#COLORADO I HATE U BUT I COULD NEVER STOP LOVING U

[adamshallperish]

something about being back in my home state is making me insaneeeeee all u posers on tiktok could never understand ethel cain she wrote american teenager for ME

[cooloddball]

Someone submitted something in my inbox and they wanted to remain anonymous. Since this is an extremely long essay, I will put it under the cut. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

xxx submitted: hey, i was the one who ask what do you think of Misha and Jensen's current relationship First off all thank you for your answear it means much to me cause im easy to be convice and this person who keep telling me that they are no longer friends can be so convicing, so I'm actully trying to forget what she said 😅 so I'm just writing a few. she said that since they no longer work together, they will forget about each other, and do their common things like the gay jokes, face touches ect. With other people, and neglect each other, don't talk to each other, and then meet new people who will replace the other. And and she talked about the gish thing, she said she sure they didn't talk since the end of the series, because Jensen didn't know where Misha was and Misha didn't know about the Radio Company vol 2 (but i saw people say that, they were just pretending, because Misha liked something about Radio Company Vol 2, before the gish live, so in theory he already knew then or something like that) and She said Misha wrote a poem about Darius not Jensen and now I will write down what she sent me : I saw a post about Jensen's current activities on social media, and I've come to the conclusion the only person he doesn't interact with is mish. Sadly this makes my break up theory even stronger. I feel like this is a goodbye to one of the biggest parts of my life. They've moved on from "uk what I haven't told you today? That i love u"+ from "miss my only jensen" from "i love u misha i mean it from the bottom of my heart" from "jensen has no flaws" from "misha is the funniest thing ever happened to me" from all that love and affection from everything they developed together and now they're apart leaving their lives like nothing happened and call me a dramatic but they both have the same energy now as someone has after a big break up. and Jensen comments on almost every of his friend’s post except Misha’s"+ Jenmish is genuinely the best thing that has ever happened in my entire life. I owe them literally everything. They're the reason i hold on. Unfortunately on this essay i have to start using past tense verbs for them, and i have to continue on that. I don't know for how long y'all been in spn fandom. But even if u joined one year before the show ended you'd know how close and intimate jensen and misha were. Everything about them was unmatched.+ The chemistry and how they just fit eachother. They had always been all over eachother. Like they were holding on eachother for dear life. They completed eachother and were like world's most powerful thing. They were the definition of soulmatism. No matter where, they ALWAYS kept interacting with eachother. Each possible tweet or insta post. On cons that the other wasn't there, the other one would bring up the othere's name for no absolute reason. +The looks and repeated love confessions. How invested they were both into eachother. The family they had built together cuz we know how close dee and mish are (look all the charity work they've been doing together recently). There are youtube videos to proof everything I've said so far.When i say break up, my real intention is that they've grown apart. Everything started in the the third or forth month of pandemic. Before than jensen used to interact +(comment mostly) on almost all of misha's posts. But after a while everything just stopped. At first personally didn't care that much. Bcuz I believed too much in them that I thought not even the gods above could separate them. I told myself maybe they spend long hours chatting or video calling and that's why online public interactions are gone. But as it passed it almost diminished to zero. Except some likes from jackles and eventual ones from misha there weren't anything else.+ We got absolutely no content and the show went off too. We were helpless and were sticking to everything we had Dee had a big social media shot down, so as jensen. Misha was busy with the election. We got some interviews for it with all of them. But we didn't get much.except remember both of them pulling a bff

