#ok my brain worked well enough to write this today. no idea if it's coherent but here we go! We'll fix it in post lol

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 97

Part 1 Part 96

Perkins and Barb are already there when Eddie wakes up. Perkins hushed laugh grates at his brain, shredding it like cheese until he has no choice but to open his eyes. 

“What the fuck?” Eddie murmurs, rubbing dust bunnies from his eyes.

They’re sitting huddled together at the side of Steve’s bed, Wayne at their side in his own chair. 

“Mornin’, boy,” he says, sipping at his shitty cup of free hospital coffee as he looks down his nose at Eddie’s prone form. “You done hogging your friend's sick bed?” He puts a weird inflection on the word ‘friend’ that has Eddie’s cheeks blooming.

“Shut up, old man,” he hisses. 

The bed’s a tight enough fit that he can feel Steve’s warmth radiating all up his back and up his ribs where his arm’s partially wrapped around Eddie. He tries to shuffle free, movements slow and furtive so as not to interrupt his sleep. 

It doesn’t work. Steve’s arm tightens, the metal splint on finger painfully into Eddie’s ribs as he mutters, “where you going Eddie?” but he slurs it altogether and trails off so it comes out more like, “wherego, Ed.” 

Eddie smiles, helpless and aching with it as he settles back onto the hospital's shitty cardboard mattress.

“You’ve got visitors, angel.”

Steve’s hand leaving his waist feels like a loss. His elbow digs into Eddie’s back as he props himself up enough to be able to see past Eddie’s wild hair to who’s sitting beside his bed. 

“What the fuck?” 

Wayne huffs. “Mornin, kid, reaching past Eddie to ruffle Steve’s hair. “How ya feelin’?”

“I’m fine,” Steve lies, voice turning distant and small as he asks,  “Carol?”

Unable to stand not seeing Steve’s face for a second longer, Eddie shuffles within tight quarters to lever himself up, back plastered to what passes as the bed’s headboard. Steve’s still propped up on his elbows, arms shaking as he tries to hold himself up.

Eddie reaches over, pulling with all his strength until Steve’s settled upright beside him. Steve doesn’t turn his way, but he reaches over and takes Eddie’s hand like it’s instinct, and that’s even better.

Steve’s eyes are big as he looks over at his best friend. “What–” he starts, word cracking dryly in his throat.  “What are you doing here?”

Eddie reaches over to grab the pitcher of water on Steve’s bedside table, glowering when Barb beats him to it. She pours it into one of the hospital's flimsy paper cups, holding it out to Steve like an offering.

He takes it, gulps it down, doesn’t look away from Perkinsl’ washed-out face. 

She’s not wearing any make-up, and her hair’s gone all greasy and flat. Most damning, she’s wearing one of Steve’s Hawkins swim team hoodies that Eddie knows for a fact was folded up in his own dresser at home. It swallows her, hanging past her hips until she’s shapeless.

She looks worn down and tired. Still, she rolls her eyes as Barb settles back down beside her. “What, you think I was gonna miss the show?” she asks. Her lips are quirked up playfully, eyes glossy.  “It was like King Steve all over again” 

Eddie looks away from her to watch that land on Steve. Steve who has always somehow been more and less than those around him make him out to be. Steve who’s always been more than a simple high school king. He furrows his brows the way he does when he knows there was a joke but the punchline hasn’t landed for him. 

“Wha–”

“You know because you were out of your mind and lost control?”

Eddie whips his head around, ready to strangle and snarl, rend flesh from bone. Barb sighs, dropping her face in her hand. Perkinss just sitting there, biting her lip on a laugh as she keeps her gaze trained on Steve. Like she hadn’t just said the most insensitive fucking thing Eddie’d ever heard come out of her mouth. 

Eddie feels Steve’s whole body tremble where their pressed hip to overlapping hip in the small bed. The rage boils inside Eddie until he’s shaking with it.

Behind him, Steve Harrington laughs. Eddie turns. Steve’s shoulders are shaking as he bites his own lip against his own helpless laughter, eyes shining as he looks over at his morbid, fucking up best friend. 

“Personally, I think this is an upgrade,” Steve says because even in this, these two are fucking freaks about everything.

“Beer pong to dropping bodies?” Perkins asks.

Eddie can’t help the way he gasps, clutching at his chest like he’s a suburban Mom that just caught sight of some ruffian in the grocery store. Perkins shifts her eyes over to Eddie, and somehow looking at his beat up face is what gets her crying.

It’s less that she stands up and more than she tries to stand, lunges forward, knees hitting the metal edge of the bed with a thwack as she crawls over the safety railing and falls partially on top of both their mangled bodies. 

Eddie tries to squirm out and away, but she’s got her face buried in Steve’s shoulder, arms wrapped around both of their necks. “I’m sorry I got lover boy's face beat in!” she warbles.

Steve snorts, snotty and wet. “That was you?”

They’re both messy, crying and laughing, refusing to let Eddie off this fucking bed and away from whatever the hell has infected it. He raises his head in desolation to meet Barb’s resigned gaze. 

She shrugs at him, chin cradled in the palm of her hand as she watches the two idiots in the bed lose their shit over something that should’ve never been funny. 

Eddie squints at her. She looks so ready to accept fate, like of course Perkins would be like this, and of course she’ll stay anyway. Somehow, after such a short time, they’re already a package deal.

Well, she could do worse. They both could 

“Carol, you–” Eddie starts before stalling, staring with wide eyes at Barb’s amused face. He clears his throat, starts over even though it’s too late. Names hold power, and now Carol’s gonna have ownership of his soul. Or however it goes. “Perkins, you’re a fucking freak.”

Carol sniffles and snorts, like a pig in a bog before lifting her head from Steve’s neck. Her face is covered in snot and saltwater, eyes puffy and ruined, but she’s smiling when she flings her arms around Eddie, rubbing her face into his own shirts despite his protests.

“Takes one to know one, darling,” she says, hugging him tight. 

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar @mightbeasleep @neonfruitbowl @beth--b @silenzioperso @best-selling-show @v3lv3tf0x @bookworm0690 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @wonderland-girl143-blog @nerdsconquerall @sharingisntkaren @canmargesimpson @bananahoneycomb @rainwaterapothecary @practicallybegging

Part 98

[delicrieux]

—MAKE YOU SAY “OH” EXTRAS: TINDER

extra meaning non-canonical occurrence; can be placed anywhere in the “make you say oh” timeline after couple (cha. 14) and before the final “oh”. 

pairing—corpse husband x f!reader warnings—tinder profiles, tw: men, swearing.  word count—2.6k. format— written. ─── ❥ req by nonnie​:  y/n makes a youtube vid/live stream where she's just swiping through her tinder acc and corpse literally blocks her lmao

author’s note—akldsljfs this was such a funny idea i could not not write it lmao

ultimate masterlist. myso masterlist

You have pulled the biggest brain move by setting up both a facecam and a screen recorder on your phone. All is beautifully displayed and visible during the stream. Your fanbase is particularly intrigued on what exactly are you planning on doing today, seeing as your tweet of “strea” had been a bit vague, if not downright ominous. No emojis. No elaboration. You couldn’t even be bothered to finish the word. Truly, a mystery. Everyone tuned in and are currently waiting with bated breath.

A few of your fans must sense upcoming doom because the overall mood in the chat turns from optimistically intrigued to...evil. It’s an entity all on it’s own now, clawing at you through the screen with various renditions of laughter and devil emojis. A few eggplants thrown in there for good measure, accompanied, naturally, by the scandalous water drops. At first the common consensus is that you’re biting the bullet and going through your camera roll on stream. Definitely an idea worth considering, though you frankly don’t know what lies at the start of the 11k photograph journey, and you are afraid to check in public. Could be a harmless meme, could be a salacious pic you had saved of an OF star. It’s really a gamble. Either way, you would definitely get banned. You might still get banned. Why do you insist on doing shit like this?

Because it’s funny. Because you’re kinda stupid. Because it’s just so absolutely laughably easy to do.

A smile quirks your lips, and while it is not explicitly smug, the look in your eyes sure is, “Greetings,” You utter lowly, dimming the lights--the budget for this stream! Ugh, you went all out, “my children.”

mother i crave violence

sensing evil energy rn!!

i do not claim the energy in this video for myself or anyone else watching this 💖💖

^with peace and love shut the fuck up

“I know y’all lowkey hoes-” Upon your words the chat splits into two: one side eagerly agrees (even shares a few OF accounts! How helpful, supporting small businesses!), whilst the other feverishly insists on innocence. You make a face stuck somewhere between offended and bewildered, “Now c'mon now-I know you. I know you all. We’re the same, don’t-what was that?”

You try to scroll back to the comment but it’s loss in the sea of incoming messages, “I swear to God I just saw-”

Corpse_Husband: i love late night streams it’s not like i have anything better to do.

“COOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORPSE!!!!” 

rip headphone users

i cant feel my face when im with you by the weeknd but instead of face its my fucking ears

yall think full vol on pc is better?my parents woke up 😭😭😭😭

To think he’s spending his last waking moments for today with watching you (he probably still would have anyway, because you do not posses an ounce of shame or self-control and pester him relentlessly)! It makes your heart sing, and suddenly, a traitorous, fun hating idea barges it’s way through the crowd of incoherent buzzing and states: don’t do this. For some reason it also has the voice of Rae. As if that would work in guilt-tripping you- Rae never succeed, and her fictitious rendition in mind won’t fare much better either.

Still, you thought about it. That must count for something. Corpse will understand, won’t he? Why don’t you want to upset it in the first place? Men look so funny when they lose their shit, like hello, don’t you have anything better to do? But the image of Corpse just sitting there, hurt, distraught, leaving you on seen because he’s in his sad boy hours leaves a sour taste in your mouth. 

queen rly went from  🥺😊 to 😕 u ok bbgirl?

Corpse_Husband: no pouts cutie

akjdjoeijdfse cUTIE??? deadass boutta r.i.p.

Well that succeeded in eliminating everything from mind, doubts included. If this was an anime, the scenery would shift into something roseate, with flowers and bubbles and sparkles all around you along with a halo or two. Alas, not an anime, rather reality. The led-lights, however, seemingly possessing a will of their own, slowly turn from deep violet to pink. You smile brightly, like the absolute dumbass you are, and you are met with a ray of heart and blushing emojis. You are just so cute, a real cutie! Still in your disguise adorable state, you swipe your finger on your phone screen, the grin never leaving your lips.

There, among the plethora of apps, nestled sits a red square with a white fire plastered on it. The delicate calligraphy on the bottom reads: TINDER.

The mood changes once again- you’re giving the roaches emotional instability by how quickly everything flips over- and the chat spams eggplants vigorously; some, of course, bravely fight against the thirst.

nooooooo i thought y/n is gonna stream in a god honoring way!!!

^pack it up girl defined

“So, Charlie and I-” You note a few awfully curious comments and squint, “-yes, we talk a lot. Charlie is a really good friend of mine. We’re best friends. Brothers. Sisters. Cousins. The whole fucking family tree-no, that sounds weird. Delete. Anyway, Charlie, being the absolute fucker he is, said, hey, you know what would be funny? And I was like, nooo, what would be funny, Charlie? And he says to me, he says, says, making fun of men on Tinder. And if y’all need any more proof that Charlie and I are platonic soulmates, then dunno, my children, my roaches, I dunno-I dunno what more to give you.”

You can’t be bothered reading the comments, there’s too damn many. You also need to save your reading comprehension for the actual bios. It has a time limit, that darn thing. 

“Okay, so I made a profile earlier, but I hadn’t swiped on anyone yet-” Despite the fact, Tinder helpfully informs you that already 99+ people have swiped right on you, “So, this is me,” You show the pictures you have of yourself, and damn, not to be a conceited narcissist, but you look really good. Like if you saw yourself on Tinder, you’d super like instantly. “Uhm, so, my bio-my bio says: let’s sauce in the tub together, ya dig? splishy splashy, giggle giggle.” 

i cant believe we are witnessing y/n trying to form a coherent sentence live 

shes trying give her time

ya dig??? y not capeesh

what scene from the godfather is this lol?

“My anthem, is,” You laugh, covering your lips with your hand, “Corpsie, this is form you-” Proudly, you show that indeed, Corpse’s E-GIRLS ARE RUINING MY FUCKING LIFE is listed as your anthem on Spotify, “Hehe.” Yes, you say that aloud.

Corpse_Husband: you’re killing me Corpse_Husband: thanks baby Corpse_Husband: now delete tinder ❤︎

You ignore his last quip, deciding it’s finally time to get this show on the road, “Right, let’s do this shit. I’m not actually going to swipe on any guys that look, uh, decent? Yuck, can’t believe I just said that, uhm, because I-because I feel like some actually deserve a chance with someone? I don’t wanna get anyone’s hopes up, as I am currently in a long distance relationship with Chrollo. So I’m just gonna swipe on, like, frat boy assholes. Because I don’t care if I hurt their feelings. Quite frankly I don’t think they possess them in the first place.”

The chat voices their agreements. With the ground rules set, you, giddy, click on the first profile.

Does Tinder know what you’re doing, your plan? The FBI agent watching you through your phone must be working overtime, bless his heart. They must, because the the first guy to meet you is named Jason, and there he is, blond hair and blue eyes, holding up a fish the size of his torso. Marginally adequate in looks, pretty good muscles. A solid 7 bordering on 8. He’s the same age as you, 15 miles away, and he studies at some college you don’t care enough to look up. Bio reads:

I like to drive fast. Fishing is my passion, but if you can’t catch me by the ocean, you’ll catch me catching waves, bro! Love a good gym date. You do squats, and I’ll keep a close eye to make sure you’re doing it correctly ;) You probably saw me at a party. Leader of the The Phi Kappa Psi. I’m a Gemini, if that matters lol.

You, of course, read it aloud, dramatically; provide some constructive criticism-he seems nice, but he’s a Gemini, so naturally, you can’t trust him at all! Also, that gym date session leaves little to be desired. With your rant done, you swipe right, and shocker! (not), it’s an instant match.

“Okie, I still wanna swipe of some profiles, so I’ll see what he’ll text later-” For a second you wonder the legalities of this stream, but you’re having too much fun to think of it further, “guys, I won't get sued, right?”

NOW she considers it

well....

if you do, we’ll kickstart your lawyer dw <3

Onto the next profile. Kevin, 25, is seen fixing his car- or, you assume he’s mid-fixing it, you don’t really know why else he’d hold a wrench and be covered in oil. He’s shirtless, and the caveman part of your brain echoes something closely resembling AWOOOGA!, but...but!...blonde hair, blue eyes. You pout again, “I don’t...I don’t really like blond boys, ya know? With the blue eyes and all, it’s just not my thing, uhm, unless it’s like-like...Armin from Attack on Titan. Else I don’t care.”

Onto the bio:

You have to treat a car like you treat a woman: go on long rides, take the lead, but most importantly, keep her oiled up 😜 

“What the fuck did I just read?”

The chat is equally confused. You swipe right anyway- another match. Too easy.

The stream continues without incident for a solid thirty minutes- all of your matches, expect a few that genuinely looked like normal dudes that really couldn’t write a decent bio to save their lives, had been blond hair blue eyed gym rats with ranging forms of misogyny. Some opened with asking for nudes out right, some asked about your day first before asking for nudes. You prefer the former. Straight to the point! You admire the gall. 

But then, down the forty-five minute mark a profile popped up that made you still by your phone, your smile dying as your eyes bulged. Dear God. Lord in heaven. Who is this demonspiit lookalike and why is he so fucking hot? The neck tats, the skateboard, the clothes- holy shit, you gotta close your mouth before some drool dribbles out.

No bio, just his name, Tyler, and that he’s 23.

“He boutta be 23 in me.” You mutter, swiping right with lightning speed.

WHAT DID SHE SAYYYYY?????????

tyler is y/ns karma for relentlessly mocking that one guy that had a whole ass list on what his “female” partner should be

^he deserved it and also tyler seems like a typical fuckboi y/n grow a braincell

look at mom 🥺 her eyes are sparkling

It wasn’t a match right away. You somehow expected as much, but it still upset you. Simp behavior, pathetic. The stream continued bravely, and when Tyler messaged you a simple “yo” you totally didn’t sequel. You didn’t manage to text him back on stream: texting all those guys that you didn’t really find all that attractive was easy, but this...You’re a sucker for a man who radiates red flag energy. His whole profile is a red flag. He might just be a red flag himself.

What can you do? Suddenly becoming color blind is not easy. Once the stream ends, you unmatch with everyone expect Tyler. He you chat with for a bit, but a sudden craving for different company makes you abandon him, too. You don’t feel too heartbroken for him- you’re certain there’s already too many girls in his dms. You wish them luck.

Happily, you delete Tinder. You go to Twitter, notice you’re trending again- look at you go! Queen shit- and as you compose a thank you tweet, something strange happens. You go to text Corpse, but when you click on his profile you grow cold.

YOU’RE BLOCKED. You can’t follow or see @/Corpse_Husband ‘s Tweets. 

...Pardon? You hop onto Instragram and-also blocked. Seriously? And you thought you’re one petty bitch. Corpse is seriously prissy about everything. Damn, if he didn’t like your stream, he could’ve just said so. Didn’t need to, like, block you from his internet existence. So not cool.

You try texting him but no text go through. Well how will you let him know you deleted Tinder just like he asked? You relieve your frustrations by punching your pillow a few times. Later, you apologize to her, you didn’t mean to hurt her, it’s not her, it’s you. Fuck, 5 minutes of exile and you’re already loosing your mind.

“Raeeeeeeeeeeee!” You whine loudly. It’s roughly 2am now, but you don’t care. You’re too heartbroken to care. There’s a thump from her room, but nothing else, “Raeeeeeeeee!!!” You wail, wallowing in self-pity on your bed. You hear a very loud, very annoyed sigh from her room, followed by angry marching. Your door is abruptly thrown open, and in the dim, colorful light you see her scowl.

“What?” She grits.

“Can you please tell Corpse to unblock me from everything?”

“What did you do now?”

“I made fun of men on Tinder.”

She pauses, “...That doesn’t sound so bad.” She surmises, voice laced with suspicion, “What else?”

“...There was one really hot guy that I kinda sorta talked to after--”

“Y/n.”

“-But I totally deleted Tinder and honestly he was pretty boring, so, like, uhm, please?”

She sighs, the servery of which implies she is holding the weight of the world on her shoulders, and instantly you know that you won. She taps away at her phone, “You owe me one.” She states, and before you can reply, she exits your room and slams the door behind her.

Grinning, you text his phone again. The message goes through, oh gosh, you’re so relieved you feel like crying. This has been, officially, the worst five minutes of your life.

You Y DID U BLOCK ME LOSER!!! MAJOR LOSER ALERT!! I DELETED EVERYTHING IT WAS A JOKE r u still mad at me? y u always mad at me i never do anything:(

my husband You’re my baby, how do you think I’ll react when I see you publicly simping for some asshole on Tinder?

Oh no, he used the words, he delivered the killing blow. You’re finished. Your heart can’t take such a workout. 

Not that you would ever admit it to him, though!

You hehe ur jellyyyy u always dis jealous hehe?

my husband Not jealous.

Yeah, you might not be the brightest tool in the shed, but even you know that’s a lie. You send him an array of kissy emojis that he doesn’t have the decency to reply to. Then, completely unprompted and dead serious, you send him a simple voice memo, saying: “You really have nothing to worry about, you know? You’re my favorite, Corpsie.”

He responds via text, reiterating that he’s not fucking jealous and that he just doesn’t like when you show such outward interest in anyone but it’s not like he cares or anything. It’s just really, like, weeeeird to see his baby simping for another man like that totally ruins the whole dynamic!!! It was only natural that he should block you on every social media platform, including his personal number (which, like, was completely necessary! Doesn’t matter that his viewers can’t see it, it’s gotta be super believable!), and inform his followers of that, because it’s all a joke, like, for the dynamic, that Youtube grind, you know? Ya dig? No personal feelings were involved at all. He totally wasn’t upset that you found someone else cute, no way!

my husband I’m not jealous. Lol.

