#I’m a children’s librarian but hey… I love chaos

[reystarkiller]

I’m going to be unhinged and put interview with the vampire on the staff picks at work

#tp #I’m a children’s librarian but hey… I love chaos

[justalarryblog]

Hey beca! How are you? Do you have any recommendations fic like hl already in relationships, mpreg harry, they struggle to have a baby? Or arranged married? That have 100k words above? Thanks

Hi anon, thanks for the message! I'm doing fine, I hope you are too. :)

The only one I have mpreg!Harry that they struggle to have a baby is this one:

I Hope You Dance by @wickedarcher_08 (83k) | Explicit

Louis and Harry have been struggling with infertility for over a year. After many failed attempts, they decide to seek a specialist, but they end up with more than they ever dreamed.

For mpreg!Harry that is +100k words, I have:

Say Something by @kingsofeverything​​ (105k) | Explicit

At fifty years old and recently divorced, Omega Harry Styles isn’t interested in dating. When his doctor suggests a heat and rut matching service, he signs up out of necessity. It’s the only use he has for an Alpha in his life.

Twenty-eight-year-old Alpha Louis Tomlinson aims to change that.

I also have a tag for Mpreg fics in case you wanna check if there's any other to your liking.

For arranged married, I've read these:

Through Eerie Chaos by @mediawhorefics (102k) | General Audiences

For as long as anyone can remember, Old Hillsbridge Manor has always been believed to be haunted. Everyone in the village agrees and keeps a respectful, fearful, distance. New in town after a bad breakup and an internship that led to disappointment rather than a permanent job, Harry Styles figures taking pictures of the decrepit building could be a great new creative project. Or at least a much-needed distraction while he searches for a job and crashes at his parents’ new house. No one warned him about the apparitions though; about the music, the laughter, the people who flicker and vanish when you call after them, the echoes of a past that should be long gone… Harry has never believed in spirits but even he can admit that there’s something weird going on. What starts as mere curiosity evolves into a full-blown investigation and soon enough, Harry finds himself making friends with an aristocrat from the 1920s and struggling with finding the best way to tell him that he’s dead.

The Ghost Hunter AU where Niall lives to prove ghosts are real, Zayn is a skeptical librarian and Harry gets caught up in a century-old mystery and catches feeling in the process.

Part 1 of Through Eerie Chaos

tastes like summer, smiles like may by @outropeace (47k) | Explicit

“Is this true?” Harry grabbed the beta by the shoulders. “Bryce, where did you hear that?”

“There’s rumors going around the castle,” he smirked. “stories about his beauty and his cold attitude. They know he is an omega only because of his scent, but he has never had a heat.”

“Do you know what this means?”

Bryce smirk grew into a big smile. “He can’t give you an heir.”

A cold prince, an alpha with nothing left to lose and a kingdom with a secret.

Praise the Mutilated World by @creamcoffeelou, @delsicle (106k) | Explicit

It was August when everything changed.

By October, the leaves changed, and so did Louis’ heart.

OR: An enemies to lovers dystopian au where Harry is an elite alpha and Louis is a rebel omega with too much to fight for. Every move made is monitored, and a fertile omega’s purpose in life is one thing: to give children to their alpha.

a dream is a wish your heart makes by orphan_account (22k) |Teen And Up Audiences

Fairytale retelling of Cinderella, where Harry is a servant boy who’s too kind, Louis is a prince in an arranged marriage, Liam is Harry’s step brother, and Niall is Louis’ dutiful grand duke.

Si Pudiera Volar by @softfonds (68k) | Explicit

When Harry’s fiancé leaves him for his cousin, he looks the other way for the sake of his happiness. He’ll do anything to forget about him, including joining a monastery. It isn’t until his cousin’s former lover, a pirate, appears that he realizes everything is not as it appears, and an honest pirate might be the only person worthy of his heart.

Or, a fic loosely based on Corazon Salvaje.

The Murmur of Yearning by @mediawhorefics (93k) | Mature

Four years ago, Harry Styles was forced into a marriage of convenience to enrich and ally both his and his promised’s families. The sudden, and slightly suspicious, death of the Marquess of Haxshire, however, brings great disturbance to Crescentfield Hall and, as his late’s husband’s closest male relative, Harry unexpectedly finds himself the head of a family he never felt he belonged to. Between a meddling distant cousin hellbent on inserting himself in Harry’s life, his wicked and mistrustful mother-in-law and his late husband’s advisors refusing to help or take him seriously, Harry struggles in the fight to keep what he’s earned and make the Estate finally feel like home.

Luckily, he doesn’t stand completely alone and finds himself an unlikely ally in Mr Tomlinson, the elusive Land Stewart who has been taking care of the property in the shadows for years. Louis Tomlinson is caring, patient, and unlike everyone else, he doesn’t seem to think Harry committed a murder.

the sanctity of patience by @scrunchyharry (22k) | Teen And Up Audiences

When young Lord Harry was chosen by King Louis of Bavaria to become his husband and prince consort, Harry thought all of his dreams had come through. His illusions came crashing down when he understood it meant living in isolation in the alpine castle of Neuschwanstein with a husband who turned out to be far from what he had hoped for.

His illusions vanished, Harry will have learn to appreciate what has and even, perhaps, fall in love with his imperfect husband and his castle.

Winter Pines and Ocean Eyes by @binarysunsets (14k) | Teen And Up Audiences

Harry is awoken by the sudden weight of his dog across his chest, and he yawns and stretches his arms above his head, relishing the crack of his back the gesture produces and sending Fen tumbling down onto the bed. There’s a niggling sensation that he has something important to do that day, but in his still-sleepy state he’s struggling to recall what it is. When it hits him, he freezes mid-rub of his eyes, and his hand slowly falls to the furs strewn across the bed. His fingers tangle into the fur and he bites his lip.

Right. It’s that day.

The day he’s meant to travel south.

Or, the arranged marriage au between young viking Harry, son of his clan’s chief, and a certain caesar by the name of Louis, heir to the empire.

Liberté by @larriebane(64k) | Mature

AU. 1647. “Pretending you don’t have a heart is not the best way to not get it broken. It’s just the easiest.”

Or the pirate AU I always wanted to write

Teenage Rebellion Never Worked Out So Well by @panda_bear21 (55k) | Not Rated

“I’m an adult!” He glanced down at Harry, who seemed anything but at the moment, where he was definitely on the brink of a temper tantrum. “We’re both adults!” Jay glanced to Anne again, before breathing out a heavy sigh. “Yes, but you’re both adults that do not have jobs and who live off of our money… Which means, you have to do what we say… or you’ll have to find a new place to live.” “You wouldn’t do that.” Louis dared, hoping his glare was enough to guilt trip his mother into calling the whole thing off. Or to tell them that it had all just been a huge joke and they weren’t actually being forced into marrying a complete stranger. “Oh, but we would.”

Or the super cliché arranged marriage fic where things escalate way too quickly.

infinitely all for me by @swallowsmateforlife (10k)| Explicit

The Alpha Louis’ been betrothed to since he was 14 has finally come of age and Louis’ been delivered to his home.

or: the one where they figure it all out

keep me safe, keep me sane, keep me honest by @hilourry (8k) | Explicit

Louis is the Prince of England. All past omega princes and princesses have been married and pregnant at age 18, so his parents arrange him to be married to Harry Styles, the royal family’s PR guy.

Sail Across Me by @iwillpaintasongforlou (21k) | Explicit

Harry is a prince that is about to be forced into marriage against his will and running away to sea seems like a much better option. Louis is the captain of the infamous pirate ship The Rogue and he has a thing for helping defenseless creatures. Especially when they're as pretty as this one.

London is well worth a mass  by @dolphinaaaa (93k) | Not Rated

Louis is an Omega prince of France. When he is 13, he is betrothed to Harry of England for politics. The wedding will seal the alliance between the two coutries. This is their story.

Please feel free to check my fic tags if you want to search for other fics! Happy reading, anon!

#anon #answered #fic rec #mpreg fics #mpreg!harry #arranged marriage

[mimsylovesloki]

Episode 2-Play by Play Reactions (Spoilers)

Ooooooh mysterious...

Oh so this variant can (at least briefly) cont people with a simple touch? No need for a scepter?

I NEED A HEROOO!

Oh this variant is taking that lady away? I wonder why

Miss Minutes is gonna move me to violence

Loki is me studying

Hahahahaha get her Loki!

Loki, leave Mobius’ magazines alone

Wow he got into the work force rather fast huh? Bit of a whiplash type scenario considering the end of episode one

No, YOU’RE a cosmic mistake! 😤 my boy looks hot regardless

Sooooo Loki is the most common variant? Why does this not surprise me?

Is... is he a football cup champion??? Omg 😂

Smart boy. Illusion projecting is different than duplication casting. Neato. LISTEN TO MY SMART BOY. RESPECT HIM.

Dude loves wheeling

Yea Loki. Work on getting to the time keepers. Overthrow the government.

Dude is smart with these questions.

Propaganda is INDEED exhausting so that’s fair

Fist hostage... maybe he’s (or she?) gonna use her as a body transfer like Loki in the comics with Sif?

Oh please let this be a genuine smart Loki moment and not just setting him up as a joke and embarrassment...

“Where there are wolf’s ears, wolf’s teeth are near.” Good to know basic mammalian anatomy is still applicable to Asgardian wolves...

Cmon Loki do something cool. Please. Please Loki. Please.

Preach my man, but please, do something cool. My anxiety that you’ll be turned into a joke is spiking.

Is he actually waiting outside or is Loki really just trying to mess with them and throw them off? Or is he just being too cocky for his own good and it’s gonna mess him up? Please please please don’t disappoint me. I have merch for this show already that I can’t return

Bargain baby, bar again. Do it.

Is he actually concerned for the time keepers orrrrrr

Dangit Mobius

Does... being reset... hurt?

Bye C-20 I guess... for now? We’ll see

Of course it’s a friggin theremin that’s playing

Mobius x Judge Renslayer? Oooooooh. Tsundere Renslayer.

Use a coaster my man

Oh her first name is Ravonna

Controversy is the best thing though

You can never understand this Loki. As soon as you begin to understand, he changes. He’s unpredictable.

“I know you have a soft spot for broken things.” Ah, so this entire fandom then?

“But Loki is an evil, lying scourge.” YOU TAKE THAT BACK YOU WENCH!

“That is the part he plays in the sacred timeline.” Well you clearly haven’t been paying enough attention to the files then, hm? Here, let me redirect you to one of the many character analyses I’ve written. Now if you read here........

He doesn’t need to change. He’s already not evil

I don’t trust Renslayer or the time keepers... or Renslayer WITH the time keepers... I think she plays a bigger, antagonistic role than I thought.

You just TRY and delete him Mobius... just... TRY... I will find a way to break the fourth wall and no time keepers can keep you safe from the rage of a million fan girls. Nothing... we don’t need magic...

Omg Loki just sitting there in a chair outside the office like a kid while their parent is talking with the teacher about their “recent behavior”.

Cmon Loki, you don’t need to make excuses or impress him.

My poor boy is SOOO out of his zone.

Tbf mobius, you ASKED. You asked what makes him tick.

Hey hey hey, let’s not gaslight my boy...

The Loki is... uhhh something... gotta keep my hopes up. Trust in Tom Hiddleston...

Mobius showing his true colors...

Please Loki... be badass... not just a joke... please please please... PLEASE!

Mobius, play nice.

I hope this “superior” Loki thing, if it is a female, isn’t a desperate attempt at feminism pandering, chocking up her “superiority” to being female. Please give the characters real stories. Flesh them out.

Juice box time?

No?

More homework?

Bugger...

The sass is off the charts

Librarian lady gonna get killed

Oh boy

Pffffft—

I miss Casey.

Hey don’t ignore Loki. That’s rude.

Bell is the answer?

Poor Loki. Stop trying to fit in. You are best when you are genuinely yourself.

What’s to stop Loki from grabbing the other files?

Homework... I thought I escaped this when I graduated...

Whatcha seeing there?

Oh...

Bye bye Asgard...

Cmon... not more feels.

AGGHHHHHHHH

Please allow him confirmation of Thor’s survival and beating of Thanos!!! He needs that confirmation! He needs that reassurance.

Hear him out Mobius.

“He’s hiding in apocalypses.” Sooooo is that why they go to presumably Mount Vesuvius? I assume?

Mobius, let Loki have your salad.

Rip salad

CASEY

Casey’s juice box

Poor Casey and mobius salad...

Loki, your logic astounds me.

Well, pushing Hulk off of the bridge WOULD have an effect...

VESUVIUS HERE WE COME

He hasn’t really stabbed anyone in the back... except Thor... but not 50 times

Pompeii, here we come!

Ooooooh we gonna see Loki dance with a lady? 😏 get ittttt

Well, if you do cause a branch, can’t you just reset the timeline?

CAUSE SOME CHAOS MY LOVELY MAN

OMG IM HEARING THE LOVE OF MY LIFE SPEAK ITALIAN

I can die happy now

Loki... you look insane.

Uhhh run

Okay you’re good

Sleepy Loki

Let him sleep!

Soooo, I mean, technically, Loki’s actions would still cause the timeline to change, but said change wouldn’t have an impact on the future, just the current moment... so shouldn’t it still be detected by the TVA? At least as a little fleck?

Jet skis?

Omg I just snorted at Loki begrudgingly agreeing with Mobius that jet skis are awesome

Mobius offending my History Teachers for 50 minutes straight... that’s it. That’s the episode.

Mobius really in love with jet skis for some reason

We better get to see Mobius on a jet ski

Fighting for jet skis?

Lol mobius has a point about the magical Asgardians and Jötunns

Glorious purpose

Cmon Loki, destroy this man’s beliefs.

OVERTHROW THE GOVERNMENT

DO IT

TEAM UP AND THROW THE TIMELINE INTO CHAOS

How would you know what the time keepers are doing when you’ve never met them?

How can you meet in peace at the end of time with no chaos?

“You see, I know something children don’t. That no one bad is ever truly bad. And no one good is ever truly good.”

Mobius, don’t patronize my boy. Go jet skiing.

“I know.” Oh good, that point in the trailer was edited.

No candy on Asgard? Poor Loki.

May the best man win? Well that automatically means Loki.

Getting National Treasure vibes

Love you

Alabama will still exist in 2050? That’s disappointing.

Roxxcart.

Loki is very smart. Thank you show.

Renslayer, if you claim Mobius is your friend, trust him.

Kachow!

“For all time.” “Always.” TVA is definitely a cult.

Weapon?

WEAPON!

...weapon???

no weapon...

Meanie...

Are we gonna see what this Loki variant looks like?

I have a feeling this variant is gonna be the female, blonde (I’m so sorry, at the moment I forget her name) in those pictures we saw. Guessing because 1) she was wearing a Loki outfit. 2) her and tom Hiddleston were wet in that picture as if rained on 3) the scene when they enter Roxxcart occurs when it starts to rain due to the upcoming massive storm. So I’m placing all of my money on the table the Loki variant is Lady Loki. Blonde, for some reason. (Or maybe she just didn’t have a wig on in the picture of her we saw?)