move. and texted eachother during an online con where everyone else were dead-serious about politics? That flickered something in me. That showed me that+ they can't ever possibly let eachother go. And the times everyone else were talking and these too would just talk random things together (the one jackels had a white hat on with stacy abraham).And then Misha posted that for jensen's bday We really overlooked it. That shit was too intimate. To close. Fav march baby? U just don't go around and called ur bestie baby and when u mean it deeply. Especially not when ur friend is jensen ackles the "I suffered form internalized homophobia my whole life+ but fuck my wife's an angel and i have an angel bf too and another angel which is his wife but I'd rather die than come out cuz my asshole dad pulled a John winchester on me". It doesn't work like that. But uk how mish is. Carefree and open. I believe they got into a fight bcuz of this. He didn't even like the post. AND that was when the tiny bit of interactions we had was gone too. For a while jensen didn't even liked his posts. After a month it started again.What made me finally believe in that they had grown too+ far: I still remember the night misha posted that he and jensen were going to have a con for gish together. I remember how hard I cried. Lile the whole world was given to me. But deep down in my heart I knew that something would definitely happen. It didn't sit right with me and unfortunately my senses never lie to me. Jensen showed up at the wrong time bcuz of misunderstanding the time zones (this was HILARIOUS). That's not even my point.+ I've seen that interview 3 times so far. It always reminds me of when i saw my ex at a party and we were both so thrilled to see eachother and we still loved the other dearly, but we just couldn't work it out. Jensen and Misha's expressions were EXACTLY the same. The genuine smiles and longs pauses were they just stared at eachother. I'm so happy that it was online cuz if they actually gave that looks to eachother standing right next to the other one I would've collapsed. Misha didn't know that jensen's album+ was out. And he got so embarrassed when he found it out. He didn't know that jensen was on set and hadn't been home for 8weeks. Jensen had no idea where misha was. And this means that they hadn't talked in a long long time.When you're that close with someone for more than a decade, i mean THAT close, even if u're separated from eachother you'd at least check on the once a week, or at least once in two weeks. But it was vividly clear that they hadn't. I hate how this world works. They would always be in my heart.+ I would be thankful from them for everything. It hurts, and it won't stop and im so sure I'd be carrying this pain for a long time. They mean too much to a lot of us. Sometimes I think to myself that god i love them so much. Remember in 2019 when we used to get SO many jenmishdee interactions? That was LIT. It was THEE year for us. I hope they're doing good. I really do. I hope we don't get more proofs and I won't have to update this thread. Cuz my heart won't be taking it very+ well.Something i gotta add U may say that Jensen's busy and that's why he doesn't comment. But he comments on a lot of jared and his new costar's posts. So that's no excuse. So yeah that's it. I don't know what am I supposed to think. english isn't my native language, so sorry for the mistakes

Here is my response:

I don't know who this person who has been talking to is but I have to say they seem to be project their previous relationship experience on cockles.

I believe Jensen and Misha are okay and are together. Social media likes and comments don't mean anything. I mean it's not like Jensen or Misha used to comment on each other's posts before. Jensen didn't even wish Dee Happy Mother's Day this year, does that mean they are not together anymore? Nope. He has other best friends he has known for over 20 years like Jason Manns, Steve Carlson etc that he doesn't wish happy birthday, does that mean they are not friends anymore.

Please let's not put value on social media likes. I don't even follow my own family on sm and I don't always like or comment on my bf's or bff's posts on sm. So it doesn't mean anything.

As for the Gish Panel, I have talked about it before, the time Jensen was slotted to attend the panel, he was meant to answer fan questions. I honestly believe they decided to not do it at that time because they knew the questions would be about Destiel and not their new projects. If you watched that panel, Misha knew that Jensen's album was out as I pointed out. He was just trying to promote the album and soldier boy. He knew Jensen had also buffed out. It was all to promote Jensen. Anything else you hear is trolls and antis just being loud. Also don't forget Jensen called him "babe".

If Jensen and Misha weren't okay, he wouldn't have attended or participated all those panels Misha organized especially for Gish. Danneel also posts a lot about RA and likes Misha's posts. I am 100% Misha visited the Ackles when he went to Colorado last month.

Stop listening to trolls and/or antis or just people who are projecting and look at facts.

[spine-buster]

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 22

A/N:  So this chapter actually marks the end of the plot line of the movie “The Devil Wears Prada” -- I’m sure the dialogue after the Zamboni driver game from last chapter and the “By all means, move at a glacial place, you know how that thrills me” line was a bit of a hint.  Also, we’re striking that last scene where Andie apologizes to Nate in the restaurant because she had absolutely nothing to apologize for 😤 ANYWAYS, this means that from this point, up until maaaaaybe the final FINAL chapters (whenever this thing ends, because I still don’t know when), all content and storyline is original and not based on the movie, although it will still obviously be inspired by it.  We love consistency!  Have a great read, and enjoy!  Let me know what you think as always!