You ik u repeated tht like 50 times  u trynna convince me or??? lmao

my husband No comment. ...You don’t actually talk to anyone else like we’re talking, right?

You no one else calls me their baby if thts wat ur wondering at least not to my knowledge lol im all urs

my husband That makes me very happy to hear:)

Yeah, it makes you very happy, too.

hope you liked it!! xx

[moxfirefly]

Yes I should be working on prompts (which I am) but this has been nagging me and I wanna write it out so enjoy. Here are some First Time™️ headcanons and how it might’ve gone down with a few realistic blunders here and there cause yes.

Needless to say nsfw under the cut

Leonardo

Ok so fearless himself first experience isn’t all the way of you catch my drift.

No seriously the first thing that happens for him is a blowjob which isn’t exactly how he expected his first sexual experience to go down like (was that a pun? wow)

Necessarily isn’t a bad thing, but let’s be clear Leo has that idea of the typical first time events, the candles, the ambience, all nervous touching etc

But then again Leo never expected to even get to experience having someone fall for him let alone want to be intimately involved with him

And it’s so out of the realms of how he dreamt or fantasized about it. Because his s/o catches him off guard.

It happens at Vern’s fancy af penthouse(all that Falcon money you telling me they ain’t hanging out there, he owes them lol)

But yeah it’s one of those get together nights, the gangs there with Ape and Casey. Musics playing, Casey set up beer pong, everyone is so engrossed in the game that when Leo slips out to find the bathroom he’s a little startled when you grab him and gesture him to be quiet

He’s even more startled when you get into the bathroom with him and kiss him like you haven’t seen in weeks.

It’s somewhat subtle cause you’re gonna run your hands down that plastron and admire how broad and strong he is and Leo absolutely eats that shit up he LOVES when you admire him and compliment his strength and hell even his looks

Leo’s brain becomes white noise when you get on your knees though and your hands reach the hem of his pants and there’s several heartbeats where you wait for him to say ‘keep going’ and all Leo can do is just nod, grip the sink behind him as a shyness takes over him when he feels his pants slide down

There amongst the music and group banter just a few feet away hes in some fancy bathroom with his s/o on their knees engulfing him and gripping him and honestly Leo’s meditation skills go out the window.

It’s not that long of an experience honestly and Leo is embarrassed that he couldn’t hold out a little longer, he’s also worried he didn’t warn you in time that he was about cum but you seem to handle the situation with grace and give him a smile even as you cough slightly. It really makes him flushed cause you look so beautiful right then and there and the two of you start giggling and laughing cause it just such a left field situation. It catches him even more off guard when you pull him down for a kiss and that intermingle taste of himself and your mouth hooks him.

Donatello

Listen I’m gonna catch flack maybe for this but Don’s the first out of his brothers who actually goes all the way with his s/o like fully

And it happens in the truck and it’s so unplanned because neither him or you expected the drive to end like this.

It’s a midnight roadtrip that takes the two of you through the more rural side of NY. This is Donnie’s way of clearing his head m, he loves driving so when he adds you to the equation it’s even more perfect.

The trucks been parked for a bit now and it’s not uncommon for y’all to makeout and be all lovey with one another

But on this particular night, the powers that be have you right on Donnie’s lap and that sweet makeout has turned a little more scandalous than usual.

Donnie’s no even sure to this day how it escalated to the degree of pants being pushed down and underwear disappearing but it happens and soon enough with each other’s consent to progress he’s inside of you and your running the show cause he’s terrified he’ll mess up or cum way too fast.

Surprisingly enough it goes really well, With minimal to no hiccups, the most being Donnie rubbing a little too hard on your sensitive nub/tip. He manages to last a decent amount of time (probably doing complex equations in his head to distract himself)

The aftermath is a little awkward although you’re both all shy smiles with “was that good?” “Did you like it?” etc and Donnie is gonna have to sneak his way into the bathroom once he’s home cause there’s a mess of stains on his pants.

Michelangelo

Also unplanned, more so literally an accident

It’s not the full experience of going all the way

Cause Mikey and you are hooked on kissing and pawing but it never truly escalated further than that

Until today of course

It’s the usual heated makeout session but your both on his bed, there’s music playing and the two of you progressively get bolder

The best way to describe it is basically dry humping. Dont tell me that wouldn’t be the way it goes down with him.

He feels you grind against him as the two of your feverishly kiss and Mikey’s already feeling a little too hard. Almost unvonsciously you both rub against one another, each grind and grip and kiss making the two of your too warm. Before you know it your both pressing your forheads together, thrusting against one another.

The first time you hear Mikey moan makes you moan right back against him, that alone causes his hips to stutter. It’s his ‘ohmygod’ that you basically swallow that makes you grip him so close to you, the trembling of your body as you muffle a long moan against his lips and Mikey cums, hard, in his shorts to the feel of your shaking figure shooting all that delicious oxytocin all over your body

You’re both so hazy and weightless when you come down from it. Mikey’s sheepish but tired smile so adorable, you two can’t seem to find a reason to disentangle from one another

Raphael

Raph is actually super Nervous™️ because he’s got a pretty big idea that things are gonna get heated cause you’ve been pretty vocal about it

But alas this boy has got some major body issues (they all do but it do be hitting him hard when he with you) cause you’re so perfect and pretty and he doesn’t want to harm a hair o your head

And for a huge FLIRT™️ he does get all shook up about not being able to deliver the goods, but alas you are there to encourage reaffirm and gas the shit out of him.

So naturally you make the first move and trust me he is so happy you did cause he was gonna pass out.

It goes down while he’s at your place and y’all watching a movie and for the past half hour you’ve been making cartography on his thigh and Raph honestly can’t even explain the first five minutes of this movie because he’s been on cloud nine since you started

You snuggle up closer to his massive frame and when you explore his inner thigh and press your lips to his neck, Raph is sure that he’s going to combust. You linger at the hem of his shorts and ask him if you can and Raph is embarrassed with how quickly he nods.

Raph seriously doesn’t understand how a simple movement like that (which he himself had done countless times) is just ten times hotter when it’s you. The softness of your hand gripping his already hard member and the way you bite your lip at the sensation of how thick he is

Raph sighs against your temple, he gets such a head rush with the first few strokes. Pride flows through him when he feels you struggle to jack him off one handed. But that quickly melts into shyness when you push his shorts down enough for you to be able to wrap another hand around his thick member.

There isn’t much of a hiccup, mostly that Raph barely makes a coherent sentence enough to warn you that he’s cumin, so there’s a mess and you know there’s no way your gonna get those stains off your couch.

He almost gets hard again when he catches you licking your fingers, giving him a look that puts him out of this realm of existence

[lailaliquorice]

the world has no right to my heart

Oooh boy here’s some angst. And some long angst, coming in at just over 4k words. 

This one was the brainchild of @qualquercoisa945, because I said to come up with a prompt for this lyric and maria suggest jane figuring out that henry never really loved her and that she was abused too. so this isn’t entirely just me coming up with ideas to hurt you all!! but this was a weighty prompt that I hope I’ve done justice because coming to terms with something like this is very difficult, I can testify to that myself, so I wanted to write this well.

tw for mentions of emotional abuse, and semi-graphic blood

It was hard for Jane not to feel like the odd one out amongst the rest of the queens with her first solo line declaring her ‘only one he truly loved’.

She knew that Anna sometimes struggled with feeling unworthy of her place in the lineup due to being the true one to survive and was already ready to convince her that she’d suffered at his hands too, but could never quite apply that thought to herself. Jane had been the lucky one to avoid it; maybe she wouldn’t have been so lucky if she’d had a daughter but she hadn’t, Edward had put her in his good graces and he’d loved her for that, so she’d been treated right. She’d kept herself quiet, she’d done everything he asked, she’d given him a son. So she’d been treated right.

But for a reason she couldn’t figure out, no one else seemed to be able to accept that.

The first person who Jane noticed routinely keeping an eye on her was Anne. Which wasn’t what she expected seeing as Anne had a reputation of being so careless. Hindsight would make Jane realise that of course it was Anne to notice first, since she had taken the brunt of his temper so often and paid for it with her life, but in the moment she just thought it a little odd how Anne watched her frowning after she startled at a door slamming upstairs.

“You alright?” she asked, no hint of a joke in her question.

Jane nodded, trying to ignore the way her heart was hammering at the sound. “I’m fine. It just make me jump, nothing more than that,” she said with a reassuring smile, holding Anne’s gaze until she nodded before heading over to the kitchen cupboard to see what she could make for lunch. They’d done the weekly food shop earlier so nothing had been opened yet, holding out a packet of crackers and asking Anne “Can I open these?”

The concerned look that had only just left Anne’s face returned in full force, making Jane wonder immediately if she’d done something wrong by asking in the first place. But then Anne shrugged and replied “Course you can, all the stuff in here is yours as much as the next person. You don’t have to ask.”

“Oh. I just thought I should ask, that’s all.”

She quickly busied herself with making her lunch, keeping her gaze low so that she didn’t have to acknowledge the worried eyes she could feel following her the entire time.

It continued on with little things like that. Cathy gently rebuking Jane for apologising over a mishap at the theatre that wasn’t her fault only for her to just say sorry again, Anna jumping a foot into the air when Jane’s silent footsteps meant she caught her off guard for the hundredth time, Aragon telling her over and over again that she didn’t need to ask to sit down when she came into the other dressing room. How she would always follow everyone else’s suggestions for everything and back down fast whenever she was asked what she wanted to do. Little things here and there, nothing frequent or linked enough that Jane ever really connected the dots but enough that she noticed them as singular events.

But one singular event that forced her to connect those dots at last started out with an argument that Jane wasn’t even involved with. While Anne and Aragon’s fights were nowhere near as common as they had been during the start of their time together they still happened every now and then – never serious and never lasting long, but still as loud as ever.

Normally Jane would focus more on making sure Kat was ok during those arguments since they could sometimes make her upset, the two of them hiding in one of their bedrooms or sometimes Cathy’s study until amends had been made. Today, however, Kat was actually out of the house when it happened. So Jane was on her own.

As the sounds of shouting floated in from where the two of them had set up their theoretical battleground in the kitchen, Jane tried to focus on the embroidery she was attempting to do. Cathy had already shut the living room door and Anna was playing music to try and mute the fighting a little but she could still hear every word, even her own thoughts inaudible as they were all she could focus on.

Anne’s particularly loud shriek made Jane jump and accidentally jab the needle into her finger instead, letting out an involuntary squeak. She set her material down on her lap as she sucked on where it was bleeding slightly, nervousness rising in her chest as the stinging pain added to the unpleasant sensations in her brain and she was no longer keeping herself distracted.

“Catch yourself there?” came Anna’s wry remark, and Jane just gave a half-hearted laugh in the hope that neither she or Cathy noticed anything out of the ordinary with her.

There was no such luck though, since before she could pick up the embroidery again her hand was grabbed by Cathy from where she was sat next to her. “What’s the matter?” Cathy asked, a concerned frown on her face.

Jane shrugged. “N-nothing, I’m fine,” she lied, almost wincing as how she stumbled over two simple words. She was sure that Cathy would be able to feel the tremble in her clammy hand but she was still desperate to keep quiet the anxiety making her heart hammer and head spin.

Cathy looked entirely unconvinced but didn’t press for more information, letting Jane continue with her work as she picked her book up. The kitchen had fallen quiet by then, and Jane felt her shoulders seize up with tension at the sound of footsteps approaching the living room door. She had no idea why but the only coherent thought in her mind was to run, to hide from whatever retribution was coming.

But then the door swung open to reveal Anne and Aragon together and actually smiling at each other.

“What in God’s name was that all about?” Anna asked the question on Jane’s mind, while she could only sit and watch wide-eyed like a cornered deer.

Anne groaned, giving Aragon a knowing look who returned it with a slightly exasperated smile. “You know that journalist who interviewed us about our overlapping years a little while back?” Anne asked, pausing long enough for Jane to just about nod before she continued. “Well he emailed us the sample article today, and it was absolute bollocks. Turned us against each other completely when we’d been aiming for an article on how Henry played us both.”

“So we had a… marginally uncivilised phone call with him,” Aragon added, a satisfied smirk on her face as she turned to look at Anne again.

Cathy and Anna both laughed, but Jane was still left feeling too unsettled to share in their amusement. “So you’re not fighting each other?” she clarified quietly, too quietly.

Scrunching her face in disapproval as she shook her head, Anne said “Nah, not this time. All’s good.”

“Good,” Jane repeated.

Anne hummed in agreement, though there was something slightly off in her demeanour as she watched Jane through concerned eyes. “Yeah, we’re good. Are you though?” she asked.

Jane just blinked in surprise as Anne moved round to squat on the edge of the coffee table in front of her. “I’m fine, really,” she said quietly.

“You sure? Because it looked like the shouting’s made you kinda nervous,” Anne pointed out in that same gentle voice she always used when she pointed out oddities in Jane’s behaviour.

She shifted nervously beneath Anne’s kind eyes, still not wanting to admit it but worried that she would be called out for denying Anne’s suggestion. The entire room seemed to be holding its breath as she felt herself being acutely watched from all angles.

Aragon’s voice from across the room saved her from her miserable purgatory. “Give her some space, Anne,” she said, prompting Anne to turn her gaze away from Jane’s face and Jane to practically sag in relief when she was no longer the centre of attention. “Nevermind all that now, we’ve given that man a piece of our mind and I should hope he goes what’s good for him now. For the time being, ladies, we should really be getting ready to go.”

The show gave Jane a great mask to hide behind for the rest of the evening; it was easy to pretend she was no less than ok when she was wearing her armour of sequins and had her smile painted on in dusky rose lipstick. But she could hear her own voice shaking as she recited the end of her monologue and began her song, performing on autopilot as certain phrases refused to leave her head after they left her lips.

“I stood firm, no matter his flaws or tempers. No matter my fears or doubts I stayed there by his side. And that’s not because I was scared…”

Or was it?

Tears streamed down her face by the end of her solo, barely choking out her final line before Anne came to rescue her from standing alone in that spotlight. But when Anne grabbed her hand during the pre-Haus of Holbein costume change and fixed her with a questioning glance, she could only rub away the dampness on her cheeks and shake her head while hoping she would be able to keep herself together for the rest of the show.

The second they were back home Jane was practically running straight up to her bedroom, ignoring even Kat’s worried voices as she shut her door and just breathed for the first time that evening. Normally she would find something to occupy herself as she wound down for a couple of hours after getting home, but she felt so worn down in that moment that it was a struggle to just take her makeup off and get changed before she fell asleep. She vaguely registered someone who she thought was possibly Aragon crack open her door and check on her as she was falling asleep fast, just about mustering the energy to tell her she’d be fine by the morning before wakefulness slipped away.

But in her haste to get the wearisome day over and done with, she gave no thought to the prospect that it wasn’t over at all.

She recognised the place she opened her eyes in far too quickly, and purely by the floor she was looking at. She was on her knees at the foot of a throne; his throne, of course. At his feet where he had made sure she never moved from.

“Please, sire,” she asked without intending to, her lips moving of their own accord, though she had replayed this scene in her dreams so many times already that no word was a surprise. “Have mercy on them. This is all I ask of you. I plead for your forgiveness on behalf of these people, for I know they have spoken against you but may their judgement be passed by God and not your executioner’s sword.”

It had been so long that she hardly remembered the people who’s lives she was begging for. Participants in some sort of uprising, she recalled, but the details were unimportant beneath what the scene meant for her.

A finger beneath her chin tilted her head up none too gently, forcing her to look into the eyes of the man she was supposed to love. His face was inches from hers, his breath hot on her face, though she was too frozen in fear to move away even if she had tried to.

His voice rumbled low like thunder as he spoke, echoing around the room as if she was surrounded from all angles by his presence.

“Oh Jane. Didn’t I already teach you a lesson in what happens to those who meddle in my affairs? I’m sure you don’t want to end up the same way that the witch who came before you did.”

“No,” Jane breathed out, unsure even herself if it was intended to be a response to him or a quiet cry of protest at whatever would come next.

He seized her face by tightening the grip on her jaw, fingernails digging into her cheeks, and when he wrenched her head around to one side it was all Jane could do not to shriek.

It was Anne. Or rather, she could just about recognise the woman slumped against the wall as the Anne she knew now, if she looked past the blood and bruises that marred her face. This had never happened in her dream before, and she could only continue watching in horror as the nightmare refused to end.

“Jane,” she rasped out, her voice dry and painful as if she’d shouted herself hoarse. She crawled sluggishly closer as she spoke, forcing her to see with horrible clarity the damage that had been done to her face and neck. “Jane, don’t do it. Don’t make my mistakes. Run, run and hide before he has the chance to do this to you. Before he hurts you like I did and you can never be yourself ever again.”

She was so focused on Anne’s broken pleas that she registered nothing else until there was a hand on her own neck. “Too late, witch,” he murmured, the faintest hint of laughter in his voice.

Anne had reached her by then, a look of unimaginable sorrow in her bruised eyes as she cupped Jane’s cheek with a bloodstained hand and whispered “I’m sorry.”

Movement in the corner of her eye made her look back at him. Anne’s body crumpled to the floor as he raised a sword in his other hand. Jane closed her eyes and screamed.

“Jane!!”

She shot up in bed, still screaming as she looked around in panic and tried to work out where she was. With the darkness suffocating her she still had no idea if she was still in the throne room or anywhere else, and with no clue to who’s voice had called her name she instinctively backed up in fear until she collided with the head of the bed and hid her face in the crook of her arm.

“Woah, Jane, it’s just us. You had a nightmare, you’re safe in the house and we’re all here. It’s ok.”

The light was flicked on then, and Jane dared to open her eyes just a little. True to their words the rest of the queens were all there; Anna stood by the light switch with a deeply unsettled expression on her face and Kat held in her embrace, Aragon perched on the edge of the bed, Anne sat on her knees just in front of Jane and Cathy right next to her. They were all in their pyjamas and looked as though they’d all bolted out of their rooms and into hers when her screams shattered the silent night.

“Jane, talk to us, please,” Anne said, making Jane realise it was her who had spoken before.

Cathy nodded, tugging on Anne’s arm to make her sit back a little when Jane refused to uncurl herself from her protective stance. “I promise you’re safe, love. We’re all here for you if you want to talk to us,” she added more gently, though there was still a serious note in her voice and look of fear in her eyes.

As Jane’s racing mind calmed down she began to realise why. She was always the one to comfort them after their nightmares and reassure them while they cried, so to see her on the other end of that role reversal had to be more than a little frightening for them all.

“I was at the palace with him,” she started in a trembling voice, swallowing hard when her dry throat made it hard to squeeze words out. Suddenly as more of her dream came flooding back she snapped her gaze up to Anne from where she’d been studying the pattern on her duvet cover, just taking in the sight of her unmarred face without the marks of his fury there anymore. “He hurt you,” she could only whisper, covering her mouth with one hand to stifle her uneven breaths.

“Hey, I’m here now though,” Anne said, placing a hand on Jane’s arm to see if she’d react badly before she risked moving closer.

Jane needed no further invitation to practically launch herself at Anne, wrapping her arms tightly around her and clinging to her desperately. “He’d hurt you and you tried to warn me. And he- he said that if I didn’t keep quiet then he’d teach me a lesson by doing what he did to you,” she sobbed out, every memory of Anne’s horribly broken form coming back as she just shook in her arms.

Anne seemed to freeze for a minute before she moved to comfort Jane, and in the back of Jane’s mind she could tell that she was a little unsettled by the tale she’d just told. A gentle touch on her shoulder made her look up to see Aragon sat close with a hand on each of their backs, the soothing note in her voice clearly meant for both of them as she said “Breathe, love, please. We’re in the present day and we’re all safe now.”