Yea please don’t prune this Loki.

Storms a brewing

Good to know Alabama, at some point, does get destroyed. That’s comforting. (Btw this is a joke. I have nothing against Alabama lol. Idk why my brain thought this was funny lol.)

All wet and rainy.

HAHAHAHA USE THAT MAGIC BABY

LET MOBIUS STICK WITH LOKI

Ooh ooh! Is Loki gonna use powers to yoink the roomba here?

Uh oh. Forgot to take into consideration that most big businesses, especially stores, have security cameras, huh?

Times ticking...

Wait was that a reset charge?

Awkward silence

Spookyyyy

Poor dude lol

Or not

Hmmm

Oh???

I RECOGNIZE THAT MAGIC!!! ITS HER!!!

HUNTER (forget her number) IS THE LOKI VARIANT!!! When was she replaced? Or was she always the variant?

That or the other Loki is projecting herself into the hunter? Maybe used the shopping dude as a conduit?

Moment of realization

Smiling contest

No no, Tom Hiddleston’s Loki is superior. I don’t care who else tries to play Loki, Tom IS Loki.

Oh no

Baby crying?

These poor people...

No need to be rough

Is Mobius genuinely caring

Oh... poor C-20

Team up please? Please?

Ah so they really can just send themself into any body they wish, huh? Just by touch?

Loki, learn that trick please.

Sooo, is the other variant Loki’s body tangible? Do they project their conscience into other bodies via touch, or do they not have a corporeal body and rely on others to exist?

Doctor Who vibes

TEAM UP PLEASE

YES

Please

Please?

Offended by Loki name?

Haha sympathy for Thor

Go randy.

Soooo what are you interested in if not ruling the TVA?

Who’s that planting charges? The real body of the other variant Loki?

You okay C-20? (Off topic her actress reminds me of the actress who played Ava Star aka Ghost in Ant-Man and the Wasp) what is real and what about it is so mind capturing for you?

Oh no

Poor girl

Cmon B-15

Hello?

Reset charge

Oh? Bye bye?

HEY!

That’s rude

I miss Randy too

Cmon Loki fight like the badass I know you are

Please

HAHA! TELEKINESIS

Cartwheel WEEEEE

Oooh he swore

Lokis have a pattern of swearing only while taking other peoples forms

Cmon Loki. Go back to mobius. Help them. Prove your goodness. Please.

Poor trucker man

Hello?

Hello!

Fave reveal?

I KNEW IT

Oh????

Flashlights?

RUN!

Is this actually a Loki variant or just sylvie? Or Amora?

Uh oh...

What’s happening

Is she absolutely destroying the timeline?

Poor Doctor Strange. I wonder if he knows about the TVA?

Loki is all alone? Why is he standing still?

Where is she going?

Cmon Loki... help them please...

Loki...

CLIFF HANGER

NOOOOO I CANT WAIT ANOTHER WEEK AGHHHHHHHH

Are they gonna be okay?

How is the variant traveling?

What is her goal?

Why is Loki going after her?

Why is Loki leaning towards the apparent evil side?

Is this actually lady Loki or sylvie or amora since her hair is blonde?

WHAT IS HAPPENING???

So much just happened in so little time. It’s like Marvel wants to slowly spoon feed us with the first 3/4 of the episode and then in the last 1/4, they waterboard us.

Why is this female Loki variant so much more powerful?

So Loki DID know what was going on at the Renaissance fair and was intentionally stalling for her... why?

Her horned helmet is similar to the one kid(?) Loki wears in the comics. One horn broken. How did that happen? Why does she still wear it, especially if she doesn’t want to be called Loki?

No end credit scene yet.

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #mcu #disney #loki on disney+ #Loki show #Loki series #disney plus #disney+ #disney+ loki #loki disney #tom hiddleston #Loki episode 2 #loki spoilers #loki reaction

[keyofjetwolf]

Pitch Me your thing!

HELLO HELLO MY SUNBEAMS. For most every category, there was an impressive turn-out for pitches, so I thought we’d utilize the weirdness of this year’s GIFTENING to give something new a try. The popular vote winner for each category will happen on the first day, but on the second, the winner will be chosen from YOUR PITCHES. Mostly those pitches will be to me. The exception is in Miscellaneous, where you’ll be pitching to my family, because what I want to do and what is most entertaining isn’t necessarily the same thing.

So! How will we do this thing? GLAD YOU ASKED. I’ll link you to a form in a minute with space for one pitch. Once you fill it out, you’ll be asked if you want to do another. There’s no limit to the number of pitches you can send in! But remember that if you submit multiple entries for the same category, you’ll basically be competing against yourself.

NOW WE’VE GOT SOME RULES FOR DOING THIS (which I mostly stole from Holligay, because I have no creativity this year). Please read them carefully! I’ll toss pitches that break any of these, and I’d rather your hard work not go to waste.

Pitch Me is open for your submissions from RIGHT NOW (22 December) through the very last day of this hellyear (31 December) at 11:59pm MT.

The thing you pitch must have come from what was nominated for THE GIFTENING 2020. (Full list of those nominations in every category below the cut on this post.)

Entries must be unsigned! I’m looking to chose based on the pitch alone, regardless of who submitted it.

The pitch itself must be 100 words or less. HAVE PITY ON ME I CAN ONLY CONSUME SO MUCH.

If you’d like to get some help, ideas, feedback, all that good stuff, the Discord is a FANTASTIC resource I encourage you to use.

HERE IS YOUR PITCH SUBMISSION LINK

And, as promised, below the cut you’ll find the list of all the nominees in every category you guys sent in this year. IT’S A LONG LIST HAVE FUN WITH THAT

Anime

A Place Further Than The Universe/Sora Yori mo Toi Basho Ace Attorney (Gyakuten Saiban) Action Heroine Cheer Fruits Aggretsuko Aho Girl Air Master Akuma No Riddle Alien Nine Angel Beats! Angelic Layer Appare-Ranman Aria Aria the Animation Arrietty/ The Secret World of Arrietty (Ghibli film) Ascendance of a Bookworm Azumamga Daioh Baccano! Beastars Black Cat Blood + (the series) Bloom Into You Blue Drop/Tenshitachino Gikyoku Bodacious Space Pirates (starting right where you left off) BOFURI: I Don't Want to Get Hurt, so I'll Max Out My Defense Boku no hero academia Bubblegum Crisis Card Captor Sakura: Clear Card Cardcaptor Sakura Castlevania the Animated Series Cells at Work Chaos; Head Chihayafuru Code Geass cowboy Bebop Cyborg 009 Death Note Death Parade Deca-Dence Demon Girl Next Door Demon Slayer (Kimetsu no Yaiba) Diebuster: Aim For the Top 2 Dog Days dorohedoro Dot Hack//SIGN Dr. Stone Elfen Lied Erased (Boku Dake Ga Inai Machi) Escaflowne Excel Saga Fantastic Children Fate/Zero Flip Flappers Fresh Precure Fruits Basket 2019 Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood Ga rei Zero GaoGaiGar gekkan shoujo nozaki-kun Ghost in the Shell: Standalone Complex Ghost Stories (dubbed) Girls' Last Tour Great Pretender Hoseki no Kuni/ Land of the Lustrous House of Five Leaves/ Saraiya Goyou Inari konkon koi iroha Interviews with Monster Girls Inuyasha Isekai Izakaya "Nobu" Jellyfish Princess/ Kuragehime JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Part 4: Diamond is Unbreakable Kaguya-sama Love Is War Kaleido Star Kannazuki no Miko Keep Your Hands Off Eizouken! Kemono Friends Kiki's Delivery Service Kimi ni Todoke: From Me To You Kino's Journey/Kino no Tabi (2003) Land of the Lustrous (Houseki no Kuni) Little Witch Academia Lord El-Melloi II's Case Files EP0 {"A Grave Keeper") Love is Hard for an Otaku Love Live! Sunshine!! lupin the 3rd part 4 Madoka: The Rebellion Movie Magic knight rayearth Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha March Comes in Like a Lion Mardock Scramble Master of Martial Hearts Mawaru Penguindrum Megalobox Miss Kobayashi's Dragon Maid Mob Psycho 100 Mobile Suit Gundam (1979) Monster Mushishi My Bride is a Mermaid (Seto No Hanayome) My Love Story!!! My Neighbor Totoro My Next Life As A Villainess: All Routes Lead to Doom My Roommate is a Cat NANA Naruto Natsume’s Book of Friends Neon Genesis Evangelion (hateblog) New Cutey Honey Nichijou Ōban Star-Racers One Piece Ouran High school Host club Outlaw Star Paranoia Agent Perfect Blue Please Save My Earth Pop Team Epic Pretty Cure Fresh Princess Jellyfish/ Kuragehime Princess Mononoke Princess Principal Princess Tutu Project A-Ko promised neverland (/yakusoku no neverland) Psycho-Pass Ranma 1/2 Re: Cutie Honey Re:Creators Read or Die (OAV) Red Garden relife Revolutionalry Girl Utena Rose of Versailles Ruroni Kenshin Sailor Moon Sailor Moon (viz dub) Samurai Champloo (english dub) Sarazanmai School Days School-Live! Scum's Wish Senki Zesshou Symphogear (listed as just "Symphogear" on Crunchyroll.) Serei no Moribito (Guardian of the Spirit) Shin Sekai Yori (From The New World) Shirobako Shoujo Kageki Revue Starlight Showa Genroku Rakugo Shinju Sleepy Princess in the Demon Castle Smile Pretty Cure (Japanese original)/ Glitter Force (english adaptation) Snow White with the Red Hair Sound Euphonium Strawberry Panic (yuri) Sweetness and Lightning The Devil is a Part-timer The Devil Lady The disasterous life of saiki k (saiki kusuo no Sai Nan) The End of Evangelion (movie) the Promised Neverland The Twelve Kingdoms Tiger & Bunny Tokimeki Tonight ToraDora Tsubasa Chronicle Umineko When They Cry Valkyrie Drive: Mermaid Vinland Saga Violet Evergarden Whispered Words (Sasameki Koto) With a Dog AND a Cat, Every Day is Fun Yona of the Dawn Yu Yu Hakusho Yugioh Duel Monster Yuki Yuna is a Hero Yuri Kuma Arashi Yuri On Ice!!! Zoids: Chaotic Century Zombie Land Saga

Non-Anime Animated

Adventure Time Amphibia Animainiacs (Original) Animaniacs (Reboot) Archie's Weird Mysteries As Told By Ginger Barbie Life in The Dreamhouse Batman the Animated Series Big Guy and Rusty the Boy Robot Big Mouth Bob's Burgers Bojack Horseman Bravest Warriors Captain N: the Game Master Carmen Sandiego (1994) Carmen Sandiego (2019) Castlevania (Netflix) Cats Don't Dance Coco Courage the Cowardly Dog Craig of the Creek Cyber Six Daria Darkwing Duck Dragon Booster Dragons: Riders of Berk DuckTales (2017) Exo-Squad Fern Gully Fillmore! Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends Futurama Gargoyles Glitch Techs Godzilla: The Animated Series Green Lantern the Animated Series Hedgehog in the Fog (Ёжик в тумане) Hey Arnold Hilda Infinity Train Iron Giant JEM Kim Possible Kipo and the Age of the Wonderbeasts Legend of Zelda animated series (1989) Legion of Super-Heroes Liberty Kids Magical Girl Friendship Squad Mao Mao: Heroes of Pure Heart The Legend of Korra Moominvalley Motorcity My Little Pony (Classic, NOT FiM) My Little Pony: Equestria Girls: Rainbow Rocks Onyx Equinox Over the Garden Wall Over the Moon (2020 film) Owl House Primal Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure Redwall Rise of the TMNT Roco's Modern Life Rugrats RWBY Samurai Jack Seis Manos She-Ra (1985) She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018) Sonic Boom Spartakus and the Sun Beneath the Sea Spiderman: Into the Spiderverse Star vs. the Forces of Evil Strange Magic Super Mario Brothers Super Show Superman: The Animated Series Teen Titans The 13 Ghosts of Scooby Doo The Animals of Farthing Wood The Dragon Prince The Hollow The Legend of Tarzan (TV series) The Magic School Bus (1994) The Mysterious Cities of Gold The Pirate Fairy (Disney Fairies) The Powerpuff Girls (1998) The Real Ghostbusters Thundercats (1985) Thundercats (2011) Transformers: Prime Tuca and Bertie Twelve Forever Undone Venture Bros Wakko's Wish Wakfu Wander Over Yonder We Bare Bears (TV) Winx Club Wreck-It Ralph (2012) X-Men Evolution X-Men: The Animated Series Xiaolin Showdown

Live Action

20,000 Leagues Under the Sea 28 Days Later 3rd Rock from the Sun A Series of Unfortunate Events American Horror Story: Asylum Babysitter's Club (2020) Batman (the old Adam West version) Better Call Saul Black Mirror Blackbeard's Ghost (Peter Ustinov) Boston Legal Boy Meets World Boys Over Flowers Bromance (Taiwanese tv series) Brooklyn 99 Buffy the Vampire Slayer Cadfael Cagney and Lacey Charmed (2018) Chopped Cleopatra 2525 Cloak and Dagger Clue (1985) Community Crazy Ex-Girlfriend Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance Dead Like Me Dead To Me Deadwood Death Note (Netflix) Derry Girls Dimension 20 - The Unsleeping City Doctor Who (New) Doom Patrol Dracula's Daughter (1936) Escape to the Chateau Farscape Fingersmith Galavant Godzilla (2014) Gokushufudo (2020 Japanese TV drama) Golden Girls Good Omens H20: Just Add Water (somewhere in seasons 1-2) Happy New Year Harley Quinn movie Hateblog a REALLY STRAIGHT soap opera. Haunting of Bly Manor His Dark Materials (HBO series) Holes Hot Fuzz House Inception Inside No. 9 Iron Chef America Joan of Arcadia Julie and the Phantoms Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle Kamen Rider Build Kamen Rider Ex-Aid Kamen Rider Fourze Killing Eve Knives Out Letterkenny Leverage Little Women (2019) Lucifer Matlock Majisuka Gakuen MASH Merlin Mission Impossible Ghost Protocol Money Talks (1997 film) Motherland: Fort Salem Murder She Wrote Mythbusters Nailed It! Never Have I Ever Once Upon a Time Orphan Black Pen 15 PGSM Pi (1998) Picnic at Hanging Rock (2018) Pride and Prejudice: A New Musical Puppy Bowl Pushing Daisies Rome (hateblog) Russian Doll Sabrina Sense8 Sera Myu: Un Nouveau Voyage Shameless Sierra Burgess Smallville So Weird Star Trek: TOS (or their films) Star Trek: The Next Generation Star Trek: Deep Space Nine Star Trek: Voyager Stargate Atlantis Suckerpunch Supernatural (out of context speedrun the last three episodes) Sweetheart Switched at Birth Tall Girl Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles The Addams Family (1964) The Big Flower Fight The Booth at the End The Bride With White Hair The Crown The Fresh Prince of Bel Air The Good Place The Kissing Booth The L Word The Librarians The Magicians The Muppet Show The Pregnancy Pact The Room The Steve Harvey Show The Stranded The Untamed The Witcher The Wolfman (1941) Torchwood Twilight Zone (original) Twin Peaks Ultraman Nexus Umbrella Academy Van Helsing Warehouse 13 Warrior Nun What We Do In The Shadows (tv show) Will & Grace Wynonna Earp X-Men 2: X-Men United Xena: Warrior Princess

