very, very abusively. i think this is an evil symbiote adaptation that works well enough, at least it’s an actual meaningful character instead of just a malevolent force to resist.

in marvel’s spider-man, the only venom episode worth watching is venom returns.

i’ve actually got every symbiote-relevant episode listed right here from when we did our communal watch-through.

also watch truth in journalism. idk if it’s exactly shippy just do it

[achubbydumpling]

Modern Bucky is fat and Steve’s sugar baby. Steve likes to spoil him. :3

eyy only took me a month and a half to answer 😂😂 I'm sorry, nonnie, but I'm highjacking your idea and using it for today's chubtober prompt :D

(I ended up having a lot more ideas for this than I could actually finish writing in time, so this ends pretty abruptly as soon as Steve and Bucky actually meet)

[unfinished] Oct 3: Masks and Malfunctions

Rating: Mature Words: 1911 Relationship: James “Bucky” Barnes/Steve Rogers Additional Tags: Sugar Daddy AU, Daddy Kink, Belly Kink, Weight Gain, Verbal Humiliation, Stuffing, Corsets, Age Gap

Bucky’s phone chimed and he didn’t even have to look at the screen to know that “Steve” just sent him more than enough money for the costume Bucky wanted. He didn’t actually know if that was the guy’s real name, but he’d been funding Bucky’s lifestyle since the beginning of college and Bucky wasn’t about to fuck that up by questioning the guy’s identity.

If this were a normal Halloween party Bucky would have just bought a random costume at Spirit Halloween, but his kinda boyfriend Jonas (it’s complicated) had invited him as a plus one to an actual masquerade ball. Bucky didn’t even know those kinds of things existed outside of fantasy novels, but right now he was at a high-end clothing store getting an “appropriate” costume.

[Bucky] Thank you, Daddy❤

Bucky texted Steve and then went back to trying on another dress shirt. This one had a looser cut that reminded him of something the male love interest in a period drama would wear or a pirate.

“Wonderful choice,” the store clerk told Bucky when he stepped back from the mirror. Bucky would probably never get used to having someone help him pick out clothes, but the higher-end stores Bucky had been to all offered this type of assistance.

“It drapes very well,” the clerk said with a sneer on his face. Bucky turned back to the mirror. Yes, he had to admit he’d fallen victim to the freshman 15. A small belly was rounding out even against the loose fabric of the shirt, but he didn’t actually feel self-conscious.

Steve had complimented him on every single one of those pounds. Bucky probably wouldn’t even have noticed all the changes to his body if Steve hadn’t been constantly talking about them. Bucky had never put much effort into maintaining his physique, but being hyped up by Steve over the smallest changes of his body made him feel desired and his heart fluttered every time his sugar daddy complimented his thicker thighs and soft belly.

“Any other suggestions?” Bucky asked and the clerk scoffed.

“A corset,” he muttered under his breath, but Bucky’s ears pricked up at the suggestion. His first instinct was to text Steve. Bucky didn’t know why it was important for him to know Steve’s opinion when Bucky was going to the party as someone else’s plus one, but excitement stirred in Bucky’s stomach at what Steve might say.

“Sure, get the corset.” Bucky sent the clerk on their way and then sat down to text Steve. He could feel his belly straining against the shirt buttons now that he was sitting down and he snapped a picture of the way the buttons on the otherwise loose shirt were straining over the thickest part of his belly.

[Bucky] Daddy~ they’re telling me I’m fat

[Bucky] they said I need a corset

[Steve] You will look incredible either way.

Annoyance prickled at the back of Bucky’s neck from the generic compliment.

[Bucky] that’s not what I asked

[Steve] You didn’t ask anything.

Bucky rolled his eyes at how literal Steve could sometimes be, but Bucky also didn’t know how to ask for what he really wanted to hear.

Some of his classmates had teased him for his weight gain and instead of making Bucky feel insecure, the hot shame had shot straight to his dick and he’d had to excuse himself to deal with the problem. Since then Bucky couldn’t stop thinking about Steve telling him those things.

Bucky didn’t even know what the guy looked like, but he’d quickly developed a crush just from texting him. It was actually fun to talk. Bucky couldn’t understand how the guy was single when he seemed like this perfect, interesting and kind guy—and rich on top of all that.

There has to be something wrong with him, but so far Bucky hadn’t been able to figure it out. Not for the first time Bucky wondered who Steve actually was, but his thoughts were interrupted when the clerk came back with three different corsets.

All the same material and color, just different cuts. Bucky’s eyes were immediately drawn to the tiny waist cincher—just tall enough to cover the widest part of his belly. Despite his grumblings the clerk helped Bucky lace up the corset and when he looked in the mirror he couldn’t believe it was him looking back.

His entire body shape seemed different. From the billowing sleeves of the shirt emphasizing his wide shoulders to the waist cincher doing an excellent job of making it look like he still had a waist instead of the soft belly that was hidden underneath. The simple black slacks he was wearing completed his outfit. Simple colors, just black and white.

The mask he had chosen matched as well. A deep midnight black that contrasted with his piercing blue eyes and gold detailing that caught the light when Bucky turned his head. He snapped another picture for Steve, but didn’t wait for his response. Bucky could still hardly believe that a single outfit could be this expensive, but Steve of course had transferred enough money to pay for it. On his way home Bucky finally checked his phone.

[Steve] What did I tell you? Incredible.

[Bucky] better than without the corset?

[Steve] This feels like a set-up.

Bucky groaned at Steve’s response. Of course, Bucky would luck out and get the sugar daddy that won’t humiliate him for gaining fifteen pounds before the semester was even over and wasn’t that a personal revelation. Bucky had never thought of himself as someone who could want something like this, but since gaining weight he had become more aware of his body—and how others perceived it.

[Bucky] it is

He quickly pocketed his phone after sending that text. Bucky immediately regretted it. He’d had a good thing going with Steve. Why risk fucking that up? His phone vibrated multiple times, but Bucky was too worried to check his messages until he got home. As soon as he’d closed the apartment door behind him he fished his phone out of his pocket.

[Steve] What does that mean?

[Steve] If you don’t want to continue this arrangement, you can just tell me.

[Steve] Bucky.

[Steve] Answer me.

[Steve] What do you want me to say? That you’re a spoiled pig? That you’ve gotten fat on your Daddy’s money and need a corset to look good for your little boytoy?

Bucky’s throat went dry as he read Steve’s message. The wave of lust that crashed through him, threw him off balance and he sat down heavily on the bench in the entry way of his apartment. He read the message again. And again. His dick gave an interested twitch. It was embarrassing how much he reacted to Steve’s words.

[Steve] Is that what you want?

[Steve] Don’t leave me on read.

Bucky didn’t know what to say. He typed and retyped the same message again until another one from Steve popped up.

[Steve] ‘Yes’ or ‘no’? It can’t be this hard to type one fucking word.

Bucky couldn’t breathe. Steve had always been kind and considerate, it made Bucky’s heart race to see this side of him.

[Bucky] Yes.

[Steve] Thank you, but we will talk more about this tomorrow.

Bucky’s phone chimed to tell him, he should be on his way now if he wanted to get to the party on time. His mind was still caught up in foggy arousal, his cock tenting his slacks. It’s too much, he wasn’t thinking straight and Steve wasn’t even here—wasn’t even touching him. Just a text and Bucky was a mess.

At least the walk to the subway station helped to clear Bucky’s head and chase away some of the immediate, burning need that had been burning in his guts just a few minutes earlier. It left him frustrated, but slightly more level-headed and in a more appropriate mood to be out in public.

When Bucky met up with Jonas outside the high-rise office building the guy was already wasted. He was surrounded by his office buddies and Bucky was honestly about to turn on his heel and go back home when Jonas called out to him. With all his mates there Jonas treated Bucky like another one of them and Bucky was already over the metaphorical dick-measuring contest that was happening whenever one of these guys opened their mouth.

Once they got inside Bucky split off from the group, Jonas didn’t even seem to notice. So, he explored the venue. The party stretched across multiple floors. The bottom floor was full of rich and wanna-be rich people schmoozing and socializing, barely anyone of them had stuck to the masquerade theme and Bucky kept debating whether he should take off his own mask.

He was much more comfortable on the upper floor. There were less people here and most of them kept to themselves. He felt less out of place when he noticed that most of the people here stuck to the masquerade theme, there were only a few people who’s face wasn’t at least partially hidden behind a mask.

Jonas didn’t even shoot him a quick text to ask where he had disappeared to, so Bucky was more than ready to just find whatever food this place offered, eat for free tonight and make the best of the situation. He didn’t know what he’d expected dating someone his age, but Bucky was done settling for anything and he made a resolution to break up whatever was going on between him and Jonas.

When Bucky finally found the buffet that was standard for these types of events, he couldn’t stop himself from loading up two plates and searching for a quiet, secluded place to eat. At this point it had become a reflex to send Steve a text whenever he sat down to stuff himself.

[Bucky] found the food

He sent a picture with his hand next to the plates to give Steve a sense of how big they were. Some guy’s phone went off as soon as Bucky hit send two tables over and for a moment Bucky wondered if that’s Steve.

He had a commanding presence even sitting down. Bucky could tell he’s a gym buff from his ridiculous shape. His shoulders looked almost double the size of his waist. As well as the large plate of food in front of him. This man needed to fuel his body with all those calories, but Bucky was eating more than him and only planning on getting fatter. Bucky dug in.

His little costume went from fitting perfectly fine to too tight within half a plate of food. The corset was throwing a wrench into Bucky’s plan of stuffing himself. He already felt full before he had even really gotten started. The blond guy from two tables over caught Bucky’s eye again. He was frowning at his phone and looking back up at Bucky.

[Steve] What are you doing here?

[Bucky] what do you mean?

Another phone chime from two tables down. Bucky re-read the text two times before he looked back at the blond guy. No way that’s Steve. That would be too much of a coincidence, right? Bucky sent another message and the guy’s phone went off again. For a moment Bucky contemplates just getting up and walking away, but then Steve was already out of his chair and walking up to Bucky’s table.

[pinkpruneclodwolf]

Pinkpruneclodwolf doing more big brain things.Do I see Heartslbry dorm character analysis in the future.May I ask a free questions about your takes.You can skip any you don't feel like answering.

1-What got you in to Twst

2-You is your favorite character or dorm(or event (

3-Any unpopular opinions.

4-Spicey or sweet

5-How to feel about grim

6-What frustration do you have with the game

7-Are you following the manga(or are you reading any manga or anime)

8-Do you have any other games you recommend?

9-Do you think Yuu got more agency over the last chapters.

Have a good day.And thank you for your content.

I think what got me into twst was def was in 2019, I was on YouTube and I saw this video Otome Ayui I think translating twst and I was hooked okay then @broken-synchronicity came thru with Lost in Translation and it was over for me okay

I did have a lil hiatus in 2020 to late 2021 (I'm talking around May) and I honestly wasn't planning on being so active but something shifted as soon as I posted my lil story.

My fave dorm is Savanaclaw, yes I'm pulling an Epel, but it needs to be said bc Ruggie is by far my fave character there bc he just resonates with me.

An unpopular opinion of mine would have to be a whole post within itself but I'll give two:

Sebek's very much heavily mischaracterized because of his slow development which i chalk up to him being part fae, he's very arrogant towards those who he doesn't respect and his human peers which ends up distancing him from the first years (which is why Vil calls him a Cucumber instead of a potato)

And two: Trey is actually terrifying. Like he's in the leagues with Jade and Rook bc so many ppl over look his sadism in favor of him being the perfect lil male wife when it's been shown that he does get irritated/uncomfortable with people being too dependent on him— mostly because he's got that "average guy" thing that Jamil has going on but we at least know that's not the case for snake boy.

But if he's so average, how did he get accepted into a school of villains?

Uhhh, sweet, which why I side eye Sebek and Trey sometimes.

Pacing. The pacing of Savanaclaw and overall wonky writing still makes me upset since Octavinelle, Scarabia, and Pomefiore (ignihyde hasn't finished so I cannot say) were all somewhat cohesive, some theorize that Savanaclaw isn't truly over but.....

I'll probably rwork my own lil Savanaclaw fix it but for now It'll remain in the drafts.

I don't really play phone games as much as I wished to (i haven't logged into fgo in a whole month and I just uninstalled obey me to free up space for twst). Subway surfers is always a safe choice tho.

I absolutely think Yuu has more agency this time around, and I'm glad to see it. I wonder where Chap 6 will take this new found energy or if its just until Yuu gets Grim back—

Also, I really enjoy Grim, he's the cat son I wish I had, very much a baby and reminds me of my lil sis. I'm hoping to see character growth tho, can't have the Great Grim learn nothing after all.

Thank you so much for the interview, I hope you remain in good health and grace during these times.

[mystaracrosstheuniverse]

Last Piece 2.

title. Last Piece pairing. GOT7 JB x Reader genre. slice of life, romance, attempts at comedy, angst warnings. cursing, jb being a cute cat dad, reader is hella awkward but so is he, mentions of anxiety, GOT7 members being hella extra bc they are summary. As an English teacher from abroad, you get a lot of perks. One of the best ones is that you live in an apartment for free. Another perk seems to be the elusive, attractive man who lives two floors above you… Though his cats seem to prefer your apartment over his. And so does his mail, which makes you travel to his place pretty often regardless of whether he wants to see you or not.

new beginnings master post.

part one. part two.