“But-“

“Shh, I promise we’re safe,” Cathy added, rubbing Jane’s arm gently as she sat back from Anne’s embrace.

Jane nodded, pulling in a hiccupping breath as she forced herself to calm down. She snuck a glance up at Anne when she realised she hadn’t spoken for a minute, almost quivering at the faraway expression on her face and jumping when she turned to look down at her. “Jane,” she asked, her voice quietly serious, “did that ever happen to you outside your dream?”

She nodded again, and Anne’s face crumpled.

“It was only once though,” Jane said, not sure why she was defending him but feeling somehow obliged to. “He only told me that once. And he was right, it was my fault for getting involved in something I shouldn’t have done. But he was never hurt me. He wasn’t the same with me.”

Anne shaking her head sorrowfully interrupted Jane’s tirade, the look in her eyes so similar to the look she’d held in Jane’s dream that she fell quiet immediately. “He didn’t have to hit you for him to hurt you,” she said, glancing at Aragon who gave a supporting nod. “Jane, ah, I’ve noticed a few things. And I think I know what it adds up to but I didn’t want to say but I think I kinda have to now.” Her words came out all in a rush as she spoke, seeming almost hesitant as she looked back at Jane.

Hardly daring to think, Jane asked “Like what?”

“Like how you feel you should ask before doing things as if we’ll tell you off for anything, and you’re always keeping quiet so we don’t notice you moving around, and feeling the need to apologise all the time and never want to make any choices in case we get mad. And then today, when us yelling made you seem so scared,” Anne listed, and even though her voice was so soft Jane still felt like she was being read out a list of her crimes.

Cathy’s quiet hum made Jane look over to see her nod solemnly. “Things like this are what Kat and I have been covering in our research,” she said, holding out her hand for Kat to take as she and Anna walked over to join them on the bed. “I don’t want to make any assumptions, because I wasn’t there and the only person who can truly know is you. But they’re all signs of emotional abuse.”

“He didn’t,” Jane whispered, still unwilling to believe that. “He loved me. He can’t have done that, he said he loved me.”

The sympathetic looks of her fellow queens as she looked around at them all was almost too much to bear.

“I know this can’t be easy to hear,” Aragon said, reaching over to take Jane’s hand in hers. “But think for me, love. If Edward had been a girl, then what?”

Jane stopped.

Her mind started spinning with the hints he’d made. The anger that had been in his eyes so often while she’d been forced to just batten down the hatches and endure it. The deeper meaning of that one threat which had haunted her nightmares; it wasn’t only meddling in his affairs that Anne had done wrong, it was having a daughter. Maybe she could have done everything possible to keep herself quiet, to keep herself what she wanted her to be, but that one innocent fatal mistake could have sent her to the scaffold regardless.

Kat’s quiet voice interrupted her thoughts, the first time she had spoken that evening. “My counsellor said it’s like being in a box,” she spoke quietly, though there was conviction in her voice that told Jane even though she was nervous she was also confident in her words. “Every time you touch the walls it hurts so you try and be smaller so you don’t get hurt. But then the walls get smaller and smaller and you’ll never be small enough to be what they want. Does that… does that sound familiar?”

She could only stare at her friend-turned-daughter for a moment, wondering how she could have been so blinded with everything that Kat had gone through. “Oh god,” she burst out, covering her hands over her mouth and hunching forwards as she shook with terrified sobs.

Immediately she felt two people’s hands on her back, anchoring her to the present while she sobbed about the past. “You’re alright, Jane. It’s ok,” Anne whispered , “It’s scary to think about and it’s a lot to process but you’re ok now. I promise you’re ok.”

Those words were what Jane clung onto as she poured her emotions out, not caring that she was crying in front of them because she trusted them with this empty shell of herself she had become.

It was a few minutes before she had her breathing under control enough to talk again, sat leaning against Aragon with Cathy and Anne holding a hand each and Anna and Kat with her nearby. “I’m sorry,” she croaked, taking her hand back from Anne for a moment to rub at the tears streaming down her face.

“Don’t be,” Aragon whispered from above Jane’s head, squeezing her opposite shoulder gently with the arm around her back. “We can think about this in the morning. For now, though, we should really all be getting some more sleep.”

Kat’s yawn emphasised Aragon’s point exactly, and Jane cracked a tiny smile as she nodded. But then the thought of being alone for the rest of the night came flooding back, fear in her voice as she begged “Please, don’t leave me tonight.”

“Course we won’t,” said Anne with a smile.

And that was how a few minutes later found Jane tucked back up in her bed, with Kat curled into her on one side and Anne’s reassuring presence on the other. Cathy was latched onto Aragon like a koala a little way down the bed with Anna sprawled out and taking up the space by their feet. The night was still scary and she was still reluctant to sleep in case her nightmares made a return but Anne’s soft snoring next to her was a constant reminder that she was ok and that they’d both survived the past.

There was a lot she would need to deal with after that realisation she’d finally come to terms with. But, for now, she could rest with her family all around her and the knowledge that they would never let her get hurt again.

[phytolacca-a]

I was having some thoughts yesterday at work. I guess I just want to write them down on here though I’m not sure it’ll be fairly coherent. And I guess as a disclaimer, I’m Not writing down these thoughts as a generalizing statement or anything like that. I’m just typing down shit I’ve been trying to work out for myself.

I was thinking about charms and spells to obtain certain things and bringing them into yourself and your life. I’m talking things in similar caliber to like... how you’re seen by others, societal and interactive things pertaining to you personally, personal work, etc.; all varying by how you place them in your own importance. It’s also really a case by case type thing. But I hope people kind of getting what kinds of goals I mean.

I realized one could make a charm or perform a spell for something, in the desire for a certain outcome to just happen, and great- it works. I’ll put myself in this image. (Also this is aimed about spells that need upkeep.) Great, I’ve noticed my day to day life has been actually changed as a result of the work I did. Things are going well and I’m definitely happier as a result and wish it to be permanent. But what happens when things start wearing off? What happens when the charms need to be fed? Ok, I’ve not fed this charm in a while and now I’m noticing things are getting back to how they were (bonus points for if “back to normal” also meant “not great”) and I’m starting to get unhappy about the situation again. What do I do? I can either perform it again consistently, feed it consistently, or it just... goes away. Fizzles out. Wears off. So now I’m stuck in a cycle and choice of “Do this consistently for as long as you desire the effects” (which for some of this stuff, I’d imagine can go for “as long as I’m alive”) or “Don’t do the thing and you lose the benefits you’ve gotten/go back to normal.” A cycle of sole dependence on the charm; sole dependence on the magic.

To me, that starts to sting after a while. At least for certain things. (Like I said- case by case.)

I’ve given myself a temporary fix, something that gives me gratification on a more imposing time limit that I can only prolong; but how long can, or Will I ride that? Where will that specific charm get me 10, 15, 20, 50 years from now; will I still even have it? Is this approach really worth it if it’s something that can change back on a dime with little to no residual effect? Do you really feel deep gratification and reward from the work you’ve done on these topics of interest if it can be instantly taken away not by an elaborate curse or ritual but by the simple loss of material? Or the short-enough passage of time?

What these topics are worth and how you feel about them, again, are dependent on your own line of thinking.

I’d like to try experimenting with the direction of action that charms and spells I work go in, if possible; what light can I turn on in my brain, being and/or spirit? To me, I’ve realized- (as an example since it’s a common idea of desire), if my big goal was to be seen in a favorable way by the general public, I would not really like to be favored -today- Solely due to the charm I wear -today- with -tomorrow-’s effect less certain, but I would like to be favored because the charm/working has allowed me to develop in such a way where that specific charisma or goal has assimilated into myself. Where I have essentially learned this asset on multiple levels. A more permanent end goal. I’d like to see if I could figure that approach out. I believe there is a clear difference between the two approaches- also between the slow act of unlearning and the act of waning effect- and I can only hope that I’m describing it well enough.

There is something to the thought of “fake it till you make it” that can apply. I’m just thinking of the mental consequences of being stuck only in a cycle of applying your worth in that area of interest solely in something that can so easily be taken away... vs a sort of transformation. You know?

But yeah. These are just some thoughts I’ve been having recently on the direction of attitude I could be going in with this stuff, how I think I could improve, and things of the like. I’m sure I might expand on this as time goes on and I gain more experience. There’s always more to consider. Even as I’m writing this part of the post, there are more things I’m thinking about but they’re too fragmented and without form to really expand upon right this second so... yeah.

[chuffyfan87]

Growing Pains. Part 22b

He nodded, “I like the play. I think it helped me answer the question.”

"That does help but you need to put the same level of effort in on things you don't like too." She reminded him gently but firmly.

“I know Miss.”

"Because often you don't." She finished reading his answer. "This is excellent. I just need all your exam answers to be this good."

“I’m really trying Miss.”

"I know you are. Have you considered the idea of speaking to your parents about extra help outside of school?"

“Do you feel it’s necessary?”

"It might give you that extra push. As there's only so much we can do in the time you have at school with you only being part time."

“I’ve spoken with my parents about increasing my hours at school.”

"That will certainly help." She smiled.

A comfortable silence descended on them for a few moments. “What grade would I have achieved with that answer?” Louis asked.

"A high C, maybe even a low B."

He nodded. “And how and where can I improve to get a higher grade?”

"Well your predicted grade is a C so this essay is above that."

He nodded again, “Can I keep the essay?”

"Of course you can."

He took the essay back and put it in his file. “Thanks.”

"Your analysis of each quote is very detailed. Keep it up." She smiled.

“Yes Miss.”

"I'd like you to work through the other two questions at home before our next lesson."

“I will do.” He was about to say something else when the bell rang to signal the end of the lesson.

His teacher smiled as she dismissed him.

He packed away his stuff and said bye. He made his way to his next lesson, keeping his head down. He kept himself to himself at school these days.

As a result he almost jumped out his skin when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

He swallowed, his heart racing as he turned around.

"No need to shit your pants bro!" Tilly giggled.

“Bloody hell Tilly! Please don’t do that again!” He took a deep breath trying to steady his breathing. “You alright, sis?”

"Yeh, not bad." She shrugged. "Got PE next though. You any good at dad's signature?"

“PE ain’t that bad. And no. Can’t you say you’re on your period or something?”

"Used that excuse last week." She sulked. "How about mum's signature?"

“Do you have your PE kit? I could keep it? They can’t make you do PE with no kit.” He smiled, “Or you could just skive?”

She dug into her bag and chucked her kit at him. "You're the best bro!" She grinned.

“You’ll get me shot, you know that?” He put her PE kit into his bag.

"Yeh but I'm your favourite sister so I'm worth it!" She smirked.

“Maybe.” He smirked.

"Well I better go face Madam Hitler's wrath for not having my kit..!" She sniggered.

“Enjoy Tils. See you at home?”

"Yeh, laters."

“Love you sis.” He said quietly as he watched her head off down the corridor towards the gymnasium. He began to make his way towards his Maths classroom.

His maths teacher looked up as Louis walked in. "You're late."

“Sorry Sir. It won’t happen again.” Louis took a seat, opening his bag and taking out his pen and notebook.

"You're right it won't."

Louis sighed. He began to chew the end of his pen.

"Do you have your trigonometry homework?"

“Yes.” Louis opened his notebook and took out his homework. He handed it to his teacher.

"Did you scribble this whilst eating your breakfast with the other hand?"

“No. I tried really hard on it but I didn’t quite understand it. I did my best.”

"Right. Let's go over it again shall we?"

“Please.”

The teacher took out a marker pen and started to write on the board, explaining as he went.

Louis began to take notes.

Once he'd reached the end of the explanation the teacher turned back to Louis. "Is that any clearer now?"

Louis nodded as he looked up from his notebook, “Much clearer, thank you Sir.”

He pulled down a textbook from the shelf. He opened it to a particular page and placed it down in front of Louis. "Now try these questions."

Louis moved the textbook closer and read the questions. He took his time, referring back to his notes but he felt more confident now it had been explained again to him.

Whilst Louis worked through the questions his teacher found some further questions for him to work on at home before their next lesson.

Louis put his hand up.

"Yes?"

“I’ve finished the questions, Sir.”

"Let's have a look?" He held his hand out for the notebook.

Louis handed him the notebook.

He glanced down the page. "Good. That looks a lot more coherent."

“Can I re-attempt the homework?"

"Yes. Plus these questions." He handed Louis a sheet.

Louis took the sheet and put it in his notebook. “Sir?"

"Yes Louis?"

“Could I do a past paper one lesson? Just so I have a rough idea of what to expect during the exam?”

"Yes. This is the last topic area we need to cover so we'll move onto exam prep next."

“Ok. Thank you.”

"But in the mean time work through the two sets of questions I've given you plus the end of book questions in the textbook."

“Can I take the textbook home?”

"Yes."

“Thank you.” He had a while left of his lesson so Louis made a start on his homework, doing one of the sheets of questions.

After he'd finished his maths lesson it was lunchtime - time to brave the school canteen...

His anxiety was practically through the roof. He packed up and left the classroom, heading in the direction of the canteen. He felt like he couldn’t breath.

Up until today he'd always eaten a packed lunch in a classroom to avoid having to be amongst so many other people in the canteen.

He reached the canteen but was unable to go in.

After a few moments of hesitation he felt a firm shove in his back as another pupil tried to barge past him.

Louis stepped aside so the other student could go into the canteen. He needed some air! Things were getting too overwhelming!

He accidentally bumped another student as he stepped back. The lad turned and pushed Louis hard in the chest.

“I didn’t mean to bump into you!” Louis apologised.

"You're Emmy's brother ain't ya?"

“Yeah, why?”

"Do all of you have shit for brains in your family or is it just you two?" The lad asked, eliciting laughter from his friends.

Louis slammed the lad into the wall, “Leave my sister alone!”

"Ooh! What ya gunna do?!" The lad sneered, laughing mockingly.

“You’ll be laughing on the other side of your face when I’m finished with you!"

"You're just druggy scum! I ain't scared of you!"

“And you’re just a pathetic lad that gets his kicks out of bullying kids! We’re both scum!” Louis answered back, still pinning the lad against the wall.

The lad kicked Louis in the shins.

Louis laughed, “Is that all you’ve got?”

The lad gave a wink and Louis suddenly found himself being set on by the other three lads.

Louis’ survival instinct kicked in. He tried to stop himself getting seriously hurt by the four lads. Louis could fight when he needed to but he’d never been so outnumbered.

Some other students witnessed the fight and began to chant “fight, fight, fight.”

This caught the attention of a teacher in a nearby classroom who came running out into the corridor.

Several more teachers managed to break up the fight. Louis was bleeding. He had a nosebleed and a bust lip, he’d also been kicked in the ribs and stomach a few times.

"Urgh don't touch him sir!" One of the lads in the crowd remarked loudly. "He's probably got aids or sommat!"

“Enough! Get to the cooler now!” The teacher yelled, trying to disperse the gathering crowd. “The rest of you, get back to lunch!”

“I’m fucking clean!” Louis yelled as he stumbled to his feet, “Fuck off, prick!”

"Who you calling a prick?"

“You!” Louis stumbled into the wall, he really didn’t feel well.

"Woah, let's get you to first aid." One of the teachers instructed Louis as she took hold of his arm.

“Get off me!” Louis moved his arm away from her. He tried to stumble away but only made it a few steps before he collapsed.

The teacher checked his pulse before she called for assistance.

His eyes had rolled back and he was making choking noises.

The teacher put him onto his side, “It’s ok Louis.” She reassured.

They closed off the corridor and the school nurse came down to examine him. She quickly decided that he needed to go to hospital.

It was on the way to the hospital when Louis began to come round. He was really disoriented.

The school had informed the paramedics that there had been a fight but also insinuated that Louis may have taken something.

Louis was clean. He hadn’t touched anything. “Need to go home.” He said as he tried to get up off the stretcher.

"Nah, you need to go to hospital mate." The young paramedic told him.

“Home! Need to go home!”

"Not til you've been seen by a doctor. That's a nasty bang to the head and the teacher said you was tripping."

“Tripping?” Louis frowned.

"Yeh, it'll help if you tell us what it was you took, save 'em time at the hospital."

“I haven’t fucking took anything!!” Louis replied angrily.

"Yeh I believe you mate." The paramedic winked at him.

“I’m clean.” Louis said sadly and sighed, “I was an addict but I’ve been clean for months.” They soon arrived at the hospital, Louis didn’t want to be there. He knew nobody would believe that he hadn’t touched anything. He was wheeled in on the bed by the paramedics. He didn't recognise the doctor who came to treat him which only increased his anxiety. “Who are you?” He asked.

"I'm Doctor Peters, I'm a locum here today. What's your name?"

“Is there nobody else I can see?” He asked, fiddling with his hands nervously. “Louis.”

The doctor proceeded to order a barrage of tests, most of it going over Louis' head until he heard a familar voice suddenly demand to know what the hell was going on and asking why they hadn't been informed immediately.

“Duffy? Dad?” Louis called from inside the cubicle. He tried getting off the bed.

"Woah! Lie still." Duffy told him gently. "Its ok, your dad will be here in a minute, I've sent someone to get him." She turned to the locum. "I asked what's going on?!" She repeated.

“Don’t feel well...” Louis told her.

“I wasn’t aware this was your son and as he’s over the age of sixteen, I’m not obliged to inform the parents.” The doctor replied, “I’m running a series of tests including blood tests to see if that gives us any indication of what he took. The paramedics said the school are convinced he’s taken something. He also needs a head CT.”

[geejaysmith]

so Kat and I were talking on Discord again and you know what that means

Kat [Yesterday at 6:49 PM] bad end where Hilbert subdues Eiffel leaving Minkowski out to die and she either drifts into the star or gets flared before she suffocates and Hilbert gets clobbered by a really pissed off Minkowski 2 possibly accompanied by Lovelace if the DL wanted to indicate how peeved they were that he messed with Their Boy Eiffel: Commander I thought you were dead. And who's that? Minkowski: I have no idea but she also wants to kill Hilbert and right now that's good enough for me.

Gill [Yesterday at 6:53 PM] ...angry alien gfs. I might just have to write that AU.

And so, like most things inevitably do with me, this got out of hand, so:

WOLF 359 SPEEDRUN/FUNHOUSE MIRROR UNIVERSE/ALIEN MINKOWSKI AU:

Eiffel can’t get to his oxygen mask in time and gets KO’d; Hera might be able to cause an electrical fire on her own to activate the loophole in her programming, but not fast enough to let Minkowski back into the station in time. 

Kat [Yesterday at 6:58 PM] Dear Listeners: he's hurting our boy!!!! D : Dear Listeners: unleash the hounds

Minkowski comes to aboard Lovelace’s shuttle while Lovelace is waking up from cryo and getting her bearings. Since she’s understandably disorientated, Minkowski assumes Lovelace must’ve pulled her onboard just in time to save her life - Lovelace knows this isn’t the case, but for now, doesn’t correct her.

Having no idea who each other are, they’re obviously suspicious about one another, but both know the command authentication codes so that at least checks out. Radioing the Hephaestus itself gives the two more evidence to back up their respective stories; Minkowski takes some satisfaction in Hilbert’s shock when he picks up and hears her voice on the line, only to look over at Lovelace and see her expression darken with white hot fury. 

Gill [Yesterday at 7:20 PM] "Minkowski, how the hell did you-" "Selberg. I hope killing off your crew didn't turn into a habit while I was away." And like, as much as Minkowski can just about feel the rage radiating off of the alleged captain, Lovelace is using her calm, measured Menacing Voice, and that plus the way Hilbert's stunned silence turns into disbelieving terror lifts a few of Minkowski's doubts about Lovelace being who she says she is. Kat [Yesterday at 7:20 PM] ofc a wrinkle is that hilbert would've had plenty of time to get in touch with cutter by now

Okay, schadenfreude aside, now they have a problem: there’s no way Hilbert’s about to let the shuttle dock with the station, yet alone open the airlocks for them. 