Miscellaneous

Alpha Flight #41-62 Anime music dance party, the logistics of which are to be determined! Ask Hot Pocket and/or Mina-pup AskSharknado: Giftening Edition Attempt to make French macaroons Commentary on old Goggles Critical Role Crowdsourced: A Black Mirror-style day where Jetty has to ask what her choices are of the audience for everything! I give you a menu, you decide what she has for dinner? What does she wear? Does she walk on the track or do the eliptical? Does she go to a movie with Doc or play a video game with Mike? Can be done alongside other stuff. Doodle Day Dramatic readings of fan fiction! Drunk History (or whatever your favorite subject would be) with Jet Wolf! Drunk Sailor Moon Exorcising Closet Ghost Fic Prompts Day Figuarts Day! (Not specifically freeing anyone, just various fun poses and such) Guess the plot of a show based on its opening Her Shim-Cheong (manhwa) House of X/Powers of X Hubby's Choice IDW Jem comics liveblog Intros Only (watch show openings, give commentary, guess what show is about, etc.) Jackbox Games Jet Wolf paints along with Bob Ross Jet and Doc go to Heaven/Hell, respectively: Jet gets to write reams of words about the awesomeness of Rei Hino and Doc has to read all of them and say ONLY NICE THINGS. Jet does Tiktok dances Jet Liveblogs Holligay: A Nature Documentary Jet Ranks Sailor Moon Image Songs Jet Reads Goosebumps Jet Reads Legion of Super-Heroes Jet redesigns the Wolf and Gay offices! Jet shows off her knitting Jet Wolf attempts to recreate scenes from Sailor Moon with Mina and Hot Pocket and/or whatever is in the house Jet Wolf reacts to Sailor Moon tiktoks (in blog form) Jet Wolf reads Love and Rockets. Jet Wolf reads the Jem comics by IDW Jet Wolf reviews her old top 100 Sailor Moon moments list Jet Wolf talks about Archie Comics Jet Wolf talks about each cel she owns and why they are so awesome. Jet Wolf writes Poetry Jet Wolf's Top 5's Jet, Hubby and/or family play board games Jetty Rants and Raves Jet Wolf tries to crack the Gravity Falls Codes Kiwi Blitz on Hiveworks Let's Play on Webtoon Liveblog: Favorite X-Men comic book arcs Livestream Pathfinder one-shot LOONA (Collection of music videos with an ongoing story/universe about GIRLS who are FRIENDS and SAVE THE UNIVERSE) Lore Olympus on Webtoon Mike regales us with "the story of your love" while you get increasingly embarrassed Mina and Hot Pocket day - liveblog like a nature documentary Mister Tsukino Does His Taxes and the Household Budget (Sailor Moon fan comic by Shadowjack) Nancy Drew: Ghost Dogs of Moon Lake Not So Shoujo Love Story on Webtoon Pitch Mishaps for Untitled Senshi Game (it is a lovely day in Juuban, and you are a Horrible Minako.) Pitching hubby's favorite media at (readers/holligay/jill/momigay) Playing with dolls (because how could 3 women not have any dolls between them) Re-Take By Studio Kimigabuchi (All Ages Version) Real or Fake Anime (people submit descriptions of anime you guess if it is an anime that actually exists or not) Reviewing succulents Scavenger hunt! Not entirely sure how it would work, maybe folks could send in asks for you to show things like your favorite Rei Hino object, or the thing that's been with you the longest, etc. sewing/knitting/baking tutorial Share or rant about a Roman history topic Sleepless Domain on Hiveworks Talking to Docholligay 2: Doc Harder (basically you talking to Doc's future womb evictee while still in there and telling them stuff like say the greatness of Rei Hino) The Monster Duchess and Contract Princess (manhwa) The Polar Bear Plunge--I take Jetty to our finest Lake Elmo in January, and she jumps in! Note: THIS IS NOT DANGEROUS, WORRYWARTS. I'll bring a life preserver, I've done it before, and I would do it with her if I weren't pregnant. The Senshi Helpline--The Senshi, taking your advice questions, here and now! The World of Moral Reversal Virtual knitting/crafting circle! Let us craft and chat with you! What-If #24 Gwen Stacy Lived Worm the web serial Write an explanation for a drawing we send you! Yuri Hell's Kitchen

#THE GIFTENING 2020 #THE GIFTENING 2020 admin stuff

[honourablejester]

Ideas for Dragons (D&D)

Or rather, thoughts on characters-who-are-dragons-in-(sort of)-disguise. Assuming that all ancient dragons have the ‘change shape’ option, metallic or otherwise, because it’s more fun that way. Sprinkle secret dragons everywhere! Why not? Also, bit lenient on the alignment here.

White

Keywords:  feral, primal, vengeful, with long memories

Thoughts:  Whites in disguise will be independent forces in the world. The wilderness dragons. They’ll have personal goals and points of pride. They’ll be your lone ranger seeking vengeance against a hated enemy. Your fearsome druid seeking to drive out invaders from their pristine wildernesses. Or, perhaps, your barbarians, warrior kings and queens, carving out their own territories. Quite likely to only nominally be ‘in disguise’, unless they’re really trying not to draw attention to their weakness/enemy. The pirate/whaler queen based in an iceberg shanty town, the proud spear-fisher challenging strangers to beat her, the capable outlander in a western. Heh.

Gold

Keywords:  aloof, grim, reserved, dedicated foes of evil

Thoughts:  Weirdly, I’m kind of liking gold dragons for rogues? Spies and spymasters. ‘Rarely does a gold dragon in disguise reveal its true form’. What I’m getting here is that golds in disguise are professional about it. They go undercover to hunt out evil. I know golds are usually seen as paladin material, and they definitely work as weary knights, but I’m liking the lawful rogue here. Add in aloof, grim, and you’ve a lovely set up for the stoic spymaster sending people to live and die in tyrannical empires and evil cults, or the grim spy going in themselves. Golds are the dragons you meet when you’re chained in a dungeon, or the one you’re taken to meet when you escape.

Green

Keywords:  cunning, manipulative, ambitious, intelligent

Thoughts: I’m guessing it’s the association with envy that makes green always the cunning ambitious colour, but hey, we’ll work with it. Greens in disguise are your wizards, your courtiers, your merchant princes, your ‘legitimate businessmen’. Your Petyr Baelishes. Anyone in a position to pull strings and topple dominos and thrive on chaos. La Voisin. The courtesan, the poisoner, the palace physician. Also, greens feel like they’d have multiple disguises on the go at once. What people think are four separate NPCs are actually one, and she’s gently wheeling five or six factions into her grasp, for good or for ill. Honestly, greens are great.

Copper

Keywords: cautious, tricksy, miserly, hospitable

Thoughts:  Couple of directions coppers can go, depending on whether this is a whim or if they have an enemy. They’ll either be the once-off, amusing-to-aggravating encounter, enough to tweak some noses and teach some lessons, in which case they’ll be much louder and more cheerful about things, OR they’ll be in much deeper cover and likely covering a long game with humour and a more subtle disguise. Bards and rogues. They can play spies as well as greens and golds. But I like the hospitality as a defining feature. A copper undercover as the most dangerous gang lord you ever saw will still have impeccable manners. (Coppers are basically fey)

Blue

Keywords:  dramatic, patient, methodical, vain

Thoughts:  Aristocrats to the core. Blues strike me as basically vampires? Lestat de Lioncourt. Patient, fond of the high life, dramatic as a thunderstorm when riled. When you look at a blue, you know there’s something off, something predatory, but not exactly what. Blues will be regal, noble, well-connected. Smart about alliances. Like whites, they’ll have a list of people who’ve ticked them off, and they’ll take their time returning the favour, but unlike whites blues will be indirect about it. Ambush predators, and dramatic ones. They’ll set up something truly notable. Patient and dramatic. The worst sort of enemies. But excellent friends if pointed at mutual foes.

Silver

Keywords: friendly, benign, fond of history, prone to attachment

Thoughts:  Innkeepers. Back alley healers (the ‘helping the poor for free’ kind, not the ‘shady as hell’ kind, though you never know). The uncle or auntie in the village that everyone knows and no one is entirely sure of the age of. The lovely, nice, friendly old lady who would never hurt a fly but wicked people who come to the village tend to walk away rather thoughtful after sitting down to tea. Or, you know, don’t walk away at all. The librarians, teachers, bakers, healers. The most normal-seeming, right in the thick of it, but often slightly forgetful when it comes to how long their ‘disguises’ are supposed to be able to stay alive. Ah. Oops?

Black

Keywords: paranoid, brutal, survivalist, ‘do unto others before they do unto you’

Thoughts:  Guerrilla warlords. We’re back out in the wilderness. Run and hide and strike where your enemies are weakest. Disguise yourself to find out where they’re weakest, who is your enemy now and who will be your enemy later. Rebels and outlaws. I like the link to crumbled civilisations. If you want a more ambiguous black, you can have them championing a dead kingdom against a foreign invader (for given values of ‘foreign’ depending on how many centuries on this is). Blacks are your outlanders, unwilling to accept any dominion but their own, hardened and vicious when maintaining their independence, paranoid about where the strike will come. Blacks are hard-edged, the allies you really need to work to keep good, the enemies you need to hit hard and hit now.

Bronze

Keywords: daring, warlike, nautical, rebels in search of a cause

Thoughts:  Well. Rebels, to start with. Again. Consulting heroes. Les Amis from Les Miserables. Odysseus. Though bronzes can be patient and like to be fully sure who’s done what and when and why before they start swinging, they really don’t hesitate from that point. So, like whites, often they’ll only nominally be ‘disguised’. They’ll be bold and daring and in-your-face, unless they’re actively on a mission that needs secrecy. I feel like they tend to use whatever form is most useful for the moment, and don’t tend as much towards long-term covers. They’re good students of history, though, and effective at what they do. If a bronze is well-established, they’ll be a respected leader.

Red

Keywords:  proud, territorial, explosive, obsessive

Thoughts:  Reds are very … wizardy. Classic tower wizards, I mean. Isolated, explosive, unhappy about conversing with inferiors. Etc. But they’re also curious. They don’t want to be left behind, or become obsolete. So they’ll disguise themselves as something well-respected, important, unlikely to be challenged. Nobles, yes, but also academics, emissaries, foreign dignitaries. Historians. Treaty-makers. Archmages. Reds want to be the linch-pins, the fulcrums around which the world turns. They can be very valuable if you manoeuvre them into the right places, but don’t put them anywhere you wouldn’t be comfortable putting sweaty nitroglycerine. They will go boom eventually.

Brass

Keywords: curious, gregarious, conversationalist, craving stimulation

Thoughts: Merchants. Straight away. Peddlers, merchants, coffee house proprietors. Innkeepers, too. Anywhere that’s gossip central. Anywhere that sees objects and curiosities from around the world. Certain stripes of academics as well. Brasses won’t be spies like greens or golds, even coppers or blacks, they won’t be collecting things for a cause, but they might sell information afterwards for their own amusement. Collecting whatever’s shiny, passing it on to whoever’s interested. Might play cheerful games of one-upmanship with other information brokers. Assets to everyone, but beholden to no one. Reactive if tricked or feel like they’ve been used badly, though. Brasses make good neutral, independent, ambiguous contractors.

Just … throw in lots of dragons. Dragons are always a fun surprise! Ancient, wily serpents steering the world or local events in varying directions. Have a world where anyone you meet could be a dragon! Dignified nobles, fearsome rebels, motherly innkeepers, travelling merchants, tired functionaries, annoying children, proud survivalists, touchy emissaries, old soldiers, cunning brothel keepers, the gossipy old biddy on the corner …

What is life without the idea that just about any of them could suddenly sprout wings and breath weapons and a lot of teeth very suddenly in your face? Heh.

#d&d #dnd #dragons #disguises #long post #secret dragons #or not so secret #what is fantasy without lots of surprise dragons?

[kaspbrak-tozier-reddie]

#5 & #13 stanbrough?:)

5. “You’re safe, that’s all that matters”

13. “You wanna hug? You look like you need one.”

Masterlist + Prompt List + Asks

Pairing: Stenbrough

Warnings: swearing, death, blood

Summary: At a reunion, Pennywise (an escaped murderer) comes back to Derry to kill the Losers like he had planned to 27 years prior. [Pennywise! Human AU]. Stan freaks out when he starts having Deja Vu and thinks he’s a coward but Bill proves otherwise. 

———————————————-

Walking through the school doors for the first time in years, it was a little overwhelming for Stanley. When he got the notification saying that there was a high school reunion, he wasn’t sure if he would go. Especially with the hell that happened 27 years prior.

When the losers were mere middle schoolers, there was a serial killer on the loose, he dressed up as a clown to lure the kids away. The Losers Club had stuck together and ended up catching the man that was killing young children. Stan, however, was the only one who was attacked badly, to the extent of a total of 30 stitches in his arm and face.

He had never recovered from the trauma and was the first of the losers to leave Derry, in their junior year. Sure he kept in contact for a year or so but he sacrificed his friendships for his mental health. Losing any trace of anything that could remind him of Derry.

“Stan the Man? No way!” Stan cringed and turned to face none-other-than Richard Tozier, the bane of his existence. 

“Beep Beep Richie,” Stan grumbled.

“Ah, music to my ears.” Richie slung an arm around Stan’s shoulder and leads him to where the Losers had their table. “Look who I found.”

“Hey babe, didn’t think you would come,” Bill said with the shrug of his shoulders, a signal directed at the others.

“Yeah, had a change of mind, sorry that I missed the dinner last night with just the seven of us,” Stan replied moving to sit on Bill’s lap. “I didn’t want to regret anything.

The 5 others gathered around the table and looked questioningly at the brunette couple. Nobody would’ve guessed, they weren’t obvious as Richie and Eddie, or Ben and Bev. It made them wonder when they both started liking each other or if they even liked each other, like that, back when they were kids.

“When did this happen?” Mike asked.

“Three years ago. I was in Florida and met up with Stan.” Bill replied and Stan smiled softly to himself.

*

Stan had met up with Bill a couple of years ago when he was doing a press tour for his recent book. Stan had offered his spare bedroom for his old friend, even though they hadn’t spoken in several years or so, Bill took it.

Over dinner and drinks, the pair had caught up and Stan had stupidly and drunkenly admitted his feelings to Bill. Stan had followed Bill and Richie’s careers as they both grew. He was proud of both of them, even prouder when Richie came out and did so with Eddie by his side. But Bill, there was something that still lingered there, whenever he listened to the interviews or read his stories. Stan couldn’t remember much about his childhood or what his friends were like back in middle school and the first year of high school. 