______________________________________________________________

Ever since that first package drop off, you’ve run into Jaebum quite a few times. Living in the same building and occasionally getting each other’s mail definitely attributed to the frequency, and you were thankful for it. While you’re sure the male wouldn’t really consider the two of you friends, you liked to call him a “not quite but almost friend”... Not to his face but to your own friends and to yourself. Maybe occasionally to his cats. Speaking of his cats, you’ve met more than just Odd and Nora at this point. Nora seemed to be the jealous type, wanting her dad’s attention to herself, and would push the younger ones out of the apartment as Jaebum would come and go. The amount of times you’ve found Odd or Kunta wandering around the hall made you wonder how the man didn’t ever notice his oldest child bullying her siblings.  Other times he gets your mail, having it been delivered to him on accident somehow. You’d never live down the time he got a huge package from your grandparents, an amused smirk across his face as he brought it to you.  “Forget some things back home?” He had teased, setting the package down on your counter. Your face was bright red, unable to string together a coherent sentence because you didn’t want him to think you were forgetful, but then again you kind of were but what if -- “Hey, I’m just teasing, Y/N.” He had said, gentler this time, “I know it must be nice to have someone back home who cares about you.”  You had just nodded, your heartbeat evening out slowly as you chatted for a few more minutes before he hurried off. He was a bit gentler for a few days after, as if scared to get that reaction out of you again. You appreciated it. You hoped that one day you’d be able to not have that instant reaction to panic over a small comment. Since then, you’ve been trying to gather up the courage to ask if he wants to hang out for lunch or something. Every time you get close, you end up chickening out. And every time you cursed yourself, because you just wanted to be his friend -- something about him made you want to be around him. Today, though, you just wanted to get to work. You had planned a big interactive activity for your class today and you wanted to make sure everything was perfect. Hurrying down the stairs, you made sure you had everything in your bag before leaving the building. As you looked up, you noticed someone just barely walking ahead of you. Jaebum. Immediately your mind went through possible scenarios, from saying hello to quietly avoiding him, maybe even -- “Do you want to get lunch or something later Jae???” Oh no. Oh no. Your mouth decided for you. Not only that, you addressed him so casually even though he’s older, he’s definitely going to hate you -- Was... that a laugh? You focused her attention back on him, seeing him looking amused and a half smile on his face. You ignored the small catch in your throat and pushed away the thought of how nice he looked.  “Sure, give me your phone and we’ll plan something.” You don’t even remember handing over your device or him adding himself to your contacts, but a few minutes later he gave you a little finger salute and a promise to message you later for planning.  “Im Jaebum” the contact read in kakaotalk, simple and to the point, much like the man you were hoping to befriend. As you mentally patted yourself on the back for not crying, you glanced at the time on your phone before cursing loudly in your native language and running off to the subway. You were going to be late.  Despite you thinking that you totally had your excitement under control, your co-teacher and students definitely thought otherwise.  “Teacher, why can’t you sit still? Don’t you ... much sit down?” Sangmin, one of your fourth graders, attempted to ask. You smiled and gently corrected him, saying you liked to sit down very much, but don’t ‘always’ do it. He bashfully nodded and bowed his head down to talk with his desk partner about the dialogue you’d given out for discussion. “They’re right you know,” You jumped before recognizing the voice of your co-teacher, Taeyeon, “You’re acting like you’ve drank the Ediya shop out of stock.”  Oh. Perhaps you were flitting about the room more, babbling a little to yourself and to your students, and constantly looking over at your desk where you kept your phone while class was in session.  “I just... I made a friend.” You admitted, “You know, the guy from my apartment building?”  Taeyeon raised an eyebrow, looking at you skeptically. “I know I’ve asked this, but you sure you don’t like him more than a friend? It’s not like we’re not friends and you don’t have friends, Y/N.”  See you KNEW this but one of your biggest anxieties and fears was that you’d never be able to make friends outside of work or your past. Because, like Christian had always reassured you, you were a wonderful sweetheart but you were so hard to talk to because you were always so nervous. It made it hard.  “I really just want to meet his cats... Except Nora because she seems mean.” You noted, not really answering the question but in your mind, it was sufficient. Having worked with you and had recently made herself your friend, Taeyeon knew this was probably the best she was going to get out of you and just left it be. You’d figure it out eventually and she knew she’d be one of the first to know. She still couldn’t help but question it when she saw you light up at a notification on your phone.  ‘Want to meet up after your work and eat some chicken? I know a good place.’

___________________________________________________________ You forgot why you were so worried about hanging out with Jaebum in the first place. Talking with him, after the initial awkward greeting, was coming really easily to you. You only hoped he felt the same, it seemed so.  “So why Korea, hm?” Jaebum had asked, looking over at you as he drank his water. You chewed your food thoughtfully before swallowing. It was a question often asked, but it never bothered you to answer it. “I fell in love with this country the first week I came here, back in school.” You explained, “I’ve only ever felt at home in one other place, and it was with my grandparents. But when I came here... it just felt right, you know? Like fate was telling me to come here. So I wanted to come back after figuring out what I wanted to do.” Jaebum listened well, nodding along as you spoke. “I see. And you found teaching was it?” You nodded. “I love what I do, even more so that I get to do it in the place that feels like home.”  A small smile creeped along his face, and you coughed to distract yourself from staring. “So what do you do, Im Jaebum?”  After finding out that he HATED being addressed by his full name, especially by someone younger than him (which you were by a year), you couldn’t resist. You had to. “I’m a freelancer. I do a lot of music production work or lyricist support.” He rolled his eyes at your antics, but didn’t say anything. You lit up at the mention of music. Your father loved music, and you had fond memories of growing up with him playing everything from Mozart to The Eagles while your mother was gone. “That’s so cool! Did you go to school for it or is it just... apart of you?” You struggled to find the words to describe what you meant. While you were confident in your Korean, some words just... didn’t translate well in your opinion. He chuckled lowly, “I’ve been making and doing music since I was young. Never thought about doing anything else once I found it. I learned along the way.” The conversation continued, talking about favorite genres of music, eventually leading you to ask how his cats liked his music or if they preferred a certain type, to you demanding to know why Nora keeps trying to bully Odd. It was nice. Really, really nice actually. Jaebum smiled so much at you and even joined in your weird reactions or antics and it just made you feel warm and happy on the inside. He even insisted on paying since he was older and who were you to refuse free food? You were to excited -- you made a friend! The talking lulled while walking back to the apartment complex, but the silence wasn’t an awkward one. It was gentle and understanding. You didn’t need to fill up the space with idle, unneeded chit chat to be with each other. As you came to the doors of the building, Jaebum opened the door and allowed you to go first, and you might’ve missed it because of how bashful he sounded. “It’s been a while since I’ve had fun with someone who’s not my group.. Thanks, Y/N.” You smiled brightly. “Well, consider me apart of your group. We’re friends now Jae!” There you went with no honorifics. He scowled at you, pinching your neck as you tried to avoid him on your way to the elevator. “At least call me hyung or something if not oppa, you disrespectful brat!” He called out, only getting your childish giggles as his response. Hanging out with Jaebum wasn’t really easy or often. He’s really busy and his schedule is… not consistent. You knew it was due to his job and not because he hated you, so you weren’t as worried about it as you could be. Especially since he tried to talk to you at least once a week, even it was just a brief conversation in the stairwell, or on your way out to work. It was enough for you. Of course you see each other a little more often than usual because of the mail situation. For some reason, the mail person could not understand that just because you were one of the only foreigners from the U.S. in the building does not mean that every package from the U.S. is for you. But it did give you an excuse to go see Jaebum after a week, so you head up the stairs, package in hand, and you hear Jae’s voice -- and a few others, it sounded like? Huh? “Jae??? Is that you???” You peer up the stairwell to see if you can catch him, and soon you see Jae leaning over his own railing, catching sight of you and waving, but looking over to where you couldn’t see and looking a little pissed off. Oh... That was new. Was someone bothering him? Were you bothering him? You started apologizing, “Hey sorry if this is a bad time -- I got another package from your friend and I just --” “Yoooo Who’s that?! It sounds like a girl OH are you in love?!” A loud, excited male voice shouted over you, startling you and almost making you drop the package in your arms. “I told you her name is Y/N and she’s a friend!!” Jaebum’s chin seemed to stick out in reaction to your startled state -- you hoped he wasn’t too mad at you. Or his friend. It’s not his fault you’re easily scared.  You decided to call out once more, “So... the box?”  He looked down at you, his arm pointed and pushing someone, supposedly his friends, as he responded. “Yeah, bring it up, I’ll grab it from you -- Just let me get my friends into the apartment.” “I want to meet her!” “Bring her to us!” “Let us see her!” The loud, rambunctious voices all decided to loudly protest at once, making you shake a little in your boots, letting Jaebum disappear from your sight before sitting down to regain your nerve. You didn’t know Jaebum had... such loud friends. Feral children was the phrase that came to mind... Gathering your nerve, you walked up the stairs and into Jaebum’s hallway, where he’s already waiting for you, leaning against the door as it bumped against him at times, the sounds of whining and demands to see you seeping through the solid door. “Thanks, Y/N.” Jaebum smiled gently, taking the box from you. You managed a smile back, jumping at the sudden movement of the door that jostled him forward. “Sorry, I didn’t want to overwhelm you.” He apologized, kicking the door, “Hopefully you can meet them later, but right now I can tell they’re going to be too much for you and I actually want you to still be my friend after meeting them.” His explanation was a little rushed at the end, pink tinging his cheeks. Was Jaebum embarrassed? Well that was kinda cute.  You quickly pushed that thought aside. But you couldn’t help but flush. He noticed that about you? “Sorry, Jae...” “Don’t apologize! When you’re ready we can set something up. I think you’ll like them when they’re calmer.” His smiled widened, “Then I’ll have someone calm and not evil to combat these brats.” “I thought I was a brat, though?” You tilted your head, feeling more at ease. He rolled his eyes.  “You’re all brats and I suffer. But I guess I enjoy suffering.” He shrugged. “Well, I’ll see you around Y/N. Promise.” You nodded, scurrying off before Jaebum’s friends could break the door down. After getting into the apartment, you smiled to yourself. Jaebum liked you enough to want to meet his friends. You were friends.

[wormstacheangel]

Since your last post implied it I would love to know about your AU recommendations ❤ I am obsessed too!! Thanks in advance 🙏🏻

hello! I hope you don’t mind if I just make a basic list of some of the AU stories I have read or want to read. Not in any order I just went through my bookmarks on AO3 :) Also I need to read more...Under the cut because it got too long! 

Angel's Wild (not gonna lie this is my favorite fic. I have read this almost a dozen times now)

Summary: But that’s the whole reason he’s here, isn’t it? He’s not out here hunting Humans. He’s not even hunting deer, or bears, or anything else that featured in Bambi. He’s out here, freezing his nuts off every night, because he’s hunting Angels. 

Sometimes Dean wishes that Angels were like how they’re described in the Bible. How people from time too old for him to care much about thought Angels were messengers and warriors of God, protectors of Humans. He knows that how they’re really described in the Bible is actually pretty terrifying, but at least they were told by God that they’re supposed to love Humans, right? 

That’s a thousand times better than what Angels really turned out to be.

Checked Out

Summary:  Castiel Novak can think of many writers who would not be welcome under the roof of Heaven’s Gate library, where he is the librarian: Ayn Rand ranks highly (no explanation needed), as does Charles Dickens (he hasn’t forgiven Charles for the month he lost to The Pickwick Papers). And, of course, Dean Winchester. Dean Winchester, local author and obvious a-hole, who is entirely too handsome to be true and who is clearly totally lacking in profundity, intelligence, sincerity, and self-awareness. Unfortunately, though, Dean’s been invited to do a book signing at Heaven’s Gate - and Castiel’s about to be confronted by some unexpected feelings when he finally meets Dean for the first time.

A Ghost Story

Summary:  Castiel Novak has haunted his family's estate for 150 years, awaiting the return of his lost love. Upon their reunion, Dean Winchester learns of his past reincarnation. After the night of Castiel's resurrection, the two try to find out why they've been given a second chance. The answers may be hidden in the forgotten memories of Dean's former life - but sometimes the truth is better left buried.

Patient Love

Summary: Castiel Novak is 27 when he suddenly loses his twin brother Jimmy, and his whole world turns to ashes. How do you deal with losing half of yourself when your whole life always revolved around the two of you, like yin and yang and black and white? How do you deal with a broken soul and old demons looming over you with no one to hold you back anymore?

After 10 years as a Navy Special Warfare Operator and more than a dozen deployments in both Afghanistan and Iraq, a battlefield injury forces 28-year-old Chief Petty Officer Dean Winchester to chose between being stuck behind a desk for the rest of his career or going back to civil life. When he learns about his friend Jimmy’s death, Dean makes his way back to Kansas with his heart in his throat and broken pieces at his feet.

Things are already complicated and painful enough as it is, but when former lovers Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak meet again after 10 years of radio silence and a galaxy of wounds and scars solidly standing between them, it feels like both a curse and a blessing has been placed on them both. Is there any hope in putting back their broken pieces together after a decade, and how do you deal with grief and broken dreams?

The Unbroken

Summary: Dean’s life had been made of running. He ran from a curse that had desolated his life ever since he was a child — whenever he got hurt, he turned into a goddamn human-torch, killing everyone around him — and he ran from himself and his own self-loathing.

But managing all that at the end of a world full of Croats lurking around every corner was easier said than done.

Until a mysterious man with tousled dark hair paired with blue eyes as clear as the sky during a hot summer’s day stopped him from free falling, literally. In one fell swoop, the stranger had not only saved his life but also calmed the wildfire threatening to burn everything in its wake.

There was something about Castiel that made Dean want to stop running but also hid something darker — something Dean couldn’t quite put his finger on. And between soft, pillowy lips and feather-like fingerprints, Cas could very well shatter Dean’s world and maybe help save the whole world in return.

While You Were Sleeping

Summary:  A Destiel version of While You Were Sleeping! Castiel is alone and floundering. He has a crush on one of the passengers who passes through his subway station every morning. When the man gets pushed onto the tracks, Cas saves him. But when they get to the hospital there's a mix up and Cas finds himself engaged to a complete stranger. Enter, the rest of the family, including big brother Dean. How will Cas navigate the relationship with his supposed future in-laws? What will he do when Sam finally wakes up? And why can't he stop thinking about Dean?

Purgatory, director's cut

Summary: this doesn’t have a summary but it is dean and cas in purgatory and it’s soooo cool! I promise it’s amazing and worth the read!

Basic Lessons in First Aid, Magical or Otherwise

Summary: Most people probably wouldn’t take the naked, heavily wounded man they found in an alley home with them. Most people probably wouldn’t also offer that man a place to stay and become his best friend after realizing he’s suffering from an intense case of post-traumatic retrograde amnesia. Most people probably wouldn’t then risk almost everything they know to save said man, and maybe save the world in the process.

But then again, Dean Winchester, RN (with a specialty in supernatural care), has never been like most people. He may not have a magical bone in his body, unlike his brother Sam, but he’ll do whatever it takes to help. Even if Castiel has questionable opinions about Star Trek.

What Greater Gift

Summary: Story idea: The most wanted woman in town has announced that she’ll only marry the one who can open her front door with the key around her cat’s neck. Many men try to hunt the cat down, chase and trap it, but to no avail, the cat is simply too quick, smart and clever, and always finds a way to evade and avoid them. You are the first one to figure out the obvious: Do not chase the cat. The cat is befriendable. Get the cat to trust you, to genuinely enjoy your company, and you can hang out with the cat. You may eventually be allowed to touch the cat. The cat will freely let you take the key.

From a prompt found on Tumblr. Saw this and I couldn't resist a Destiel AU, and I've been wanting to write Witch!Cas for ages.

I know when you go down all your darkest roads

Summary: Dean and Castiel go undercover as a couple going through therapy, in order to catch a monster that specifically targets couples dealing with issues, feeding on their distress, anger, and pain.

They end up going through a lot more than a case, unfolding feelings left untold for so long, discovering parts of each other they never intended to uncover.

But will the feelings raging inside them be enough to bring their walls down?

A Fish Out of Water

Summary: To tie up the loose ends of a hunt, Dean is forced to go undercover and visit Brock Pleasure Ranch, a horrifying establishment that markets its inhabitants to people with ‘monstrous’ tastes.

It should have been a simple thing, to persuade a mer to give him a few scales for a spell. All part of the usual Winchester byline: saving people, hunting things.

But Castiel is far less of a ‘thing’ than Dean expected. He might not be human, but he’s definitely a person. And that means he needs saving, too.

The Way to a Man’s Heart is Through Chlamydia

Summary: Dean doesn't expect to see his one night stand again, but then again he also doesn't expect to find out he has an STD. Sometimes life is hilarious like that.