February 24th, 2020

Aberdeen Bloom watched as Brendan and Kyle were answering phones left, right, and centre.

Seriously.  At one point, Kyle had three on his ears.  He didn’t have three ears.  All because of the damned trade deadline.  And it was still only 9:30 in the morning.  

The room was set up the way she was told to set it up; prepared how Brendan wanted it prepared.  Every major voice for both the Leafs and the Marlies was in the room – Brendan, Kyle, Brandon, Dave, Reid, Leanne, Sheldon, Paul, Dave, Andrew, Jim, Troy, and even Laurence, Mike, Greg, AJ, and Rob from the Toronto Marlies.  At the front of the room, on the whiteboard, there were the names of all the players – even those in the system – glued to magnets so they could move them around.  On the other side were magnets with names of some other players from teams that they’d been looking at bringing in through a trade.  Three phones were hooked up in the room, and Brendan and Kyle were on their cellphones a lot.  There was a TV set up for video playback and hooked up to Reid’s laptop.  Brendan would exit and enter the board room at will while he was on his phone.  So would Kyle.  Kyle was dealing with most of the possible cap stuff.  There were worksheets everywhere.  

And in the back of Aberdeen’s mind, all she could think about was Tyson Barrie.

He’d been on her mind since the drive home, really, and since all the ramp up for the trade deadline started.  And she couldn’t help but wonder if Brendan and Kyle knew of him wanting to be traded and him being unhappy.  Did Brendan and Kyle concern themselves with the private lives of their players?  Even if the player said nothing?  That was the ultimate question Aberdeen needed answered, because now that she recognized all the clues, it was glaringly obvious to her how much Tyson wanted out.  She hadn’t said anything, obviously.  His name magnet wasn’t moving around much, but she knew how much he wanted to be moved.  She was conflicted.  

“This motherfu…” she heard Brendan mumble as he looked down at his phone.  “Can someone post a memo to the entire fucking league that we’re not trading Nylander, for fuck sakes,” he announced to the room.  “The core isn’t on the fucking table unless Connor Mc-fucking-David is in the mix.”

Aberdeen let out a shaky breath she didn’t know she was holding in.  William being traded was not, for some reason, a worry of hers, if only because everyone knew he was having a banner year and Kyle had made explicitly clear that he wasn’t going to be traded so long as he was GM.  

Kapanen.

Johnsson.  

Gauthier.

Holl.

Ceci.

“It’s not in his contract but Spezza won’t go anywhere.  He wants to be here.”

“If Johnsson goes it’s one less player we offer up to Seattle when the time comes.”

“Can Kappy go?  He’s good bait.  He’s got a friendly contract.”

It didn’t help that everything ended at 3pm.  It also didn’t help that they had a charter flight waiting for them at 4:30 to take them to Tampa for their game tomorrow.  Aberdeen didn’t know how they were going to handle this timeline.  What if they made a blockbuster trade?  What if someone was shipped off to the west coast at 2:59pm and had to uproot his whole life?  Everybody in the room wasn’t exactly calm, but she didn’t know how they could take about trading these players as if they were cattle being moved.  She knew this happened in all sports, but now that she was a part of it (well, in the room – it wasn’t like she was making decisions), it made everything more complicated for her.  

“Tyson’s staying.  Tyson – no – Tyson – Tyson is – Tyson is staying,” she heard Brendan repeating to Kyle, in what looked like a semi-private conversation.  She couldn’t hear some of the other things he was saying, but some words were said loud enough.  Contract.  Avalanche.  Kadri trade.  Defense.  Rielly-Barrie.  

Happy.

Aberdeen gulped.  Did Brendan think he was happy here?  Did Kyle?  Because she knew the exact opposite.  She knew Tyson wasn’t, but she was sworn to secrecy by Tyson that she wouldn’t say a word to Brendan.  But Brendan was wrong.  Tyson wanted out.  

Should…should she say something?

She liked Tyson.  She wanted to see him happy.  It was complicated, though, because she had no loyalty to him.  She did, in a way, as an acquaintance – as someone who overheard a private conversation and then was asked not to share the details of it – but she had more loyalty to Brendan.  Her boss.  The guy who was trying to build a team that would win the Stanley Cup.  The guy that her job depended on.  