As soon as Bill and Stan caught up that night, Stan knew. He knew what that lingering feeling was and yet he let himself drunkenly say it. 

****

A few hours later, the Losers found themselves up at Mike’s place, above the library. Mike had a collection of things from the fateful summer along with their friendship after Stan had left Derry. As he walked passed a memory wall, Stan had seen what he had missed out on. 

Graduation, prom, a series of football and basketball games. He got to one final photo and saw all the losers gathered around Richie in his valedictorian gown. “No fucking way! Rich, you made valedictorian?” Stan exclaimed.

“Yeah, there was half a point between me and Eds, I was just better at Biology than he was.” Richie boasted. “And yet, he’s a surgeon!”

“Beep beep Richie, and don’t call me Eds!” Eddie growled.

There was suddenly a loud bang from downstairs, causing all of them to jump, nobody moved. On his way over, he heard that Pennywise had escaped a high-security prison but he was too close to Derry to turn back. It was a high possibility that the man that goes by the stage name of Pennywise, was now in the building and ready to kill them. 

Stanley was the first to move, pulling a knife from the wooden knife holder. He knew that whoever was down there, wasn’t there for books of for Mike, otherwise they would’ve called out for the librarian but alas, that didn’t happen. The losers followed Stan down the spiral staircase. “Are we really just going to follow Stan, the boy who left because of PTSD, down the stairs?” Richie whispered.

Stan rolled his eyes and continued down. “Hey dipshit, I know you’re here,” Stan growled, hoping it was loud enough for the man to hear.

As they neared the back entrance to the desk, the man came into view. He was perched on top of the library’s desk, dressed in a shitty store-bought clown costume, swinging his legs like an energetic child who was told to stay seated.

“Ah! The Losers Club. What a lovely surprise.” Pennywise greets pushing himself off the desk. “Stanley, I didn’t think you’d make it. Last I heard you were still in Florida.”

Stan lost all of his confidence. How did Pennywise know that? How the hell did he know where he lived?

“How do you know that?” Stan whimpered.

“My kind accomplice, Henry Bowers, I’m sure you all remember him. He’s been helping me with my escape.” 

Stan shied away. This couldn’t be happening, he knew it was a mistake coming back. He knew that he would be yelled at by everyone if they lived through this but he couldn’t do it. Eddie noticed that Stan had walked back to hide behind everyone.

“Hey, you good?” Eddie whispered.

“No. I can’t - I can’t do this Eddie.” Stan whispered back. “I should’ve turned back when I heard it on the radio.” 

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. You were almost killed that Summer, you have every right to be more afraid than any of us.”

Stan looked down to meet the eyes of Edward Kaspbrak. “I know.”

 Stan felt Eddie embrace him. “You’ll be okay. Trust me. We won’t let that bastard get away.”

Mike was on the phone and Bill and Bev had started to attack the clown when out of literally nowhere, Bowers jumped out stabbing Eddie in the cheek with his pocket knife. 

****

It turned to chaos from there. Stan didn’t know what to do. He kinda just slowly backed away into the shadows watching as Eddie and Ben fought off Bowers before stumbling over to Mike. Bowers was trying his best to protect Pennywise from the clutches of the losers. Richie had ended up grabbing an axe to fend Bowers off Mike, landing the axe right into Bowers’ head.

Stan started to further shrink away, hiding in the storage room. 

“Stannie, I know you’re down there.” Pennywise teased, the sound of slow but determined footsteps echoed down the hall towards the stairs of the storage room. 

Stan could hear the distant screams of his friends as the footsteps got louder and louder. Fuck, what the hell happened to my friends? He huddled in a corner, away from the door and hidden by at most 8 rows of bookshelves. 

“Yippee Kiyay Motherfu-” Richie screamed but stopped mid-sentence when he was pushed heavily into the wall, hitting his head on impact. Eddie took the opportunity to throw a book at Pennywise’s head to distract him from Stan. But that almost led to Eddie getting a knife to the stomach.

*

Stan came out from his hiding place as soon as he heard Eddie’s scream. Pennywise was to busy trying to lunge at Eddie, Richie was down and everyone was trying to pry Eddie away from the clown man’s grip. 

Stan needed to do something, he decided to yell, “Why don’t you stop traumatising my friends and come at me, asshole!” Pennywise turned around just in time to see a shelf coming down on him, the end result of a domino effect started by Stan shoving one of the end bookshelves.

Just as the shelf collapsed onto Pennywise, an officer waltzed in. “We need paramedics in here asap.” The officer announced into his walkie-talkie. “Anyone want to explain why there’s a dead man out there?”

“Self defence, the guy was trying to attack my friend and he was the one that put that hole in my husbands face,” Richie said pointing to both Mike and Eddie.

“Okay.” The officer said. The paramedics come in and lift the shelf off the man in the clown costume, putting him on the stretcher and locking his hands and feet into restraints.

****

The losers all make their way up to the ambulances to get checked out. Richie had a minor concussion and needed to take things slow for the next few days, so he and Eddie couldn’t fly back to New York for another few days. Eddie had his cheek patched up and cleaned. Bill and Mike had a few stitches, Stan, Bev and Ben were the only ones to come out unscathed but had been scarred mentally. They all had. 

As soon as Eddie was cleared he was straight on the phone with Maggie, letting her know that he and Richie wouldn’t be back for a few more days. So she and Wentworth would need to look after Caleb, Stan guessed that the two adopted a child, for a few more days than planned.

Bill jumped off the seat, as soon as he was cleared, and headed straight to Stan. “I’m sorry Bill, I am a real coward.” Stan whimpered to Bill.

“No, you aren’t baby. You have every right to be afraid.” Bill said, “You wanna hug? You look like you need one.” Stan nodded and hugged his boyfriend.

“Yes, yes I am Bill. I am a coward. I run away at every sign of trouble. That makes me a fucking coward.”

Bev is the first to join in the hugging of Stanley Uris. Soon everyone joins in, making sure that he feels the support of the 6 other members of their club. All his worries seemed to wash away.

“Let’s go to the Quarry,” Richie announced. 

****

Bev, Ben, Mike, Eddie and Richie basically made a run for it, to get to one of their many old hangout spots. Bill hung behind to walk with Stan, who was still shaking from the whole experience.

“If any of us were in your position, we would be feeling the exact way,” Bill said.

“Really? You’re all stronger than me, mentally.” Stan replied.

“Not true.” Stan gave him a look. “You swore during your bar mitzvah, you can watch horror films without any nightmares, you’re incredibly smart. You’re getting your PhD in a month! You’re stronger than you think, we all may be smart but you’re the smartest. 

“Don’t let this one thing get in the way of that. You aren’t a coward, a coward wouldn’t jump off the Quarry’s cliff. A coward certainly wouldn’t voice his opinion, the number of times that you stood up against all of us? A coward wouldn’t do that.”

“I never thought of it like that,” Stan whispered.

“And a coward wouldn’t admit that he’s a coward or do anything to help themselves. And finally, a coward wouldn’t scream at an escaped murderer to come and get him so that they’d stop attacking his friends. Nor would they push the shelves down.” 

Stan remembered the therapy he took as a child and the fact that he had been taking anti-depressants and anti-anxiety pills since then and doing everything he could to forget that Summer in ‘89.

He thought back to only moments ago as his impulsivity and adrenaline were through the roof. The thought of anyone hurting any of his friends was enough for him to become enraged. His body was still pumping out adrenaline, he was vibrating like he usually does after 4 cups of coffee. But he only had two today and didn’t have his customary caffeine shakes.

“You’re safe now, and that’s all that matters,” Bill said softly. “In the wise words of Richie Tozier, ‘you’re braver than you think’.”

“Richie said that?” Stan giggled, Bill smiled, he loved hearing his boyfriend giggle, it was cute.

“Yeah. To Eddie.”

“Oh my God, we’re the less over the top version of Richie and Eddie.” 

Bill and Stan continued to laugh as they made their way to the Quarry to catch up with the losers.

#stenbrough #stan x bill #bill x stan #bill denbrough #stan uris #mike hanlon #eddie kaspbrak #beverly marsh #ben hanscom #richie tozier #it chapter 1 #it chapter 2 #we stan a supportive bf

[erideights]

Everything that we never get to say.

Request by @lady-of-black-roses : Our best angel x reader, the moment they met, their relationship through the years and a kiss in the end.

Pairing: Aziraphale x Fem!Reader (Good Omens)

Word Count: 2066.

Warnings: SO MUCH ANGST. Death. War.

A/N: I'm totally fucking sure this isn't what you was thinking this would be, but you wanted angst and I had this horrible idea and... I'm so sorry.

''—and then I said ‘Pardon me, what!? No way.’ My Bentley! Buy MY Bentley! Can you believe it?"

Aziraphale's gaze was lost in the distance through the transparent and clear glass of the window of the back room of his shop, where his most precious books were safely kept in his old desk.

He heard Crowley's voice, but he didn’t listen to him, so when the silence fell, almost like a cue to give his opinion, he just hummed.

It was raining, and the drops of water that slid down the impeccable surface before him were reflected in his eyes, eyes that for the first time in oh, so many years, mirrored a regret, sadness and longing the demon would never have believed possible in the angel.

But he was watching his back, so, in any case, he didn’t witness such an atrocious image.

"—angel, angel! You're listening? Where the fuck are you? Get down from the clouds."

But again, the blonde platinum angel didn’t answer, just sighed deeply and allowed his whole body to rock to the rhythm of that breath.

Only the red-haired demon's hand on his shoulder, who had been forced to leave his comfortable seat in search of his friend's attention, was able to tear our Aziraphale from his daydream.

"Hey, you okay?" Crowley asked when through the eyes of the angel crossed confusion and bewilderment. Question to which, quickly but worse pretended than he would have expected, Aziraphale replied:

"Of course, of course I am! I was just trying to imagine a world in which you existed without the car. But it has been in vain, certainly. I can not visualize you without it."

But it was evident that he was lying, and Crowley knew it.

The sad story our beloved angel was reviving begins a few years before the outbreak of the Second World War.

We are in London, on a lost street in a neighborhood not very rich but not poor either, where sad gray buildings stood to the sky and people walked down the street as if life had been taken from them.

The atmosphere was tense, there was no doubt about it, with the war about to explode at any moment, to allow oneself to be happy and to wear a smile was complicated to see.

But even so, there were always those special individuals, unique in their kind, who with only a slight upward curve of their lips, seemed to radiate their own light and bathe in it all who came and wanted some of its warmth.

She was just like that.

Y/N, a young librarian who worked day and night in the most lost and desolate of libraries in all London, but for some reason, was always surrounded by children hungry for her charisma, her love and, above all, her stories.

The first time he saw her, Aziraphale was desperately searching for a book of prophecies that, people told, had been discovered a few years ago in an attic of an abandoned building by the area, and like most books lost and/or without owner with real value for the state, it ended up in the town hall or in the closest library to his find.

That same day he crossed two large wooden doors, worn, scruffy by time but cozy in its tender, eccentric and strange way. And there she was, hair tied in a bun that after so many hours of work was practically undone, smile in a mouth full of white pearls for teeth and eyes that could make the most insensitive of men fall in love with her.

She chatted animatedly with a group of what Aziraphale considered mothers, their children not many meters away, huddled around a round table like knights in shining armors, reading similar books that they would later exchange and use to create a story to be able to play in the park.

The angel Aziraphale would swear he had never experienced what love was, but the moment their eyes met, the common description of that emotion was the closest thing he could feel in his more than 5,000 years of life.

She was Heaven in Earth.

But as it was habit for him, those feelings that seemed to surface in his skin were completely ignored, buried at the end of a dark chamber that until a few years later he wouldn’t have the audacity to open.

Not until it was too late.

With an affable smile and his hands, nervously playing with the end of his cinnamon-colored vest, the thousand-years-old angel made his way to the counter of the small, old but cozy library, interrupting —without wanting to— the conversation between his charming and mysterious unknown woman and the mothers of the neighborhood, who soon began chatting between them several meters away.

"Good Morning!" she chirped happily, as charming as he had imagined her. He found himself sighing and drawing the most beautiful of his smiles just for her. "How can I help you?"

Over a few years, their relationship developed between —not so— random fortuitous meetings in the library, all caused by Aziraphale under the pretext and the excuse of enjoying the calm that reigned there —he assured that, in other libraries, ‘’the tumult came to overwhelm him’’— and other approaches not left to chance itself, but by the initiative that the young Y/N showed in order to spend more time with him.

She would be lying if she said that after some time she hadn’t fallen in love with those eyes that seemed to hold all the love in the world, that tender and adorable giggle that rang in his throat when he was nervous or how he seemed to treat her as if she were the most precious thing in the universe.

His heart, his lovely personality, his empathy and how extremely intelligent he was also helped to shape those feelings that often reduced her sleep hours and kept the girl away from reality and in a constant daydream.

Oh, c'est l'amour.

But no matter how hard she tried, how many hints she dropped or how much effort she put into it; her feelings for Aziraphale didn’t seem to be reciprocated.

And that was good! She was satisfied, —or so she wanted to think—, with the shelter of his friendship with the angel.

That was enough.

But the war came to London, and one is unable to appreciate and understand the treasure that is the calm of a simple life until something like this explodes in front of you and plunges you into the flames of despair.

Chaos, destruction and crying soon seized the streets of the largest city in England.

The families were divided, the great national treasures were lost among the most atrocious fires, innocents died, and among the ashes, one couldn’t even find consolation in mourning those who lost, because in reality, there were no bodies left to mourn.

Events like this didn’t harm or disturb in the least celestial beings free of all guilt and exempt to die, anyone could think, but from the corner of one of the most lost streets in the whole city, where a small and cozy library used to be, an angel began to cry.

Aziraphale found rubble where walls and shelves once stood up to join the roof and collect all the knowledge that such a place could hold; ashes where thousands of books used to rest, waiting for someone to read again what they had to teach; a huge void in the counter from where, he then knew, the love of his life used to smile at the sight of him arriving.

A sharp thud on the ground, —a huge leather bag full of books of ancient prophecies— signaled the exact second when Aziraphale, in shock, began to walk and enter the chaos he once considered a home.

His lips trembled as did his hands and practically the rest of his body.

No, he didn’t even want to think that...

''Y/N?'' He asked in just a broken whisper, unable to raise his voice, unable to verify whether or not she had been a victim of that disaster.

Please, God, do not let her be a victim of this disaster, he thought.

'’Y/N? '' He tried again, this time louder, so the pain in his voice was so obvious that anyone who could get to hear him would know, in effect, that the soft angel was crying.

The bomb couldn’t have fallen more than a couple of hours ago. He knew it because he was there, with her, begging her to hide and search for refuge before what he thought would be a furtive meeting to hunt the enemy.

Please, God, I hope that she has listened to me, he prayed again.

But soon he would find out that God didn’t have mercy for anything and anyone. That no matter how much Aziraphale prayed, he had no greater power over the grand plan.

Because it was ineffable, right? Everything had to happen for a reason in order to achieve a specific goal.