Just as lost as I

Summary: Dean's been in love with Castiel for centuries. He keeps it buried, never letting himself get too close, but when Castiel goes missing he doesn't hesitate. He's going to find him if it’s the last thing he ever does.

Love Bites

Summary: Cas Novak graduated with a 4.0 in Mathematics, but not even Naomi Novak’s money could help him at job interviews. Anxious and dissatisfied with life, at nearly thirty he’s still washing dishes in the back of his best friend Hannah’s café.Until one night when his cat drags an injured bat into his apartment.

Dean may be a vampire, but he’s not an asshole (well, not much.) He feels like he owes the awkward guy for rescuing him from the cat’s clutches, so he sets about changing Cas's life.

A silly story about families who aren’t quite what they seem, fake boyfriends, and falling in love with someone who’s never, technically, met you.

The Bad Cop, Worse Cop Adventures of Freckles and Feathers

Summary: Miami. A place with beaches, babes, palm trees, and a growing drug-fueled crime organization. To help combat the drugs littering the streets, Captain Singer puts together a Tactical Narcotics Team composed of Miami's two finest and fearless officers. Charming casanova Dean Winchester has fought tooth and nail, rising through the ranks for this position. Trench coat toting Castiel Novak knows more hand-to-hand combative techniques than he does people skills. Between Dean's big mouth and Castiel's take-no-shit attitude, their introductory meeting ends on a less than stellar note and a couple of hard to shake nicknames.

After six months of partnership, the nicknames have stuck and so has the sexual tension. When a murder in the middle of the night launches their biggest lead on a cleverly evasive drug lord, Dean is shocked to find Sam at the center of it. Sam comes clean with his involvement and Charlie, their witness, seeks revenge against the man responsible for killing her friend. As the stakes rise higher so do Dean’s feelings putting everything in jeopardy. Is a cop with everything to prove, a cop with everything to lose, one computer hacker witness, and a damn good ADA enough to save the day?

The Care and Feeding of Castiel

Summary: Dean’s quiet time in the bunker is interrupted by some stranger-than-usual behavior from his angel. Oh, and feathers...there are a lot of those, too.

First Gentleman Wanted

Summary:  President of the United States Castiel Novak is popular, charismatic, and knee-deep in campaigning for a second term. He’d be the ideal candidate if it weren’t for the fact that he hasn’t dated once while in political office. With his opponent’s relentless PR team calling him incapable of emotional commitment, Castiel’s staff decides to remedy the situation by finding their boss a fake, picture-perfect boyfriend. And when Dean Winchester enters the scene, he and Cas become America’s new favorite couple, except they’ve got a whole lot of history between them and complicated feelings to resolve.

The Graveyard Shift

Summary: Dean’s favourite coffee shop, The Graveyard Shift, is only open after the sun goes down. Which is perfect for him, because that’s exactly when he craves coffee the most while doing the overnight at the fire hall. The coffee shop’s owner is pretty perfect too, but it’s kind of a bummer that Dean never gets to see Cas during the day. In a world where the supernatural live more or less in peace with the rest of humanity, it’s a little impolite to ask Cas just what he really is - or what his dark past entails.

The Path of Fireflies

Summary: After his humanity is restored, Dean wakes up in bed with Castiel, a wedding ring, and no memory of the past twelve years.

The Five People You Meet in Heaven

Summary: Heaven is white.Well. Isn’t that fucking stereotypical.-Dean isn’t really sure how he got here. Or even why he’s here. And hell, for all the times the Winchesters have died, he thinks he ought to know the drill by now. But what he doesn’t know is when most folks go, they find something different.

There’s a system God put in place. That when you’re gone (for good), there are a couple things you gotta do first. There are five people waiting for you.

They are the five people you meet in heaven.

Doing this made me realize I need to read more longer fics. I usually just read the short ficlets on tumblr but I need to broaden my horizon and read more. But yes! These are the AU’s currently in my bookmarks. Hope you find one to enjoy :)

[imjusthereforbatfam]

Never-Ending Encore, ch3

Chapters: 1 2 3 4

Chapter Summary: Everyone has opinions, Eden is Lonely™, and grocery shopping late at night is the best way to fight off a panic attack in Gotham City. Nothing bad could possibly happen. Nothing at all.

Warning: anxiety/panic attacks, canon-typical violence (attempted assault), nonchalance towards death/dying, swearing, blood

—

Chapter 3:

Eden was an actress in a big city, not a baker on a farm. But she grew up in a bakery on a farm, and over the years she'd amassed a long laundry list of things to do on said farm that helped ease her nerves. She'd always loved that simple things like taking long walks, racing horses, bucking hay, cleaning stalls, shooting targets, blasting music, and putting in extra time at the bakery were enough to clear her head and calm her racing mind. But in Gotham, those simple things were incredibly hard to come by.

There were no fields or woods to walk through near her apartment. No horses to ride or bales of hay to chuck. No stalls or animals to tend to. There must've been a shooting range or two somewhere in the city, but she didn’t have the time, nor money, to go to one every time she felt frazzled. All she had here was music and baking, and even then she had to compromise.

With thin walls surrounding her, she couldn't belt her heart out or freely crank music high enough to shake her bones. She had neighbors to consider! (Even if they rarely seemed to consider her.) And baking only calmed her down when she could really get lost in the process. That was easy when you could, say, whip up ten loaves of bread for tomorrow's hungry customers. But Eden was only one person. She couldn't eat more than a single loaf of bread or helping of muffins or whathaveyou in a week without making herself sick, and only making one batch of something was rarely enough to settle her down. 

She needed to figure out something to do in this city. And quick. Because otherwise, she was going to drown.

Ever since finding that note from Red Hood, Eden had been bubbling with the urge to tell someone about their encounter. She almost called home to tell Kit or one of the boys. Almost. But that would’ve meant telling them where she was, explaining how she got there, and admitting what had happened in the days before she left. She wasn’t ready for that talk yet. She was especially not ready for Mama to know anything. Granted, she probably already knew more than Eden wanted her to, but talking to someone else back home would only guarantee it.

Eden couldn't risk that. So she settled on telling her coworkers instead.

The morning after the whole fiasco, Eden waited for their first break to tell her tale. She got about two sentences in when—

“Hold up,” one of the girls, GG, said suddenly. “You met the Red Hood last night?”

Eden nodded. “Yeah, outside my apartment,” she said again. It sounded better than saying on her fire escape.

“Whoa. You’re lucky to be alive!”

“I... What?”

“Don’t be an idiot, G,” one of the guys, Aaron, said. “Everyone knows Red Hood stopped killing people ages ago.”

“You seriously believe that?” she scoffed. “The guy was a mob boss. Decapitating gang lords and collecting their heads.”

“What?” Eden yelped, glancing frantically between the two of them. 

GG ignored her. “You really think he just, what, gave all that up? Give me a break.” 

“He works with Batman,” Aaron said rolling his eyes. “He’s one of the good guys.”

“If he was really a ‘good guy’,” she said making air-quotes, “he wouldn’t be shooting people up every night.”

"He’s not killing anybody," he pshawed, flicking his wrist to shoo the notion away. “Honestly, I wish he was killing people still. Gotham was so much safer then."

GG shook her head at him, clearly annoyed. Eden blinked at them, mouth open wide with questions on her tongue, but the director called for everyone to wrap it up. GG grumbled something at Aaron as they walked back to the stage area, and he glared at her, but rehearsal continued without any more talk of Red Hood.

Eden probably should’ve gotten the hint there, that maybe she should keep the night's events to herself, but she couldn’t help herself. Now she really wanted to tell someone about what had happened. It was ridiculous enough before, but hearing the vigilante she'd given cookies to – who'd helped her through a panic attack – was actually an ex-killer? A former mob boss who collected people’s heads? It was a whole new level of bizarre! She could barely wrap her head around it!

The whole thing fogged her mind for the rest of the day. When everyone was finally dismissed, she nearly exploded as she and a few others left for the subway station.

"I met Red Hood last night!" she announced.

"Ooo, lucky!" one of the leads said. "He's so cool!"

"Yeah, he—" 

"He's not cool, Marsha," another lead, Veronica, interrupted to chide her friend. "He's a killer."

"Was a killer," one of the guys said. "He's a good guy now. He doesn't do that anymore."

"Yeah, he does," someone else argued. "Just not in Gotham."

"That's not true."

"Is too! And he's a total badass for it!"

They went into a detailed retelling of one of Red Hood's 'badass' exploits, complete with sound effects for the guns and explosions. One of the guys told a different story, painting the things Red Hood did as inexcusable and unforgivable. Someone else mentioned their younger sister getting a Red Hood toy from a fast food joint not too long ago. Veronica called that despicable and said it sent kids the wrong message; someone else said she was being too judgemental.

Eden listened quietly to them all, captivated by the native Gothamites' nonchalance as they went back and forth on the violent, graphic things Red Hood had done and how they each felt about it. Eventually, one of the girls, Marsha, scoffed and began explaining in detail all the good that had come from the vigilante's not-so-good deeds. The conversation got more intense as the group started to debate more seriously on whether or not Red Hood's actions were truly justifiable. A few passersby even added their two cents while the group was waiting to cross the street. It nearly turned into a full-on brawl when they started arguing if he was, could be, or ever should be considered a hero after all he'd done.

Eden could only stand there, flabbergasted by it all. Somehow she felt even more like a fish out of water than the day she'd first arrived in Gotham. Which, considering she'd stepped off that bus with only half a plan, a backpack full of belongings, and the duffel bag filled with Frank's cash, was saying a lot.

She watched them argue as long as she could — until she absolutely had to leave to catch her train. The group showed no signs of stopping.

“Are you a good guy or a bad guy?”

“Depends on who you ask.”

Talk about an understatement! Red Hood must've known how contested he was. Everyone in Gotham seemed to have a strong opinion regarding him and that... that was bad. Continuing to bring him up was bound to get Eden into some kind of trouble sooner or later. More trouble. That was the last thing she needed right now. As disappointing as it was, she knew she had to drop the whole thing and just keep it to herself...

But it was such a ridiculous experience! She'd met a vigilante – an apparently very dangerous vigilante – randomly on her fire escape. He helped her fight off a panic attack! She made him laugh— laugh! She made Gotham's big, scary, shoot-y vigilante laugh! And she gave him cookies! And he liked them enough to write her a damn note! And he was an ex-MOB BOSS! It was impossible! It was hysterical! And it— it—

It didn't matter.

It didn't matter. She couldn't risk getting into any sort of hot water here. Maybe if she actually had someone to talk to in this city, somebody she could trust, it would be different. But she didn't have anybody like that. So it didn't matter. She was alone and had nobody; the story would die with her and that was that.

A dismal ache punctured her chest. Eden was alone. She... hadn't realized how true it was until just now. She had nobody in this city. Nobody to talk to, no one to confide in... Not even with something as small and ridiculous as what had happened with Red Hood... 

For the first time in her life, Eden was truly and completely alone.

The glowing, blissful solitude she’d reveled in for months was gone. Painful, heart-wrenching loneliness swallowed it whole. She had nobody. She had nobody. And it was all her fault.

For over a week, the tiny notebook she’d stored everyone's numbers in taunted her. Every night she sat at her small kitchen table flipping through its pages. She debated over whether or not to save them into her new phone or, heaven forbid, call one of them. Until, finally, it was too much.

She would throw the notebook, and her phone, into the depths of her closet to stop the temptation. She would drown out her thoughts with painfully loud music. She would throw herself onto her mattress on the floor and scream into a pillow in an attempt to get everything out. Then, when she was too exhausted to do anything else, she would drift into a restless, dreamless sleep.

The next night, she would do the same thing over again. And again. It was an awful, vicious cycle — much like her encores.

Tonight looked like it would be no different. Sitting again at her small, scruffy kitchen table, Eden bounced her knee and stared at the notebook. In her hands, she fumbled with the phone she’d bought with Frank’s money.

She debated, yet again, on whether or not to sabotage everything. Was giving everything up worth not feeling so damn lonely anymore? Was she so desperate to just talk to somebody she'd risk telling her family about everything she'd done before she was ready? Would she ever be ready? What if she wasn't? What then? Would she have to feel this way forever?

Eden stood abruptly, her chair legs scraping across the floor. She started pacing.

Her apartment was small. A single room shaped like an awkward U. One small room that wasn't even half the size of the barn. One small, damned room with no woods, no creek, no nothing out back to walk through. No fields, no pastures, no space to breathe in. Just a single, small, damned room.

Eden's hands shook as her headphones blared. There were no horses in Gotham. No animals at all. No hay, no stalls, no targets. No creek, no woods, no family. No friends. No nothing. No one. Just Eden.

Eden. All alone.

The thin walls around her got smaller and smaller until, finally, she could take it no more. Eden ripped off her headphones and threw them at her bed. She carelessly stuffed her wallet, keys, and a can of mace into her coat pockets as she hurried out the door. She left her phone on the table. Bringing it with her wasn’t a good idea right now. She couldn't trust herself; there were too many numbers she knew by heart.

She marched loudly down the dark streets, channeling her wild, palpable energy into something that could resemble rage. It was a long trek to the store but thankfully there weren’t many people out. Those who were took one look at Eden charging down the sidewalk – looking like a demon on a warpath – and quickly turned their heads. She was grateful.

The old man working the checkout didn’t make any small talk when she walked in – people here rarely made small talk – but he quirked a thick brow in her direction. He quirked it again when she only set down eggs, flour, sugar, vanilla extract, and yeast in front of him.

“Stress baking,” Eden told him.

He looked from her to the poorly lit streets beyond the store's barred windows. Then the old man nodded slowly like maybe she was crazy. Which was fair.

This was Gotham. It was nighttime. And she definitely felt crazy.

“Good luck,” he murmured, handing her her bags.

“Thank you.”

The walk back was harder. Worse, because her hands were full; no matter how angry she acted, she was still clearly vulnerable. That made everything feel darker and colder than it had before.

Even fewer people were out now, but Eden was easy prey. Some men took advantage and catcalled her as she passed. A few even followed her down a handful of streets, heckling and laughing while she reprimanded herself. 

Why couldn't she have just gone through with her usual routine? It was unsatisfying, yes, but safe. Why hadn’t she just gone to the store tomorrow? She could've broken the cycle then, when it was safe to go out. Not now. Not right now. What in the world made her think leaving her apartment right now – in Gotham City, at night, in this neighborhood – was not only a good idea, but her only sane one? Had she been possessed?

Eden's heart pounded fiercely in her chest. Her vision tunneled. The sidewalk stretched further and further into the night, never letting her closer to home no matter how fast she walked.

“Excuse me!” she chirped as she nearly ran into someone turning the corner. A pair of men looked down at her, surprised.

Eden ducked her head and scurried away, grimacing. Nobody in Gotham excuses themselves like that. Nobody in this neighborhood excuses themselves at all. It was a rookie mistake.

“Hey, wait a minute!” one of them called after her. “You ain’t from around here, are you?”

“You lost, pretty girl?” the other crooned, sounding closer. “Need some help finding your way?”