“Aberdeen.”

Like, who was she loyal to the most?  If she actually said something to Brendan, would Tyson hate her forever?  Would the entire team turn their back on her and hate her forever too?  Because she couldn’t shut her mouth?  Because she was a tattle-tale and exposed—

“Aberdeen.”

—exposed a secret of one of the players to the boss?  But that secret was tied to his mental health.  It’s not like she saw a guy hook up with a teammate’s girlfriend or escort or do blow off a toilet seat or something.  This was integral to the well-being of a player—

“Aberdeen!”

She snapped out of her thoughts to see and hear Brendan calling her over.  She jumped out of her seat and ran over to him.  “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.  Sorry.  What do you need?”

“I think Chipotle is in order for lunch for everyone,” he said.  “Do you mind taking everyone’s orders?”

Seventeen Chipotle orders later, Aberdeen was waiting in the restaurant at a bar table, most definitely holding up the line that was starting to form due to her massive order.  She took out her phone and saw that William had texted her a heart earlier but she hadn’t seen it.  He had the day off.

how bad does tyson want out of Toronto? be honest

how do u know?

i overheard him and emma talking when they drove me home once is it really bad?

can i call u?

no

it’s not that he doesn’t like it here bc he loves the guys and he likes the city well he really didn’t like babs i think that’s a given but he found it really hard to transition from colorado to here like he couldn’t adjust and support wise he didn’t or doesn’t feel he’s been supported enough and he’s trying his hardest to mesh within the lines and be the guy he was in colorado but he just can’t and it’s driving him crazy

Aberdeen felt herself take a deep breath.  Not that she thought the conversation in the car was out of the blue or a one-off, but at least she had confirmation from another source now.  She couldn’t help but wonder if Tyson talked to the guys on the team about it.  Like, was it an open secret between them?  

why r u asking minskatt

She knew she’d have to lie about that one.  Even though William was her boyfriend, she couldn’t reveal any secrets of what was happening in that war room.  If she did, Brendan would probably put her head in a guillotine.  

all i see on twitter and the sports channels is us moving him they think they’re in the war room with us but they’re not and it’s just funny to me that they already think it’s a done deal

welcome to the toronto media i am getting traded too, haven’t u heard 😉

Aberdeen smiled.  He was such a little shit.  

you’re never leaving me.

never, minskatt ❤️

“Alright, I got seventeen bowls!” the cashier yelled, and Aberdeen knew that was her cue.  They were all stuffed into multiple bags and labelled appropriately, so she handed over the company card to pay.  Holding the four bags in both hands, she made her way back towards the office.  

When she got back, it was very chaotic.  The reports were now everywhere.  Half the people in the room had left to do God knows what.  Kyle was frustrated on the phone with someone.  And Brendan was nowhere to be seen.  “You might want to find him,” Kyle said as Aberdeen handed him his burrito bowl.  His hand was covering the receiver.  

Aberdeen nodded frantically.  She stopped putting all the burrito bowls on the table where people had been sitting, but for some reason grabbed Brendan’s before she began running around the halls, popping into rooms to search for him.  He was nowhere.  She tried texting and calling.  Nothing.  She thought about screaming his name down the hall.  Her mind was getting the best of her.  Why did Kyle need him?  Who was he on the phone with?  

Were they about to make a trade for Tyson?

She needed to find him.  She needed to tell him.

After circling the halls twice, she finally saw him walking, his winter jacket on, phone to his ear before ending the call and walking towards the board room.  “Brendan, Brendan, wait.  I need to talk to you,” she scurried to his side.  “Tyson Barrie wants to be moved.  He told—I overheard a conversation between him and his girlfriend in the car once when they were driving me home after a flight about how deeply unhappy he was here and how he sort of knew he was going to get traded or at least wanted to get traded somewhere so he wouldn’t have to be here and have the pressure on him and maybe be happy again and I promised him I wouldn’t say anything to you but now I am because I thought that maybe if I told you, that you could fix it—”

“Do I smell chicken?” Brendan asked suddenly, taking off his jacket.  