But why, of all the millions of people that existed on the planet, of all those who perhaps deserved it, his blue eyes, sad, crystalline with tears, had to rest on the unconscious body of the woman he loved?

''No, no, no, please, no.'' He muttered in a choked way and so quickly that he couldn’t even understand himself, rushing to reach the body and hold it in his arms while his corduroy pants were destroyed by the ashes on the ground.

''Y/N...'' he begged, caressing her face, brushing the strands of hair that had clung to her sweet features from the sweat of her skin

She was breathing, but not for too long.

Her heart was beating, but his heartbeat was numbered and the clock was only moving forward in time.

''It's okay.'' she suddenly murmured, her voice no more than a barely audible whisper between her forced breathing and the silent crying of the blond angel.

She couldn’t open her eyes, her body didn’t have the strength to do it, but she could recognize that warmth anywhere; after all, she was in love with him, right?

''It's okay.'' she repeated, knowing that from her first two words, Aziraphale's eyes had been fixed on her face and that he was probably afraid to blink and that when he opened them again, she would no longer be with him.

‘’I’m sorr—’’

‘’I love you, Aziraphale.’’

His breath stopped, he was frozen in place, unable to look away from the lips that, after her confession, had drawn a tired smile.

She should tell him, right? She couldn’t leave without telling him at least once.

''I'm sorry I took so long to tell you.''

Prey of his own panic and everything that perhaps he wanted to say choked at the beginning of his throat, the only way out that Aziraphale found to give free rein to the feelings that for years he repressed in his little Pandora's box was to kiss that smile that so many times it had stolen his breath.

And he did.

Then a blink.

He, again, had allowed himself to be carried back to that memory of more than 70 years ago.

His hands caressed, distracted, the green cover of an old book that Crowley had never seen before and that he, at that moment, peeked curiously from the shoulder of the angel, wanting to ask for it but knowing, inside his chest and for some unknown reason, that he shouldn’t.

If he had, Aziraphale would have replied that it was simply a gift from an old friend.

Actually, it was the first gift he received throughout his long life.

''Do not tell anyone, but I stole this book from some archives of the Senate House Library when I was a child and I have always kept it as a treasure.

It has not prophecies, or stories of religious interest, but I think the love story it contains could make you smile on a dark and rainy April afternoon.

With all my love for my guardian angel,

Y/N.''

#aziraphale x reader #good omens #aziraphale #good omens one shots #good omens imagine #so much angst #I'm crying so much #aziraphale x fem!reader #crowley is here too

[distinctivelibrarians]

First: I love that you're writing fic again, I really missed your work! Second: no idea if you're up for this/want to think about this, but in one of the Leverage episodes we see Eliot reading a book (idk which episode, just, it seemed both such an Eliot thing and NOT an Eliot thing that it just stuck with me) and I was wondering about your headcanons for the Leverage (and/or Librarians) team's favorite books/authors?

Thank you so much! You cannot believe how hard it made me smile when I saw this - it made my day so much better, especially since writing’s been so much of a struggle lately! I can’t promise I’m going to be steady (’cause let’s not lie to ourselves like that) but with prompt month coming up, I’m hoping to get some more out soon that I hope you’ll like!

As for books! Big, big, big disclaimer: I suck with authors! And books! I’ve read a lot. But for the life of me, I can tell you only about...a third of them from memory. And authors are a crapshoot whether or not I remember them, outside of my favorites. That being said! This is going to go more “personality towards reading”, hope that’s okay ^^’

While it doesn’t super matter, we see Eliot reading both the Art of War (I believe. I’d have to double check, but I’m pretty sure that’s what he was reading in the Lonely Hearts Job?) and a home magazine in the Fairy Godparents Job. So for Eliot, he’s...he’s a sponge. He likes everything, will read everything - if there’s some sort of ambient knowledge he can get from something, he’s gonna do it. And I kind of want to attribute it to both his personality and his experience. Like, we know he likes to talk to people (even if the show really only focuses on the women), we know he likes to connect with people - he listens, learns what they like, what they do, etc. So it makes sense that he’d kind of just absorb everything he could - could be a common quirk later on that he could talk about, could give him an in to start chatting up someone interesting, and all that. As for experience - “You never know when you’re going to need to fight an alien”. Dude likes to be prepared even for the impossible. Him picking up as much unconnected information as he can would have to bleed over into somewhat less immediately useful quirks. Like reading whatever magazine happens to be on the table at the moment.

Nate - okay so. I love Nate, I do. But he was that kid in your college philosophy class that read all the classics (the Old White Men ones) and one (1) book on intro to ethics, and would Not. Shut. Up. Then someone punched him in the face (I’m betting Maggie), and he figured out that that’s not how you make people tolerate you, let alone like you. I don’t think he ever really moved out of the classics, but I do think he started picking up modern interpretations of them, as well as art history books that he never quite got into but powered through anyway. You know his favorites though? Children’s books. Simple, sweet, always have a happy ending, and you know he was the one reading them to Sam every night before he got sick. And he’d complain and moan about it to Maggie, but Maggie would call it on him everytime, and of course Sam loved it, to the point where if Nate was at work still, Maggie and Sam would call him up, and Nate would recite one of the simpler ones from memory. He still has Dr. Seuss stuck in his head some nights.

Parker....Parker’s a little harder because I don’t think she’d like reading. But she’d also kind of be like Eliot in the ‘you never know, so might as well store the info away’. So while I don’t think she’d go out and pick up a book - unless the title was funky, or the cover was particularly eye-catching - I do think if you handed one to her, she’d read it, and read it probably scary fast, and retain all that info. No matter what it was on. Of course, that’s before Peggy! After Peggy, after having a ‘normal’ friend (anyone who goes after someone with a cast iron pan’s not normal, but hey, relative), who introduces her to things like book clubs, I think Parker would get a kick out of, not the books, but the people. And interacting with those people through the books. She’s already read the book two weeks in advance, and she wants to see how much chaos she can cause, while also enjoying figuring out how what she’s feeling compares with how others feel about it. For Parker I really don’t think she’d ever really be ‘in’ to books, but I can see her becoming attached to the community that can come with them.

Sophie. No one knows if Sophie’s read a book in her life. Sure, she can quote the classics. She can make you pretty damn sure she inspired one or two of them. And if she’s high class British, she has to have some repertoire in there, right? Who knows. She knows, but you never will. (Spoiler: she does read, and she reads a lot. What does she read? Surprisingly - not harlequin romances (at least, not all the time). Instead - really, really overdone crime thrillers and the like. It’s fun, you know, to dive into a world where everything’s dramatic, everything’s done for a purpose, and to know that both, she could do it better, and that sometimes, things really are as straightforward and simple as those books make them out to be.) She also has some very closely guarded copies of annotated Shakespeare. Annotated by her of course. Hardison has seen them once and he’s not to speak of them ever.

And on to Hardison. Dude’s smart. Dude’s scary smart. If Eliot’s a sponge, Hardison is...yeah, there’s no actual way to end that metaphor, but whatever, whatever level Eliot’s on, Hardison’s way past that, at an oblique angle to Parker. But, and he’s admitted this, his attention span swings between “needs five things at once” to “what is time and where did it go, look at this new skill I picked up in 72 straight hours”. That is...not conducive to reading books. Trust me on this. At the same time though!! We know he’s read Harry Potter, and Lord of the Rings in canon. So what that tells me? He read avidly as a kid, as a teenager, and then...probably lost both the attention span to do it, outside of Extreme Focus, as well as the need. This is the kid that at school was reading 800 page novels every other day. This was the kid who’s backpack was too damn heavy, not because of textbooks, but because of the books he packed on top of them. You know the school librarian knew him by name. And you know Nana made damn sure he had access to the city library the second she figured it out. Probably got him nice sets of his favorite books that he still has, even if they’re not tattered and beaten, because he’s reread them so many times. This is the kid that read everything that had to do with sci-fi, magic, monsters, grand heroes and terrifying villains. This is the kid that bounced between comic books by the dozen, and books for college students and up like it was nothing. As for the need - why read it when you can live it?

#rambling orion #leverage #eliot spencer #alec hardison #parker #nate ford #sophie devereaux #I'm sorry this took so long! And probably only half answered your question ^^' #but it was fun to think about! and I hope the answer works! #if I can get my head around it #I'll see what I can do about the Librarian's too #long post #Anonymous

[emospritelet]

I heard Weaver/Belle and in my mind flashed images of bitter disillusioned cop (desperate for the sappiest of love stories) and the little librarian of sunshine (with a core of solid steel) and well...13 and/or 45? (you're amazing ilu)

*hugs you*

13: “Oh, hey, mistletoe!”

45: “Why does it look like it snowed in here?”

Festive ficlet prompt list

AO3 link

The sound of Christmas music was bright and jarring, and most unexpected in the Hyperion Heights library, but Detective Weaver had learned over the past few months that Belle French never did what was expected.

He had first met her as the next of kin in a murder case, her father beaten and shot in his own home by what had turned out to be a business associate.  Thankfully Belle hadn’t been the one to find him, but she had gone to the morgue for the formal identification, and he wouldn’t have wished the experience on anyone.  He had watched her out of the corner of his eye, standing ramrod straight as they drew back the sheet.  She had never broken down, or even cried that he had seen, and he had escorted her out, oddly silent in the presence of her poise and grace.  Perhaps it was then that he had fallen in love with her.  Looking back it was hard to say, but as he couldn’t recall a time since they had met when he hadn’t been in love with her, he didn’t suppose it mattered.

He had gotten to know her fairly well over the past months.  He had been the one to tell her they had made an arrest, and had listened to her rage when the murderer turned out to be someone she thought she could trust.  Her anger hadn’t lasted long, overtaken by a deep, heavy sadness that had clung to her for some time, and was only recently beginning to lift.  And now here he was, to tell her that the case was proceeding to sentence and that his part in it was essentially over.  Which meant that there was no reason for him to see her again.

He supposed it was for the best, really; he was twice her age and looked it, and there was no way on earth she could ever be interested in anything he had to offer.  She would move on with her life, pottering around the library and bringing a little light into the lives of everyone she met.  He would bury himself in work as he always did when he wanted to pretend that something wasn’t happening.  She probably wouldn’t remember him beyond the detective who had dealt with her father’s murder, and he knew in his heart that he would remember her until the day he died.  He wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

Pushing open the library door, he blinked as he surveyed a scene of cheerful chaos.  White powder covered the floor, trestle tables were askew, and coloured ribbons, gold stars and glitter were strewn all over.  It looked as though a cocaine den had fought with a gay bar and no one was quite sure who had won.

“Miss French?” he called, and there was a surprised squeak from behind one of the stacks.

“Just a minute!”

He walked towards her voice, trying to shut out the outrageously cheerful Christmas music blaring from the bright blue stereo perched on the circulation desk.  Sprigs of holly were taped around the edge of the desk itself, and dark green clumps of mistletoe were hanging from the light fittings that dangled above the wooden parquet floor.  Belle was in between two of the stacks, re-shelving some books, and her face brightened as she recognised him.  It made his heart thump in his chest.  She was looking very beautiful, in a dark green dress that suited her pale skin, a Santa hat perched on her head and more white powder coating her hands and arms.

“Detective!” she said warmly.  “How are you?”

“Fine,” he lied, and jerked a thumb over his shoulder.  “Why does it look like it snowed in here?” 

“Oh.”  She slid the book onto the shelf, glancing over her shoulder at him.  “Children’s Christmas party.  We were making gingerbread houses, and they got a little over-excited with the powdered sugar.”

“You ran a children’s party in here?” he said.  “Not exactly like the library I used to go in as a kid.  You’d get put in the stocks for speaking above a whisper.”

Belle smiled.

“Well, I try to teach them the joy of reading alongside other activities,” she said.  “The school’s around here don’t exactly have much spare cash for arts programmes, and a lot of parents work such long hours they need somewhere for the kids to go when they’re not in class.  I figured I could help.”

She made to get down the little set of steps, and he rushed forward to help, his feet seeming too big and awkward, threatening to make him fall on his face.  Belle smiled up at him as she reached the floor safely, and he couldn’t help returning the smile.  Idiot that he was.  Perfect.  She’s perfect.  A goddess.

He realised he was staring at her, and Belle put her head to the side, one eyebrow raising.

“I - doubt you came here to talk about my after-school club,” she said.  “Was there something you wanted?”

Weaver cleared his throat, telling himself to get a fucking grip.

“Uh - I just wanted to tell you that Le Gume finally pleaded guilty,” he said.  ”There’s been a date set for sentencing.”

Belle’s face fell a little.  She reached out to turn off the Christmas music on the stereo, and he wanted to kick himself.  Why had he told her today, now, when she was happy?  Why hadn’t he left it until after Christmas?

“Oh,” she said quietly.  “When - when is it?”

“Not until next year,” he said lamely.  “February twentieth.  The defence wants to get some reports done first.  In fact - in fact I don’t know why the hell I’m telling you, it could have waited until after the holidays.  I’m sorry.”

“No,” she said hastily.  “No, I’m glad you told me.”

She stepped forward, until she was standing very close, and he felt as though he was holding his breath, his heart pounding.

“I - I wanted to thank you,” she said.  “It hasn’t been the easiest few months of my life, and you’ve been so kind.”

He wanted to say something meaningful.  Something that would comfort her, put her at her ease.  His mind was blank, and he stared at her in silence like a bloody idiot.  Her eyes were very blue, her mouth full and soft as she smiled at him.

“I - I guess once this is all over, you won’t be coming out here much,” she said, and he managed to move, to shrug.

“Maybe I’ll want to borrow a book,” he said, and Belle grinned.

“Do you have a library card, Detective?”

“No,” he admitted.  “But perhaps I should get one.”

Belle settled back on her heels, a glint in her eyes, as though she was amused.

“And what sort of stories do you like?” she asked.  “Crime thrillers?  Drama?”

“Get enough of that at work,” he muttered.  “Maybe something that I don’t see enough of in life.”

“And what might that be?”

He smiled faintly.

“Happy endings.”

Belle’s grin widened.

“Do you enjoy love stories?” she asked.  “Because I have recommendations.”

“Right,” he said thickly, his skin humming from standing so close to her.  “Well.  Maybe you can put a list together for me.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”  She held his gaze for a moment, then slowly raised her eyes to the ceiling.  “Oh, hey, mistletoe!”

Her eyes found his again, and there was a gleam in them that he hadn’t seen before.

“Well?” she said.  “It is traditional.”

He gaped at her, and she raised an eyebrow.

“Only if you want to, of course,” she added.  “Maybe it could be today’s happy ending.”

He was frozen in place, but he managed to move, to step forward.  Belle reached up to grasp the lapels of his jacket, pulling him in for a kiss, her mouth soft and sweet against his.  For a moment he thought he was dreaming, but his arms went around her, pulling her against him, and the tiny moan that came from her almost made him lose his mind.

Eventually their lips parted, and Belle pulled back, her hands still resting on his chest.

“Well,” she whispered.  “I kind of want to do that again.  Maybe we should call it a happy beginning.”