“No, I—” Eden snapped her mouth shut and moved faster.

Don’t talk back, she told herself firmly. Don’t engage with them. And whatever you do, do not be Louanne Smith’s daughter. Or Frank’s. Definitely don’t be Frank’s. You’ll only get yourself—

“Here, beautiful. Lemme help you with that.”

“Fuck off!” Eden shrieked, jerking away from the man and firmly planting her feet on the ground. The burly men shared an eager grin as they moved closer.

Well. At least she’d tried not being her parents' daughter.

“Boys,” she said slowly.“I appreciate the offer. Really. I'm downright flattered." Her voice dripped with an eerie mixture of danger and hospitality — something she’d picked up from her mother. "But I'm not interested. So why don't y'all skedaddle on home, hm?"

The bald one furrowed his brows.

The other scoffed. “It's too bad you feel that way, sweetheart.” He pulled out a knife. “Cuz we ain’t offering.”

His friend started to chuckle, leering at Eden like she was their next meal. She just stared at the knife, looking bored.

She stood as tall and proud as Frank had taught her but tried to treat the situation as her mother might — like the knife and their ogling and their heavy builds meant nothing to her. Acting as if her body was a far more potent weapon than anyone could fully comprehend. But that's all it was. An act. On the inside, her heart was racing faster than lightning. 

Where was her mace? Somewhere deep in the crevasses of her coat pockets? Had to be. Was it too late to start digging for it? Probably. Scrambling for it would just make her more vulnerable than she already was.

She cursed silently as she tossed her bags aside, careful not to disturb the eggs too much. Had she ever successfully wrestled a knife out of somebody’s grasp? Yes. Without getting stabbed first? Maybe, but it certainly wasn’t her strong suit. None of this was. That’s why she did do stuff like this. She only got herself killed trying. At least it was a knife this time and not a gun.

Her mind, already in a frenzy, jumped back to that fight with Chris Henriksen. Her shoes skidding against the gravel of the diner’s parking lot as he tried to swing her off him. His finger on the trigger while she tried to twist the gun out of his grip. The gun firing, him shrieking in pain. His hand free, aiming at her.

A ring of shots. Sudden, ripping pain.

Her, against the gravel. Him, standing over her. The gun, cocked. Him—

“Fuck off!” she screeched again, louder this time. “I’m warning you, shitbags! I’m not afraid of you or your stupid fucking knife!”

The one with the knife grabbed her by the shirt. He pressed the blade into her neck. “You shut that filthy mouth of yours, you dirty fucking bitch," he growled. "Or I'll give you something to be afraid of."

Eden stared him down. She glared at the other man, thinking. Could she win this fight? Two big, burly men against little ol' her? Maybe. Could she end it quickly though? Definitely. But it would cost her.

The man's eyes traveled downward. He licked his lips and Eden scowled.

Fuck it. She wasn't playing this game.

Eden lurched into action, grabbing for the knife — trying to bring it closer to her neck.

“Hey, you fucking psych—" Eden slammed her knee into him, cutting him off. He doubled over as she tried to steal the knife from his hold. The second man grabbed her like a vice, nearly crushing her arm as he yanked her away from his friend.

Eden kicked and screamed and thrashed against him. She smashed the back of her skull against his nose. He swore loudly as he dropped her, clutching his face. She grabbed his arm and yanked him by the shoulder, swinging him over her like a huge sack of potatoes. His back hit the sidewalk and he let out a loud, satisfying, "Oof!"

The first man grabbed Eden again and flung her into the wall beside them. She turned just in time to see the knife sailing down toward her. 

It wouldn’t kill her. She knew that. A single stab wound rarely killed a person. She'd been stabbed enough times to know that. It would take a few more swings.

Her death tonight would be long and painful.

She shut her eyes tight, wishing it could already be over. An encore was better than the alternative but... the pain was her least favorite part. 

She wondered if anyone on this street would bother calling the police. Hopefully, they wouldn’t. She didn't want to deal with that. She didn't know how to deal with that. Not without her family there to help her out. 

More importantly, would anyone try to steal her groceries? Hopefully, not. That would be the real tragedy of the night. Maybe her dead body would deter thieves. Or at least make them—

BANG!

Eden shrieked and the man in front of her howled.

She opened her eyes. The man staggered away from her, clutching his bloody, bleeding hand to his chest. Eden pressed herself further against the wall and slid down, trying to make herself as small as possible. His blood-drenched knife lay a few feet away. She grabbed it and held it tightly; the palm of her left hand wet and burning.

The man looked up – high, up toward the sky – and paled. Fear overtook his features and he turned, screaming bloody murder as he ran. His partner was already halfway down the street, swearing frantically.

A gun went off again, twice. Eden flinched at the sound.

Her attackers kissed the concrete as they fell. Once they hit the cold hard ground, they didn’t move. She didn’t move either. If they were already dead there was nothing she could do for them anyway. And even if they weren’t, she was more than happy to let them bleed out on the silent, empty street.

Eden inhaled deeply, trying to calm her shaken nerves, but couldn’t catch her breath. Her heart thundered in her chest as something wet dribbled down her shirt, down her fingertips. The world swayed and her body slunk over, falling completely against the building.

Was she still going to die? That didn’t seem fair.

Then again, the universe didn’t care what people thought was fair. It had its own rules; the number one being that it did what it wanted.

Eden stared at her groceries, unable to focus on anything else. She silently begged the universe to leave them alone. If she had to die right now, going to the store again was uncalled for. The universe would just be kicking her while she was down. If it could just give her this one, little, tiny sliver of kindness, she would be happy. She didn't need anything else. Just let her die and her groceries stay by her side. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Hey,” a sudden voice said at her side. “You okay?”

—

Chapter 4

[holyfuckthisfishcandrive]

Professors and Shortbread

First, Previous (Chap. 18), Ao3

Word count: 2186

Warnings: smoking, swearing, bones (talked about)

Roman woke up to someone violently shaking him.

"Wake up," Remus hissed. "Wake up, wake up, wake up, asshole!"

"What is it?" Roman grumbled, trying to shake Remus' hand off. "Fuck, Remus, it's like three am! We have school tomorrow, you fucking dick."

"Roman, I just realized something! Stop hitting me, this is important!"

Roman groaned and finally sat up.

"What is so important that you have to wake me up at three am on a school night?"

"It's more like four am, but that's beside the point," Remus waved off. "I just realized that Professor Logic is really fucking stupid."

Roman blinked at him exasperatedly.

"Okay," he said after a moment. "Mind if I go back to sleep now?"

"No, this is important! When I called him Mr Logic he complained, saying that he didn't go to school for years to get called Mister. If that's true that would mean that he's actually a Professor!" Remus whisper yelled.

Roman glanced from one side to the other than back to Remus.

"Yeah?"

"There can't be that many Professors in this city right? Especially not that many young, male, tall ones!"

Finally, it dawned on Roman what Remus was saying.

"So... we can try to find out his civilian identity," he mumbled and a wide grin spread over Remus' face.

"Exactly!"

---

Usually, Roman stuck around after rehearsal for a little while, chatted with the other members of the drama club or helped out with something while Remus goofed around with his friends in the club but on this Wednesday he and Remus grabbed their bags as soon as the bell rung and were the first ones out of the door.

They all but ran out all the way back home, almost getting hit by a taxi and earning a few looks and glares on the way.

The elevator ride was way too long in Roman's opinion.

They dropped their bags in their rooms,  Remus got the list he had created of all Professors whose addresses he could find in the phone book or on the internet and Roman put on his 'good kid' mask to ask Ma for a little money, pretending that it was just for him. She gave him a fifty-dollar bill. The money was for the subway and a quick lunch on the go and Roman was pretty sure that it was way more than they would need but better safe than sorry. He wasn't sure how much fast food would cost.

And just a few minutes after they had come home they were already on their way out again.

Most Professors lived downtown or at least near downtown so they first took a train downtown and went to a small Chinese place for lunch (which was a lot cheaper than Roman had expected).

Remus pulled out a map and they began marking down the addresses to see which route would be the best. Roman doubted they could check out all of them in one day but they would do their best  either way.

33 Professors was a lot for one city but Remus guessed it made sense since apparently here in downtown housing was cheap and the university was very close.

The first name on their list was Professor Jacobs.

They sauntered through the streets, using their map as a guide.

The house they ended up in front of was a trashy apartment building with at least five notes at the doorbell signs saying that the bells didn't work.

Roman pressed the Professors bell and turned to Remus.

"I'll do the talking, okay? Cause if we do find Logic I don't want you blurting out the actual we're here."

Remus rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine. Sorry, I'm honest."

He didn't really mean it, well aware of how many times he had gotten on trouble for blurting out the truth without thinking.

The door buzzed and the pushed it open.

"Who's there?" an old-sounding voice called and as he looked up through the stairs Remus spotted a man that looked like one of those fivehundred-year-old turtles trying to look down.

"We have the pizza you ordered," Roman called back.

"I didn't order any pizza!"

"Are you sure- Oh, my mistake, sir! I misread the name! I'm terribly sorry, have a nice day!" Roman did his typical Prince Charming smile even though the man couldn't see - It was simply part of the performance - and pushed Remus back out of the door. As soon as it fell shut the smile fell again.

"If that was Logic I'm eating Ma's hats," Remus said.

Roman snorted and Remus' grin widened at the real smile on his brother's face. They were too rare.

"Okay, who's next on the list?" Roman said and Remus crossed Professor Jacobs off.

The next door they rang at was opened by a young woman named Professor Jain who looked like the living embodiment of the muddle-headed professor cliche. Roman asked which apartment someone they had seen on the bell sign an L. Williams lived in, claiming they had found their purse and awkwardly thanked her when she didn't know. Remus glanced at the door across from Prof Jain's that clearly said Williams and tried not to laugh out loud.

They visited Professor Davis and Professor Brown, Professor Price and Morgan and Professor Underweather.

Too old, too fat, too much boob, too brown, too short.

It was around seven pm now and they had had seven flukes which somehow was both too much (because why couldn't they just fucking find that asshole? Remus lit a cigarette in frustration) and too little (because how could they only have stopped by seven people so far? It was already getting too late, goddammit).

"Let's do one more and then go home," Roman yawned.

"So whose last for today?" Remus asked glancing at the list Roman was currently holding.

"Some Professor Youngblood. About as weird a name as Underweather. Good news: it's just a block away."

They walked down the street and Remus watched the smoke from his cig curl and fade into the evening sky. A few times he tried to make rings but he still couldn't figure out how to. Maybe that was just a cartoon thing though he could have sworn to have seen it in live-action movies too. Were there YouTube tutorials on this kind of stuff?

"Here it is," Roman said and Remus blinked back to reality.

They stood in front of a simple townhouse. The most notable thing was the flower bouquet visible in one of the windows that looked like something Patton would make.

"Let's give it a shot," Remus said dropped his cig and extinguished it with his shoe.

They walked up the three steps to the front door and Roman rung the doorbell. It was only one with two names. Youngblood and Youngblood-Smith.

Probably a marriage, Remus thought with distaste and prepared himself for some old dick to open up.

The door swung open and to Remus' surprise, it was a teenager probably even younger than them who leaned against the doorframe and glared at them. His eyeliner was sharper and neater than Remus would be able to make it in a thousand years and his lips were painted in a nice shade of dark purple. Maybe Remus should ask him what brand it was. It looked awesome.

"What do you want?" the boy asked with a scowl.

Remus waited for Roman to answer with some kind of excuse or something.

Roman remained silent.

The boy's glare became darker with every passing moment.

At this rate, he probably wouldn't tell Remus what lipstick he was using.

Annoyed Remus glanced over at Roman to see what the fuck was keeping him from saying anything.

The look on Roman's face almost made him gag.

Roman stared at the boy in front of them like he was the most incredible thing in the world. Like he had put the stars in the sky or was made from pure moonlight or some stupid shit like that. He stared at him as he stared into the air when he had some stupid crush or played some lovestruck idiot. He stared like he was going to start waxing poetry at any second now.

Remus doubted he had even heard the boy speak at all.

So he would have to take the situation into his own hands.

"You don't happen to be Professor Youngblood, do you?" Remus asked.

The boy raised an eyebrow.

"Do I look like I'm a fucking Professor? I'm his son, dumbass."

"Is he home?"

"No, not at the moment. What do you want from him?"

The he/him pronouns were a good sign so far and Remus couldn't imagine this guy's dad to be a Doderer. The British accent, on the other hand, wasn't a good sign but Logic could probably cover his accent or something if he really wanted to.

Roman also seemed to finally be back on earth and not on cloud nine.

"We're students of his and we have a question about this homework he gave us," he lied before Remus could say anything.

"You are?" the boy raised his other eyebrow.

"Yes, we are. Do you happen to know if he'll be back soon?"

"Not sure," the boy shrugged. "If it's that important you can come in and wait though. I could also offer you some black tea."

"Really? Yeah, er that would be awe- I mean, that would be nice!" Roman agreed.

"What are your names?" the boy asked as he led them inside. He walked past a door that probably went down to a basement and a staircase up into a small living room.

"I'm Roman," Roman said with a small bow - Jesus fucking Christ was he going fucking insane over this guy?

"And I'm Remus. I'm the good-looking twin, obviously."

The Professor's son chuckled, hiding his mouth behind his hand. "Obviously."

"And what's your name?" Roman sounded like he was asking for a precious gift rather than a fucking name.

"It's Virgil. Do you take milk and sugar in your tea?"

"Milk in tea?" Roman asked confused.

"Yeah, sure!" Remus agreed. Maybe the milk would flake as it did in juice.

Virgil came back with two cups and poured them, giving Roman a little bit of milk anyway, saying that it would be way too strong otherwise and he couldn't allow Roman to drink it pure but somehow Roman didn't complain when Virgil stood over him to pour it in. God, he was being fucking gross and sappy.

Virgil picked up his own cup again and offered them some weird cookies he called shortbread even though they didn't taste like bread at all.

Remus dumped two in his tea - which sadly hadn't flaked - and mushed them around with his spoon.

For a few minutes, it was quiet until Remus got bored with the steady clicking of the clock hanging on the wall behind him.

"So, do you like bones?" he blurted out the first question that came to mind.

Roman looked at him with barely concealed horror but Virgil's dark expression lightened up slightly to both of the twins' surprise.

"I do. It's fun to find them and clean them. I have a few in a cupboard in my room I've found in subways and other places over the years."

"Really?" Remus lit up excitedly. "I collect them too! My favourite is a   near-complete snake skeleton with a rat skull stuck inside!"

"Wow! That sounds so cool!" Virgil didn't quite smile but he wasn't scowling anymore either. "I once found a dog jaw in a quite good conditiion. And I have this really nice possum skull."

"Ooh! Can I see them?" Remus asked bouncing slightly in his seat.

"Sure. Wait here, I'll go get them," Virgil stood up and left the room. Remus could hear him walk upstairs.

"He seems nice," he commented.

"He's beautiful," Roman sighed dreamily.

"Yuck."

"You get to rant about sexy people to me, I get to talk about crushes, that's the deal," Roman reminded him.