Aberdeen stopped.  Her brain felt like it just short-circuited.  “What?  No.  I—I specifically told them the beef bowl for you—”

“If I have chicken in mine, I will be very disappointed,” he said, taking his burrito bowl from her hands and giving her his jacket instead before disappearing into the conference room, leaving Aberdeen standing there in shock.  

***

The New York Rangers traded Brady Skjei for a first round pick.  The Edmonton Oilers acquired Tyler Ennis, who Aberdeen knew was one of Bee McTavish’s best friends.  Patrick Marleau went to the Pittsburgh Penguins.

But the Leafs stayed quiet.  Calle Rosen came back.  That’s it.  Tyson wasn’t moved.  He was staying a Toronto Maple Leaf.  Aberdeen wondered what he was feeling right now.  She wondered if he and Emma already had their bags packed for nothing.  As everybody went home, Aberdeen cleaned up the boardroom.  When it was time to go to the airport, she went to her desk to grab her suitcase.  Brendan was waiting outside his office.  

The walk to the town car was quiet.  The loading of their suitcases into the trunk was quiet.  The getting into the back of the car together was quiet.  The sitting there as Lou drove through the downtown streets and onto the highway to get to the airport was quiet.  

“You thought I didn’t know…” Brendan began, his voice low as he stared out the window.  When she heard his voice, Aberdeen turned her head slowly towards him.  “I’ve known what was happening for quite some time.  It just took me a while to find out what to do with Tyson.  A few teams were interested, and were probably willing, come July, to make him absurdly overpaid that he would have jumped at it.  But I had to tell everyone he was unavailable.”

Aberdeen felt a shiver run up her spine.  Unavailable?  If Brendan knew Tyson wanted to be moved – if he knew how unhappy he was – then why wouldn’t he move him?  

“The truth is, there is no-one available in the league right now that can fill his place on our team, regardless of how unhappy he is,” Brendan continued.  “Any of the other players would have found this job impossible and the team would have suffered.  Especially because of the way the media is here.  The list of writers, journalists, media personalities, analysts…they eat the players alive.  It takes a very special type of player to want to play in Toronto.  That’s why it was, and is still, such a big deal that John came home.  Hockey is a business, Aberdeen.  I’ve known for a while he was unhappy.  But I couldn’t trade him.  I couldn’t reconsider.”

Aberdeen took a deep breath.  And there it was.  Tyson Barrie was more valuable deeply unhappy here than he was happy somewhere else.  The realization hit her like a ton of bricks.  Hockey was a business, just like Brendan said.  Despite her best intentions, good people had to make tough decisions – Brendan’s was to keep Tyson on the team.  Brendan wanted to win more than anything, and he still thought he could do that with Tyson.

“But I was very, very impressed, by how intently you tried to warn me,” Brendan continued, finally looking at her.  Aberdeen found it hard to meet his eye, not showing any emotion on her face.  “I never thought I would say this, Aberdeen, but I really…I see a great deal of myself in you.  You can see beyond what people want and what they need…and you can choose for yourself.”

Aberdeen shook her head slightly.  “I don’t think I’m like that.  I – I could do what you just did to Tyson.  I couldn’t do something like that.”

“Hmph…but you already did,” Brendan said.  “To Peter.”

Aberdeen’s eyes bulged out dramatically.  “That’s not what I – no, that was different.  I didn’t have a choice.”

“Oh no no no, you chose,” Brendan said sternly.  “You chose to get ahead.  You want to be successful in this life, those choices are necessary.”

Aberdeen felt like she was about to cry.  She could feel her cheeks redden.  “But what if this isn’t what I want?  I mean, what if I don’t want to live the way you live or be in a career the way you conduct your career?  Not caring about people’s happiness and only caring about success.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Aberdeen.  Everybody wants this.  Everybody wants to be successful.  Even writers.”

Aberdeen hadn’t even noticed Lou had stopped the car because they’d arrive at the airport.  She could only watch as the door unlocked and Brendan slipped on his sunglasses for the bright winter sun, getting out of the car and walking back to the trunk to get his suitcase.  Aberdeen took a minute to process everything.  What Brendan had just said.  What he revealed to her.  

Dumb.  She was so dumb.  And she still had so much to learn.  