She was grinning now, her eyes sparkling, and she rose up on her toes to capture his mouth with hers, the taste of powdered sugar on her lips. 

#sprite's festive ficlets #woven beauty #rumbelle fic #woven beauty ficlet #my ficlets #the-questionmark-kid

[the-barista-district]

Welcome to the Barista District

With the help Tamika and her Library Guards, the revolution of the Barista District had begun. They took to the skies in the captured helicopters and stormed the streets. The normal comers and goers of the District either turned right back around or hid in the shops of the oblivious other Baristas.

Cecil Palmer joined the teens on the ground, he had vengeance in his heart and a very heavy hard cover of a Stephen King novel and wasn't afraid to use it. Friend of the Baristas, Cece, let them all know the Brewed Awakenings team were all accounted for in their shop and everything was ready for attack.

When the books started falling like rain against the building that held those who had control in the Barista District and all within, the walls crumbled. There were screams and chaos everywhere you looked and when the ground team rushed the building, it was impossible to see hope for the oppressive Executives inside.

Left and right, the Executives fell to the might of the teen army. Unfamiliar faces perished into clouds of ashes, each strike caused the terrible creatures,that have abused their power over innocent plants who just loved coffee, crumbled into piles of rotted beans and ash.

"Where is Avon?" Cecil demands as he caught some generic looking business type.

"Avon?" It asked, it should be terrified, but it only looked blank faced and ever emotional tone sound forced. "She's on the second floor, office 126." It said and fell to the floor when Cecil dropped it.

The Executives appearance cracked and crumbled when stuck a very sharp copy of Shade's Children from a near by teen.

Cecil knew where he was heading and let some near by teens know to tell their leader.

Avon had left her office of course when the mayhem began, fleeing to the third floor. Unfortunately for her the walls had crumbled and broken away from the roof and fourth floor. She covered her eyes from the wind created by the helicopters that hovered close to the building, solid volumes being flung at her and her fellow Executives.

"Eat high quality content!" Tamika screamed at she flung a heavy book at the creatures below that had tried to make her friends lives hell.

Brent picked up one of the books, he wasn't usually one for violence, but these people are the reason so many of the people closest to him have suffered. These are the people that make it dangerous for Tris and Hunter to be together, they are why Dylan is hiding in his partners house, why Bree can't visit that girl that comes to the shop. They were the ones that broke Kyle's heart and made him guarded and cautious.

"This is for James!" Brent screamed at the building, he didn't care if they heard him. He flung the book and cheered when he managed to strike an Executive in the face and knocking them over.

"Nice hit." Tamika said over the roar of the helicopter. "Ever think of joining a teen militia?"

"I'm at least five times your age, Tamika." Brent said, picking up another book, slightly smaller.

"That's fair." She said as she hurled more books. "Hey, isn't that that Avon lady?" Tamika said pointing her out.

Brent's heart filled with a fire at the sight of her, so much grief and pain caused by that devil of a woman. Brent had known anger before, but never hate. Now he could understand the word.

"This is for my boyfriend you bad lady!" Brent yelled and flung the book just as Avon started to retreat but it pegged her in the back of the head. "Got her!"

Cecil has struck out on the second floor, looking out the windows and seeing the teens and Cece taking out what had to be the last of the Executives, there didn't seem to be all that many really. Cece seemed to be doing rather effectively with just a few household steak knives, even the teens had been impressed.

Cecil left the window and went to the stair case, taking care of anyone that had tried using it as an escape. He made it up to the next floor, hands and clothes covered in ash.

"You must be Avon." Cecil said, at last finding the woman Kyle had described to him.

Avon turned around, she had fled to her to the staircase but the screams had distracted her. They stood in the ruins of an office bullpen, loose papers and books scattered over the floor. Wind from the distant helicopter swirling papers and ashes around them.

"Do you people have any idea what you are doing?!" Avon screamed, her plastic smile gone, the lipstick she wore smeared, no longer the image of professionalism.

"Yes we do, we are keeping the Baristas safe from people like you." Cecil said, shifting the butcher knife in his hand that he borrowed from Cece.

"You have no idea what will happen with out us!" Avon said, her hair in disarray.

"It'll be safer." Cecil said as he approached her. "And you'll never lay another hand on my son again."

Before Avon could come up with a retort, Cecil thruster the blade into her stomach, leaning to speak in her ear.

"You're lucky your kind dies quickly, because the things I would do to you, not even Night Vale would forgive me." Cecil said, his voice dropping octaves. "You hurt my son and you deserve worse than this, just die knowing we took all of your power."

Avon's skin went ashy grey, dry cracked beans falling from her mouth as she tried to gasp for air. Her skin already began to crack and crumble. With a swift twist of the blade inside her, she fell to the ground as she exploded into a pile of ashes and rotted beans inside a three piece suit.

"Fuck you." Cecil dropped the knife on the pile and walked back down the stairs, his business complete and he had a son and husband waiting at home.

Outside, the numbers were quickly dwindling down to about a handful. The Executives tried to flee down the streets or escape to the other near by buildings, but they were caught each time by the teen army.

Cece was running down to their last few knives, having had a bit of luck throwing them when no ones else was near by to get struck if they missed. They had just taken out another, they weren't sure what these things were, but they sure made it easy to know when they were dead. Another pile of ash, another victory.

"You should have let the Baristas be, this is for my friends!" Cece cried out as they flung another knife at a fleeing Executive and striking it in the back.

It screeched out in horror as it collapsed in the suit it was wearing, nothing left but a pile of ashes being blown away by the winds.

"I think that was the last of them." One of the teens said, wiping the ash of her last kill on her pants.

"Are you sure?" Cece asked.

She held her hand to her ear to hear her ear piece better.

"Aerial team says clear, building team is giving clear." She grinned widely and turned to her fellow teens. "We won!"

The teens erupted into uproarious cheers, holding aloft their books in the bask of victory.

They did it, Cece thought, this was wonderful! Their friends were free! They had to go and tell them the good news! And get Oliver, that was extremely important, what a good dog, keeping watch.

The teen suddenly hugged Cece in excitement and they hugged back laughing.

"Thank you for your help! I have to go to Brewed Awakenings!" Cece said, pulling away and running to the outer part of the District where the shop was located.

They won, the Baristas were free now. Less restrictions, less worries, no more Avon! This had to be the beginning of something great!

It was the start of many things, this was no ending. The stories of life never ended.

This was the beginning of the next story.

@tamika-queen-of-librarians-flynn

@cecil-palmer-theradiohost

@seaslugcecil

//I just wanted to thank everyone for this event~ To everyone rping with me, the people who send asks, all of my followers! I love you all!

This sounds like a fair well, it's not XD this is a mile stone, we've all come so far together and I want to tell you I appreciate all of you!//

#barista writing #welcome to the barista district #welcome to night vale #welcome to nightvale #night vale #wtnv #wtnv barista #the barista district #barista district #cecil palmer #tamika flynn

[ellen-reincarnated1967]

Flutter

Soulmate AU where reader has a unique set of wings where they comfort her when she’s upset and glow when she’s in the presence of her soulmate. Pairing: Cas x Reader

feedback would be crucial as this is my “come back” piece from hiatus.  so if you reblog or like, please tell me why.  i need  validation. thanks.

In the beginning, God created man and he loved them with an infinite bond, as any father would of his creation. Alas, the angels took a favor upon these humans and against God’s will, they plunged from Heaven, laid with woman, and fathered Nephilim.

Feared for being abnormal, these children, grew with such great fervor and powers that soon, humans became obsolete.  Every birth formed an infant with wings, wings to represent the hardships that the Nephilim created for their mothers.

These children soon were their only kind; born with wings of different shapes, colors, and sizes, they would “come in to their own” at the age of 21, seeking out their soulmates.

Soulmates were a rarity, however, to ensure that this species remain robust and lively, men and women, shared similarities with one another across the globe.  Their wings were the connection to their souls.  How one felt, would reverberate back in the wings. Fluttering as it was learned to be called, was when one soulmate was in close proximity to another; their wings would vibrate, shake gently, and glow iridescent.

Children could not wait until they turned the appropriate age and when they aged from infants, to children, to adolescents, their wings would perform such wondrous tasks.

YN first noticed her wings would do the most peculiar things out of nowhere.  She’d be sitting at the kitchen table, eating breakfast, her wings, plaited down her back, when they would of their own volition, wrap themselves around her arms, cocooning her, her body self-soothing, as she’d try to fight off what was happening, but it was as if they had a mind of their own.  

Another day, as she was making her way to the walkway, grocery bags in hand, her wings formed an impromptu umbrella hovering overhead, but not a cloud, nor rain drop was in sight.  

During the night, her wings would spread wide, the wing span twice the size of her queen bed, and they would ebb and flow up and down, causing the papers on her desk to swirl in tiny tornadoes. 

Across the town, there was another, whose wings would do abnormal things, but more so when he was feeling some sort of emotion.  Castiel’s wings were magnificent, for he was one of the last guards of Heaven, before the fall.  Just in this moment, as he sat reading ancient lore on Nephilim, he came across a passage that upset him; his wings began to spread in defense and undulate.  

Two days prior it was pouring in town and he of course forgot an umbrella but what was the point, when he had glorious, nonporous, wings to keep him sheltered from the storm?

A week before, Castiel was feeling quite emotional over the loss of a close friend Abriel and his wings instantly wrapped themselves around his torso where he rocked himself gently as tears fell from his cobalt blue eyes.  

Unbeknownst to either YN or Castiel, they were growing closer to one another and soon, the act of fluttering, would commence and they shall meet face to face, wings to wings.  

Castiel never thought, no, nix that, he never believed in soul mates until his closest friends Dean and Sam Winchester found theirs; Dean and Jo had found one another in a bar that her mother owned, their feathers fluttering with gusto and Dean’s emerald green feathers glowed with such zeal when Jo’s began to flutter and illuminate as well. Her’s were a mix of ambers and reds, a match made in an artist’s heaven.  

Sam and Eileen met in a bookstore where he was checking out the librarian, insert Eileen here, and their wings fluttered so passionately that books flew off the shelves.  Sam’s wings spread and shone brightly for Eileen to see and as she folded herself into his chest, his wings were large enough to cover both of them as they kissed for the very first time.

It was disheartening that at his age, which he would with remorse tell everyone he was older than the dirt you tread upon, that he had yet to meet his soulmate. There were moments where his wings would flutter, but as soon as he’d get his hopes up, he’d realize it was a speeding bus to his left, or the wind picking up around him, or another set of soulmates who had found one another, sending feathers, even the tiniest ones on fledglings, to flap.

“Cas, listen,” Dean was at his best friend’s apartment, drinking a beer, and watching the latest football game, “you have to get out there, she’s out there, probably moping around like you do in here all day and night.”

“I do not mope,” Castiel retorted, “I contemplate the possibilities of what ifs and what nots.”

“Right,” Dean smarted, “you mope.”

“He’s right, you  know,” Sam said as the game went to commercial, “you start to feel things, little things, odd things, that your wings will start to do, and that’s the sign, Cas, that’s the sign you’ve been looking for.”

“Odd how,” this piqued Castiel’s interest.

“Have your wings done anything strange that you didn’t intend?”Dean inquired, “Like when I was walking one day out of nowhere, my wings started to vibrate, and I could have sworn it was to the beat of a Led Zeppelin song, but I wasn’t listening to any music at the time.”

“Oh!”Sam interjected, “when I was getting closer to Eileen, my wings would ripple quickly and furiously, and I soon learned that she was deaf, so as she was signing, her wings were simultaneously signing as well, if that makes any sense.”

Cas pursed his lips.  The emotions he had been going through the past couple of weeks, the sadness, the need for consolation, he now felt horrible for if he was going through these poignant emotions, then surely his soulmate was too?  What about the day it poured and he used his wings as an umbrella?  

“Oh my Father!” Cas exclaimed, “she must think I’m foolish,” he explained the case of the wings slash umbrella situation and both Dean and Sam laughed along with him.

“We’ve all done absurd things, Cas,” Dean patted his friend on the shoulder, “let’s find you your soulmate, how’s that sound?”

Castiel stood up, tossed his beer to the receptacle, and headed for the door.  He turned to the others and tilted his head to the side, inquisitive,

“Are we not going?”

­­­­­­­­­­­­­YN was a loner. She had very few friends and the ones that were around had already found their soulmates.  She always felt like a third wheeled freak and kept to herself. She frequented libraries and bookstores, hit the farmer’s market for fresh fruit and vegetables, and would casually walk the park or the neighboring woods frequently.

Today was one of those nights; she took a stroll in the local park, setting down on one of the benches, taking out her journal and pencil and sketching the scenery in front of her.  She was busy focusing on three distant figures in the park, when her wings began to tingle.  Thinking nothing of it, she continued to sketch the three men with glorious wings, and again, her wings began to tingle, but with anxiousness. They were fluttering.  In her photo of the three men, she barely noticed that she was drawing one of their sets of wings with sparks coming off of them, to signify illumination.  As the three men walked towards her, her wings spread out before her, taking them by surprise.  Elegantly shifting up and down they glowed a miraculous white as Castiel’s black wings expanded to their full span and iridescent blues began to light his feathers.

YN dropped her pencil as the sketch in her journal came to stand just mere feet from her, his eyes a cobalt blue, his messy jet black hair tussled, the slow curve of his smile as he laid eyes upon her.  

“You,” she stood to her full height, which was approximately to Castiel’s chest, “you actually exist.”

“As do you,” Cas’deep voice broke his trance, “I was beginning to lose hope.”

“I never did,” YN spoke and reached out her hand to take his into hers, “I’m YN.”

“Castiel,” he pulled her into his chest, resting his head atop of her messy blonde hair, as their wings fluttered and shone brightly in the night.  Dean and Sam looked on proudly at their best friend. Not all who wander are lost after all.  

  Tags: @frankiea1998 @chelsea072498 @beatlesobsessionlove @emptywithout @bohowitch @hexparker @distinguishedqueenofbooks @growningupgeek @kayteonline @d-s-winchester @oneshoeshort @oriona75 @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @kas-not-cas @death2thevirgin @deathtonormalcy56 @bovaria @helvonasche @jodyri @hiddenwritingsintheworld @faegal04 @20secspnfam4  @xtina2191 @faegal04 @mogaruke @growningupgeek @jpadjackles @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @stephizzle94 @d-s-winchester @oriona75 @buckysmetallicstump @sammyandddeano @chaos-and-the-calm67 @smoothdogsgirl @supernaturalyobessed@iwriteshortstuff@roxy-davenport@chloemac86@20secspnfam4@sleep-silent-angel@dauntlessdiva@waiting4thedoctor @mrswhozeewhatsis@adriellej@mayasmedberg@my-supernatural-dreams@sleepywinchester@sup3rnaturalunkn0wn@faith-in-dean@BohoWitch@stilinski15@breexwrites@deanwinchesterisamazing@bennyyh@sis-tafics@dorky-and-i-know-it@wordstothewisereaders@percussiongirl2017@sam-reidzugzwang@crzcorgi@sunriserose1023@savvythedork@sinceriouslyamellpadalecki@celahcain@winchester-writes@charliebradbury1104@we-know-a-little-about-a-lot@freekryptonitecloud@everythingintensifies@dustycelt@hey-nice-assbutt@wheresthekillswitch@bloodyheartsx @lynnebla @justcallmelosechester@dean-winchestrash @atc74 @fangirlextraordinaire@starswirlblitz@freakintasticfan@cyrilconnelly@chainez-8@beatlesobsessionlove @the-amaranthine @fernandasvaldi @deansbaekaz2y5 @supernaturalbae15 @hexparker

#soulmate au #cas and reader insert #castiel #castiel and reader au #castiel and reader soulmate au #welcome back andi

[izanyas]

Venture Out Of Boredom (2)

You asked for it!... Continuation of the KHR self-insert fic because @ectology​ is feeling like crap and I love them enough to write 6k words in 7 hours. Beta’d by @scarlet-blossoms​, thank fucking god. Rated T, warnings: violence involving children, sex jokes, swearing, implied trauma & PTSD.