Remus rolled his eyes. "Fine, sure. But don't be too gross about it."

They heard Virgil come back downstairs.

He showed Remus the bones and gave him some tips when Remus asked how he had gotten them so clean.

"Oh, jeez it's almost eight. We should probably get going," Roman said after a while. "Maybe we'll get to talk to the Professor some other time."

Virgil seemed to study his face for a few moments.

"Yeah, maybe," he finally said and accompanied them to the door.

"Can I have your number?" Remus asked  holding out his phone. "Then I can send you some pics of my bones and stuff!"

"Sure," Virgil took it and typed something in. "Maybe we'll get the chance to talk again sometime."

The door closed behind them and Roman swirled around to face Remus.

"You got his number?!"

"Yeah, duh."

"That's not fair! Why did he give you his number and not me!"

"Well, I didn't drool over him," Remus shrugged.

Roman pouted the entire way to the train station.

Next

Taglist:

@patton-cake

[whatareyousearchingfordean]

Happiness Begins

Part 15

Chapter Summary: The reader confides in a friend and gets a taste of Valentine’s Day with Jensen

Word Count: 3.6K+

Warnings: Language, suggestive comments

Author’s Note: I don't really have much to say here except thank you so much for your continued support. I love reading your reactions and thoughts, it gets me excited to finish writing. Words can't express my gratitude, xo Alex

Catch up with the series masterlist and check out Alexandra’s Library for more works by yours truly!

People were rushing down the street, umbrellas in hand or poncho’s over their coats. The rain was pouring in downtown Manhattan. As she watched them rush to wherever it was they had to be, she was thankful that her company had sent a car for her. It was the little things like no longer needing to ride the subway when in New York that she was still trying to get used to. As her company grew, they had been able to afford more and more of these little assets. Which today meant she didn’t have to rush to her photoshoot in the cold rain. It was a good reminder to count her many blessings in life. 

The studio was tucked on the corner, only a simple etching on the window to indicate what lay inside. Her driver rushed out of the car and helped her from the backseat, having somehow procured an umbrella without her noticing in his walk around the hood. He walked her to the door and promised to see her later that afternoon. 

“Ah, Miss Padalecki! Good to see you again.” The receptionist greeted her as she entered the industrially decorated studio. 

“You as well, Penny.” She nodded as Penny came around the front desk to guide her upstairs. The quiet bubble of the elevator burst into the chaos that was the set. There were people running around setting up computers and lighting. There were others setting up the lush greenery for the backdrop and doing other things she couldn’t quite make out.

“Food table is back there with various snacks and what not. In your dressing room is a mini fridge with water and juices. If you need anything else, just ask Kelsey, she is your assistant for today.” Penny indicated a young brunette over by the food. “Well, I’ll let you get to it.” 

Y/n muttered a thank you before disappearing into the large dressing room. There were racks of clothing hung about and lighted vanities on the far wall. She noticed the refrigerator that Penny had told her about. It was all a little overwhelming. This was her first time modeling for her line, hell it was her first time on a photoshoot set. All of the other ones she had just received the final shots to approve with her marketing team. 

“Y/n!” The squeal of her name had her spinning around, her eyes meeting a heavily pregnant Ashley.

“Oh, my! Look at you! How are you feeling?” She asked as she embraced the woman. 

“Like a whale. Everything is swollen and that pregnancy glow is only obvious to other people. I want to die.” Ashley placed her arm around Y/n’s shoulder and guided her to the couch. 

“Well, I think you look as amazing as ever. I know this will be a lot so I thank you for being here.” 

Ashley rolled her eyes before grinning at her. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Are you excited?”

“I’m nervous, being in front of a real camera is nerve wracking. I’m just glad that I get to have a pro here next to me.” Y/n crossed her legs and folded her hands in her lap as she answered honestly. She had done small ‘shoots’ for her instagram, but nothing on this level. Here she had an assistant for christ’s sake. Really, she was struggling to wrap her head around it.

“You’ll kill it, trust me.”

“I hope so.”

****

Her morning started out with wardrobe. They went through a few outfits that had been picked out and made sure everything fit properly. The way the clothes were hugging her curves had her wishing she took everything to a tailor. It would be something she would look into later. Then they were set down for hair and makeup. That was a whole other experience in of itself. She was definitely not used to being on the other side of a makeup brush in this context. In the end, it was a good time, getting pampered for once. She had someone teasing her hair when she got a text. 

I forgot how quiet it was around here before you showed up.

Jensen’s message had her smiling to herself. He was such a cornball sometimes. It was surprising to her at first, being one of those things that she didn’t expect from him. 

I haven’t even been gone 24 hours and you’re already missing me?

I miss you when I go home at night…

A small chuckle fell from her lips at his reply. Butterflies were fluttering in her chest at the simplest sentence. It was hard to deny to herself how hard she had fallen for him. And they had only been ‘seeing’ each other for about a month. The whole thing was exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. So much more than just her emotions were invested in this one.

“Is everything okay over there?” Ashley’s voice from the chair next to her snapped her from her thoughts. 

“Hmmm, yeah.” She had little luck controlling the stupid smile on her face and it did not go unnoticed by Ashley. 

“Alright,” She adjusted herself in her own chair so her whole body was turned towards Y/n. “Spill.” 

“Spill what?” Y/n tried to play it off, but the blood rushing to her cheeks was betraying her. 

“About what or who has you grinning like an idiot over there.” Ashley’s gaze flickered to her phone then back to Y/n, her eyebrows raised as she waited for an answer. Y/n’s gaze flitted to the women still messing with her hair and she bit her lip. Ashley followed her gaze and politely asked the women to leave them for a moment. 

Y/n took a deep breath, she figured she could trust her secret with Ashley. She knew better than anyone about keeping as much of a private life as you can. Besides, it wasn’t like she would ever have a conversation with her brother. “I’ve been seeing this guy.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, and it’s been going well. He treats me great, he’s funny and he’s the biggest cheese ball I’ve ever met.” She explained, her grin growing even wider than it already was. Relief washed over her at being able to express to someone how truly happy she has been. 

“I sense a ‘but’ coming.” A look of concern washed of Ashley’s features. 

“I just… I can’t really talk to anybody about it, at least not yet. It’s still too new, we are still figuring each other out.” Y/n paused, her lips pursing as she thought about how to word this next part. “If anyone knew, it could be chaostrophic for both of us. There are people I don’t want to hurt if I don’t have to, ya know? If we don’t make it, I don’t want it to affect anyone but us.”

“It can’t be that bad?” She could see the gears turning in Ashley’s mind. 

“I don’t know how people are going to react, and if it’s bad, it doesn’t just affect me. It affects him too.” Ashley was silent as she mulled over her words. There really wasn’t anything else she could say to get Ashley to understand where she was without coming right out and telling her. And to be honest, right now, she could use a third party input. “I… I’ve been seeing Jensen.” Y/n squinted as she uttered her secret, bracing herself for Ashley’s reaction. 

“Ackles?” Y/n nodded, still timid. “Oh, well now I understand.”

“Are we being completely dumb?” Y/n was practically begging for her opinion at this point. 

“No, not completely. It’s obvious how happy you are, and if it’s going that well, then really, you owe it to yourself to be happy.” There was no judgement coming from her friend, which she was thankful for. Ashley’s words made her feel a little better about the path they were down right now. They just needed a little more time. 

“Thank you, really.” 

“No problem, now let’s go get some shots that’ll have him drooling.” She stood carefully, cradling her bump. Y/n laughed at her sudden change in demeanor. There was now way she would ever be able to repay Ashley for her help today, because to even quantify it would be impossible. 

“That’s actually a good idea.” Y/n chewed on the inside of her cheek as the idea brewed inside her head. She had wanted to share a few behind the scenes on her instagram already, so why not take a few extra to send to Jensen. 

“Okay, I don’t want to know. I’m just gonna go… somewhere else.” Ashley pointed over her shoulder and out the door before turning and heading out. 

Y/n did a few behind the scenes videos and posted them to her stories before heading over to the large mirror. Positioning herself in the light, Y/n draped the robe low on her shoulders and stuck her left leg out of the opening. Just enough skin was showing for Jensen to enjoy, but not enough to make it a full nude photo. She snapped a few photos before picking the best one to send to Jensen, a devilish smile on her lips.

****

Fake car lights continued to pass by behind the boy’s heads even after the director called cut. They were currently adjusting for sound before finishing the boy melodrama scene that would end the episode they were currently filming. Trish had her head stuck into the passenger window as she dabbed Jared’s face for shine. Jensen chuckled to himself as he thought about just how bad Jared tended to sweat, even when it was below freezing outside. 

The vibrating of his phone in his pocket stole his attention. He pulled it out and unlocked the screen without reading the notification. The picture filled most of his screen, throwing him off guard. A rough cough forced itself from his throat as his head nearly hit the roof of the impala. Jensen’s fingers flustered to close his messages when both Trish and Jared turned their heads towards him. 

“Dude, are you good over there?” Jared’s eyes were narrowed as he questioned him.

“Uh, peachy. I’ll be right back, I’ve gotta hit the head real quick.” Jensen leapt from the car, his phone secure in his fist as he rushed to the nearest bathroom. He was dialing her number before the door closed behind him. Y/n answered on the second ring. 

“Hey you.” Her voice was even, without a care in the world.

“That’s all you have to say? ‘Hey you’?” Jensen huffed, running a hand down his face.

“Okay, how about ‘I miss you too’?” She tried and Jensen could almost see the grin on her face. He shuffled around in the bathroom.

“That’s a little better.” Jensen was silent for a moment as he thought. “You know your brother was right next to me right?” 

“What? Oh god please tell me he did not see that. That’s probably the worst way he could find out about us.” The facade had dropped and Jensen could hear the sudden panic in her voice. 

“No, you’re good.”

“Well Jesus, Jensen, start with that next time.” She whined and Jensen smiled to himself. He had successfully gotten her back. 

“Consider it payback for the situation now in my pants that I can’t take care of till tonight.” Jensen absentmindedly adjusted himself in his jeans as he chastised her.

“If only there was someone there who could help you with that.” She purred, her voice dropping. Jensen cursed himself, she was so not helping him right now, but he suspected that was her angle. 

“Call you tonight?” He offered. She hummed in agreement. “Okay well I need to get back out there or they’ll think I’m pooping. And you need to get back to your shoot. Bye Lucifer.” 

Y/n snorted a laugh, her goodbye coming out between small laughs. “Bye Winchester.”

****

They were officially in the dead of winter. February always brought an interesting twist into the winter weather, this year bringing more snow to the great city of Vancouver than December and January combined. Y/n had officially had her fix. It was pretty to see every now and again, but for the life of her she couldn’t understand how people choose to live in these places. The secret was the natives didn’t know either.

The set was blanketed with the gross kind of snow today too. It was heavy and wet and only there to piss off people heading out for a long Valentine’s weekend. She envied them though, at least they were able to spend time with their significant other. Today, she was stuck at work until late. Stupid night shoots.

Her chin was tucked into her scarf as she headed for the makeup trailer. The heat inside enveloped her body as she entered, causing her to shiver in the sudden temperature change. Trish turned on her when she heard the door open. 

“Good morning grumpy.” Trish teased as she took in the frown on the bundled woman’s face.

Y/n frowned even more as she worked off her coat. “Only a few more weeks of this and then I can go home to some goddamn sunshine.” 

“That’s the spirit.” A small laugh accompanied Trish’s words before her face split into an even wider grin. “You got something this morning.” Trish tilted her head towards Y/n’s station. She had been so preoccupied that she hadn’t even noticed the large bouquet sitting in front of the mirror. Only it wasn’t your typical Valentine’s arrangement. It was a tiered vase filled with an array of succulents mixed with a little pink and white flowers that she didn’t know the name of. There was a tag hanging from the front that read ‘life would succ without you’. She reached for the card as she finished pulling off her hat and scarf and flipped it over. It had one last handwritten note followed by a drawn tiny heart, ‘To making it count’. 

“So, who is sending you flowers?” The look on Trish’s face told Y/n that she thought she was suddenly going to be in on some big secret. Jensen was smart though, making the card inconspicuous enough that she could play it off, while still throwing in a her favorite line from her favorite movie that she had forced him to watch with her. She had gone into one long monologue that night on why she loved that movie so much without meaning to. When she finished she was sure he was going to think she was bat shit crazy, but he was only grinning at her. Jensen told her how much he enjoyed listening to her talk about what she was passionate about. It was not something someone had ever told her before, and she was sure in that moment, no man would ever live up to Jensen Ackles.

“Uh, it’s from Ashley Graham. It’s a little joke from our photo shoot a few weeks ago.” She handed Trish the card and tried to keep her face as neutral as possible as she read it over.

“Oh, that’s really nice.” Trish handed her back the card and Y/n slipped it into her back pocket. “I thought maybe you had a secret boy toy sending you flowers.” 

“What?” Y/n nearly dropped her camera that she had begun to unpack. “Why would you think that?” 

Trish shrugged, doing little to hide the smirk on her face. “No reason. Well, except for the fact that you’ve been all smiley and happy the past few weeks, so I thought... you know…” 

“Yeah, I mean things have been really good with the business and dare I say it, spending time with my brother. I’m just happy.” Y/n hoped that her voice remained even as she tried to explain away her behavior. She hadn’t realized that everyone could see how down she was at the end of the year. And here she thought she had been keeping it together so well. 

“Okay…” Trish drew out the word and Y/n wasn’t sure she had her convinced. The door to the trailer popped open as Trish continued. “Are you sure you didn’t get laid?”

“Trish!” Jared and Jensen paused in the doorway, unsure of what they had just walked into. Trish failed in her attempts to hide her laughter as she went back to rifling through the makeup at her station. 

“I seriously do not even want to know.” Jared grimaced. He plopped down in his seat at Trish’s station. Jensen narrowed his eyes as Y/n turned, her face red, and went back to setting up her camera. “What’s with the camera, smalls?”

“Hmm? Oh, it’s for my channel. Your fans are greedy little buggers and they want to see what a day in my life on set is like. I got permission from the studio, I just can’t post the video until after this episode airs. Which is fine because it’ll probably take me that long to edit it anyway.” She explained as she hit the record button. Her doing Jensen’s makeup would make for a good montage later. Jensen sat down behind her, this time his one eyebrow raised. 

“Hey now, they are not greedy, they are passionate.” He defended the fanbase that they had come to know and love. 

“I meant no disrespect. I am one of those passionate fans, I just happen to have an exclusive in and I am choosing to share it with the rest of the family.” Y/n paused and bit her lip. “Before they hunt me down and kill me for it.” 

“Y/n, don’t you think that’s dramatic?” Jared was now trying not to laugh from his seat. 

“No, I don’t. It’s very easy to find basic public information on the internet, okay? Two seconds on the Travis County website and they can find all three of our addresses.” Mostly, she was kidding, but she wasn’t wrong. Some people didn’t have boundaries, and while she knew that the majority of the fans have much better things to do, she recognized that every tree had a few bad apples. 

“Alright, no more internet for you.” Jared teased, the rest of the group in the trailer joining in the laughter. 