This might be where Lovelace tells Minkowski “so is now a good time to mention the bomb I have wired to my heart rate?” The details on that plot point are foggy still.  Kat [Yesterday at 7:46 PM] Maybe hilbert overrode Minkowski's command authentication but 'hey Hera if Lovelace is the Hephaestus' commanding officer shouldn't you do what she says' or something

(Personally I’m a fan of this working to get the shuttle docked but not to get the doors open and that’s when Minkowski goes the full Carol Danvers. Doesn’t even realize anything Weird is going on, she’s far too focused on stopping Hilbert and saving Eiffel and Hera to notice she just blasted that door open)

(let me have my superpowered alien space commando chicks ok)

(It is very badass and Lovelace finds herself quite taken with the Commander.)

(I’m gay and I ship it)

Hilbert still wrecks Hera’s hardware but Minkowski has control of the station back, Eiffel is still loopy on laughing gas but largely unharmed, and they have a new potential ally in Lovelace (and the audio files she left on the station plus Hilbert both confirm her story) except tension still rises between them because Minkowski and Eiffel need Hilbert alive to fix Hera (and because Decima virus but they don’t know that yet) and Lovelace is in favor of killing him because he’s too dangerous to leave alive. Once she’s back online, Hera sides with Lovelace.

Hilbert got a message thru to Cutter about the alien transmissions, but may not be able to establish a connection to talk to the crew directly due to stellar interference. Either way, the crew gets to speedrun season 2 because they have every reason to assume a Goddard Futuristics Kill Squad is on it’s way.  

Nobody knows about Minkowski and anything strange about her since getting space-marooned has some reasonable explanation. Lovelace and the rest roll with the explanation that she got the Commander onto the shuttle; Hera might know Minkowski’s vitals flatlined and stayed that way for hours but Minkowski is the only one she tells about it. With no reasonable alternatives, they chalk it up to stellar interference disrupting the signals from her spacesuit. When SI-5 arrives Kepler knows right off the bat that there’s Something Up with Lovelace, but given Hilbert jumped the gun in pronouncing Minkowski and Eiffel dead, he doesn’t suspect Minkowski. 

Maxwell and Jacobi swap a few plot-beats; Maxwell is the one who meets her double in Time to Kill and Jacobi is the one taken hostage by the crew in Desperate Measures, the fallout of which leads to  D a r k   V e n g e a n c e   M a x w e l l . 

However, because Maxwell is smart and figured a few things out, her real aim with her countercoup is yeeting Jacobi’s body into the star to get him back, and shaking sense into Kepler so he doesn’t shoot him once they do. 

She probably also figured out Minkowski’s a duplicate too and so shocks her out of her denial. Probably by spacing her. 

She’ll be fine, don’t give me that look. 

Full chat transcript below ft. WAY more details that haven’t shaken out into something coherent just yet, nonsequitor Adventure Zone jokes, and at least one Spider-Verse reference:

Kat [Yesterday at 6:58 PM] Dear Listeners: he's hurting our boy!!!! D : unleash the hounds

Gill [Yesterday at 6:58 PM] "send in the most competent of More Competent Women we have" my brain is taking this idea and running with it, I'm picturing Minkowski hazily slipping into unconsciousness as her air supply runs out only to very suddenly come to, realizing after a few good deep breaths that she's not back in the station. This craft looks like something somebody put together in their garage, it's too much of a mess even for the Hephaestus. meanwhile Lovelace steps out of cryo to find there is suddenly a stranger in a spacesuit aboard her ship, hyperventilating her way back to proper consciousness. Out the front window is a station that looks kind of like the Hephaestus, but she's probably just been out here too- you're the commander of the USS what now, ma'am

Kat [Yesterday at 7:08 PM] bonus points since Hera monitors their suits so Minkowski gets back on structure and is like I lived?? somehow? and Hera's like Commander your vitals flatlined hours ago

Gill [Yesterday at 7:08 PM] after taking a moment to sort out exactly how impossible the situation they've found themselves in is, back on the station, Hilbert gets an unexpected comms hail from Minkowski, who should've been dead more than an hour ago, and she wishes she could see the look on his face when he hears her voice. Though she does get to see how Lovelace reacts when she hears Hilbert, and if hearing from one dead commanding officer gives Hilbert pause, it's a whole different ball game when Lovelace gets on the receiver.

Gill [Yesterday at 7:20 PM] "Minkowski, how the hell did you-" "Selberg. I hope killing off your crew didn't turn into a habit while I was away." And like, as much as Minkowski can just about feel the rage radiating off of the alleged captain, Lovelace is using her calm, measured Menacing Voice, and that plus the way Hilbert's stunned silence turns into disbelieving terror lifts a few of Minkowski's doubts about Lovelace being who she says she is.

Kat [Yesterday at 7:20 PM] ofc a wrinkle is that hilbert would've had plenty of time to get in touch with cutter by now

Gill [Yesterday at 7:21 PM] hm, maybe the Dear Listeners run interference so the signal doesn't get back to Earth, or at least Cutter can't get a response in which ofc might just make him send a goon squad up there anyway, so Wolf 359 Speedrun My other concern would be "there's no way Hilbert's letting those two onto the station" which may require DL Godmodding anyway

Kat [Yesterday at 7:23 PM] eiffel just strapped to a table the whole time like the damsel in distress he is maybe he can still talk hera through some sort of hack if hilbert didn't bother to gag him

Gill [Yesterday at 7:24 PM] Dear Listeners: /metaphorically playing rock paper scissors to see which duplicate gets to go full Captain Marvel and BAMF her way back onto the station also Minkowski going full Commander Mama Bear and blasting a door or three open is a wonderful mental image Eiffel, half-conscious, strapped to a lab table, extremely sure Minkowski is dead by now and Hilbert is going to dissect him- and then the door is kicked open and there she is, so full of Righteous Fury she's literally glowing. also: Eiffel blabbering something about "oh my god Commander they made you my guardian angel, I am SO sorry, you didn't do anything that warranted being stuck with that job in this life or the next but if it's any consolation it's probably not gonna be a problem much longer" "Eiffel. Eiffel I'm not dead, Hilbert's been deposed, you can stop crying now."

Kat [Yesterday at 7:37 PM] Hera like Commander but you should be dead though.

Gill [Yesterday at 7:42 PM] Minkowski headed up to the bridge, carrying Eiffel over her shoulder (he is still slightly convinced this is his dying dream and now Hera is with them here in whatever afterlife this is, so perhaps he is not, in fact, in Hell) : Well radio transmissions shouldn't come from deep space and my second-in-command shouldn't try to kill me, a lot of very strange things are happening today. "also please tell me Captain Lovelace didn't kill Hilbert while they were alone, I have questions for him." (Hera: no but I wouldn't drag your feet, also who the hell is she and how did she get on this station.)

Kat [Yesterday at 7:46 PM] to preserve elements of using Hera's loopholes to outwit Hilbert though I do like the idea of them finding some hack to let the ship dock. Maybe hilbert overrode Minkowski's command authentication but 'hey Hera if Lovelace is the Hephaestus' commanding officer shouldn't you do what she says' or something Eiffel like you forgot to disarm my only weapon doc and that's my mouth

Gill [Yesterday at 7:51 PM] makes sense, also maybe Lovelace overriding Hilbert's override buys them enough time to cook up an emergency that activates Hera's emergency protocols, since that strikes me as a more secure foothold (Lovelace: I'm overriding your override! Hilbert: Well, I'm overriding you overriding my override!) (meanwhile, Eiffel starts a fire while strapped to a table, somehow)

Kat [Yesterday at 7:53 PM] Eiffel: Hey Hera remember when you ran a cleaning cycle on the something or other on the aft deck to try to be helpful and started an electrical fire? Hera: Yeah? Eiffel: This would be a great time to be helpful

Gill [Yesterday at 7:56 PM] Hera: oops, there's a fire! looks like we gotta open all the airlocks to vent the fire, including the one to the docking bay! He's locked himself into the bridge, Commander. (Lovelace: dibs on punching him first. Minkowski: not if I get there before you do.)

Kat [Yesterday at 8:00 PM] SI 5 gets there at some later point and Kepler is like ah yes, captain lovelace, definitely an alien. surprise bitch. there's 2 ofc hilbert lied in his message and said he'd terminated both Eiffel AND minkowski so maybe Kepler's like... a whole crew... all aliens

Gill [Yesterday at 8:02 PM] Kepler: okay, so what're the odds Hilbert jumped the gun vs I am now walking into a station full of aliens. shitpost brain chiming in with: Kepler: ok, is anyone in this crew not an alien? Hera: Me.

Kat [Yesterday at 8:03 PM] Eiffel's like an honorary adopted alien

Gill [Yesterday at 8:04 PM] alt version that could potentially be serious: Kepler: ok, fess up, I know there's at least one alien onboard. Eiffel: It's me extra meme'd version: Jacobi: She's an alien, she's an alien, he's an alien - I'm an alien! Are there any other aliens I should know about??? duplicate!Maxwell: (^:

Kat [Yesterday at 8:05 PM] Minkowski: Ok, we need to take out Hilbert. We have the element of surprise, but what other assets do we have? Lovelace: Is this a bad time to mention the bomb strapped to my heartrate.

Gill [Yesterday at 8:06 PM] Minkowski: The bomb. Lovelace: Yup. Minkowski: The bomb that is presumably armed. Lovelace: Yup. Minkowski: ...and where in this small, enclosed shoebox of a deep space vessel is this device? Lovelace: Wired into the shoebox's engine. Minkowski: Of course it is.

Kat [Yesterday at 8:09 PM] minkowski: I get launched off the good ship crazy and find the only person crazier within the next 8 light years. Lovelace: That's because I'm the only bitch that can handle it.

Gill [Yesterday at 8:12 PM] also, Minkowski: Could this day get any weirder. Lovelace: Uh ...as a matter of fact, it can. Minkowski: Please don't tell me you have superpowers or anything like that. Lovelace: Well, I don't, but tell me Minkowski, do your hands... normally glow? alternatively Minkowski is just too Righteous Fury to even notice the Dear Listeners trying to get a word in and now Eiffel is convinced she's secretly been an X-Man the whole time

Kat [Yesterday at 8:19 PM] Lovelace like so... cons? woke up back at the Hephaestus. pros? got a hot girl airdropped

Gill [Yesterday at 8:23 PM] Lovelace, initially: who the hell are you and how did you get on my ship and what the hell is happening, explain before my escalating heartrate kills us both Lovelace, watching Minkowski go full Captain Marvel after teaming up with her and the rest of The New Gang to stop her mutinous ex-friend: potential enemies to potential lovers inside of 20 minutes, that must be some kind of land speed record

Kat [Yesterday at 8:25 PM] heart rate is still a problem

Gill [Yesterday at 8:25 PM] better get a handle on those feelings or else my escalating heartrate will kill us both they could keep that ace up their sleeve for when SI-5 turns up early, if only for the irony of having an explosive device that can be potentially triggered by Gay Feelings and Daniel Jacobi in the same space station

Kat [Yesterday at 8:29 PM] gay bomb chicken Jacobi: my bomb was fake Minkowski: My gun was empty Lovelace: My bomb is very real

Gill [Yesterday at 8:33 PM] a concept: Jacobi figuring out Lovelace has a crush because combination of explosives expertise and gaydar, his reaction is something along the lines of "no, no, NO!! Nobody told me there was gonna be relationship drama on this boat ride, what the hell" also, Lovelace: in my defense my gun was also empty but my bomb is still very real

Kat [Yesterday at 8:35 PM] Jacobi you have no room to talk Jacobi like ok we've got the human/alien or maybe alien/alien going on but I misread the human/AI deal so that's one scifi trope we've avoided so far.

Gill [Yesterday at 8:36 PM] Jacobi, probably: I keep my workplace drama and my relationship drama separate, like a professional ought to. Minkowski: why do you people keep saying I'm an alien Eiffel: Honestly Commander I'm still holding out hope for the "mutant" route, do you perchance know a Charles Xavier?

Kat [Yesterday at 8:37 PM] re: your last I'm imagining Jacobi being like 'I'm upset about this for personal reasons but i'm going to be professional about it.' *clocks out* *screams*

Gill [Yesterday at 8:39 PM] (1) I'm laughing and (2) I mean Hera's the one that clocked out for break but that is technically still what happened in Dirty Work

Kat [Yesterday at 8:42 PM] My union contract says when I'm not clocked in I can be as dramatic as I want Kepler: remember rule # 8. No complaints. Jacobi: My shift ends in 30 seconds. They both watch the clock. 30 seconds later Jacobi: Son of a biTCH

Gill [Yesterday at 8:43 PM] Kepler: what union Jacobi: I'd tell you but then I'd have to kill you before you could get Cutter's anti-union hitsquad involved

Kat [Yesterday at 8:43 PM] The Jacobi Union

Gill [Yesterday at 8:44 PM] "help my Jacobis have unionized" though Gay Bomb Chicken + Lovelace almost puts me in mind that this AU is like an almost-mirror of canon and so Lovelace is the one who ends up talking Jacobi down somehow and it's Maxwell who does get Xerox'd in Time To Kill

Kat [Yesterday at 8:49 PM] this does raise. Questions about Cutter vs Minkowski and Lovelace can he only control 1 at a time

Gill [Yesterday at 8:51 PM] or they just actually succeed at covering up that one of them (Minkowski, probably) is a duplicate

Kat [Yesterday at 8:51 PM] also if you're saying everything's switched is Maxwell still the one who gets shot in desperate measures

Gill [Yesterday at 8:53 PM] Lovelace: I'll take one for the team, I'll be the alien. Minkowski: you really think they'll buy it /cue season 3 finale

Kat [Yesterday at 8:53 PM] honestly if jacobi got shot and maxwell went feral she'd probably win tbh

Gill [Yesterday at 8:55 PM] hm... Maxwell going full Rage Mode, getting to deal with the tasty dramatic emotions of Genuine Loss AND the consequences of turning on Hera, or Maxwell does still get shot but then a few hours later they find her walking around like nothing happened with no memory of the past two weeks both are delicious

Kat [Yesterday at 8:57 PM] I feel like instead of goading the others into it dark!Maxwell would either take out kepler herself or force Hera to do it Hera like, I'm not particularly morally distressed about this I would've killed him if you'd asked but you're making me so I'm mad

Gill [Yesterday at 9:00 PM] Alternatively Maxwell looks at the situation, remembers the Implications Hera might've let slip that, as far as appearances go, Minkowski came back from the dead to stop Hilbert and protect her crew, and says "okay, no. Not when it's her finger on the trigger and Jacobi's life on the line, let's back off and regroup." Kepler is not pleased with this decision of hers.

Kat [Yesterday at 9:02 PM] alternatively alternatively Minkowski: I'm sorry I killed your friend I guess? Maxwell: Actions speak louder than words. Help me yeet his body into the star. I think I've figured this out.

Gill [Yesterday at 9:04 PM] Lovelace comes back but the Dear Listeners decide it's more energy efficient if they drop off the new Jacobi while they hold their Contact Event so in this timeline it's Jacobi who's had enough of Kepler's whamma-jamma. Lovelace: doesn't it freak you out that they can just puppet you around?? Jacobi: yes but I'm very good at compartmentalizing. Also blowing off Kepler's hand? Strangely satisfying.

Kat [Yesterday at 9:08 PM] given the symbolism in play in canon there that's some sort of mobius double metaphor reacharound

Gill [Yesterday at 9:12 PM] canon timeline: "Disarming" = removing Kepler's right hand, foreshadowing his right hand man turning against him and no longer being a weapon in his arsenal Funhouse-Mirror timeline: Jacobi, Kepler's right hand man, can now be controlled by the Dear Listeners, so maybe Kepler gets a Replacement Alien Hand that the Dear Listeners can communicate through via sign language or writing wasn't sure where trying to work out THAT tangle of thought was gonna go but "help my right hand is possessed" is an a-okay destination by me

Kat [Yesterday at 9:13 PM] tbf many ASL signs are two handed, albeit often a doubled similar sign idk about other languages

Gill [Yesterday at 9:14 PM] hey my first thought was "the animatic with the sockpuppets is now a PROPHECY" I'm in full Insane Troll Logic mode

Kat [Yesterday at 9:14 PM] pryce is gonna have a hell of a time lobotomizing everyone depending on how far you want to take this but yeah the robot hand = getting ur robot lobotomy second in command so idk where u go there

Gill [Yesterday at 9:18 PM] hey, you've got so many duplicates walking around now, why save the psi-wave regulator trick for the finale? I mean there might not be enough if the star isn't blue but... I mean they had to test that thing somehow, right do they have a psi-wave generator lying around somewhere?

Kat [Yesterday at 9:20 PM] I assume it goes both ways, since it seems to be an increase that causes the possession, and cutter was essentially doing that to lovelace

Gill [Yesterday at 9:21 PM] or: Cutter challenges the known aliens (Jacobi and Lovelace, if they do successfully keep Minkowski on the down-lo) to a board game, and whoever comes in last place is gonna be the first one to get dissected!

Kat [Yesterday at 9:22 PM] Lovelace: What if you lose

Gill [Yesterday at 9:23 PM] Cutter: Then I throw one of your friends out the airlock while you watch! maybe they still tried to put Jacobi thru Processing first while unaware he'd been alien'd so he broke the neural scanner, and they just restraining bolted Eiffel, Maxwell, and Minkowski. Minkowski's restraining bolt is running but doesn't do shit, and she's stuck putting on the performance of a lifetime while she comes up with a Plan

Kat [Yesterday at 9:28 PM] time to use your acting chops I have another long day tomorrow, I should probably go to bed. Enjoy figuring out which of the like 500 strands of spaghetti we flung at the wall is the one that sticks.

Gill [Yesterday at 9:31 PM] o/ night night, I'll probably be typing at you to get some coherent Ideas out so enjoy THAT wall of text in the morning

Kat [Yesterday at 9:32 PM] I Will

Gill [Yesterday at 9:36 PM] shaking up the Contact Event aside I kinda like the idea of Maxwell's Rampage Of Revenge ending up being just one big gambit to get somebody to chuck Jacobi's body into the star... and then I thought "what if Minkowski has been stubbornly dodging that she got alien-resurrected this entire time and can keep finding explanations around the weird shit happening to her, and Maxwell's plan ALSO has her forcing Minkowski to face the truth?"

Gill [Yesterday at 9:45 PM] "Yes, all of this was a ploy to trap you in the decompression chamber, but it was also a ploy to get you to throw Jacobi's body into the star. I just thought to myself, hey, if I'm gonna go to the trouble of going Dark Vengeance Maxwell, I might as well multitask."

Gill [Yesterday at 9:52 PM] Minkowski: Did we NOT just agree that killing me or Kepler isn't gonna solve anything?? Maxwell: Oh you're right, it won't! Don't worry Commander, you've gotten lucky with airlocks in the past, right? Like how the Captain found you just in time? And that hour you spent with your vitals all flatlined was just a glitch, caused by "stellar interference"? I have a funny feeling your luck hasn't run out just yet.