Venture Out Of Boredom Chapter 2

"The archives," Mammon said.

Squalo looked at them like he wanted to scream.

"Yes," he repeated, voice tight on seething rage, "the fucking archives."

Mammon played with the hem of their robes. Anger had little effect on them besides that of making cold grow through them and their will to care seep out through their pores. "I don't even know where they are."

"Do I look like I do?" Squalo roared. "Just fetch me the fucking file, you piece of shit!"

Belphegor was grinning from his corner of the living room—the only corner where the walls were still free of claw marks and burns. Xanxus was out for the week as punishment for his last bout of fury; it had resulted in half of the kitchenware melting right onto the ground, making everything unusable. Apparently, the boss wasn't busy enough that he couldn't text Squalo cryptic orders for Squalo to then bestow on Mammon.

"I'm not going," Mammon answered, looking with little interest as Squalo's face grew redder and redder. He hadn't even armed himself this morning. The stump of his arm was moving aimlessly around, making him look about as threatening as Levi. "You couldn't pay me enough to go."

They chuckled for added measure. Squalo looked ready to start frothing at the mouth.

"Boss has been waiting for the opportunity to go for over a month," Levi said, walking out of the shadows like the stalking freak he was.

"Boss can go there himself when he comes back."

"Show some fucking respect," Squalo screamed at them, waving his stump. "He said you have to go, so you're fucking going."

Mammon hummed. They could feel Fantasma's cold body wrapped around their wrist under the sleeve of their robe; he flicked his tongue at the inside of their wrist. "Why me?"

"Fuck if I know," Squalo muttered. "He said it had to be you."

It was pathetically easy to read the envy on Squalo's face, no matter how hard he tried to mask it as short-fused irritation. Squalo would never forgive Mammon for being by Xanxus's side before anyone else, no matter that Mammon themself didn't give a damn about it.

Levi cut into the conversation again, his voice grating Mammon's nerves. "No one's been allowed to go there since Bruno died."

There was a silence.

"Who the fuck is Bruno?" Squalo asked.

Lavi grew red in the face, too. "The late archivist of Vongola," he replied between clenched teeth. "Which you would know if you were actually interested in—"

"Yeah, no one's interested in your blood purity spiel right now, Levi," Mammon cut in. "Why a month? If they needed a librarian they could've just hired anyone from Mist's branch."

"The position of head archivist for Vongola has a very long and precious history," Levi said loudly, "much the same as the position of Guardian. The Vongola Archives hold the history of the Family and of the world together inside a magnificent fourteenth century chapel renovated under Secondo's don—"

"Bah," Squalo said, turning his back to Levi, "who gives a shit. Whatever. Boss was waiting for the damn thing to open again."

"I've never been there," Mammon drawled. "And I hate going to the manor."

"Well, fuck you, because you're going."

Belphegor snickered.

Mammon changed the floor under the sofa he was occupying into a pit full of lava, quick enough that Belphegor, who had only arrived a few months ago, couldn't have predicted or gotten used to. The boy shrieked and wailed, his voice vibrating satisfyingly across the room and forcing Squalo to awkwardly try to plug his left ear with his stump. It was enough to drag a smirk out of Mammon.

They left the room while the chaos was still running high. Fantasma crawled on top of their head while they glided along the halls of the estate and to the frontyard. November was wet above their head, drops of rain clinging hard to their clothes and through their hood, until their hair stuck to their forehead and cheeks. Mammon snapped their fingers in the direction of the main hall, and a butler ran to them, holding an umbrella.

"Never mind that," they said curtly. "Get me a chauffeur, I need to visit the main house."

"Sir," the man replied with a bow.

Mammon didn't bother correcting him.

A young woman came out barely a minute later with keys to one of the cars in hand. She ushered Mammon to the back of it, insisting on giving them three different towels to dry with, regardless of the fact that the trip would take them about five minutes and that they would get soaked again the moment they set a foot outside.

Mammon petted Fantasma's head all the way to the manor. He had his nose stuck to the cold glass window, beady eyes roaming the murky grey sight of the naked hills they drove through. "Wait here," Mammon told the girl once they arrived. "I'll be right back."

They crossed the way to the entrance of the manor as fast as they could without doing themself the indignity of running. Another same-faced butler was waiting at the entrance with a pile of towels, and Mammon grabbed one on the way. They had started drying themself and walking toward the Ninth's aisle of the estate when they remembered they weren't here for that.

"You," they said, pointing to the butler. The man yelped unattractively and almost let the other towels fall to the wet floor. "Tell me where the archives are."

"The archives?" he repeated.

"Did I stutter?"

"No, sir," the man replied. "Um. Down the hall to your right, all the way past the flower garden, on the other side of the glass house—"

"Oh, I see," Mammon cut him off.

They had never realized the century-old building attached to the manor's southern gardens was actually in use, let alone that it served as a library. So that was the former chapel Levi had mentioned. Mammon had only ever known the library on the second floor near Nono's office, and which, according to Ganauche's infrequent reports, the don used more often than his own work place.

Mammon turned on their heels and started walking in the direction of the gardens. Fantasma wrapped himself around their neck this time, tongue flickering in and out to taste the air around him. Vongola's flower garden was a pathetic sight mid-November, drenched in rainwater, the soil turned to mud, spilling over the rock paths. The fountain in the middle was empty except for what the sky had wept over it and the greenish traces of weed around its walls. Mammon was almost sure they could see snails dragging their slimy bodies all over it as well.

It took them a good five minutes to reach the entrance of the repurposed chapel, by which point they had realized they could've gone around it and entered directly from outside the manor rather than losing time walking by the gardens. Their hair was still uncomfortably damp and sticky, their clothes glued to their skin; when they finally walked through the doors of the building the rush of hot air over their face couldn't mask the discomfort of hearing their shoes shriek wetly on the floor.

They were angry.

There was a woman seated at the main desk, hunched over a gigantic book full of tiny script, round-faced and dark-haired. In the light of the laptop screen she wasn't looking at she looked morbidly pale. A platinum stud piercing shone through her left nostril.

"Hey," Mammon called.

She inhaled sharply and looked up from the book—and truly, it was the hugest thing Mammon had ever laid eyes on—and Mammon had a brief second of hesitation. Maybe not a woman after all.

Whoever they were, their face made a drastic jump from tenseness to smooth polite concern and something of a casual slouch. "Can I help you?" they asked in English. Their voice was very high. A woman's voice.

For a moment, Mammon lost track of why they were here. "What's your name?"

The stranger looked at them warily, and then they said something incomprehensible.

"What," Mammon said.

"Just call me Cen," the person said, a charming smile on their lips and their brown eyes lost somewhere above Mammon's head, staring emptily.

"No," Mammon replied. "Say it again."

"Hyacinthe Faure."

A man's name and a woman's voice. Mammon nodded, which made Hyacinthe Faure stare at them with a bit of perplexed irritation—and then Mammon remembered why they were here.

"I need Secondo's birth certificate," they declared, walking toward the desk and shooting a glance at the open volume on it, the book covering half of its surface by itself. "And the records of every cook ever employed by Vongola."

Hyacinthe Faure's eyes seemed to glaze over. "Really," he said.

Really, Mammon almost replied. Almost smiled. Some sort of electric shock shook them at the thought, so they said, "If you don't mind doing your job," with as icy a voice as they could muster.

For a wild second their eyes met that of the librarian; and they thought Hyacinthe Faure would snap back.

Thankfully, the man seemed to remember his place. "Right," he said instead. He turned around to type quickly over the keyboard, scrolling through the list agonizingly slowly when he reached the search results.

"Today, if you don't mind," Mammon said between their teeth.

Hyacinthe Faure's back tensed before their eyes. All he did was keep scrolling, and then hum, and mutter under his breath—French, Mammon thought, but they were about as good at French as they were at being nice, so they couldn't be sure. Finally, he rose to his feet, gripping the edge of the desk so hard that Mammon knew with certainty he had almost tripped on his own feet.

They stopped smiling when they noticed how tall the man was.

"Follow me," Hyacinthe Faure said with a edge to his smile, now that he was physically looking down on Mammon.

Mammon did, silently. Fantasma was licking the air in the direction of Hyacinthe to their side, and if they focused, Mammon thought they could smell a hint of flower on the man, very faint. No perfume or cologne. Maybe soap or deodorant. Most of it was drowned under the scent of cold tobacco.

He was dressed rather smartly: black pants and black leather shoes and a black top, and above it, a salmon pink suit jacket—a woman's jacket, no doubt. It accommodated the span of his chest and opened over his collarbones, and before they could help it, Mammon looked at the skin there, the hint of ink etched into skin peeking above the line of fabric, black on his skin.

"There," Hyacinthe Faure said all of a sudden.

Mammon had rid themself out of the need to jump at things. It came with training themself to wield illusion and human perception and human brains. Still, they almost stepped back when Hyacinthe stepped forward and next to them, one long-fingered hand grabbing a very thin file between two very thick ones.

"Secondo's birth certificate," he said simply.

Mammon didn't know what to say in return, so they simply took the file.

"I can't allow you to take it out without clearance," Faure continued, leaning against the shelves and smiling at them with half-lidded eyes. "But you can make a copy."

"What about the cooks?" Mammon asked, finding their voice again.

"That'll take me hours to gather. Maybe days." He scratched over his collarbone, above the imprint of the tattoo on his chest—a constellation, Mammon thought distantly, tiny dots linking stars together and dipping under the edge of his collar so that they couldn't decide which one it was—"I can make the copies for you. Give me your phone number, I'll text you when I'm done."

Mammon looked at him in silence.

"Are you flirting with me?" they asked at last, disbelief running through them.

Faure coughed, hard, and grabbed the edge of a shelf before he lost his balance. He almost managed to send the entire thing down with him. When he finally managed to stabilize it and look up, his face was beet-red.

"Fuck, no," he said, voice trembling even higher than it naturally was. "Why does everyone ask me that?"

The muscles along Mammon's back relaxed for the first time since they had laid eyes on the archivist. "Is that how you treat every person you meet, then? The smiles and everything?"

Hyacinthe looked at them in incredulity. "Yeah, of course. That's just being polite."

No, it isn't, Mammon thought. But all they did was smile, sincere and warm, for the first time in years. "I have to admit I'm impressed," they chuckled. "It's not every day that someone acts like this around a Varia official."

"A what now?" Hyacinthe asked.

Mammon stopped smiling.

Silence hung between them, stretching awkwardly beyond the limits of strictly polite. Hyacinthe's face didn't lose any of its flush but Mammon's did, slow and tense. Fantasma stopped hiding under their hood and crawled on top of it, and Hyacinthe's eyes immediately zeroed in on him with a mix of fascination and horror.

"You're not Vongola," Mammon said.

Hyacinthe looked back at them. He put a hand against his shoulder again, thumb rubbing over his neck and the highest of his chest. As if he was trying to hide while knowing perfectly well that his body was too big for that. "I wasn't until three weeks ago," he admitted.

Mammon grabbed Fantasma, guiding him to hide into their sleeve again with a brush of their thumb against the cold scales of his head. "I thought this job was reserved for long-time Family members."

"I have no idea," Hyacinthe replied. "I only started yesterday."

"How did you get hired?"

This made him smile, weirdly enough. "I have strong opinions about art history."

It didn't answer Mammon's question. Faure didn't look like he was lying per se, but he hadn't looked like he was just being polite earlier either. Would a spy be this honest about not being Family, though?

"Which Family are you from, originally?" Mammon questioned again.

Hyacinthe looked uncomfortable. "None. I wasn't—I mean… I had no idea that this entire mafia thing even existed a month ago. The Mist Guardian hired me because he liked me, I think."

So either this guy was telling the truth, or he was talented enough to fool the Ninth's most cunning Guardian into getting a position Levi considered honorable.

Mammon was surprised with how much they wanted the former to be true.

"Strong opinions, huh," they murmured. Hyacinthe looked a little guilty at that, but not much. "And here I just thought you had a death wish, flirting with me."

"Maybe I do," Hyacinthe said defensively, which made Mammon smile again with something akin to glee.

"You're like a baby." They put a hand in their pocket where the purple pacifier lay hidden, and it was skin-warm to their touch, as usual, like a living thing. "This is tragic."

Hyacinthe snorted. "The only tragedy here is your outfit."

Mammon laughed. Their fist closed around the pacifier and for once they didn't flinch back at the feel of it warming like a flame and pulsating like a heartbeat. They held it tight, as if wanting to smother the magic out of it, the way they hadn't dared do since Verde had found a way to bring them back—not completely, but enough. Just enough. When they were done laughing their stomach ached, like sores, as if they had just exercised thoroughly. It took a moment after that for their breath to come back to a normal sort of rhythm, and even then, none of the tension from earlier came back.

"My name is Mammon," they declared. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Hyacinthe grinned. He looked out of place in the low light and dust of the chapel, stuck between rows of books and papers and photographs, the gold key of the building hanging from his neck and glinting softly. Like he should've been standing on a bight-lit stage somewhere with arrogance breaking out of him. Like he had missed his turn along the way.

Maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. Mammon had missed a lot of turns as well.

--

Hyacinthe doesn't remember anyone making him feel as emotionally unstable as Reborn has in the last forty-eight hours, besides maybe his mom. It places him very high up the list of people Hyacinthe wants to avoid, and truly, he does want to avoid him. The fact that he's desperately hot for the man doesn't make him less infuriating, and the fact that for the two whole days he's been here Reborn has woken him up by dangling Quinto's Sun's manuscript over his face has made Hyacinthe very, very angry.

"Wanna put your dick there instead and see if I bite?" he seethes on the morning of the third day. He doesn't even open his eyes; he sweeps a hand over his face mechanically and feels the caress of old, soft paper on his skin as Reborn retreats away from his bed. "Jesus fucking Christ."

To Hyacinthe's pure, unadulterated horror, a tiny voice says, "Bad words!"