“Laugh it up, but don’t come crying to me when they show up on your doorstep.” She sang as she began her work. Jared chose to ignore her, instead changing the subject and striking up conversation with Trish. 

Trish and Y/n had a little more work to do today than usual, needing to make up Jared and Jensen’s faces for a post fight scene. It meant some fun bruises and a couple of well placed cuts. The crew was bound to be in the holiday spirit today, which would make for some good footage for her video too. She only hoped it would help the day go by quicker. It sucked that it was Valentine’s Day and she couldn’t spend it with Jensen. Sure it was a stupid Hallmark holiday, but that was all part of it’s charm. Being stupid and gooey and love sick with your significant other. But she had to spend the whole day sitting in an uncomfortable chair, waiting for the director to call cut so she could fix Jensen’s makeup every now and then. It was moments like these that she wished that they could just be a normal couple. 

“Meet you in wardrobe?” Jared smacked Jensen’s shoulder a little too hard, jumbling the man and causing Y/n to mess up the line she was making. 

“Jared, he’s not meeting you anywhere if you keep messing up my work.” Y/n hissed, spinning around to grab a tissue. 

“Sorry, smalls.” He flashed his sister a sheepish smile as he followed Trish out of the trailer. Y/n dabbed the tissue into a little bit of water and wiped away the mistake on Jensen’s cheek. 

“So,” Y/n jumped as Jensen’s fingers met the inside of her thigh. “You’re… you’re getting laid?” He grinned up at her as his fingers danced further up her thigh. 

“Mmm.” Y/n hummed in response, fighting the grin that threatened to split across her face.

“Anyone I should be worried about?” 

“Um, probably. According to Trish I’ve been super smiley lately.” She grinned as she finally met his stare. 

“Huh… This guy must really know what he’s doing then.” His fingers danced up and down her leg some more as he waited for her answer. 

“God, yes.” Y/n moaned, rolling her eyes back in her head for dramatic effect. She made quick work of fixing Jared’s mistake, patting Jensen’s cheek lightly when she finished. 

“All done?” He asked.

“Yes sir.” Y/n stepped back as he stood up. He towered over her, pushing her back until her butt hit the counter. His hands came up to cup her jaw, his one thumb tugging her lower lip out. 

“Did you like the flowers?” He asked, his voice low.

“I love them, especially since they will last longer than three days.” She giggled. He had chosen well, giving her something that she could keep for a while, so long as she remembered to water them. “Oh, and I got something for you.” Y/n chirped, spinning around to search through her bag. It didn’t take long for her to find what she was looking for and she was back facing Jensen. She held up the large bag in her hand, dangling it in front of his face.

“Holy crap, that has to be the biggest bag I’ve ever seen! Where do you even find one this size?” Jensen chuckled, taking the monstrous bag of gummy bears from her. 

“I have my ways.” She assured him, not willing to disclose her secret. Jensen leaned into her, ghosting his lips across hers before kissing her slowly. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” 

“Happy Valentine’s, Jay.”

Part 16

Forevers: @spn-impala​​ @22sarah08​​ @turtlepad​​ @callmekda​​ @chaldei​​ @hobby27​​ @casualfestivaltrashpainter​ @cowboysnwinchesters​​ @tranquility-or-chaos​​ @pikabootoyouchu​​ @dawnie1988​​ @grease222​​ ​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​​ @polina-93​​ @clarinette07​​ @moonlight-babeh​​ @suckerforfanfic​​ @witandnargles​​ @sleepylunarwolf​ @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan​ @geeksareunique​ @akshi8278​

Et Cetera: @jbbarnesgirl​ @hillface89​ @arses21434​ @thevelvetseries​ @sslater34​ @mrsirishboru​ @smoothdogsgirl​ @spnfamily-j2​ @encounterthepast​ @facadeformyrealblog  @supernatural-bellawinchester​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​​ @rebeccathefangirl​ @squirrelnotsam​ @heartinmyhead1​ @1d-killed-me​ @samsgirl93​ @deans-baby-momma​ @deanmonandnegansbitch​ @woodworthti666​ @supraveng​ @onethirstyunicorn​ @heartsaved​ @know2grow​ @littlewhiterose​ @surprisinglysarah​ @stoneyggirl​ @carryon-doctor-lock​ @thebookisbtr​ @youaremyfiveever​ @kalesrebellion​ @lilulo-12​ @winchester-fantasies​ 

[nightkitchentarot]

The Secret Of The Quiet Mind

FROM THE ATLANTIC -- JUNE 17, 2021

I Know the Secret to the Quiet Mind. I Wish I’d Never Learned It.

Of all the injuries we suffered, mine is the worst. My brain injury has shaken my confidence in my own personality, my own existence.

By Hana Schank

The worst things can happen on the most beautiful days. My family’s worst day was a perfect one in the summer of 2019. We picked my daughter up from camp and talked about where to go for lunch: the diner or the burger place. I don’t remember which we chose. What I do remember: being woken up, again and again, by doctors who insist on asking me the same questions—my name, where I am, what month it is—and telling me the same story, a story that I am sure is wrong.

“You were in a car accident,” they say. But this cannot be. We’re having lunch and then going on a hike. I had promised the think tank where I work that I’d call in to a 4 p.m. meeting.

“You are in Dartmouth-Hitchcock Hospital in New Hampshire.” Another ludicrous statement. I started the day in Vermont. Surely if I had crossed the river to New Hampshire I would know it.

“What’s your name?” they ask me, and I tell them and tell them and tell them.

“Where are you?” “New Hampshire,” I say, except for one time when I say “Vermont.” “New Hampshire,” they correct, and I want to say, “Really, we are so close to the border here, can’t you just give it to me this once?”

“You were in a car accident,” they tell me again. “Your husband broke his leg and your son broke his collarbone.” These do not seem like horrible injuries, so I am waiting for the worse news, the news that my daughter is dead. She is the youngest and the smallest. She was born with albinism, and her existence has always felt improbable, and so now it must be over.

But—thank God—it’s not. “Your daughter has fractures in her spine and damage to her lower intestine from the seat belt.” They tell me that my lower intestine was also injured, and that I’ve had surgery. I lift up my hospital gown and am surprised to see an angry red line and industrial-size staples. I remember an article I’d read about seat belts not being designed for women, and I ask the doctor if he sees more women with these injuries than men. I have yet to take in the reality of what has happened to me, to my family. Instead I am thinking about writing an exposé about the sexist seat-belt industry.

They wake me up and ask me where I am and what my name is. A doctor asks me who the president is. “I don’t want to say,” I reply. He smiles. I am at Dartmouth for three days before I am transferred to the University of Vermont, where my husband and children are. The days pass like minutes, a loop of sleep interrupted by people asking me questions and telling me terrible things.

One of the things I am told is that I have a brain bleed and a traumatic brain injury. I wonder if this is why I am slurring my words, but am told that the slurring is from the anti-seizure medication I am on. This sounds good. The slurring will stop. A doctor tells me I “got my bell rung.” This is a bad analogy. Bell clappers are meant to slam against the side of the bell. The brain is not meant to slam against the side of the skull.

Of all the injuries my family is suffering from, mine is the worst. This is my totally biased opinion. My husband’s leg will take almost a year to heal. My daughter would have died if not for the surgery to repair her flayed abdomen. She is 10, and one of her friends tells her that because of the scar she will never be able to wear a bikini. She spends many days attempting to suss out whether she cares. She doesn’t yet know if she is the bikini-wearing type.

My 13-year-old son is the only one who remembers the accident. He remembers a woman in a ponytail calling 911, the smell of gasoline and burnt metal. He remembers his father yelling “Jesus Christ.” He will have to live with the memory of his sister looking at my body and asking, “Is Mama dead?”

These are terrible injuries, and yet, the other members of my family don’t walk around thinking, Am I still me? My brain injury has shaken my confidence in my own personality, my own existence. This is the worst injury.

When we leave the hospital and move into a hotel, I frequently get lost in the hallway. The first time I roll into occupational therapy with my walker, I am grateful for the obvious signage pointing me toward the check-in desk. It’s almost as though the clinic is expecting people with brain damage.

My therapist is a smiling, 40-something woman with dirty-blond hair. She reminds me of me before the accident. She asks if I am having any thinking problems or memory problems. I tell her about an incident with Parmesan cheese.

“Can you get the Parmesan?” my husband asked.

I opened the fridge and looked. I looked and looked.

“I can’t find it,” I said with a shrug.

My son opened the fridge and pulled out a block of Parmesan.

It hadn’t occurred to me that this was a brain issue. Sometimes you just can’t find the Parmesan. Right?

A test confirms that I have trouble scanning a visual field for objects. My brain is struggling to recognize what I see, but without a pre-accident baseline to judge from, there is no way to know how much worse I am at it now. Have I always been bad at finding things? Maybe? There are limits to how well an injured brain can scrutinize an injured brain.

I have other visual-processing issues. At first I can’t watch television because my brain is unable to merge the images from my two eyes, so I see doubles of everything—two Phoebes, two Chandlers. I can watch with one eye closed, but I’m distracted, seething at my brain for failing to do such a simple task.

In one session, the therapist tells me we are going to play a game. She pulls out a deck of cards and asks me to turn cards over while saying the number or the color or the suit. The game is so difficult, I want to physically remove my brain from my skull and hurl it against a wall. I will never play this game again as long as I live.

Eventually I graduate from occupational therapy. But occupational therapy isn’t about getting people back on their feet so they can return to think tanks. It is about making sure they can run errands without getting lost. I am someone who has always taken pride in my intelligence, and now I am not so smart. I am just a functional human being, according to occupational therapy.

When we go out in public as a family, we are a walking nightmare. “Wow,” a stranger says, marveling at the device that is bolted into my husband’s femur. And then my son appears with his arm in a sling, my daughter limps over in her back brace. An injured couple is potentially funny. There is nothing funny about an injured family. “What happened to you guys?”

When we tell the story, we explain that we were in no way at fault, which feels important. We wore our seat belts and drove the speed limit and the weather wasn’t bad and yet this happened to us. Someone was driving a pickup truck in the opposite direction. He was late to a job interview or to get his kid, or maybe he was just antsy. In front of him was a motorcycle slowing him down. Maybe he’d been behind that motorcycle for miles. Maybe he liked to take risks. He pulled into our lane and passed the motorcycle while going up a hill at 70 miles per hour. I don’t know who makes this kind of decision. Did he think, I can’t believe I did something this stupid? Did he also yell “Jesus Christ”?

Because we are not at fault, accident feels like the wrong word. Not just wrong, but unfair. My husband starts calling it the incident, but an incident is a small thing, not something that scars you for life. The smashing? The destruction? Newbury, after the town where it occurred? The only thing that comes close is the devastation.

The devastated me is different. My brain used to race, making lists and plans, skipping from an article I was researching to whether my kids were in appropriate after-school programs to what vacation we should take in February. Now it does none of that. There are no plans to make.

A few days after regaining consciousness, I check my Twitter feed. I have always been a news junkie. But I have missed nothing. The news seems to be not just familiar but actually repeating itself. Something bonkers happened in the White House. People are dying in a country I’ve never been to. A company did something possibly illegal. There was a house fire in the Bronx. Are these the things I used to care about?

The most interesting piece of news is the one I am experiencing. In the hospital we are waiting to make sure my daughter can poop through her reconstructed colon. This article isn’t in The New York Times.

When we return to New York I take the subway to doctor appointments. I don’t take out my phone, I just sit. My brain is quiet, which I find suspicious, but also soothing. Before the accident I went to yoga retreats and tried meditation. I said things like “I just need to unplug.” Apparently what I needed was to get hit by a truck. Perhaps I have discovered the secret to a peaceful mind, and it is traumatic brain injury. I fantasize about opening an expensive spa where busy people pay me money to whack them on the head with a baseball bat.

The day of the accident I had been working on a project to improve how homeless people are placed into shelters. I say out loud, “I don’t care about homeless people” to see how it feels. It doesn’t ring true; I do care about homeless people. I just don’t feel like working. I have always been a regular exerciser. Now I can’t imagine wanting to do a burpee, let alone 10 of them. I always ate healthy things. But did you know that you can eat whole grains and still get hit by a truck?

I have strange cravings. I think about apple cider all the time. Apple cider is not a normal part of my diet. I have a very detailed dream about eating chocolate cake. I eat the cake. That’s the entire dream. I find myself foraging in the fridge for flavors that don’t exist.

I don’t know which symptoms are permanent and which are temporary. At first, the doctors say that after a year or two I’m likely to have a full return to my normal brain function. Or not. They don’t really know about the brain. It might be more like 95 percent. If I broke my elbow and someone told me I’d get 95 percent of my elbow function back, I’d be satisfied. But 95 percent of my brain function sounds terrifying. Which pieces will be missing?

Some days I feel like myself. Other days all I can think about is the old life that is gone. Then, halfway through my recuperation, the coronavirus comes. The stores close, the schools close, the traffic on the avenue dwindles to a sporadic whoosh. And my busy friends who were always texting me about their crazy schedules are suddenly as quiet as I am. Together we wait for normal to return. The difference is that they know what normal looks like.

In July it will be two years since the accident. The world is now coming back to life, my days slowly filling up with work and chores and exercise. Soon I will go back to in-person meetings and travel, and I wonder: Will I be up to the challenge? Or will I get lost in office buildings and airports?

For now, in this liminal space between the old life and the new one, I often catch myself staring at my children. They have never been more beautiful. I chalk this up to the magic of braces––their teeth are finally coming into alignment––but I know this is ridiculous. They are beautiful because they are alive. I look at them, and I sit with the silence. Today, it is mine. Tomorrow, it may not be.

[dreadnought-dear-captain]

You Asked, I Told

(Note, if this post shows up twice or massively delayed or just looks weird, it’s because it was flagged for adult content [??!] because I had a picture of Willem Dafoe’s face in a gif. I am not even kidding. Do with that information what you will. I’ve removed it and I still don’t know if/when this can be publicly viewed, I’m kind of lolling. So if you see a blocked out photo that looks like porn in your post, I swear it’s just a gif from The Lighthouse!)

Hello, amazing people. This weekend, I’m putting the final touches on my last draft of Baghdad Waltz Chapter 39, which will then go to the beta for one more round of edits. I imagine I will have the chapter posted in 1-3 weeks, which is close to record speed for me, especially since it’s around 30k words. I’m going to be talking about my writing process (at unfortunate length) for one of the asks, for those who are interested. 

Please forgive me. I’m feeling quite verbose and a little squirrely. I blame living alone during lockdown. 

It’s also Memorial Day weekend in the States, which is when we are meant to honor those who gave their lives in military service to this country. This is often confused with Veterans Day (November 11), which is honoring anyone who has served in the military and is no longer serving. This gets further confused with Armed Forces Day (rotating date, May) which is to honor those currently serving in the military. I know, super confusing. 