Gill [Yesterday at 10:00 PM] so Minkowski gets to process that she was An Alien The Whole Time while Eiffel is probably off on his visionquest, Jacobi is Back and having a similar Bad Time, and Maxwell's escaped into the vents to keep Hera from killing her as violently as possible. Kepler and Lovelace are having the least amount of Crisis. slight alteration to this: by some Process Of Events, Eiffel gets to play out the Dramatic Rescue that happened offscreen in Box 953 and that's how he ends up outside and decides to jump into the star, or Minkowski goes on his adventure with him (though not as a frozen corpse the whole time if I can find a way to wrangle it even if I do have to invoke my right as a fanfic writer to jump this shark and say Fuck It, Alien Clones Can Breathe In Space Sometimes)

Gill [Yesterday at 10:26 PM] Minkowski, totally not freaking out herself: Eiffel, you still need to worry about conserving your oxygen supply, so I am giving you a direct order to not freak out. Eiffel, who I must note has not seen The Last Jedi: ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?! THIS IS LIKE IF PRINCESS LEIA KILLED JABBA THE HUTT BY FORCE-LIFTING HIM INTO THE SARLACC PITT FROM STRAIGHT OUTTA THE WILD BLUE NOWHERE! yes it did take me getting ready for bed to realize that sound can't travel in space if no air so Minkowski would have to Dear Listener-commandeer his comms channel to talk to him, unless we want to get into my Found Family Psychic Link conspiracy theories additionally a TAZ joke popped into my head and it's not gonna leave til I say it no matter how little sense it makes without twisting the narrative into a logic-pretzel Bob, after witnessing Minkowski just out-stubborn physics: how... what in the world are you? Minkowski: I'm bisexual. Bob: And do all... bisexuals have this power? Minkowski: /glances at Eiffel, raises an eyebrow Eiffel: ...I'm personally partial to the pansexual label myself, sooooo... Minkowski, @ Bob: Yes.

Gill [Yesterday at 10:47 PM] alternatively after a brief and entirely physically impossible conversation about what he's about to do, Eiffel's like, okay, I'm gonna cut my tether while you keep ahold of it, then you push off from me, I push off from you, I go see what our friends want while you go take command of your station. bc then that lets me do this: Minkowski: Okay, on three. You ready? Eiffel: ...no. You? Minkowski: ...not really. But maybe that's all it is, a- Eiffel: A leap of faith, right. Okay, on three. [muffled What's Up Danger playing from the Dorado constellation in the distance]

Gill [Yesterday at 11:01 PM] I still don't know what happens to Hilbert, sorry m'dude

Gill [Yesterday at 11:12 PM] Last thought before I succumb to unconsciousness for the night: I'm just gonna drive a monkey wrench right into those gears and toss out "instead of Hera manifesting a humansona in mental space she gets herself a custom meatsuit 3D printed, made from the DNA of her friends" and then just not think through the implications of that at all right now

Kat [Today at 6:21 AM] "brief and entirely physically impossible conversation" yknow you can't talk in space but you could sign in space I was also thinkin maybe the Lovelace/crew tension is that Hilbert still rips Hera's personality out and they want to keep him around to fix her and Lovelace wants to kill him bc he's too dangerous

Kat [Today at 6:42 AM] Maybe and/or instead of trying to kill him Maxwell's rampage involves trying to convince Kepler that the duplicates still count as people since she's going to all the trouble of getting Jacobi back and he better not just fucking shoot him again. and instead of his heel-face turn getting kicked off by a betrayal making him rethink his entire life it's Maxwell reading him the riot act like 'maybe you've told yourself these aren't real people so you can do more terrible shit to them but I'm getting my best friend back and you're going to like it' Maxwell: Repeat after me: I will not rekill Jacobi. Kepler, droning at gunpoint: I will not rekill Jacobi. Maxwell: And if I'm an asshole Lovelace takes another limb. Lovelace: Oh, I like Dark Maxwell.

Kat [Today at 7:06 AM] Kepler like, You want to invite one of these monsters on board just because it has a face you know. Maxwell: for god's sake, you've been living with the captain for months and you're telling me you really still believe that? (Idk how they'd actually make the delivery once maxwell asks for it, maybe they'd send him back as a peace offering when spitting Eiffel out?) Jacobi, recently returned from the dead in space: what the fuck upon getting back to the Hephaestus and immediately being apprehended by Cutter and co: what the fuck

Kat [Today at 7:14 AM] like Maxwell's real pissed and upset until the funeral and then once she sees Lovelace resurrect she's like Hey she starts off ranting @ Kepler for keeping secrets the same way as Jacobi did but then she's like "don't you get it, that's how we can get him back" Kepler, about 2 exits behind on the freeway: wait what

Gill [Today at 7:15 AM] Maxwell: I'm gonna need some help to get rid of a body Kepler: I mean I'm not following but ok Maybe the Dear Listeners have the presence of mind to just put Jacobi back on the Hephaestus directly He has a few minutes to reboot in peace before Maxwell leaps on him from the vents for Happy Reunion Time

[ironwoman18]

The Worst Third Date Ever part 18

Chapter 18: Special meetings.

The next morning Max woke up early and check on Spencer, who was still sleeping. She walked to the bathroom, washed her face and brushed her teeth then she walked back in and Spencer was opening his eyes softly.

"Hello there handsome" she walked to him and ran her hand on his head "how did you sleep?"

"Fine but I'm still feel tired" he said looking at her.

"Of course, you had a tough day yesterday" she said to him "just take it easy, ok baby?" He nodded.

His doctor walked in "oh I see you are awake Doctor Reid. How are you feeling?"

"Fine but tired"

"That's normal, you had intracranial hemorrhage and your body was in a lot of stress, headache?" She asked as she checked his eyes, he nodded softly "ok, that's also normal. We will do MRI and a transcranial doppler. The first to check your brain function and the second to check your blood pressure to your brain and if there is more bleeding"

He nodded softly "ok doctor"

"Perfect, we will schedule both for today at night so you can rest some more" she said and he falls back to sleep then she looked at Max "can I talk with you?"

"Sure" she said and both women walked out of the room.

"Well I think bringing his mom here yesterday to make decisions was a mistake, I didn't know she wasn't capable of that due to her schizophrenia and alzheimer so I think you should make them"

"Oh no, I don't feel prepared to do it"

"Miss Brenner. You are his girlfriend and I'm sure you can make the right decisions for him to be safe" Max sighed.

"And what do I have to decide on?"

"Nothing yet but in the future you may do. Right now I will leave him rest and recover. But he understood what we said and he spoke coherently so that part of his brain is working" the doctor continued "I think his brain is pretty much at ninety-eight percentage fine but we will need some test"

"And when he will be able to leave?"

"Once we check him and make sure he will be fine, we can let him go back home and will be on medical leave for a month. I would like if you stay with him while he's at home"

"Sure no problem"

"Perfect. I will go write his name on the list for those exams and you should rest too. He needs his girlfriend to be healthy" she nodded.

"I will, I just going for breakfast oh and I was wondering if he will be able to eat today"

"Yes we will go to his room in an hour to give him some food"

"Ok thank you doctor" then Max walked to cafetera and bought a sandwich and coffee then she went back to his room and ate while reading a book.

Two hours later she was focused in her book when suddenly heard his voice "what are you reading?"

She looked up and smiled "I'm reading The Picture of Dorian Gray"

"Oh... great choice. It shows an hedonistic point of view and it was very polemic back then but now it's a classic"

"Yeah I already read it but I lent it and my former roommate left before she ended it and instead of returning it, she took it with her"

"That's terrible, that's why I never lend my books, even to my closest friends"

She nodded and smiled "yeah after that I decided to not lend them anymore" she stood up and walked to him "you look more like yourself. I guess those naps are helping" she ran her hand into his hair "do you need anything?"

"I'm hungry and thirsty" he looked at her and held her hand

"I will call the nurse to get you something" he nodded and she pushed the button of the nurse center "doctor K said that you will need help when you get discharged so I will stay with you on your medical leave" he was about to protest but Max gave him a warning look "I won't accept a no for an answer"

"Ok I understand and I guess that stubbornness brought me here right?" He smiles.

"I guess that big brain is working just fine" she smirked, then the nurse walked in.

"Oh look who is awake" she said looking at his signals and that everything was working fine "I will get you lunch, because breakfast time had already ended. It will be here in a few minutes" both nodded and the nurse left.

Max was rubbing his hand softly "want me to read to you while we wait?" He nodded and she got her book then sat on a small piece of the bed and started to read to him. She was already reading chapter 5 so when she started Spencer knew exactly what happened before thanks to his eidetic memory.

Some minutes later the nurse arrived with his food. Chicken soup, ground meat with rice, juice and jell-o. Max moved to sit back on the chair and looked as he smiled when he saw the jell-o.

"You are like a kid when you see that" she laughed softly "its weird and adorable at the same time"

"I love them since I was a kid" he laughed and started to eat "are you going to take lunch?"

"Yeah I will but no yet" she put in her bag her book. She looked at him as he ate then she saw JJ and Emily out the door she just stood up and walked out of the room

"Oh hey" said Emily holding a balloon saying 'Get better' on it "how are you?" They walked in.

"We are fine" said Max smiling at them "Spencer, as you can see, is eating so I guess he's recovering fast"

"That's great" JJ smiled "and did you take lunch?" She shook her head "if you want you can go to get some food, maybe a shower while we are here with Spence"

"Sure, the doctor will take him to some test in an hour so you can keep him company while I'm gone" the two women nodded. Then they all walked in "honey, look who are here to visit you" she pointed to her coworkers "I will go back to my apartment and I will be here soon. Love you" she kissed him softly.

"Ok see you later. Love you too" then she left the room and went to her car.

In the room Spencer commented "Everett Lynch's still alive" he said with worry in his tone.

Both women smiled and sat down "we found it out the next day"

"Really?... how...?"

"The forensic analysis said one of the bodies was Roberta but the one we thought was Lynch was actually the detective"

"Oh my..." said Spencer drinking some juice "I figured it based on the hypothesis of him using a tunnel" he rubbed his forehead softly.

"Hey genius calm down" said Emily "you don't need to analyze it. We already killed him"

"How?" They explained what happened "wait... JJ blown up the jet?" JJ nodded biting her lip "but that's impossible... the diesel it use doesn't ignite at that temperature. It's not like gas so a flare gun can't be used to turn on the diesel"

"And there is the Spencer we love" said JJ laughing "I don't why it happened but it did and Everett Lynch is dead"

"How's Rossi?"

"With a cast at home" answered Emily "I'm happy we got him and that every member of the team is alive. With scratches but alive" she smiled.

"Totally, I'm happy, I think this was just another big test for our team, and we passed it" the two women smiled then they talked some more until the doctor arrived to take him back to run the tests.

Thirty minutes later he was back, Emily went to get some coffee for her and JJ so when he arrived there was just JJ.

"Where's Emily?"

"She's getting coffee. How were the tests?"

"I don't know, doctor K will give me the results later. JJ can I tell you something?"

"Sure Spence, anything"

"Well... um... during my time unconscious I had, once again, one of those near-death hallucinations" she covered her mouth "and there was Maeve... it felt so real" he had some tears "she asked me what I love and she asked me to do what I love"

"And what do you love?"

"Lot of things but one of them is Max and after what happened I feel like the next move should be..."

"Pop the question?" She smirked looking at him as he smiled and nodded "well that's something very common in this unit. Will and I, Derek and Savannah, Rossi and Krystall" they both laughed "and if I have to bet, Andrew could do the same sooner than later"

"Would love to join that bet" they laughed.

"How will you propose to her?"

"I would like to do it outside the hospital. Maybe at the park we met"

"Sounds lovely Spence, I'm sure she will love it. She is lucky to have you" she smiled and he nodded.

"Thank you JJ"

"For?"

"For everything. I know you were worry about me when I was here, unconscious. You are my bestfriend" she held his hand.

"I said this when you were sleeping but I want you to know that I'm sorry, I didn't insist you hard enough to get checked after the explosion... Hotch could be so disappointed we didn't take care of you"

"It's ok JJ. I was full of regret for the dead of the SWAT team. I wouldn't listen" he looked down.

Then Emily walked in "JJ we have to go... we have a case" they both looked at him "Max is on her way so you won't be alone for so long" he nodded.

"Go save the day" he smiled as both women hugged him and leave.

OOooOOooOO

So that's it for now. What do you think? And I would like some ideas for his proposal, have one but I would like to read yours and if I like it I will use it and give you the credit.

[rayadraws]

Raya-san, do you have any OPM OCs?

Ohh!Hm, well, I don’t have any that I have like... fleshed out, regularly draw or RP with or anything like that... I have a few that I’ve made up for my fics where I needed a certain perspective or some such? These are the ones that spring to mind...

I will put this under a Read More, on account of the quotes making the post a bit long...

The oldest one I have, I guess, is from The unwilling patient (2016) where we study Genos’ body through the eyes of a young cyberneticist working for the HA, tasked to repair Genos after he’s injured:

By all accounts, he should have felt beyond excited. As far as he knew, no one had ever been given the same opportunity - the same honour. This would be a true testament to his skills. He'd be able to say, afterwards, that "ah, yes, that is the result of my work! Look at him go, how I fixed him!" Something to put in his resume, for sure. Something to brag about later. He should have been ecstatic.

The truth, however, was that he only felt very, very nervous. Primarily thanks to a pair of gold-on-black eyes that shone with an absolute fury. Directed straight at him.

A few months later I made a follow-up to that one, where the guy is fleshed out a little more and we learn that his name is Sato Ichigo (and that he has a girlfriend who tells him to tone down the fanboy:ing). That piece is titled Ten Visits and is about Genos visiting Ichigo for repairs that he doesn’t want to bother Kuseno with, gradually forming a sort of friendship (which was Kuseno’s plan all along, heh) as well as seeing Genos/Saitama’s relationship through an outsider’s view, which is one of my favourite things to write...

If Ichigo had been braver, he might have asked Doctor Kuseno if maybe he could come for a visit to see his lab and his work, one day. But that felt too large a request, especially knowing how the old man preferred to work in the shadows.

Instead, he diligently took to pestering Genos a while later, when he was still waking up and too out of it to put up much of a fight.

"Will you take me to see him?"

"Ngh."

"Come on!"

"Muh..."

"Pretty please?"

The cyborg was still on the table, blinking at the harsh lights above him and looking rather lost. Saitama hovered nearby, watching everything but not in the almost hostile way he had when they first came in. If anything, he looked intrigued by Genos' confusion.

"I'm not usually there when he wakes up from bigger repairs like this. I guess I get why now... he probably doesn't want me to see him in this state" he said in an amused tone, poking a soft cheek and chuckling as the other tried to swat his hand away, metal palm not quite hitting the mark as he waved it almost 20 cm too far to the side. "Is he even really awake?" "Yes. His brain is fully active. It's just his body that's rebooting and calibrating. It's taking longer than usual because I had to disable so many functions when I worked on it today." "'seno id-on" "What?" the other two said together as Genos attempted to speak. He took a moment to give them each a half-hearted glare before taking a deeper breath and trying again. "Kus...eno. De-ion." "Kuseno's decision?" Saitama offered, used to trying to make sense of his disciple in various states of disrepair... and abilities to speak coherently. "Yes." "If the kid can visit him?"

"Yes."

"But you will ask him for me, right?" Ichigo replied immediately. "Please? I mean... The more I learn about his work, the better I can help you, too? You'll at least ask, right?"

"Man, you really dig the old man, huh?" Saitama offered when Genos remained quiet.

"I, yes, I do! I mean, just look at Genos! He's amazing!"

"Sensei... amazing" Genos murmured, but said sensei just jabbed at his cheek again in response to that. This time the cyborg managed to grab the offending index finger, but instead of pushing it away, he continued to hold the hand close to his face. The show of affection was not lost on the cybernetician.

"Sap" he teased, smiling.

The next one after THAT was in a piece called Left in the past, where Saitama and Genos chance upon Genos’ cousin from his childhood. Saitama is surprised that Genos apparently cut all ties to him years ago despite losing the rest of his family, but eventually learns why.

"Man, those girls really love you huh" he asks ruefully after they barely escape another round of fans begging for his autograph. "They do!" Saitama answers for him, giving Genos a mild shove, Kaito laughing at his flustered expression. "Do they know it's a lost cause?" Kaito continues and Genos' somewhat pleased expression immediately turns sour. "Enough from you" he mutters darkly at the other who smirks back challengingly. "Well, he's right, isn't he?" Saitama chuckles. "Demon Cyborg is definitely married to his job!" Kaito laughs with him, but Genos is quiet for the rest of the walk home.

A honourable mention for the Crazy cat lady monster in Catnos, because I actually quite dig her (and I very lowkey want to make some sort of follow up where like, Saitama is like “ok but I wanna try being a kitty too” and they find her again, so I can write about Saitama’s turn to be a cat...)

 ”Life is simpler as a cat, is it not? Eat, sleep, play. Not so many responsibilities, not so many worries. Well, if you can forget them, at least. But you still remember, don’t you, little kitty?”

 ”Meow…”

 ”So do I, so do I. I remember them all. All the people who mistreated me, who were cruel to me. Cats are better than people. Cats are never intentionally cruel to anyone…”

 Genos blinked up at the monster, but it paid him no mind as it continued.

 ”It was just me. Me and the cats against everyone. And I wished it was just me and the cats, and no one else at all. And then… it was. Such a thrill it was, to have that power…”

 Like a striking snake the hand suddenly struck out and grabbed Genos by the scruff of the neck. He yowled loudly, twisting and struggling to get away, fighting for his life as he was lifted high into the air, but it seemed impossible to escape the monster’s grip on him.

 ”Easy, easy…” the monster murmured. It was looking straight at him now, pale eyes unreadable, illuminated by the moon and a flickering street light. ”Now you can’t hurt me either. All I wanted was to be alone, but you couldn’t even let me have that? So mean… you’re better off as a cat…”

 Genos hissed as he dangled in the air, willing the monster to extend its other hand so that he could bite it, scratch it, anything.

 ”See? If you weren’t so mean, I wouldn’t have had to change you. If you’d just left me alone… But there’s no place for me in this world, is there? Not as a human, not like this…”

There’s the baby girl that I have actually drawn, here, although I don’t have a name for her or anything... but it’s probably her in the oneshot titled Pop where Genos has his torso filled with popcorn kernels while he sleeps, although she’d be a bit older there...

 Genos awoke over an hour later, no thanks to himself - it was an alert that roused him, beeping and blinking at the edge of his vision.

 FOREIGN BODY DETECTED

 ”Whu-” he flailed an arm around, blinking the light from his eyes. He’d been attacked? Why hadn’t his proximity sensors awoken him, what could possibly-

 A chubby face looked down at him from where he laid, breaking into a wide smile when she realized he was awake.

 ”Daddy!”

 ”H-honey? You’re up?”

 ”Yeah!” the little one proclaimed proudly, and reached her hand forward, towards his chest - why was his shirt pulled so high? He got his answer immediately as his daughter resolutely pushed something into his exposed vent, giggling in absolute glee as it disappeared into his body with a low rattle.

 ”What are you-...” carefully Genos pulled himself into a sitting position, pulling his shirt down as he did so - only to hear a strange, clinking noise, like pebbles in a can. A lot of pebbles. From inside his torso.

AND the very last one is... well, for ages I’ve had this idea of a group of little old ladies that live in City Z, not the abandoned parts like Sai but not too far from him, probably? They’ve lived there their whole lives and they’re not going to move now just because weird critters have started showing up more often. Fierce little ladies that spend a good portion of their day fighting with that bald man over the sales and scaring wolf level threats away with their purses and canes. I lowkey want to write about Genos and Saitama’s struggles with them, haha.

Bonus: One day Kuseno visits and the ladies see him and they are blown away and demand Genos introduce them to him and Genos is just suffering (and like Saitama, he’s used to just... fighting and arguing with them, normally, so it’s all very weird to him!)

Me, before answering this: alas I don’t really have any OCs, do I?

Me, after answering this: oh

[thewhiterabbit42]

Full Circle: Part 7

Full Circle Masterlist

Pairing: Gabriel x Reader

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings/Tags: Winchester sister!reader, angst, revelations, more swears

Author’s Note: This was supposed to be the final chapter, but there was a natural break in the flow of things so there will be one more after this one.  Also, the second GMC prompt was designed to fit into this chapter:  Sometimes when you least expect it, you get saved.