He opens his eyes and sits up too fast—for a long moment he sees nothing but grey spots and feels nothing but the buzz of fatigue at his temples and the hole hunger is digging into his stomach. He blinks, turns his head; Reborn is nowhere to be found by now but Lambo is standing in the doorway, his pajamas stained and drool around his mouth.

"Lambo," Hyacinthe says.

Lambo tugs the lollipop out of his mouth with a disgusting wet sound. "Mama says it's breakfast time," he announces.

"Uh."

"Didn't you hear," Reborn says in Hyacinthe's ear—and Hyacinthe feels the blood rush to his face like flood gates have opened in his neck, and he starts feeling dizzy with it by the time Reborn chuckles and steps away from the wall. He's wearing clothes the exact same color as the wallpaper. "Time to wake up, Hyacinthe Faure."

"Can you fu—" Hyacinthe inhales. Chokes a little. "Please get out of my room, Reborn."

"What were you gonna say?" Lambo asks, very loudly.

"Something bad," Reborn tells him. "Almost as bad as your aim."

For a second Hyacinthe dares hope that Lambo won't get it; but the boy does, and his face grows red even as his eyes water, and a pink grenade materializes in his hand. "Die!" he screams at the grown hitman standing in the room before throwing it, and Hyacinthe is still in bed and he has his legs out of the blanket but he doesn't move. He's been outrunning those grenades for two days now. He's tired.

Maybe Reborn gets a flicker of concern in him, or maybe Hyacinthe is just lucky that for once the grenade does reach Reborn and Reborn choses to swat it right through the window. The glass breaks from the strength of the throw but at least the thing explodes outside, still in the air.

The tree that sprouts from the neighbor's garden right next to the stone wall separating it from Nana's is singed. Flames crack along the high branches. Reborn hums, and his magic chameleon turns into a pipe and sprays water at it from the broken window.

This is Hyacinthe's life now.

"I'm hungry," he mutters. "I'd like to change into clean clothes, if you don't mind."

"I'm gonna kill—" Lambo starts. He lets out a strangled noise then, because Tsuna is in the doorway and has picked him up into his arms.

"Sorry," he says, in English. He's half-dressed into his uniform, his hair a complete mess and his eyes darting nervously between Hyacinthe and where Hyacinthe supposes Reborn has fused back with the wall of the bedroom.

"It's okay," Hyacinthe replies gently.

Tsuna smiles like he's about to die. Then he runs off and down the stairs with Lambo still squirming in his hold.

"He should be better than this at speaking English," the wall says in a deep, sultry voice. "I arranged it so he'd have an excellent teacher at school."

Hyacinthe throws his pillow in Reborn's estimated direction.

--

There hasn't been much for Hyacinthe to do since he arrived. He doesn't run after Reborn because he hates running and because Reborn always comes back to taunt him anyway, like he's just a kid inside the body of a gorgeous man. Mostly Hyacinthe helps Nana with chores and cooking and sits down in the garden to smoke for hours while emailing Lisa at work. She's friendlier when she's not in his immediate vicinity.

Mammon hasn't answered his texts in twenty-four hours. Hyacinthe looks at his empty notifications and shakes the ash off the tip of his cigarette absently. He's sitting on the edge of the wooden terrace with his bare feet in the grass, dew wetting his soles.

Yamamoto sits down next to him, and Hyacinthe jumps out of his skin, phone dropping from his fingers and onto the grass.

"Sorry!" the boy says immediately, in Japanese. "Sorry," he repeats in English. And then he smiles the same bashful smile Hyacinthe saw on the day he arrived and leans down to pick up his phone for him.

"S'fine," Hyacinthe mutters warily. He nods his thanks when Yamamoto hands back the phone and takes another drag of his cigarette, taking care to exhale the smoke where Yamamoto won't receive a faceful of it.

He can feel the boy staring at the side of his face. It's a little awkward. Yamamoto doesn't speak English and Hyacinthe only knows the barest of Japanese platitudes, like how to ask where the bathroom is, or how to say good night. He doesn't need to ask either of those at the moment.

"Are you here to pick up Tsuna?" he asks, still. Yamamoto takes a moment to understand, but then he nods. Hyacinthe smiles. "Gokudera here too?" Yamamoto points backwards, and when Hyacinthe turns his head he sees Tsuna's other friend and his sister Bianchi, whom he met the day before.

"This house is a fucking nightmare," he grunts around another puff of smoke.

Next to him, Yamamoto smiles.

The grass moves then, up and up like a whole pan of it is just lifting up from the ground. Hyacinthe lets out a shout of terror-disgust when it grabs his ankle and pulls.

Reborn lifts his grass mask and unrolls the grass scarf from around his head. "Today you're going to school with them, Hyacinthe Faure."

"Stop fucking with me," Hyacinthe replies, looking at the sky and lying down on his back, heart beating a hole right through his throat.

"Just fuck you, right?" Reborn says with mild amusement.

Hyacinthe splutters. He closes his eyes and tries to regulate his own breathing and stop the panic attack and nausea in their tracks, at least enough so that his head stops swimming. There's a deeper rage simmering inside him than there has been in months, maybe years. He opens his mouth.

And he chokes again, because he almost chews on bitter paper. He snatches the sheet out of his face and sits up, ready to yell for less profound reasons again.

"You'll get another one when you come back if you accompany them," Reborn says. He's holding a page of the manuscript in his hand and waving is carefully around, barely firmly enough to make the air move.

There's another page in Hyacinthe's hands. It looks perfectly intact except for a very faint damp spot from his own saliva, which should fade on its own within a couple minutes. Half of the page has the description of some kind of marine plant on it and the other a drawing by Quinto's Sun's hand—some kind of algae, but with teeth.

Hyacinthe clenches his free hand. "You took it out of the binding?"

"Don't worry," Reborn replies. He's started fanning himself with the page he's still holding, and the grass blades on his somehow fitted costume are plowing lightly under the breeze he's creating. "I'm not a savage. I'll put them all back in when you're done collecting every page."

"No you won't," Hyacinthe replies. He pushes himself to his feet with some difficulty and stands.

Hyacinthe is a tall man. It doesn't matter that Reborn is taller, that's expected of genetics and averages and other such nonsense. Hyacinthe stands proud and digs his index into the wet grass-suit the hitman is wearing.

"I'm getting them back into the binding," he hisses. "I'm not letting you touch this file any more than strictly necessary. And what the fuck do you mean, collecting the pages?"

Reborn smirks down at him. "I'm setting up a system of effort and reward," he says.

"I'm not a child."

"You look twenty at most."

"I'm twenty-six," Hyacinthe says, and tries to kick Reborn in the shin. Reborn sidesteps him easily. "No one would come after you for spending a wild night in with me."

For some reason Hyacinthe has a moment of hesitation at his own words, and the vague, anxious feeling that he's forgetting something. Reborn doesn't look like he's noticed, but Leon the chameleon is staring at him with his clever yellow eyes. It feels a lot like X-ray machines do.

"You can either comply with my requests and get your pages back one by one," Reborn says in a bored voice, "or say adieu to your precious file altogether."

"Don't you adieu me when you can't even pronounce it right," Hyacinthe grits out.

"Precisely," Reborn says, smirking.

And then Hyacinthe blinks, and the man is gone.

It's a long while before he stops staring angrily at the spot where Reborn was standing. Yamamoto moves next to him, rising to his feet—and Hyacinthe remembers that Yamamoto was here at all, was here the whole time. His face burns again. He's never been so grateful that the boy can't speak a language other than Japanese.

Hyacinthe looks down at the page he's still holding between two fingers. It's a thick and soft kind of paper, an old kind. The ink looks like it's fused with it over the centuries. And, truly, one page is already better than nothing.

He checks his phone. Still no text from Mammon.

"All right," he says out loud. "I'll do it."

Yamamoto looks at him curiously.

--

Gokudera looks suspicious of Hyacinthe's presence on their way to school until Hyacinthe quiets him with a cigarette. It makes him feel a little like a drug dealer, and he has to reassure himself that, technically, what he's doing is not as illegal as providing a minor with drugs. Even if it's still illegal.

Reborn is nowhere to be seen. Even Tsuna looks relaxed, which is as good an indicator as any that the man isn't around for once; actually, Tsuna is looking at Hyacinthe more than the road and barely misses hitting a streetlamp a few times. Yamamoto or Gokudera pull him out of the way every time, and the boy apologizes and laughs it off.

It's a little obvious, and a little sad, what the boy wants from him, Hyacinthe thinks. He avoids meeting Tsuna's eyes as much as he can and tries not to think too hard on how he must appear to the other, with his boyish hair and his deep voice, wearing a blue tie with pink flowers over a black suit, with a diamond stud in his nose and stars inked into the skin of his chest.

Hyacinthe is not very good at talking to children. He's not very good at talking to anyone who isn't as bitter as he is. He'll talk to Tsuna about gender if he has to, but until he does—as long as Tsuna's English or Hyacinthe's Japanese are too poor to hold an actual conversation—he'll put it off.

He doesn't like thinking that this is why Reborn is holding him here. If Reborn really cared he'd do the reassuring and the educating on his own instead of using him.

Gokudera starts screaming on the road in front of them. Hyacinthe doesn't immediately react, since hearing Gokudera scream has become a habit now that he's been in the boy's presence for about three days; but then he raises his head to look out of bored reflex and freezes.

There's another boy at the end of the street, right next to the school's entrance. He has a weapon drawn and gives out the same kind of icy, slimy dangerous feeling that Hyacinthe feels around the mad prince of Varia.

"Mmh," he says, and tries to turn around.

Reborn is standing right behind him. Of course.

"You wouldn't happen to be here to give me a good bye kiss, would you," Hyacinthe says.

Reborn smiles. "No." He grabs Hyacinthe's shoulder and turns him around uncaringly, so Hyacinthe has to watch the disaster happen.

Gokudera is sent flying within the first thirty seconds of the fight, if it can be called such. Yamamoto only lasts about a minute longer. And then Reborn gets involved, points a gun at Tsuna and shoots, and it's only because Hyacinthe has seen Dying Will Bullets before, encased in crystal deep in the old Vongola chapel, where they keep Monet's Charing Cross Road—only because they've been used on him before—that he doesn't wrap his hand around Reborn's throat and choke him to death.

Tsuna rises from the ground, almost naked, with a Dying Will Flame shining bright orange on his forehead. It's the same as Basil's. The same as Iemitsu's.

Hyacinthe grits his teeth and watches Tsuna fight an opponent way stronger than him with bile rising to his throat. "You're despicable," he tells Reborn, after Tsuna takes a hit to the torso that should've shattered at least one of his ribs. He's only still standing because of the effects of the Flame.

For once, Reborn doesn't reply.

Hyacinthe lets the cold take over. He lets himself be distanced from empathy and from nausea, until he's barely aware that a fight is happening at all, until his body feels like it's floating in water and he's slowly drowning, peaceful, like choking out a candle.

Another voice screams, then. The wail pierces through the fog in Hyacinthe's mind and he blinks slowly, until he can watch rather than just see. A teacher has run out into the courtyard with a fire extinguisher in their hands—Gokudera's dynamite.

Hyacinthe hasn't even heard it go off.

His feet take him forward almost automatically. The teacher—a short thing with twig-like limbs and bright grey hair—is dragging the black-haired boy back into class, and for a reason Hyacinthe doesn't want to start contemplating, he's letting them. He barely looks annoyed. It's like the last five minutes haven't happened at all.

Except Tsuna is lying on the ground with a bleeding nose and a bruise the shape of a fist in his side. Hyacinthe kneels down next to him despite how his back protests and gives him the jacket of his suit to cover up with.

He doesn't really have words. Tsuna doesn't seem especially shocked at everything that happened either, just resigned and a little surprised. A lot thankful.

"Fucking prick," Hyacinthe says between his teeth. He has no doubt that Reborn heard him.

Yamamoto and Gokudera are pulling themselves upright without his help, and their clothes are intact besides the odd black spot on Gokudera's sleeves and a couple drops of blood from a cut in Yamamoto's cheek.

In the distance the teacher has stopped dragging the dangerous boy around. They're slumped onto the steps leading into the school instead, face pale and blank of all emotion.

"His name is Hibari," Reborn says, then, satisfied. "He's an interesting one."

"Interesting for what?" Hyacinthe replies without looking at him. "For getting Nono's heir killed?"

"For becoming the new Cloud Guardian."

Hyacinthe doesn't have a very good relationship with Visconti. It comes from the fact that Croquant doesn't have a good relationship with Visconti either, and Hyacinthe isn't too proud to admit that he's very biased when it comes to his boss. "I thought Clouds were supposed to be the aloof protectors."

"Yes, well," Reborn says with a grin. "I'm putting a bit of a twist into the tradition."

The Ninth must've gone senile, Hyacinthe thinks, to put the future of the Family into this man's hands. No matter how nice the hands look.

"So why did you bring me here?" he asks tiredly.

Reborn looks at where the teacher with grey hair is sitting. "This is Tsuna's English teacher, Ylva Byquist."

"I'm never gonna remember that name."

"It doesn't matter. I want you to learn Japanese from them."

Hyacinthe stares at him in wonder. "You made me watch this disaster just so I could meet Tsuna's teacher?"

Reborn tugs on the rim of his fedora so the shadow of it covers his eyes. It should be ridiculous, but it just looks hot. "Byquist is one of two people that Hibari Kyoya doesn't want to kill on sight. They might be useful in the future. And if you want to make yourself useful as well, you'd better start learning the language."

"I don't want to make myself anything—" Hyacinthe stops talking to catch the thick page Reborn is letting drop to the floor from above his head. "Fuck you. Don't fucking get it dirty, this is an antique."

"Two pages," Reborn says airily. "Two hundred and thirty-two to go."

He's standing in the sunlight and yet his eyes are cold. So, so cold. Hyacinthe doesn't feel the danger that surrounds him as strongly as others must; he's not a mafioso. At least not in that meaning, no matter what Mammon says.

"Fine," he says.

"Excellent."

"I have a condition, though."

The way Reborn looks at him is the way he must look at insects, Hyacinthe thinks. It's unflattering and vile. He'll probably think even less of him when he hears what Hyacinthe has to say, but still, Hyacinthe pushes the words out of his mouth: "You stop jump scaring me."

Reborn chuckles. "It's so much fun, though."

"Maybe for you," Hyacinthe snaps back. "But I've been getting nightmares again and I'm really goddamn tired of people setting back all my progress just because they think I'm fun to mess with when I'm paranoid."

His heart is racing. He really hopes he doesn't have to say more than that—that he doesn't have to spell out every letter for Reborn to get what he means.

Reborn stares at him for a moment before bringing the edge of his hat down again dramatically. "I guess I can compromise on this," he says.

There's no faking the relief that shoots through Hyacinthe at his words. It's almost better than he imagines having sex with this man would be. He doesn't say thank you, but it's a close thing.

"I'll have to find a better way to keep you interesting," Reborn continues, tapping his index on his chin. "Maybe have Bianchi slip you a bit of her cooking every morning, build up your poison resistance."

"Motherfucking—"

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#khr #katekyo hitman reborn #reborn #mammon #original character #fic: venture out of boredom