There’s a wide range of opinions on how Memorial Day should be commemorated, which often involves gathering with friends and family for a barbecue or some other social activity. It’s the first major holiday after a huge holiday drought throughout the late winter and spring, which often makes people look forward to it immensely. Some people feel it’s inappropriate to celebrate Memorial Day with barbecues and fond social gatherings because it’s dishonoring the memories of those who can’t be here, people don’t take time to remember those who have died, people have no idea what the day is actually for, etc. Others, even some very vocal veterans, maintain that people died so that we could be here to celebrate in freedom, so why not relish this life we have? Many offer the caveat that it’s appropriate to at least acknowledge the purpose of the day, even if it’s just in a few minutes of quiet reflection. 

Anyway, I offer this as a little food for thought for this upcoming long weekend. 

(And in case you missed it, I posted a BW Timeline for your reference.) 

Contains spoilers through Chapter 38.

[Takes deep breath]

I’m so glad that you are enjoying the read and that you’re finding it inspiring for your own work. I think my dedication to research for BW is threefold. 1) As this story evolved, I decided that I wanted to create the most realistic depictions of military, civilian, emotional, and physical life that I reasonably could. I will fully admit to lapses in this, deliberate and unintentional, because sometimes the plot just needs to go and I can’t wait around for a year-long medical discharge process for my character. 2) I’m in an academically stringent occupation, and because research is such a prominent part of my work life, it’s bled to my hobby. (IS THIS EVEN A HOBBY ANYMORE?) And 3) I get very easily and passionately obsessed with things and delight in getting “into the weeds” with a subject. Almost every research divergence usually takes me off track for at least an hour. And you will never catch me without an MTA subway map open in at least one tab.

But that wasn’t even your question! Sorry. Are you beginning to get a sense of why BW takes me so long to write?? I cannot keep my shit on track. As for the bibliography, YES! I plan to include that in my author’s note at the end. I wish I had kept better track of all of my works consulted over the past three years, but I will definitely discuss the importance of some of the main ones. I’m so thrilled that you are interested, and I’m excited to share them!

Thank you. This is such a kind thing to say, and I’m humbled and delighted to hear it, especially because our fandom is so blessed with some AMAZING fics. And asks certainly don’t have to be questions! I appreciate them all (except the flaming bag of dog shit ones, which I haven’t had in a while, hooray).

(Re: Chapter 37) Good question! I imagine Claire would want to keep the 1:1 conversation somewhat limited, as she is treating the couple as a patient rather than them as individuals. If anything, she might have somewhat superficially checked in to see if he was okay rather than dive into anything regarding the relationship with Bucky not around. That could be seen as a betrayal of trust to Bucky and could be interpreted as favoritism, which Steve craves and which Bucky is probably terrified about.

I am always pleased when people re-read and enjoy it or get new things out of it, even if it’s sometimes a re-read is a function of my slow-ass writing. I really want a story with good re-read value.

You make an excellent point about Bucky’s relationships. His friendship with Jack also had no real closure. Sometimes this is a factor of circumstance and sometimes it’s because of his avoidance, like a self-fulfilling prophesy almost. He’s learned that people betray you, either by hurting you or dying, so he creates conditions sometimes (often unwittingly) for things to go sour and end poorly, or he will simply make himself disappear so that he’s not hurt and doesn’t have to wait to see if he will be abandoned or betrayed. He’s not a guy who is good with goodbyes.

As for Thor, I totally see how it would read that way. I think Thor started out fishing for longer-term possibilities in a romantic relationship but then realized Bucky is really not a guy who is comfortable settling (which, as we can see, is true). As for why it seems more serious, one thing is that Thor still wanted Bucky in his life as a friend, possibly one with benefits. They have a lot in common, and it’s hard for veterans - and, more specifically, special operators - to find people in their lives they can relate to with these very intense life experiences. I wanted this to be a real relationship, but maybe not necessarily one that was bound to become a RELATIONSHIP. I think Bucky was very intriguing and attractive to him, and he very well may have struggled with his own vacillation between whether to take it seriously or whether to remain friends+. This can lead to mixed messages.

And we also have to remember Bucky’s notoriously unreliable narration, where he will see what he wants to see. Our perspective comes from him. We see the details he zooms in on, miss the one he ignores, view the relationship through the lens of his own contentious desire for a real relationship, even as he consistently demonstrates the lack of capacity and his fear about getting serious. I imagine Bucky has having an extremely poor ability to distinguish friendship from romance, and why wouldn’t he, given the most recent bit of history we have learned about him with Jack? He’s had a series of friendships become sexualized, and I think this affects his capacity to be discerning. Bucky’s radar for relating, whether friendships, romance, or potentially dangerous sexual situations, is terribly mis-calibrated. How confusing for him and for the people in his life. Of course, everyone is free to interpret the dynamics of any relationship however they choose. These are just some of my thoughts.

I really appreciate observations from the re-read! Thank you!

I watched the video and you are right! This is definitely a Bucky song. Bucky’s sense of self is by turns profoundly distorted and lacking in grounding, especially now that he’s not in the military. He’s been in a low key existential crisis since he was a kid and has turned to drinking and sex and war to fill this horrible void, and although I can’t speak for what the artists here intended, I certainly sensed those elements here for sure. (Also, what an interesting choice for a music video…)

Thank you for sharing! I’ll add it to the unofficial BW playlist in the author’s note, which consists of various songs people have associated with BW and shared with me.

Good question! I started off this story picturing the actors who represent the characters in the MCU, because I figured we’d be picturing that when we read the fic anyway (though my beta told me she doesn’t see them as the actors, more like artists’ renderings of the characters, which I find interesting). So when describing their physicality, I tend to refer back to the MCU, since this is technically an MCU AU. But the longer I go with the story, the murkier the resemblance feels to me, especially when I think about Bucky, IDK why. I have also been considering doing something more with BW after I finish it (i.e., converting it into a proper not-bajillion-word novel, sunk cost and whatnot), in which case I would definitely change the characters’ appearance, names, cut MCU Easter eggs, etc. So when I try to think of who these people might be in future iterations of the story, things get even more blurred in my mind when I imagine them.

I wonder how other people see them??

So, with regards to PTSD clinical teams, there is some variation across VAs in the system. Some focus more on military-related trauma, whether it’s war, military sexual trauma, accidents, etc. as a way of concentrating their services and managing supply and demand. From talking with providers in these kinds of systems, sometimes you just NEED a military-related trauma, but you can be treated for, say, a childhood trauma if it’s more pressing. Other VAs are very open in their criteria, and you can see them for pretty much any kind of trauma that qualifies diagnostically for PTSD (or sub-threshold PTSD) without question. That’s why I love the expression “If you’ve been to one VA, you’ve been to one VA.” That said, it kind of doesn’t matter what kind of PTSD clinical team is at the VA in Manhattan, because Bucky has so much military trauma that he would very likely qualify to receive services in any PTSD clinical team. They just might focus on childhood stuff (if Bucky actually let them, which is another matter entirely).

This is a great question! Thanks for asking.

I love a snarky asshole Bucky so much, and I’ve tried to temper this version of him with enough hard-earned genuineness to offset it a little bit. It’s such a tender balance with him, because if you back him too far into a corner, he’s going to let you have it. But if you give him too much space, it’s hard to pin him down and wring something honest from him. He’s definitely learned to use humor and sarcasm to deflect from painful or uncomfortable situations, and it’s a very adaptive short-term strategy that makes him both endearing and infuriating to others.

But ugh, yeah, shit gets so rough around Chapter 28/29. I don’t know how to feel when people have really strong emotional reactions to this story, because one part of me doesn’t want to contribute to the crappy feelings people may already be struggling with — especially in the times of COVID — but I don’t want to be afraid to dive into the hurt these characters are experiencing. That’s why I recommend checking in with oneself before reading to get a sense of how much emotional bandwidth is available to manage the immense problems of two people struggling so much. I also think that for some people it can be cathartic or otherwise not-bad maybe (?), based on the feedback I’ve received. I also really try hard to balance out the painful stuff with growth, even though it can be terribly difficult to locate sometimes.

In comments to folks, and here, I often talk about adjusting the ticks on your measuring stick for progress, where instead of leaps of progress over feet/meters, we may be observing things on an inch/mm scale. This story is my most sincere effort at a “recovery is not linear” narrative, which I think is so much more reflective of real life for a lot of folks than a straight upward trajectory. Humans are such creatures of habit, and the lessons these characters have learned through their lives about themselves, trust, relationships, and how to manage emotions are very deeply ingrained — often through traumatic means. These are the lessons learned the hardest, with the greatest perceived consequences for change, and it takes real courage for us to be able to try new things even once, let alone to establish a reliable pattern of behavior. This can lead to a lot of frustration for us as readers/writer, and I come from a place of this being okay, because we are encountering a parallel process with the characters, who are frustrated with each other and themselves about the same things. I do hope the pain/progress/joy ratios are not horribly out of whack most of the time. That’s another reason I like long chapters, because if this was just blips of sometimes terrible episodes in shorter form, I think it would be very challenging to not lose hope entirely.

But I’m so glad you’re finding the read meaningful, even if it’s sometimes painful and difficult.

(YES.)

And FINALLY -- (this is all soooo long, I’m so sorry.)

Oh, thank you for this question! My spreadsheet ended up getting too difficult to manage, and I actually had a small crisis six months ago about how the fic was going to end, because it just didn’t feel right. I had to scrap it and go back to the drawing board and really ask myself - what would these characters really do? Naturally, as a factor of their psychologies and circumstances, how will they bring this story to an end? Some advice I once heard about a “satisfying” ending is that it’s the place where there’s simply nothing more to say about the characters. There’s no more story to tell. I had to abandon all of my desires  and ideas for a particular ending or concerns about making people sad or happy or excited or disappointed. I know that the only ending that will be satisfying is one that makes sense for these people. Anything contrived or backward-engineer-y wouldn’t feel right to anyone. I do have a couple of specific character arc things I want to happen, so I set those down as touchstones and said, okay, what would happen next? What would Steve do with this? And what would Bucky do with this? And what would they do with the thing the other person did? I take a very psychology and prior-behavior-based approach to plotting, almost all character driven. The rest is just figuring out what is supposed to go where and how to organize it.

I’ve converted everything to a Google Doc and have a very basic outline where I write plotty-plot stuff. I also have a “garbage dump” doc where I write certain lines I want to use or certain details I want to include somewhere. When I get into a new chapter, I’ll check the dump doc as I outline and write to see if I want to pluck anything from there. I have my outline open regularly to add to it. Sometimes I write scenes out of order, dialogue first, but that’s only if I really am excited about a particular scene and cannot contain myself. Otherwise, I write completely chronologically and have no buffer. I post things as soon as I write them.

As for your specific questions, I do have a “process” for getting into my characters’ heads. It helps to know them so very well and to have a firm sense of their idiosyncrasies and patterns of behavior. As you may have noticed, they repeat their patterns all. the. time, as humans do, but I also want to have them change their behaviors a little as things go and they progress. So I may wonder what they could do a little differently, why they would WANT to behave differently, and imagine what they would need to do to change their behavior. Do they need to take breaths? Do they remember the last time some shit went down? I really try to think of the “how” and “why” of every single action - from big blowouts to eye rolls.

So once I’ve figured out what they are going to do, I try to pinpoint the associated emotions I want to highlight. This is a whole separate process, because I have to think also about their internal versus their external emotional states. Steve, for example, will often have a discrepant inside and outside, because one of the truths about his character is that he is a chronic suppressor. There is also the issue of unreliable narration and interpretation of behavior. Steve might do something in a scene, but that doesn’t mean Bucky is going to interpret it the way it was intended. I have to think about their individual filters, which often reflect their internal beliefs about themselves. Bucky is more likely to read Steve’s actions as reflections of how BUCKY feels about HIMSELF (e.g., he’s disgusted by me because I’m disgusting) rather than imagine what Steve is really thinking based on his own experiences and beliefs about Bucky. I also attempt to convey some of the more second and third layer emotions that people have in situations, rather than only highlighting the primary emotion. Sad things don’t always just make people sad. Powerful emotions, for example, might make Steve feel out of control of himself, which could generate secondary emotions for him like frustration because he’s losing control. Part of the process in the construction of the narrative is also scrubbing what I’ve written for POV, because Bucky’s word choices aren’t the same as Steve’s, and in order to try to preserve the “voice” of each character, I often have to change the words I’ve opted to use, as well as the syntax.

So, as you can see, there’s a lot of layering that is happening all the time. As for the dialogue, I have no compunction about saying the lines aloud, “acting” them to see how they sound, to get a sense of what tone I want them to say things in. Now that I think of it, I do a bit of movement-based stuff, thinking about how people sit and stand, figuring how many steps it takes to get from A-Z, what it would look like to lean against something, how it would feel on the body, etc. I try to get the most felt sense of things as I can. If I’m imagining a scene, I try to put myself in the shoes of the characters to the point where I feel the emotions, just so I can know how it reflects in my body and my mind and behavior. I have more than once gotten drunk and drunk-written drunk Bucky then gone to clean it up later, as drunk writing can generate some great content I never would have been able to come up with sober, but the form, grammar, spelling, etc. is often rubbish. I also talk a LOT to my beta about all of this stuff, and I have certain friends and acquaintances in the fandom who are my consultants for various things.

So, I’m somewhat method I guess?? Is that a thing?? I dunno. It’s not hard to do when you live and breathe a story. It’s required a deep level of interest in - quite possibly an obsession with - the characters and their lives. I adore my characters, not in a self-congratulatory way, but because they feel so real to me. So it’s a joy to plan and write -- though I do hate first drafts with a passion.

OH - I also sometimes fast-draft chapters, which I did for 39. That is, write as FAST AS YOU CAN with no regard for how shitty the writing is. I wrote 10k words in a week, which was a finished fast-draft for me, and thus I had a very good felt sense of what was going to happen in the chapter, which felt amazing. It requires intensive outlining before, and nearly every word had to be rewritten, but one of the greatest frustrations of a story for me is having blank space ahead. Re-writing is way more fun than first draft writing. I have fluffed it up twofold with higher quality content, which I did all in less than two months…!! 

-------------------------

Well, this is surely my most unnecessarily yammering YAIT in history. But I hope it at least conveys my enthusiasm for these wonderful asks! It’s so lovely to hear from all of you, even if I take an eon to get back to you. Hang in there, everyone!

@grimshady @hutchhitched​ @b0n3l3ssm1lk​ 

(And thank you to @bae-buckyaboveeverything​ for the shout out. You made my day<3)

[eldritchsurveys]

1011.

1. Is there something you have been trying to learn lately? >> Nah. Mostly I’ve just been trying to improve at FFXIV, which is quite enough to be occupied with at this time.

2. If you ever feel like you are different from your extended family, in which ways is this? >> ---

3. When you think about your future career, do you envision yourself becoming the head honcho or CEO? If not, why not? >> I don’t think about careers. I definitely wouldn’t want to be in that position, either way.

4. Is there something that you are sort of weird about talking about? Like, a thing that other people find casual, but you feel uncomfortable when the subject comes up? >> I don’t think so. There are certain topics I don’t really care to hear mixed company’s opinions on sometimes, but that’s really all.