Aberdeen was quiet as she walked into the airport with Brendan.  She was quiet as they checked in, quiet as they walked to their private hangar, quiet as she saw some of the boys and quiet as she plopped down into a seat, stuffing her headphones into her ears.  She knew she should be thankful to be spending her 22nd birthday in Florida, but now, all she could think about was the conversation she’d just had with Brendan.  Even William arriving almost didn’t even register with her.

She napped on the plane, not wanting to deal with hockey for at least an hour of her day.  

***

The hotel was taking too long to get the key cards and reservations sorted for everyone.  Aberdeen tried not to huff and puff, but she was tired.  She wasn’t even sure if she wanted to out for dinner.  After the stress of the last two days, and especially today, she just wanted to get under the covers of her bed and sleep.  Sleep would make her happy again.  More than anything, she wanted to be in a good mood for her birthday tomorrow, even if she was working.

“Ab-er-deeeeeeeen Blooooooooom,” the way-too-perky helper called out her name.  Aberdeen approached her and got her room key, mumbling a thank you.  She was on the 5th floor.  

Auston had followed behind her, grabbing his as well.  When they rejoined the loosely assembled group, he took a look at her.  “You look really tired, Aberdeen,” he commented.

She glared at him.  She couldn’t believe the audacity of him.  She’d just been up for almost two days straight because of the stupid trade deadline.  Lucky for him that he didn’t have to work the last two days.  And lucky for him that he didn’t have to worry about being traded like most of the other guys on the team.  He could at least sleep at night knowing he wasn’t going to be traded for the next five years.  “You can just say I look like shit, you know,” she deadpanned.  

Auston’s eyes bulged out.  “No no no—I didn’t mean—”

“Whatever, Auston,” she grumbled, shaking her head.  “I know I look like shit, alright?  I don’t need you to tell me.”

“Aberdeen, I didn’t mean it like that at all—”

“It’s fine,” she shook her head again, grabbing her suitcase and dragging it behind her as she stomped away from him.  She didn’t have time for his excuses or for him trying to cover up his tracks.  She practically punched the elevator button so she could go up to her room before everybody else.  Screw waiting for everyone.  

She was barely able to unpack her toiletries into her washroom before the first text came through on her phone.  Of course, it was William.

saw u stomping away what happened?

She wasn’t exactly going to tell him what Auston said because God knows what he would do.

I’m just tired Willy.  I’ve practically been up for 48 hours.

but u need to eat

I’ll order room service, but I’m not going out for dinner.

She left it at that.  She heard her phone buzz a few times afterwards but she made a conscious decision not to answer it.  She needed to be alone with her thoughts instead.  She didn’t need to be around Auston telling her she looked tired.  She didn’t need to be around Willy who would be staring at her all night.  She didn’t need to be around Mitch and his hyperactive puppy personality.  She didn’t need to be around Tyson who was probably sulking at the fact that he wasn’t trad—

A knock.

She took her sweet time going to open it.  When she did, she was greeted with Jason Spezza and Jake Muzzin on the other side.  She almost wanted to shut the door in their face but knew that would be the rudest thing she’d ever done.  “We’re going for tacos.  You in?”

“No.”

It was actually Jake who looked more taken aback by her statement than Jason.  She figured it was because Jason knew better.  “No to tacos?  I think that’s the first time in my life I’ve ever heard anyone say no to tacos.”

Aberdeen cracked a half smile.  “Have fun guys, but I’m exhausted.  I’ve been up for like two days because of the deadline.”

“That’s all the more reason for you to get a healthy meal in,” Jake pressed.  

Before she could politely decline again, she saw two figures out of the corner of her eye walking down the hallway towards them.  One was William – she could figure him out from miles away just by how his hair looked – but once the other came into focus, a lump formed in her throat.  Tyson was with him.  

“We goin’ for tacos or what?” Tyson asked.  There was a smile on his face.  A fake one for sure, Aberdeen thought, all things considering.

And then it happened.  She felt the blood and emotion rush to her cheeks, and she felt an overwhelming sense of guilt and responsibility for the man that was standing in front of her right now.  She’d tried to help him and her attempt failed.  And in that attempt to help, she betrayed him.  She couldn’t even look him in the eye.  “Please, just go,” she shook her head.  