Special thanks to @nobodys-baby-now for keeping me excited about my writing and all her awesome love today around this fic.  BB I love you <3

***Please do not repost or copy my work to any other site without my written permission.  Giving credit does NOT count.  Reblogging is ok.***

<<Prev Chapter       Part 7

Sometimes when you least expect it, you get saved, but it wasn’t always by the ones who should have been helping you.  

“Where the hell were you?” You demanded as Cas and Gabriel appeared back in sight, your eyes blazing as you pinned the former with a dangerous look.  

You had no idea where Cas’ ass had been that entire time.  The moment Raphael had returned you had prayed for help, knowing the look on Gabriel’s face had not been a sign this was a happy family reunion.  

Yet, your friend never came.  

He never came when you told him you were face to face (or more accurately, neck to hand) with an archangel who looked seriously intent on taking a chunk out of you.  

He never came when you felt a part of you being carved out as Raphael forced his grace inside you, the electrifying, detached energy tearing through your very being and making you feel as if you were being split into a million pieces.  

He never came when desperation choked the words in your throat as Gabriel was pummeled with the holy light of heaven’s purest bedtime prayers, or whatever the shit smites were made out of.  

And he certainly never came when you had a goddamn gun pressed against your head.  Though you might have been beyond coherent thought at that point.  Still, your connection to 1-800-dial-an-angel should have kept your so-called friend informed of your ongoing situation, which involved the most elevated level of fear you’d felt since you’d all gone toe-to-toe with the devil.  

So when things escalated once again, and you found yourself hip deep in winged dicks with awful odds, you sent up the prayer of all prayers.  So help me, Cas, if Gabriel dies because you bailed on me, I have at least a dozen ideas on how to deal with you, all of which involve the business end of an angel blade.    

It was a little dramatic, sure, but Gabriel was not dying.  Not here.  Not again, and especially not because of you.  Cas was lucky you didn’t stab him on sight after the smite-fest Gabriel endured.  The only reason you weren’t roasting some feathers and letting the archangel bring the marshmallows was because the seraphim had pulled through for you at the last moment.  

It didn’t make you any less angry at him, however.

“I came as soon as I could,” Cas informed you, a little testier than usual.  A red flag popped up in the back of your mind, waving casually back and forth.  Why he, of all things this evening, would be the one to trigger it was beyond you.

Unfortunately it was like waving red at an already raging bull.

“Well it wasn’t soon enough,” you hissed as you jabbed him hard in the chest.  How dare he sound put out after what you and Gabriel had gone through.

He brought his hand up, fingertips brushing gently against your side.  Coldness washed outward from his touch, and you shuddered as his grace pushed through your skin.  It wasn’t an inherently unpleasant sensation, but after Raphael’s invasion, feeling any of them beneath your skin was disconcerting.  

He must have been searching for wounds, and his eyes narrowed intently when he didn’t find any.  He must have taken a moment to slip in a little mojo sedative, however.  At least you assumed he did, by the way you were no longer considering the best place to stab him that wasn’t guaranteed to kill him, but still might.  

“And you,” you said, rounding on the archangel and giving him a poke of his own.  “You need to look up the definition of stupid.”

“Glad to see you too, babycakes,” he said, sarcasm splashing through words, though the smile he gave appeared to be genuine.  You could tell by the way his dimples appeared.  Usually those made whatever he was trying to achieve that much more successful, but you were having none of that right now, no matter how endearing he looked.

“We should leave this place,” Cas interjected eyes glancing around warily.  

That was the best plan you’d heard all night.  

The angel didn’t even wait for you to agree.  He grabbed you both by the shoulders, and your stomach lurched as a familiar rush whooshed through you.  You weren't sure you’d ever get used to that feeling.  It was like riding the world’s longest roller coaster in the span of a second.  

It took a moment for your head to catch up, but once it did, you found yourself back in your hotel room.  Everything from the candles to the balloons had disappeared, leaving no evidence of the evening’s previous events.  Gabriel eyed the room warily, no doubt sweeping it for signs of danger.  Cas, on the other hand, just eyed him.

“Our father could not have brought you back at a better time,” the dark-haired angel said.

Then there was that little matter.  Raphael had prattled on and on about the heaven’s burning, about war, taking sides, paradise.  For a little while you had forgotten what year you were in, because it sounded awfully like the apocalypse was still on the agenda despite your family having put the kibosh on it.  

“Would someone like to tell me what the hell is going on upstairs?” You demanded, arms folding over your chest.  

“We are at war,” Cas began.  “When Sam took Michael to the cage with him, Raphael stepped in to take his place as Heaven’s leader.  He, like his brother, is a traditionalist and believes that the story must end the way that it was written.”

You swallowed.  Your cup was feeling awfully full at the moment.  You weren’t sure you could handle being told all those sacrifices had been for nothing, in addition to dealing with the rest of the crazy that was flying around.

“Are you saying… it isn’t over?” Your voice had gotten quiet, nervousness edging into your words.    

“If I have any say in it, it is,” he promised.  “There are others like me who believe we have the right to choose our own ending and that is why we’re fighting.  For your freedom and ours.”

Not just a war.  Cas’ war.  

No wonder he’d vanished.  The man was carrying the fate of Heaven and Earth on his shoulders.  

“You’re the one leading the resistance?” Gabriel demanded, and you weren’t sure what was more surprised, the angel or his eyebrows with how they nearly shot clear off his browline.  “Way to go, little bro.”  

You slowly lowered yourself onto the dresser, giving your mind a moment to catch up.  Your brain took in the new information, kicking it around for a few moments, before throwing up its hands and reminding you this was all way above your pay grade.  

Your hand slipped into your coat pocket, fingers tracing over the contour of your cell before you realized you only had one person left that you could call.  Bobby was as much your family as your brothers, but it wasn’t his voice that was going to keep you from getting caught in the ever increasing riptide.  Dean was the only one left who knew how to bring you back from the brink, and he was no longer an option.  

“You alright, cupcake?” Gabriel asked, sitting down next to you.  The subtle brush of fingers across your back brought more comfort than you wanted to admit.  You looked over, surprised to find his features heavily shuttered.  

A guarded archangel was never a good sign.  

“Yeah, just…” You paused, hair on the back of your arms rising.  Unconsciously you reached up to your neckline, tugging on your sweater.  Was the room getting smaller?  Because it felt like everything around you was suddenly shrinking.  You forced yourself to take a breath, focusing on the way your heart responded to the slow inhalation before you released it normally.

“It’s a lot to take in,” you finished, your chest feeling heavy, as if there wasn’t much air to take in at all.  Your phone became forgotten as a dissonance danced along your spine, sending signals to your muscles to stiffen.  Your nerves tingled as if you were back in that tiny interrogation room, your mind trying to rectify the difference between what you felt and the spacious accommodations you saw.

“Understandably so,” Cas said sympathetically, though his compassion fell short, overlooking the tension tightening your frame as he continued to vomit Heaven’s issues all over you.   “You should know, however, that things are not going well.  Strategically we have the advantage, but we are outnumbered.  All Raphael has to do is outlast us.  We need something to give us an edge, something to turn the tide enough to break his ranks or take him out of play.”

“Like another archangel.”  Gabriel said flatly.

“An archangel would be helpful,” Cas admitted, “But that is your decision to make, brother.”

While it didn’t surprise you that the the third member of Team Free Will would advocate for just that, Gabriel seemed suspicious.  Considering the last few encounters he’d had with his family, you couldn’t blame him.  

By the way Cas turned to you and said, “It is your help I really need,”  you would have thought he’d had the sense smited out of him earlier, because what in the Virgin Mary’s pure and pious pants were you supposed to do about anything?

“And in turn,” the seraphim went on, as if making complete sense, “I would be able to help you.”

Hope sparked fierce in your chest, burning through the oxygen in your lungs, and for a moment you couldn’t breath.  It no longer mattered what it was he thought you could offer or that you knew better than to make deals with otherworldly beings.  This was the break you were waiting for.  

“You found a way to get Sam out?”  You almost hadn't dared to ask.  A let down of that magnitude after everything else would be crushing, and you weren’t certain you had enough left in you to survive that.

Your friend paused a moment, his eyes narrowing on you.  

“Sam has been free for months now,” he told you, features becoming a contrast of hard edges and sympathetic blue orbs.  “I thought you knew.”

Free?  Sam was free?  How the shit could that be possible?

“That - that can’t be right.”  You almost laughed at the absurdity of it.  Sam couldn’t be out.  If there was anyone he would have called, it would have been you.  He would have called somebody.    

Unless... it wasn’t Sam that crawled out of there.  

“I’m sorry.  I don’t know what to say except that he is, and it is him,” he continued as if reading your thoughts.  Any other angel you would have suspected, but it was Cas.  He must have known that’s where your mind would go.  Besides, he knew better.

But if you could trust him, then that meant…

“Oh my god,” you breathed.

Somebody was in for a royal ass kicking as soon as you found him.

Your shoulders hunched, your body giving beneath the weight of all the knowledge suddenly spinning around in your head.  You were thankful to be already sitting as you felt the strength leave your system.  The blows just kept coming, and at this rate it wouldn’t be long before your brain was completely beaten to a stump.

Your pocket began to buzz, the furious movement causing you to jump as the vibrations danced across your leg.  You pulled it out to find Bobby’s name flashing across the front of the screen.  

A thought, unbidden, skittered across your consciousness: what if Cas wasn’t the only one who knew?

You immediately dismissed the notion as crazy.This was Bobby.  He wouldn’t keep something like this from you.  Yet, you couldn’t help but answer the call, vaguely aware of something shifting in the angel’s stare.

“Christ on a cracker,” Bobby grumbled, exasperation adding an extra bite to his words, “What the hell is your --”

“Is Sam out?” You cut him off, desperation infringing on the even tone you tried to keep.  You weren’t sure what answer you needed to hear more at the moment: your brother was alive or your personal circle of trust was still in tact.

The silence that followed told you all you needed to know.   

“You mean he still hasn’t told you?” Bobby asked, just as taken aback as you were.  Your heart dropped deep within your stomach.  You suddenly felt sick, disbelief preventing you from reacting right away and a pregnant, laden silence fell between you.   

“Fuck, Bobby!”  You finally found your voice, though it grew thick as the floodgates reopened.  You wanted to cry.  You wanted to celebrate.  You wanted to scream at Bobby and your brother for joining the running for douche of the year because what the actual shit?

“Why do you think I’ve been calling so much?  To schedule tea?” He retorted.  

“How long?” You demanded, proud of how you managed to keep your voice from wavering despite the stinging sentiments gathering along your lashline.  

“I dunno… five months?”  He had the decency to sound chagrined, but it was lost within the rising tide of your anger.

Five months.  

Five fucking months without a word from either of them.  

“Listen, kid, this isn’t the type of thing you just drop in a voicemail…”

Oh yes it fucking was.  That was exactly what you did after the first few days. That or you GPSd their ass and showed up on their doorstep, which was exactly what Dean would’ve done in this situation.  

Oh God, Dean.  Did he know?  

No.  There was no way.  He would never have kept that information from you.  

Then again, five minutes ago you would have said the said the same thing about Sam and Bobby.  

“Dean?” You couldn’t fully say it, as if somehow not breathing life into the fear would somehow prevent it from ever being true.  

“I may be an idjit, but I’m not an ass,” he grumbled.  

Well that was certainly debatable.

Relief swept in, brushing aside the dread that had overtaken everything.  

“He deserves to know,” you insisted, fingers digging into your eyes as you realized you would  have to be the one to tell him.  More than just the news was going to get broken if Bobby was the one delivering the message.  

“What that kid deserves is a chance to be normal.  Happy.  Not to die bloody and alone, like the rest of us will.”  You were taken back by the vehemence in his tone and you couldn’t remember the last time he sounded so fired up about anything.  “And if it were up to me, your life wouldn’t be any different.”

Was he asking you to do what you thought he was?

“But I know you,” he continued, a deep-seated weariness entering his voice.  “I know what runs in your blood won’t ever settle for normal.  But you of all people know, choosing this life means sacrificing to protect the ones who are normal, and as far as I’m concerned, Dean’s one of those people now.”  

Christ, you couldn’t touch this right now.  You couldn’t even begin to know what you were going to do with the knowledge that Sam was alive and Dean didn’t know.  Your cup was no longer overflowing, it had overflowed, tipped over, and you were all but drowning in the liquid that continued to spill out from it.

“I’ll call you back,” you managed, your inner reserves flagging.  You didn’t give him the chance to say anything else before you disconnected the call.  Your finger dug into the power button, pressing against it insistently, and you resisted the urge to throw the damn thing across the room.

If only you could make the rest of your problems disappear that easily.

Your head dropped forward, fingers gripping the edge of the dresser, and you did your best to contain your emotions.  As it was, the only thing you seemed able to hold in at the moment was the air in your lungs.

“Breathe,” Gabriel reminded after a few moments, gently squeezing your shoulder.  You brought your hands up, palming at your eyes as you felt a few tears squeeze their way loose.

“You’re upset,” Cas’ gruff voice moved closer to you.  

“I’m exhausted,” you told him, weariness weighing down your words.  “I had the worst sleep of my life this morning, I woke up feeling like I’d been on the receiving end of a good smite, and returned to a place I never wanted to set foot in again, twice, because someone decided to drop a crumb for me to follow without telling me it led to the middle of a fucking angel war and that my brother has been out of the cage for months now.”  

“I don’t understand.  How does a fragment of food lead to anything other than bugs?” Cas asked, perplexed.  

You looked up, glaring at him through a thin curtain of hair.  You might have laughed if you weren’t so done with everything.

“The news story story, Cas,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.  Hard. 

“What story?” He asked, confused.  

“What do you mean what story?” The sound of your patience finally snapping came out as a snarl in your throat.  “I prayed to you in Massachusetts and you put on the local news for Indiana in my hotel room so I would know there was a powersurge and check it out.”

“I was never in your hotel room,” he told you.  “I heard your prayer, but I was in the middle of battle and couldn’t respond.”  

You swallowed, both you and Cas’ shifting your gazes to Gabriel.

“Don’t look at me,” the archangel said, putting his hands up in front of him.  “If I’d have been there, I’d have sent you in the opposite direction.”

Said the man who had been horribly desperate to get into your pants not even an hour ago.  

There were shit ways to be told you were just a mistake and then, apparently, there was Gabriel’s way.  

“Your inner archangel is showing,” you told him, anger varnishing your sarcasm as your stare began to burn.  “You may want to look into that.”

He stiffened at the remark, eyes darting briefly to the other angel then back to you.  You expected some flippant comment, maybe a smart ass retort that was also somehow endearing.  His silence, however, spoke volumes.

“It must have been Raphael.  He must have followed you here,” Cas interrupted, concern spilling over into his voice.  

“Why the hell would Raphael be following me?” You rounded on him.  You were sick of being left in the dark about things, and you had a distinct feeling there was far more of Heaven’s problems spilling onto you than anyone had let on.

Then again, you were also sick of this night and wanted nothing more than for it to just be over.  

“Because, like your brothers, you were meant to fulfill a greater purpose.  While they were meant to bring about war, you, I believe, are a catalyst to do the opposite,” your friend explained.  By the look on his face, he was gearing up for something.  Something that was likely to make your brain fall in on itself.  Something you guaranteed you neither had the time nor patience for.  

“Wait, what?” Gabriel broke in, as if that was the last piece of insanity he could handle.

“Cas, I - I can’t even right now,” you warned, putting up a hand for him to stop.  

“What I’m about to tell you is important —”

“I mean it,” you continued, ignoring the manic light blazing within blue.  Not now. 

Either your friend was especially oblivious to the level of your distress, or he simply didn’t care.  He grabbed you by the shoulders, forcing you to hear out this final piece of information.

“Y/n… you’re a shepherd.”  

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Full Circle: @melodymishahiddlestan @gabe-crowley-trash  @the-chick-with-the-best-fandom

[vacationcalendar]

8/7/21

Hi boyfriend~

Just took a weed gummie in honor of Bonnie’s birthday weekend. My present for my friend is that I’ll suck it up and be an active participant in their life for a change. I’ll be game for a whole weekend. I got up early today and tagged along to volunteer at a charity 5k. We grabbed some coffee and wandered to the halfway point of the course (thus walking an entire 5k in the process! Not too shabby ;D), and then camped out a water station that I’d say should be very grateful I actually showed up to work its sorry ass. Bonnie didn’t have to do any managing/delegating, they just got to post up and chatter at the runners-by. I’m pretty sure if I didn’t go, and I promise I am not tooting my own horn, that water stand would not have been the fun water stand that it was. They would have had 2 dunces making it go worse, and only 3 people managing 4 tables of water cups. Volunteers man, what are you gonna do? I’m sure that’s why they were looking for 8 people per water stand, just to statistically ensure that SOMEONE with half a brain would be around to help out.

Great morning though. JUST a little too hot, but that’s how you know you were doing solid work out there. The proof is in the pits, baby!

Ok, 40 minute bathroom break is over. Man, nothing like starting the blog to make me SO productive in the mornings! It’s such a cheat code. I did laundry, dishes, pooped; my whole day is bright and available now! But now I’m tired and I don’t want to write anymore. I had about a 6 minute where I wanted to do this today and I actually hit it for a second before I had to stop and do ANYTHING ELSE I guess. So, fuck. What do we write now?

I had to get up suuuuper early for this 5k thing, and I only got like 4 hours of sleep because I did not factor in the early wake up until like 6pm yesterday, and I had already slept like 14 hours that day :I That’s right, I woke up, immediately crushed the blog, went back to laying down, played League, and watched tv and shit until I felt tired enough to sleep and get ready for the 5k, which was 2am. So now I have a weed gummie digesting in me and I have a nap climbing up my priority list and this is why I don’t like weed. I feel like I have to plan my fucking shit around it, and I’m not good at that. Part of me thinks I can crash right now and wake up before the drugs make me sleep for 2 hours longer than I want, and give me weird, unpleasant dreams. I can’t possibly pull that off, I’m not sleepy, I’m just like sluggish. So basically what I have to do now is power through into the “trip” (maybe I’ll luck out and miss it and I can just pretend I’m high, which I won’t do, but hey we’re brainstorming here), and let that smoothly transition me into a nap. And THAT would mean that I have to entertain myself for the time being to get me into a good place to start being high...? And then I can like power up my activities WHILE high, and that would be fun. Playing video games, great. Playing video game high? That’s the whole point of it. I mean like, that’s the whole point of life, right? And then I can be like NAPTIME BITCH, and that would be fun also, in theory. And then I can go put a podcast on and go to the movies? Ugh, I don’t want to go the movies anymore. I’m to tired :( This sucks.