5. Can you think of a time when you seriously misjudged a music artist based on their name? >> I don't think so.

6. Do you ever make negative comments about other body types? How does it make you feel when you see or hear negative comments about your body type, or a physical trait that you have (even when it’s not directed at you)? >> I’m sure I have, but I refrain from doing so nowadays. I don’t usually see or hear negative comments about my body type, but as far as just general traits are concerned... I mean, obviously I don’t feel good about seeing stuff like that.

7. If you are in a situation where you feel like you are being attacked or not respected, how easy or difficult is it for you to stay and keep your head rather than leave in a huff? >> Why would I stay...? I don’t understand. Leaving the company of those who aren’t treating me with respect seems to me like the most logical option, not the least.

9. When you think about how attractive you feel and your favorite features, are you comparing yourself to a societal ideal? >> Well, undoubtedly.

10. If you have a favorite song right now: What is it? How did you first hear it? Why do you like it so much? >> I guess it’d be You Ain’t Coming Back by Zeal & Ardor, considering I’ve put it on repeat more than once (and I don’t usually feel moved to do that, even with other songs I really like). I don’t remember where I first heard the band, probably on tumblr or something, but the rest of their music I heard on Spotify. Trying to explain why I love a song has never worked out, so I’m not even going to try.

11. Have you ever had someone that has been your friend for a while come to you and tell you they had romantic feelings for you? How did you respond, and did the friendship survive? >> No. I can’t imagine it changing the friendship unless they insisted on being something other than friends, which would be very stupid of them, if they know anything about me at all.

12. Hypothetically speaking, if Hillary Clinton were running for President as a democrat against Chris Christie as a republican in 2016, who do you predict would win the election? >> ---

13. When you are getting to know someone new online (particularly someone male), how cautious are you of the possibility that they are serial killer/kidnapper? >> ... That's not the kind of thing I think about when I talk to people online. You know, the guy sitting next to me on the subway could be a serial killer, too. Like, really. At any point in time, I may come in contact with someone who is interested in killing me. But guess what -- I could be the killer, too. No one knows shit until it happens.

14. If you are talking to someone that you want to get to know, what are your go-to conversation topics? What subject makes you disappointed when another person isn’t interested in or knowledgable about it? >> I don't have any go-to conversational topics. I generally go along with the environment. Like, at a show, I'd talk about music with people. Or in a group setting, I’ll listen until someone brings up something I’m interested in. As far as the last question goes, I don’t really set myself up for disappointment in that way.

15. Say you have a lot of free time and want to join a club or class. You are browsing postings on local bulletin boards and online. What sort of group would you be interested in joining (e.g., book club, game group, crafts, golf lessons, etc.)? >> I have no idea what kind of group I’d be interested in joining. Most of my interests are pretty solitary activities (except, I guess, for certain video games, but meh).

16. Have you ever kissed someone that you didn’t really want to kiss (not assault, just indifference)? Why did you go along with it and how did you feel after? >> That describes a lot of the experiences I’ve had in that arena, yeah. I went along with it because I couldn’t think of a way out of it and I was probably pretty mentally checked out at the time. I think I just passively let a lot of random shit happen in the past because I couldn’t be bothered to care and I was entirely disconnected from my actual feelings about what was going on.

17. Have you recently learned anything about your personality? If not, have you ever consciously tried to change your personality? >> Probably.

18. Are you or any of your friends in a sorority or fraternity? Would you be interested in belonging to one? >> No and no.

19. Can you recall a recent time that you were surprised, but in a bad way? >> No.

20. Do you feel uncomfortable when you receive praise for doing certain things? If so, does this make you less likely to do those things? >> Praise evokes complicated feelings in me, period.

21. Do you make spontaneous purchases often or rarely? When you are upset does it make you temporarily happier to buy yourself something new? >> Rarely. I don’t have the kind of funds that would allow for spontaneous purchases.

22. If you have to wake up early for something, what time is just TOO early for you to be there and be presentable and sentient? Have you ever had to be somewhere that early? >> Eh, before sunrise, I guess. Although frankly, just because I can be presentable and sentient at a certain hour doesn’t mean I want to be. I like being awake early, when I’m by myself and can just chill and do whatever I want to do in the morning. I don’t like being awake early for the sake of going outside and interacting with people.

23. Have the majority of your romantic relationships started with a physical attraction or a deeper connection? >> Almost all of my relationships started because some dude thought I was hot and asked me out and I didn’t care enough to decline. The notable exceptions are the last two, one of which was a horrible experience and the other which led to marriage (and also didn’t involve a dude, and isn’t typically “romantic” as such).

24. Do you ever catch any of those conspiracy shows on Animal Planet, like Bigfoot hunting or proof of Mermaids? Do those shows make your more or less likely to believe in the existence of such creatures? >> I don’t watch those shows.

25. Did you ever write a fan letter to a celebrity? How about submit something to a magazine? >> I haven’t done either.

[purplellamanator]

Shinran and #5?

5. "I can't feel my legs."

A/N~ Sorry about the delay! I know I didn't post any of the requests last night and I'm sorry! I just had a really bad day and didn't want that to affect my writings for you guys! I still have some more requests to do so if yours hasn’t en posted yet, I will definitely get to them!! As for this one- thanks for the ask anon! Nothing better than some good ol' ShinRan ;) Hope you enjoy! Wasn't sure if you would angst or fluff with this one, but considering last time there was an option for angst and I went with that, I'll try to make this one fluffy! the lovely prompts this is also something i can envision happening in Interview Mania 

oOo

Ran would kill him. He was sure of it.

She had told him not to go after all. And what did he do? He did it anyway.

Yep, she would kill him. If this car didn't do it first.

Looking back and trying to be defensive, how had she expected him not to go? It was her father after all that invited him. Shinichi wanted to argue she didn't understand why he had to go. This was more than just accepting a challenge from Mouri Kogoro. This was more than simply out doing her father.

This was about gaining his respect. His acceptance.

Shinichi loved Ran. He wanted to marry her eventually. How would he be able to achieve that if her dad refused to be in the same room as him?

"You need to confront him! Show that old man that you're not going anywhere!"

He hated to say it, but he kind of agreed with Kuroba. He really wasn't going anywhere. Not anytime soon and not unless he and Ran suddenly decided to call it quits.

And he had no plans on letting that ever happen.

"Idiot! Don't actually consider doing that!" Hattori actually stepped in when he heard, what he thought, was some of the most ludicrous advice ever.

Kaito gave their friend an annoyed look. "Oh yeah? Well, what the hell would you recommend he do? Be the old man's doormat?"

And that was Shinichi actually had to agree with Kaito. He was sick of being just that- something for Kogoro to walk all over. He was the boyfriend to the man's daughter. The least he could do is be somewhat cordial with him. And that would also include him not bad mouthing his parents.

"Anything this dummy tells you to do, will have that Nee-chan dumping you the moment she steps foot back in Japan," he blatantly disregarded Kaito's question while jabbing a finger in his direction as well.

Hattori had a point. Ran did defend him anytime her father's comments got out of hand. But he also knew that she highly valued that old drunk's opinion. And after a few interactions of, "Oh look. Here's mister bigshot to grace us with his presence," and, "How are the Hollywood couple?"- Shinichi knew that it had to come to an end. How many times would Ran continue to hear that and notdsomething about it? Not to her father but to him, her boyfriend. He didn't want that drunkard's mouth to brainwash her into actually listening to the things he said about him. He didn't want her opinion of him to be changed.

"The point is to get him to respect you," Hattori continued. "Not hate you."

Well, that was easier said than done. The two of them had nothing in common. There was nothing that they could agree on except that they both loved Ran very much. Other than that, they didn't want anything to do with the other. Old man Mouri had already written him off long before he and Ran ever got together.

But he could understand where Hattori was coming from. If Kuroba wanted him to argue that he wasn't going anywhere, the same thing could be said about Kogoro. That was Ran's father. He could not be replaced.

"You need to prove to that old man you deserve to be with his daughter."

That had been the end of the advice from Hattori. And for a while, Shinichi had thought it had done nothing but make him feel even more helpless. But he was desperate. In order do what he had planned and to do it on time, he had to get through to her father now. It could not wait!

So when Kogoro asked Shinichi to go out for drinks with him, he readily agreed. 

 When he told Ran what he wanted to do, she was adamant that he not do it. Her father in a bar? She was trying to get him to stop drinking- not encourage the habit.That and she likely feared that something bad would happen between the two. 

But again, Ran didn't understand. She wouldn't yet. Shinichi had to do this because there was one thing that only Kogoro could give him.

His blessing.

Inviting him to a bar probably hadn't been his brightest idea but he wanted to play up to the things that he knew Kogoro liked. The plan was to butter him up. Just to get the man to give him the okay to marry his daughter and then they could move on with their lives from a distance.

But Kogoro was a seasoned drinker. And he also wasn't as stupid as he led everybody to believe. He knew something had been up the moment that Shinichi asked to spend time with him. The distaste between the two was not one-sided after all.

But the moment Kogoro knew just exactly what Shinichi wanted, he had the man turning more serious than he had ever seen him. And a proposition was made.

They were never going to see eye to eye and they would probably never actually like the other. But Kogoro could learn to deal with him.

If Shinichi could out drink him.

Shinichi knew it was a bad idea. It sent red flags raising. But he also knew that Kogoro knew that as well. He probably knew how Ran would feel if she ever found out that her boyfriend actually encouraged his bad habit. But he also wanted to know to what extent he would go to prove that he was worthy of his daughter. To what lengths would he go for this blessing?

Shinichi called his deal.

And lost.

The bad thing was he was too drunk to even be disappointed by that fact. Kogoro wasn't sober by any means but he was also way better off than the young athlete.

Shinichi wasn't exactly sure when they called it quits. He barely had any recollection of paying the tab.

His loss to Ran's old man hadn't been the worst part of his night he would soon discover.

Being that the plan was to go out specifically to drink, he had not taken his car. Kogoro and him had met up after he took the subway. Probably noticing how intoxicated Shinichi really was, he was surprised that Ran's dad actually took the time to help him get a cab.

That had been the plan. But when he didn't bother looking both ways or to even check if he had the right away, he just began walking in the cross walk.

And promptly got hit by a car.

"Brat!" Kogoro called in a mixture of surprise and fear. He hadn't been paying attention either and simply let Shinichi walked right into a cross walk with on coming traffic.

The car hadn't been going that fast. If anything, the moment they saw someone had just walked out, they had attempted to stop- but it had been too late.

Kogoro had already ran over to him but the driver was already jumping out of their car, freaking out. It only got worse when he realized just who he ran over.

"Oh my God! I'm so sorry!" He was rambling and running his words together and taking initiative, the man was pulling out his phone and calling for an ambulance. Shinichi could kind of pick up some of the things that were being said. He knew the man recognized him when he started telling the dispatcher that he had, "Run over Kudou Shinichi!".

Admittedly, he didn't even think to be concerned about the press hearing about this. He knew he would have regrets eventually when he was sober, but for now there was something else bothering him.

"I can't feel my legs," he admitted out loud to simply voice his thoughts. He was so drunk though that he could tell if that was from the drinking or the fact that he just got hit by a car. Even worse, that statement was said as if he were commenting that it was raining outside.

He really was plastered. An athlete not even caring that his legs might not work.

But Kogoro was sober enough and he immediately began to panic. "Shit! Ran's going to kill me!" He was visibly freaking out, hovering nervously all over Shinichi. It was obvious he wanted to help but didn't know how. He didn't want to jostle him when he was laying there saying he couldn't feel his legs.

That had been a long night. He had been taken to the hospital pretty quickly and surprisingly, Kogoro went with him. He only left him a few times and that was to either let the doctors check him or to, what he assumed, call Ran. The girl that was about to put him in an early grave.

He knew he was sobering up when all of the embarrassment and anxiety hit him at once. He was so dead. The doctors had already told him that he would be fine. That his legs were fine and he mainly had a welt on his head from falling on the road- that and a decent sized bruise on his thigh.

But that wasn't what he was scared of.

The paparazzi had gone wild. They were having a field day with the fact that 'Famous Athlete Kudou Shinichi Drunkenly Caused an Accident'. And to make matters worse, as if they could- Ran was flying back early. Kogoro had warned him that he called Ran and she was furious. It appeared that that was one other thing they shared. Their fear of Mouri Ran.

When she finally showed up, Shinichi felt like it was too soon, He hadn't had enough time to at least try to formulate a good cover story for why he did the complete of opposite of what she said. The only good thing he could think of was out of the question considering he still did not have Kogoro's blessing.

Ran's first reaction had of course been to burst through the door and run to her boyfriend who was still hooked to monitors in a bed. There were tears in her eyes and from the red splotches he could tell she had likely cried the whole plane ride. It made him feel even more guilty.

But once that was done and past her worry, there was anger that was as clear as day. She had started in on him first but quickly shifted her anger onto her father whom in her eyes, was just as guilty. Truthfully it had been Kogoro's idea and though Shinichi knew he had no intention of having a car almost kill him, a small part of him knew this had likely been something he wanted to use to get Ran angry with him and possibly leave him. But he could see the remorse on the old man's face as he quietly stood there as Ran tried to keep her voice down.

"Ran," he cleared his throat and at the glare she shot his way, he almost backed down. He couldn't let Kogoro take the fall for it. It had been his idea to go out in the first place no matter if it had been Kogoro's idea to get him plastered and beyond coherent.

Kogoro gave him a suspicious look. He probably assumed Shinichi was about to spring something that would make her father take all the blame. But it wasn't.

"It was my idea."

Ran hadn't gone easy on him after that either. She was furious. She had to leave work early because her boyfriend decided to get drunk in the street. It was clear that once it was obvious that he would be fine and no lasting damage had occurred, that Ran fully allowed herself to be angry. And she wouldn't talk to him for days. She had been so mad at him that she actually stayed the night at her own apartment. And he hated that. Ran and him rarely got to see each other as it was. He didn't want her spending her free days away from him. But he had no one else but himself to blame. Whether the drinking game had been Kogoro's idea or not, it had been Shinichi's to actually go to a bar in the first place. Here he was. He got drunk, hit by a car, his girlfriend was mad at him, and he still didn't have her father's blessing.

Or so he thought.

Someone had knocked on his door. He immediately dismissed it as Ran considering she had a key and would just walk in. But she was the only one he ever really visited. It was rare for his team to come to his house. But none of that could ever prepare him for who really was at his door.

It was Kogoro. And it was clear that he was not at all comfortable with being there. He wasn't making eye contact and Shinichi realized it was because for once, Ran's dad was trying to be nice to him.

"You took the whole wrap for the other night even though you could've just let Ran yell at me."

Shinichi didn't disagree. He could have and then he probably could've used that against the old man to force him to give him his blessing. That or he would risk making Ran even more upset.

But he didn't. And he explained why.

"Ran values your opinion more than you think. I didn't want her to look at you differently on the off chance that something bad really did happen to me."

That left the older man standing in silence as if he were thinking. But then he nodded his head slowly; with a different expression and look in his eyes. And when they met gazes, Shinichi understood what that look was.

It was respect.

"Do you already have a ring?"