I’m trying to go see Green Knight. I’m sure that sentence won’t matter at all in even like 4 months from now, but I think it should be a fun time. So much more productive than anything I can do from the desk. And it’s not summertime like this forever. You gotta get that shit in so you don’t think you miss it when the weather turns. You want to be sitting inside on a cold autumn day thinking “good riddance, being outside is entirely overrated.” And I’m not there yet. Man I don’t know. Well how bout this? Let’s do a little more brainstorming while I’m trapped here writing to your dumb ass. If you ever read these again this part will be like a little prank on you lol. Ok: 1: Stay here, no movie. Let’s lock that in. that should make having to navigate being high so much easier. Let’s let the pipe dream of doing everyone’s favorite thing of being at a theater high wait just a little longer. Today can be a trial run. We’ll walk around today and think about what it would be like if I had biked 20 minutes to a movie theater and watched a 2 hour movie and biked home. And when we suss out that it would have been unenjoyable, we’ll feel like geniuses for making this call. So that’s out of the way. LOCK IT IN

2. I don’t know yet. Let’s just start simple. Food. What’s up? We have almost no groceries. We have no bread for a tuna salad sandwich, but let’s put that in the to-do list. We need more english muffins too. That was an A+ 10/10 move last month. Just muffins w/ strawberry jam, and egg McMuffins whenever the fuck I wanted, which was always. Frozen Veggies like Corn or Beans would be good. Bag Chop Salad kits. They weren’t on sale last week, and it’s goddamn highway robbery when they’re at full price. So this week would be the perfect time to check in on ‘em. And I’ll commit more to an equivalent substitute this time if I can’t find a good deal. Let’s see, what else? Oof my wpm and accuracy is starting to take a hit. The first and only symptom! Nice! Miku. Meat. Spaghetti and meat sauce? Gotta check out what ragu shit you have in the house before you do that. Consider this your reminder! I know you’ve never successfully pulled that off, but I have full confidence in you. Oh fuck, now I’m starting to worry a little bit the coherent quality of this is about to start dropping. Well, another fun little prank for ya bitch! Fruit leathers? I just have no fucking idea. Ok, so shopping can 100% wait for another day. This isn’t anywhere close to a cohesive trip. So we can eat out somewhere! Great, lock it bitch. I’m starting to swear more; it’s because I can’t find the right words anymore. Oh boy, the weed smelling burps are happening. This really is so gross and difficult. Beer is just a more bitter version of soda. It’s actively refreshing. Damn, if only I’d been a little more exposed to peer pressure at an earlier age. I’d have been past this awkward uncomfortable phase of weed, like how I (and basically everyone) was with alcohol. You slam Natty Lites with your nose closed until you start to realize life is little more pleasurable than the absolute Kelvin zero you had come to be familiar with. Uh, ok, I’m starting to let my mind wander. He’s daydreaming, chief! I suppose I could just transcribe the dialogue of the daydreams, but I can’t keep up. This is just break o’clock.

3. What do I fucking eat!? I had to make a whole nother numbered point, and I still don’t have the plan. Jesus H,. Ok here’s what AROUND. Chex Mix, unopened. 1 Grape Soda. Cookie Dough Ice Cream (w choc sauce). Raisins, PB, Ramen, meh. Reese Cups! I just looked behind and was like, “oh yeah! Nice”. If that’s not everything, that’s REALLY close. So what’s calling my name? Pizza? Chinese? Damn, I might just have to play this by ear. Nothing at all sounds interesting, and I’m not the slightest bit hungry (we got free Dim Sum after the 5k. It was called the Dim Sum and Then Some 5k). Ok, so other options to keep on the back burner for later would be: Kebab, Chicken Sandwich, go get Pizza Rolls and Chippies at the store. Ok that’s enough options, that fuckin really took it outta me, I can’t believe it. My hands are kinda feeling heavier now too. I better think of a #4 thing to write about quick or I may lose all my inertia.

4. UMmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Movie time? I watch arrival and turn off all the lights and pop popcorn and have my soda? Where sunglasses and pretend they’re 3-D glasses? Maybe. Ugh, I can tell right now my eyes are gonna get bloodshot, or dry out or whatever. They already kinda hurt :(. It’s fine. I feel more good than not. Like I’m wrapped up in a blanket, even though I’m not. Maybe OH- Maybe I lay out on the beach chair and read in the sun with an ice coffee? Oh fuck that might actually be perfect. Then I can go no shirt and just feel nature, and maybe bugs are less troublesome when you’re high. And then I can pop Doughboys on and shower! Shower high, seems like a guaranteed home-run. Ok, I like it a lot. I have to do SOMETHING away from Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum or I’ll go crazy this weekend, especially if I have to tag in on occasion and “participate” for Bonnie’s Birthday. Which, let’s be clear, is the least I can do. It’s a gimme. I owe Bonnie AT LEAST this much, even just as like backpay for holidays or yore. Like if I have the zhuzh to punch in for birthday shtuff, I better do it, right? I just looked it up, it might officially be zhoosh, not zhuzh, but zhuzh appears to me to be the best way to do it. And there’s like 5 accepted spellings of it. Stupid, not helpful. Just because it employs a sound that has no [conformed] applications in the english language? Poor excuse! Oh man, it’s so early I can’t believe it! That 5k feels like a day ago, wild. Well, hey! Point 4 is finished. Moving on!

5. What to do tonight? Who gives a fuck. Figure that part out when you get there, it does not matter at all. There, numbered list over.

Ok so, let’s just wrap this up I guess. I’m cracking an hour here, that’s plenty. Maybe tonight you do a little PRE-WRITING before bed, so this isn’t so “chore-y”. Let’s just remember you seriously considered letting yourself down completely and bailing on the blog earlier this morning. So we need to keep our expectations at appropriate levels still. It’s this NEXT week that should be very interesting. Just in terms of output. A little more practice, and little more muscle-memory. A little less crap to distract me (I have been burning through non-stop crap youtube/tv this last week since coming home, it’s fantastic. I was gonna say it was sucky, or disgusting or something, but that’s a lie I tell to myself to pretend I’m more diligent than I actually am. ACCEPT who you are and love yourself for it)

I accept you and love you Max. Ok, I have to go, I feel like I’m gonna puke... awesome 

bi

[ourtaylorstory]

Part 2: Meeting @taylorswift Chapter 1: Let’s Try In the fall of 2012, my daughter Page had smiled at me and mentioned in passing, “You know what Mom? Taylor always makes me feel better”...... That smile of hers had stopped me in my tracks. I hadn’t seen happiness in her, like that, since my cancer journey had begun. It had been a long year for all of us, and even though I was exhausted, I decided to do what I could to cheer up my family. Later that night, I sat next to Page on the couch and asked her about her comment. “Oh, you know, Mom.” she said, “Her music just cheers me up when I’m having a down day”. “I don’t know that much about her, do you?”, I asked. “Oh yes!”, she said excitedly. She got up and ran for her ipod. Returning a few minutes later she said, “See, she’s really close with her mom, too. Just like us, that’s what I like”. “Let me see what you’re looking at”, I said. She passed me her ipod where she had pulled up www.TaylorSwift.com. On the homepage was what looked like a letter from Taylor Swift to her fans. It mentioned that her favorite number was 13, that she was close with her mom, that she’d grown up on a Christmas Tree Farm in Pennsylvania...Interesting things like that. “Maybe we could get her cd from the library?”, I asked her. “That would be great!”, said Page smiling at me again. “Ah-ha”, I thought smiling to myself. I was so happy to do something that would make our house feel happy and normal again! I looked up the library website to place an order. It turned out that there was a lot of info about Taylor Swift at the library. “Wow!”, I thought, “She’s got a couple cd’s”. So I ordered them all. We anxiously waited for ‘Taylor’, ‘Fearless’, ‘Speak Now’, ‘Speak Now World Tour Live’ and ‘Sounds of the Season’ cd’s to be ready for pickup. While we waited, I got a test result back from one of my doctor visits. They’d found Melanoma cancer on my ankle. At the time of the doctor’s call, I didn’t know what Melanoma was. I thought it was just a not-a-big-deal, simple, skin cancer. I readied for my appointment. “We need to schedule immediate surgery”, was the first thing my Dermatologist said. Marc and I looked at each other. “It’s really that bad?” I asked. “Yes”, was her response. “Melanoma can translocate through your body by the lymph nodes. We need to remove it immediately as this type of cancer can spread quickly. She referred me to a plastic surgeon, and my surgery was scheduled for the next day. It was an outpatient procedure at a local hospital. I was given an IV, strapped to a table with my arms spread, and then given anesthesia. I could interact with the staff, and hear things, but I wasn’t very coherent in my replies. I also, luckily, couldn’t feel anything they were doing. Afterwards, I fully awoke in a darkened waiting area. I was given cookies and a coke, and watched for side effects. After a couple hours, I was given crutches and told that the doctor had successfully removed all the Melanoma cancer from my right ankle. I was relieved to hear that it had not spread. Soon after that, I was released. Recovery was slow, there were multiple doctor visits and stages of stitches removal, but it was a good feeling dealing with a cancer that could be cut out and removed. I asked if the Melanoma had been the cause of my weird symptoms. I was told, “no”. It took a month before I could walk without the crutches, but, luckily, while couch bound, Page and I had a new, happy hobby to entertain ourselves with: Taylor-Time :) Page’s Taylor Swift cd’s had arrived. She excitedly played them for me, one after the other, after the other, for days. We’d snuggle together, and watch the first snows of the season swirl around outside the windows, while we practiced singing all the words. She noticed certain differences in the writing of the words within the cd papers, and figured out they were Taylor’s secret messages to her fans. Hours were spent happily decoding them. After my naps, she’d proudly show me her results. I noticed that Page was starting to look like Page again. By now we were closing in on Christmas. I was still so exhausted and awful feeling from my original cancer and chemo, plus now I couldn’t walk well from my second cancer surgery. Days, other than our ‘Taylor-Time’, as we came to call it, were pretty bleak. I thought of looking up to see if Taylor might have a fan club Page could join. I’d remembered when I was younger you could sign up for things like that. I thought perhaps they’d send her a button for her jacket or a simple autograph, something we could surprise her with. I found an address online and sent off a letter. Each day, Marc would bring in the mail and I’d eagerly look up. Nope, nothing today. Oh well, I thought, maybe I didn’t have the right address, or it just takes awhile. We decided to get her a Taylor Swift wall poster for a Christmas surprise. Not knowing where to look for such a thing, I turned to my old reliable ebay. (I’m sorry Taylor, I was new at this time to buying stuff on the internet, plus my brain was all fuzzy...now of course we only shop on your taylorswift.com website :) I typed in ‘Taylor Swift’, and good gravy there were a lot of items! Scrolling through item after item I didn’t know what to get. Marc and I finally decided on a close up one of Taylor smiling. It was going to be perfect. Christmas arrived, and I still hadn’t heard back from the Fan Club. Luckily the poster was a huge hit! As Santa had given it to her, Page shrieked as she opened her stocking, and then held it up for us to see. Just as she proudly stood there with it unfolded for us to take a picture, Page’s dog decided to check it out for herself. Balancing on her hind legs, Suzie gave the poster a quick lick right across Taylor’s face!! Tears sprang from Page’s eyes, but I’m happy to say, the poster was saved. To this day it still proudly hangs, just a little bit dog slobbery, on her bedroom wall. January came and went, and Page and I continued with our ‘Taylor-Time’. We rented all the books and DVD’s on Tay we could find from the library. It really was, and is, a good bonding time we’ve shared. Plus, the more I learned, the happier I felt that Page was looking up to a good role model. It was amazing to find out all the similarities Page had with Taylor. They were both blonde, tall, liked to read, liked to write, loved horses and cats, couldn’t see without their glasses, liked to play Scrabble, eat gummies, eggs and cheesecake, bake, do kind things for others, and most importantly, be close with their families. We watched on the show ‘60 Minutes’ about when Taylor wasn’t much older than Page, how she and her mom passed out demo cd’s in Nashville, trying to get Taylor into her dream job of singing. We read about when Taylor was starting out and how she passed out homemade chocolate chip cookies to radio stations. We read about all the people Taylor helps through charity organizations and even privately visits with (please see my website to see a list of these items: http://www.lotsoflifeonalittlelot.com/thank-you-taylor-swift.html) . Page would say things like, “We must be related, don’t you think, Mom?”. She thought of Taylor like a best friend, close cousin or sister. Someone that she could always count on. Our days slowly crept past. My health was not improving, and with what strength I had, I split it between more doctor’s visits, reading about alternative therapies for cancer, and ‘Taylor-Time’ with Page. Each minute of every day, felt like it could be our last together. I couldn’t believe how our life had changed. I still hadn’t heard anything back from my first fan letter inquiry, so I tried sending another. One of those slowly creeping by days, all 3 of us, watched the DVD video for the Speak Now Tour. Marc and I had debated if Page was old enough to watch a concert, as we weren’t sure what all it would show. We decided to give it a try, so we all snuggled in with our popcorn, blankets and pets, and hit play. Page was mesmerized. She sang every song and started dancing around the room. When it ended, she said “Woo...That wore me out! Taylor must get pretty tired if she has to do that every night!” A few minutes later, she added, “Mom, can we send her something to help her, like she helps me?” I just looked at her. She was so caring and generous, and beautiful and kind. Smiling at her, I said, “Of course we can. I think that’s a great idea”. We called it ‘Page’s Taylor Swift Care Kit’. The next day Page and I started diligently trying to figure out what sort of item we should send to Taylor. Page thought we should send something ‘13’ related as that was Taylor’s favorite number. “Perfect”, I said, “Any other ideas?” “What if we send her 13 things that she likes and that would help her?” “Ok, what are you thinking”, I said. “I don’t know. Let’s write a list of ideas”, she answered. So we did. We leafed through books, magazines, thought of what we’d seen on DVD’s, and thought of what we’d like for someone to send us in the way of helpful items. We came up with our list. Next came shopping. We went early the next morning when I have my best energy. Here are the items we sent her: 1-canned pumpkin 2-cinnamon spice 3-pumpkin pie spice (because we’d read baking Pumpkin Bread is one of her favorite things to do) 4-super soft socks (to wear when she worked out) 5-pretty soft yarn (we read she likes to knit) 6-a book called ‘The Notebook’ (it’s one of my favorites, and because she loves a good love story) 7-Toy Story gummies (we’d read she liked those) 8-Cat Treats (for her beloved cat, Meredith) 9-Big Red gum (in honor of her upcoming RED tour) 10-Vitamin C (to help keep her strong and healthy) 11-Throat Lozenges (in case her throat got sore from singing) 12-A vanilla scented candle (to make her hotel rooms on tour smell comfy like home) Plus we bought a super cute sparkly heart bag to pack them all in. After that, home we went. While Page worked on packaging, plus making a homemade card and the 13th item (a special collage of pictures of Page for Taylor), I worked on finding another address to try to send it to. I should confess here that I’m a bit of a detective. Not a real one. I’ve just really always loved to solve mysteries. It probably stems from the fact that at about Page’s age I read all the Nancy Drew books, in order, from our local library. So thinking of this as just another mystery, I went to work trying to solve it. I found an address I thought would work. We boxed up the gift bag and decorated the outside of the box, too. We wanted whoever got it, to know right away that it was ‘Page’s Taylor Swift Care Kit’. Page at this point still didn’t know anything about how I’d been trying to reach Taylor. This ‘Care Kit’ was purely a from-Page’s-heart gift for her friend. Since Page didn’t know that I was trying to reach Taylor, after Page went to school I slipped in another letter I’d written, then mailed the package. I’d decided to move on from just trying for Page to be in a Fan Club. Now more than ever, I really wanted Taylor, herself, to know how much she meant to Page, and to thank her for how much she was helping my daughter cope with my illness. As the winter went on my illness constantly reminded all of us how short life really is. Marc and I wondered, “Was this all we were going to accomplish in life? Was this all we would remember?” We decided we’d like to try to take Page on a Spring Break trip of her choosing. Something fun. I’d do as much as I could, and we’d enjoy just being together. We decided to ask her that night what she’d like to do for a ‘Dream Come True’ vacation. We thought she’d say something like, “Let’s go to Disney”. But, she said, “Can I meet Taylor?” Looking over her head at my husband the thought, “Oh boy” crossed between us, but when I looked back down at her, what came out of my mouth, with a smile, were the words, “Let’s try!” The smile that crossed Page’s face is one I’ll never forget..... *Thank you for reading along with me 😊 This is an excerpt from my memoir 'Dream Accomplished: A Story of Cancer, A Mother's Love & Taylor Swift'. It is © & published. Paying forward Taylor's kindness, my family donates ALL book profits to help others battling illness. For more info, pls visit http://www.dreamaccomplished.com OR if you'd like a FREE ebook, pls send me a DM or email at ourtaylorstory@gmail.com I'm happy to send you 1 :)

[haunthearted]

I wanted to recommend a very good website, especially to my trans, dysphoric or dissociative followers.

Gender Analysis is a very well researched, well-sourced website about the trans experience. I take whatever opportunities I can to write polite, good-faith, educational replies to people on Reddit who don't "get" trans things, and I always rely heavily on GA because whatever the topic, there will be an article filled with the original scientific papers rebutting transphobic viewpoints. It can also be useful for supporting conversations with parents/friends, because it has the primary research right there. For example, today I learnt that all the concept of Rapid Onset Gender Dysphoria ("my kid got a tumblr and now she says shes transgender because of peer pressure!") originated on three anti-trans websites, and despite its official-sounding name, has no research behind it. I knew that intellectually, but it's powerful to have the evidence clearly there for you.

Zinna Jones is one of the key writers there, and you may know her other work as she's been a prominent internet trans human for many years (how she has the courage and spoons for that, I will never know). One of her key experiences of gender dysphoria was depersonalisation: a weird, fuzzy, not-quite-thereness. On beginning hormones, it cleared up immediately: she had an "I didn't know what wrong felt like until I started feeling right" experience, as well you might if feeling oddly absent is your normal day-to-day experience. Because it wasn't a focus of how dysphoria was written about while she was coming up, she's done a lot of writing and research on it at Gender Analysis: describing what it felt like, researching comparable experiences in other trans narratives, and most recently trialing an anti-dissociative drug to see how it affected her.

Many of us come to ghosthood due to experiencing similar things to Jones - a not-quite-thereness, an oddness, a sense of timelessness and dislocation. Some of us very clearly associate it with trauma, a mental illness, or gender dysphoria; for others, it's just part of the fabric of life. I would like to recommend reading her posts on this particular topic to anyone who experiences something similar.

Now, if you relate to what she writes it doesn't mean you're transgender - don't panic - as varieties of depersonalisation can be a symptom of all sorts of other things - especially trauma and trauma-related conditions like BPD/CPTSD. But you might still find her descriptions useful.

On the other hand, if you are identifying as transgender and wondering if hormones are for you, you might find it validating or helpful.

(and because the world is horrible, there's no small chance that trans people are also traumatised. There's a great pair of posts that I'm sure you've already read, "That was dysphoria?" - but also her follow up, in which she re-experiences some of those symptoms as a depression.)

Finally, a recent post series explored an anti-depersonalisation drug, which you might be interested in exploring as an option for yourself. I had no idea there was such a thing!

In short, I was re-reading the archives this morning, and it occurred to me that a great many followers here might appreciate or find these posts useful. Make of them what you will, and best wishes to you all x

A tonne more thoughts after the cut:

This isn't meant to be "a trans blog", so I'm not going to focus on this too often. But certainly for me, Jones' posts really spoke to me and my experiences. I think there's a real danger in underselling how weird gender dysphoria feels. One sort of expects or assumes gender dysphoria is "I hate my breasts because I am a man"; there isn't so much written about how it can be "I'm tired, I don't really care, everything seems hollow and false, but I can't imagine life being any different because it's what I've always known, and it's not clearly anything to do with gender". That's been my experience - and it's incredibly hard to spot. I've been through six diagnoses since I was a teen (OCD, depression, anxiety, BPD, ADHD, autism), because while I've always been clearly unwell, it's hard to pinpoint gender dysphoria when it just manifests as brainweird, especially when that brainweird is you normal, as it was for Jones.   For example, I've never really recognised my own face in the mirror. Weird, but whatever. When I was considering hormones last year, I decided to take up weightlifting as part of my experimentation process. It would allow me to see how I felt about developing a more masculine body, in a controlled way, and as someone who *hates* exercise, it would also be a useful test of commitment: was I dysphoric enough to motivate me to go to the gym? Because if not, I probably was not dysphoric enough to transition either. Well, I went three times a week and followed the correct food recommendations for building muscle until I could no longer afford either; and then it happened. I looked in the mirror and it was like a visceral, immediate shock of recognition. And now I can't unsee it. Every time I look in the mirror, my brain immediately pings back "nice Robert Plant vibe you got there man", which is ridiculous; no one else on the planet would see me and think that. But that very small amount of muscle, and slightly-more-masculine-shoulder/arm-profile, was enough to make my brain recognise itself for the first time.

Sometimes you don't understand what "wrong" feels like until you have "right" to compare it to.

(I think those of us with early experience of abuse might also relate to that; the way that being loved and respected by a good person later in life can be both shocking, and bring on a period of processing and heavy reflection because it illustrates how very wrongly you were treated before. Even if you know it intellectually,  just the experience can be profound. Certainly, I've got a few experiences of not-being-taken-advantage-of which were absolutely shattering, like I was being taught how to love myself for the first time.)

And as you might expect, I'm also feeling very reluctant to pursue transition. This sort of nebulous dysphoria is, well - . I envy very much the "I knew I was trans from the moment I hit puberty because I hated the gender I was living in" people, who clearly see gender as their problem. It's very hard to contemplate something as life-changing as transition when its motivated by an increasing certainty that the only cure for my incurable mental ill is a different hormone balance, and as many days I have where I ask myself why I didn't transition 5 years ago already, I have others where I know I'll have to be dragged kicking and screaming through the process as my last resort.

Like, a few years ago I was at a "Even if I am transgender, I think I'd rather live as a woman [for reasons]" point; and now I'm at a "I would still rather live as a woman, but I am desperate to have enough disposable income to buy a really nice set of towels and maybe transition would make me well enough to not only work, but have a real career, and maybe I could buy a car, and go on holiday, and start buying tailored clothes instead of charity shop, and maybe redecorate my house in faux-Victorian style, and I really don't care if everybody hates me and I no longer have a coherently cisgender body, I would do anything to be able to afford unusual cheeses and teas rather than subsisting on stew" point. It sounds so shallow, but there it is; because so many of the problems I have don't feel dysphoria-related, because I'm only understanding them as dysphoria-related because nothing else has made an impact, my focus is increasingly on the little things in life I want to achieve, and maybe could achieve if my brainweird was fixed. I'm now fairly sure that if/when I do transition physically, I'll continue to recognise myself more, and realise how much of an impact physical dysphoria was having.

But it's what I know. And like Hamlet says, easier to bear the struggles we know than fly to others that we know not of.

Sidenote:

Intermittently, you'll see approaches which try to set up trans or mentally ill people as enemies to otherkin people, like the two experiences cannot co-exist, or like otherkin people ought to take the fall for the way transphobic use them as an anti-trans "gotcha". I personally find this very frustrating: I prefer approaches which are open, rather than closed off. Many/most of my followers here are either trans, mentally ill, have trauma, experience dysphoria or some other unspecified bodyweird/brainweird. In real life, I have four otherkin/therian/furry friends - and they too all meet that description. {There are also many otherkin who see their history as spiritual or religious, who aren't trans/mentally ill/traumatised, or who don't really know the source of their experiences - all of which is also OK!}.

I would always prefer to take a holistic and compassionate approach to the way experiences can overlap, rather than a combatative/competitive/polarised one; any hostile or fightin' talk messages/replies will be ignored, blocked or deleted as appropriate, because that's not a value I have for my online space. Although I'm open to discussing or exploring it, so please don't hold back if you want to talk about your experiences in good faith.

In short, there is a fairly significant overlap between people who come to identify as transgender/dysphoric/mentally ill, and those who come to identify as otherkin, or who might temporarily identify with one of those experiences while figuring things out  - and this post is for them. Politics makes things sound so simple and clean-cut, but people are messy and complex, and I'd much rather help individuals navigate and explore their experiences - even if they are contradictory, or don't support my political goals. Trying to figure out brainweird and bodyweird is challenging enough, without making people tread on eggshells during the process.

[seljepw]

Practical Animism

A/N: IT'S DONE!  My entry for @butiaintgonnaloveem's Happy Big 50 Baby Challenge!!  This one was so difficult fun to write.  When I saw the song "All You Need is Love" by the Beatles on her list, I knew what I had to do.  It just took a bit of a convoluted road from my brain to my fingers.  Any-hoo, hope you enjoy!!

The gist: What made Baby into... Baby?  What shaped her?  Herein lies the story of Baby, from birth to Swan Song. Told in vignettes and gifs.

Warnings: I think there's like, two curse words in there?  Canon violence, a little more angst than originally planed (oops), but we know it's all ok at the end!

Word Count: 2,600ish

"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."    -The Velveteen Rabbit

Everything has a consciousness.  An idea of where it belongs in the whole of the Universe.  Of what it Is and what it’s For.  How much of an idea- how conscious- depends on love.  The love you’re fed creates you.  It’s as true with humans as it is for other animals, or rivers, or guns, or potted geraniums, or... me.

I remember the molten heat of my steel being forged.  The delicious s t r e t c h of forming my steel into things.  A chassis, an axle, my skin curved over the bones.  But these aren’t really memories, per se, more like impressions of sensation.  See, I hadn’t been Loved, yet.

Sal Moriarty- my first human- loved me, in his way.  In the way that humans love things that make them feel good about themselves.  He loved me like a mirror.  I reflected him back to himself; taller, stronger, more righteous, with more hair and a bigger cock.  But it wasn’t really Love (capital L).  Poor Sal.  He never really got the difference.  

The first time I remember Love was in 1973.  I was sitting in the lot at Rainbow Motors in Lawrence, Kansas, and my skin was getting just-this-side-of-too-warm in the sun, when someone touched me.  Reverently.  In a way that was NEW.  A hand slid over me, and something in me reacted- a sleepy upward curling like a cat being scratched.  A weight rested on my hood and, just like that, the part of me that was a Me began to stir.  

“That’s not the one you want,” a voice rumbled.  And I could hear miles of dirt and gravel and blacktop under my wheels.  He pounded twice on my hood and said, “This is the one you want,” and I felt a thing that was like a smile.  

The owner of the voice lifted my hood by way of a greeting, and I tried to creak one back.

"327 four barrel, 275 horses. A little TLC and this thing is cherry."  It wasn’t a listing of my parts, it was a recited prayer.  Said with veneration, even though it was memorized.  “Trust me, this thing’s still gonna be badass when it’s 40."

You promise? ‘Cause I’d like that.  It was my first coherent thought.  

Mary didn’t quite know what to make of me at first.  She was expecting something different, after all.  But when she and John settled into my front seat and took off on that first drive, I could tell she liked me.  There was a warmth, maybe.  Or hope?  She loved me because I was her escape route.  Her way out of a life she wasn’t happy with, anymore.  She was the one who decided I was a “girl”, by the way.  I don’t know why.  But she was right.

“Hey, sweetheart,” she’d say to me, early in the morning, before her brain was awake enough to think that talking to a car was strange, “where are we gonna go, today, huh?” 

There were days she woke up in my backseat, John’s head on her shoulder and a cramp in her back.  Before he woke up, it was just her and me.  She’d run her fingers across the stitching in my vinyl, or reach up to crank down the back window- slowly, so it wouldn’t wake her mate.  I tried to breathe in some fresh air for her.  I could tell she was something special.  After one of those mornings, I noticed she started getting heavier.  Not just in weight, but in something else, too.  The way I carried people, she carried… promise?  That promise of adventure.  That warm voice reciting me like a prayer.  It was on it’s way.   

I remember the first time Dean moved.  We were leaving the grocery store with Mary’s most recent cravings (cheese crackers, a snickers bar, and hot sauce), and John had just fired up my engine.  I began my rumbling, saying Hello, when there was a lazy sort of turning over, somewhere.  And I remembered the reverent hand on my hood at Rainbow Motors.  And the sound of miles of road.  Mary didn’t say anything, but I felt her… shift.  Not physically.  But like when my seats are adjusted.  Or a gear shifts in my transmission.  Mary had changed configuration.  I felt her grip my doorframe, over the open window.  Her other hand was on her round middle. Hello! we both said to the little soul as John backed me out of the parking space.

"What are you smiling at?” he asked.  My gears shifted to Drive, and we were moving forward.  

"Nothing… I… I really love this song!” Mary turned my volume knob and my speakers sang louder.

"All you need is love… Da da da da da!..."

“Okaaay,” John said slowly.  I think he knew something was up, but it was Mary, so he let it slide. “You know, I’ll never get your whole Beatles obsession."

“It’s not an obsession!  I just… I like the sentiment.” And she began to sing “Love, love, love is all you need…"

John smiled at Mary and did that thing where they mixed their fingers together.

I think Mary taught me how to be a mother.

I carried Mary as she carried both of her boys- Our Boys,really- until they were ready to be people.  And then I carried them to the hospital so they could start being people.  And we all went on adventures to the grocery store and the movies and the park.  And Mary and Dean would sometimes sing to the tiny, wiggling thing that was Sam in his car seat (usually when the Beatles were on my radio).  And I was something like happy.  But I knew something else was coming.  I could still feel those miles of road coming at me- just over the horizon.  A weight in my trunk that wasn’t there, yet.

And then came a night of rain and fire .  And the Winchester males sat on my hood, and poured their sadness into me.  And I began to change, again.  I became something more than a vessel.  John’s military training kicked in and I became a fortress.  A base of operations.  A place from which to wage his war.  He would drop the boys off and ride me into battle.  I got a little of my bloodthirstiness from him, I think.  That phantom weight solidified- settled into my trunk as he piled in weaponry and talismans- the tools of his new trade.  I learned to carry myself differently- put more power into my back wheels.  I learned to carry myself like the warrior he needed me to be.

Those miles of road. They had found me at last.  The dust of dirt, the grind of gravel, the baking heat or freezing cold of asphalt.  They worked their way into my tires, and became part of me.  Dean and Sam grew up while we drove those miles.  Dean would always ride in the back, early on.  He always slept with one hand on his brother’s car seat.  Just in case.  Sometimes Sam would wake up crying, and Dean needed to comfort him right away.  He always hated to see Sam wake up scared.

Dean knows about nightmares.  I don’t know if he ever told anyone how many times he started awake sweating, dreaming of fire.  But I knew.  I would try and rumble a little deeper, then.  To comfort him.  

As we drove the distance and fought John’s war, Dean and Sam built new parts of me.  There are little plastic tickles in my vents, sometimes.  The boys put them there.  And the tiny green toy wedged in my ashtray.  (I think that’s what it must feel like to have something stuck in your teeth.)  The scars that they carved into me- their initials under my skin like a tattoo.  My gifts from my boys.  I carried them, and their gifts, and their daddy, until I became a Home.

When Dean learned to drive, I helped.  Well, I tried to throw my weight around a little to make it easier for him to move me.  I don’t know how well it worked, but I tried. I always try.  When something breaks in me, or needs adjustment, I try to let Dean know.  He’ll lift my hood, in that creaking Hello like his first greeting, and I try to talk back.  

"It hurts when I move this.  I need some oil, here.  This belt is too wobbly, can we fix that?"  He always understands.  He Loves me.  

John officially gave Dean my keys on his 18th birthday, but I think I had always belonged to Dean.  Since that day in the sun at Rainbow Motors.  He is Mine.

I don’t know when I really finished becoming Real.  It’s such a gradual thing, like falling in love, and you don’t really notice that it’s happened until you act on it without thinking.  There were so many years.  So many miles.  So much blood and joy and fear and singing.  

When Sam left for college, Dean drove me to a dark stretch of road, and we pulled over, and he cried.  I tried to find a radio station that was playing the Beatles.

A little later, when we hadn’t heard from John in a while, we went to get Sam, again.  I like to think it was that plastic rattle in my vents that helped Dean make the decision to drive to California, but I don’t know for sure.

Then it was old times, once more.  Me and my boys, off on our adventure.  Clarity of purpose.  I was smashed and Dean rebuilt me.  Dean left for a little while, and Sam took care of me.  It wasn’t the same, but we made it.  Then Dean came back to me, and the adventures started again.  And more years passed.  More fights and more blood. The sound of them laughing.  The weight of them on my hood, as we all silently watched the stars.

I carried angels and demons.  I listened to the boys fight and talk and dream.  I soaked it all up.  All that Love.  And then I was ready.

When the apocalypse came- the first one, I mean- that was the day I realized I was awake.  Real.  Whatever you want to call it.  

Sam had run off somewhere.  Only it wasn’t Sam anymore.  It was Lucifer.  And when Dean ran after him, I was there to carry my boy to what we all thought would be the last war.

We drove all night to get there.  Back to Kansas, of course.  It all had to end where it began, I suppose.  As we drove, Dean poured his fear into me.  It was like he had woken up from another nightmare, and found that this one was real.  I tried as best I could to help.  I threw myself forward so we could get there faster.  I rumbled deep and low to let Dean know I was there.  That he wasn’t alone.  We got to the battlefield just as the sun was rising.

We sat on the top of a hill at the Stull Cemetery entrance while Dean took a few deep breaths.  There was Sam.  I could see him waiting in the overgrown field below us.  And the other one… Adam?  Well, Michael wearing Adam’s face.  This was really happening.  They took a step toward each other and it was time.  Dean squeezed my wheel and turned the key and I roared as loud as I could across that brown grass and still air.  Dean slid in the cassette he had picked (always the music fan-  from the womb, in fact), and when he turned up the volume, I hollered through the music.  And we rode into action.

That last fight.  What can I say about it?  It was… it was the single worst thing I’ve ever seen.  Because it wasn’t really a fight.  My baby never threw a single punch.  

When Lucifer threw Dean, I caught him.  Broke my windshield, but I did it.  It got bad, after that.  Lucifer used Sam’s fists to break Dean.  I think he did it so bloody and hands-on just so Sam could feel it.  Every punch shook me, too.  I felt the vibrations as the bones in Dean’s face shattered.  I think I even heard Sam screaming, from somewhere far off.  Like a train whistle in a thunderstorm.  I tried to scream, too.

“Sammy, it's ok. It’s ok. I’m here. I’m here.  I’m not going to leave you!” Dean spit through his own blood and broken mouth.  How many times had I heard that whispered in my backseat?  Dean peering over the edge of his brother’s car seat, patting his head, lulling him back to sleep?

That was it.  That’s what did it.

You pour enough love into something, and it Becomes.

I had a Name.  And a Purpose.  And a Soul.  And my babies needed me now more than ever.  I was their mother, their fortress, their home, and now they needed a beacon.  So I did it.  I moved.

By myself.  

I strained against the rigid steel of my skin, and against the laws of physics.  With shrieking, wrenching effort, I stretched my roof up a fraction of an inch, into a shaft of sunlight.  Angled it towards Sam’s train whistle scream.  Made sure he could see that little army man.  A smile around something stuck in my teeth.

And there was Sam, again.

“It’s ok, Dean.  It’s gonna be ok.  I’ve got him,”  Sam wheezed against the strain of holding onto his own body.  He threw that magic key they had made, and punched a hole in the world.  The pit caved open, and across the deafening, howling wind, my boys looked at each other one last time.

I held Dean upright against my door, so he could say goodbye.  So we both could.  In that moment, I think we all spoke the same language.  We Loved each other.

And then Sam threw his body and Adam/Michael’s into that hole, and it was over.

It felt like everything was over, actually.

After the cage door closed, I think Dean and I both broke, a little.  I held on as long as I could, rumbling a lullaby while we dragged our way to a new life.  I had to get him to that Lisa woman he had talked about.  She sounded safe and kind.  Just what my baby needed to heal.  But when Dean parked me in that strange garage and went off to love the woman called Lisa, I couldn’t stay awake anymore.  The strain of moving- of Becoming- had taken a lot out of me.  I needed a good, long sleep.

And besides, Dean had Lisa to look after him for a little while.  She could care for him while I slept.  And when he was ready, I would be, too.  Those miles of road weren’t done, yet.  Probably never would be.  But I did know that when they came, I’d be there.  Mother, fortress, home.  And to the man who had Loved me alive, I would always be Baby.

I guess Mary was onto something.  In the end, all you need is Love.

Tagging: @butiaintgonnaloveem, thank you for this amazing challenge.  @icecream-and-gadreel- here's the fic I was complaining about. @mamaredd123, my lone forever-tag.  Thank you for your patience.

[foundnet]

is there a reason to write for the sake of writing? The word “expression” describes how i’d answer that. today’s life is immediate. instant information is tempting and our heads try to calculate how we need to process everything feeding in at a million miles an hour. when i sit down to write, i feel clearheaded. i focus on the keystrokes. the placement of my fingers on black keys and the way they shift up and down. and how they have meaning. often the words do not come. i stare at a screen wishing the ideas in my head can transfer from neuron connections, to coherent thoughts, to phrases. moving my fingers correctly. no mistakes. that is “expression”. i try to express myself in an honest manner here on this specific blog. everywhere else i am met with expectations for writing. i fear the requirements. to me, writing like this is jumping hurdles. i focus on meeting the expectation of jumping over each specific hurdle rather than meeting the whole goal of the sport, that it is a race to complete. i think expressive people rise above their hurdles in their own unique way. there’s a personal element of their lives that make all their situation orbit. the things that happen to them could only happen to someone like them. “of course you’d get into a car chase after stealing a 75 cent pie” or “you read two 600 page books in a weekend and wrote a reflection that got published”. Expression allows for you to rise above mediocrity. whether you are often wrong or right, happy or angry, artistic or straightforward. to be able to cultivate a shining personality that lifts beyond your presence is expression. when i read a work or text, listen to a song and know who is behind it without knowing. 

i’m trying to know this. what is it in people to rise above averageness. i’ve fooled myself into thinking that it is ok to be just “OK”. this behavior something that’s been with me for too long. OK says a C is OK. OK says getting fucked up is OK. OK says meet the goals and nothing more. I should say that this causes a weak mind. like a body will grow out of shape if you don’t work out, the brain is muscle and i have refused to lift a hand in the last few years. now i sort of understand why old folks call TV and the internet “junk food”. what does it take to shine? a lot of times there’s a reason life happens the way it does, and the contrary as well. there’s not much fate in “fate”. 

i think i will continue to write. there’s a proper way to get across what i must say and i will learn it. to shine. the best don’t seem to stick to any rules though. they warp the quo so much that it they’ve left a permanent imprint. the perfect example is Ulysses. how does joyce create a work of marvel that is unlike anything of the time? maybe he is not concerned with “now”? there’s a lack of urgency. 

an ego is important in expressiveness. i used to have no wall. i believed that ego made people do bad things. when my parents would get angry, i thought it was because of ego. when people murder, cheat, and are assholes- it had to be because of their warped ego. so i tried to live without the walls. but because i didn’t have walls, that doesn’t mean others don’t as well. i mean that, my ego is the wall protecting the city of myself. without these fortifications, others can enter and exit my city without hassle. but of course, not all have selfless intentions. while i would attempt to be egoless (in an semi-unintentional holier-than-thou way), once in a while someone would enter my city with malicious intent. they’d sack the souk, burn the dwellings, rape and kill the citizens. they might leave with something valuable. there could be no reason at all. somewhere along the line i realized that it’s important to be built up. it’s important to note that there’s a right way and a wrong way to construct. when i build this wall, i place emphasis where the other attacked from last time. i try to learn what went wrong, and what i can do better to protect myself next time. and the wall will fall a million times, and will go up again a million and one times. there’s not really a way to avoid it it you live in this world. to accept that you’ve been hurt and will be hurt in the future is the greatest discovery from those years. maybe that is why i crave isolation. i think of desolate islands in the caribbean where i am the only one. there are enough books and video games to last the rest of my lifetime. me and only me. 

to clearly state my answer, yes- writing for the sole purpose of writing draws out a person. you could be writing a letter to a loved one, to a teacher, to a committee, to everyone willing, or to just yourself. you lay a version of yourself out in some way, it could be a best effort or a half-assed struggled. nonetheless something has been laid out by you and only you. these ideas can be fresh to the world, or long regurgitated thoughts hashed out once again, yet they are yours. take pride in writing as your voice is visual.