“What?  What’s going on?” Jake looked in between Tyson and Aberdeen.

“Will you guys just leave me alone?” she pleaded, her voice strained as she felt tears well in her eyes.  “Please.  I’m so tired and I’m so—”

“Inside your room, now,” Jason pointed to her bed, not even waiting for her to make the first move, and instead just walking in himself.  Everybody followed – everybody except William – who took his spot leaning on the doorway so he wasn’t actually in her room.  But he was watching.  And every muscle in his body wanted to walk in with everyone.

“What’s going on?” Jason asked softly.  “What’s the real issue here?”

Aberdeen shook her head.  She still couldn’t look Tyson in the eye, but when she could, she almost broke down.  It took every ounce of strength in her not to burst out crying and maintain some type of composure.  “I’m so sorry.  I tried, I really tried—” she began.

“Tried what?” Tyson asked.

She hesitated.  “Listen, I know – I’ll understand if you hate me forever because of this – I know you told me not to tell Brendan what I heard Emma say in the car, but I couldn’t help it,” she began.  Tyson’s face visibly softened.  “I thought that maybe if I told him he’d actually deal you out, and you could be—you could be happy again, you know, or at least somewhere where—”

“Aberdeen—”

“—but he couldn’t, and he didn’t, and I just feel horrible for betraying you by telling him and I feel so responsible now for everything that happened and I can’t live with myself—”

“—Aberdeen, are you apologizing right now because I wasn’t traded?” Tyson asked.  Aberdeen didn’t respond.  “Aberdeen, come on.  You’re not the general manager or the president.”

“But I could have helped—”

“No, you couldn’t have,” he shook his head.  Though his words were short there was a softness and a sentimentality in his voice, even a hint of surprise that she’d even go so far as to feel responsible for not being able to deal him to another team.  He understood what she was getting at, understood why she was mad and was feeling this way, but ultimately, he was shocked that she was getting so emotional over it.  “You’re not responsible for that sort of stuff, Aberdeen.  I know you were trying to help, and I thank you for that, but the responsibility of what happens on trade deadline day falls on absolutely nobody in this room, not least the personal assistant to the president.”

She sniffled slightly.  “I just thought that if I told him he’d be more inclined—”

“It doesn’t work that way,” he shook his head, looking her in the eye.  “But thanks.  I appreciate what you did in its own way.  Just remember that it’s not your job to write the narrative.”

He was telling that to an aspiring writer.  Go figure.  But Aberdeen took in the words, really took them to heart, as she nodded her head quickly.  “I’m really sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.  And I don’t hate you,” Tyson said.  “I see where you’re coming from.  Just maybe don’t try to do it again.”

She let out the slightest of chuckles.  “Yeah, I think that’s best.”

“William?  What are you doing in Aberdeen’s room?”

Everybody whipped their heads towards the doorway to see Brendan Shanahan peeking in.  Aberdeen thanked the fucking Lord (and would probably pray the entire rosary tonight) over the fact that she was able to control her emotions and not cry during the interaction, and also that two of the men currently in her room were married with children and the other had a serious girlfriend or else it would all look very suspicious.  Brendan took a few steps in and saw Jason, Jake, and Tyson.  He didn’t look suspicious, but he didn’t exactly look happy.  He had a neutral look Aberdeen couldn’t make out.  “I’m not sure if I like four of you in Aberdeen’s room like this,” he said.  

“That’s my fault,” Jake piped up immediately.  “I was forcing her to come out to eat with us.  I was making sure she had at least something to eat since she kept saying no.  Tys and Spezz followed to make sure, too.”

Brendan’s look became much more neutral at Jake’s words.  “Hmm…I get it.  Healthy meals and all.  But she can order room service if she doesn’t want to go out.  She’s been up for the past two days almost.”

Jake smiled.  “Her words exactly.  We were literally just on our way out.”

“Have fun boys,” he said, dismissing them.  “And I’ll see you tomorrow, Aberdeen.”

She nodded.  Everybody filed out of her room, each one of the giving her one last look before leaving.  William was last, of course, letting his look linger for longer than the rest before letting the door close behind him.  She let out a deep breath.

love how that was the closest we’ve ever been to getting caught and i wasn’t even in ur room

The text came from William not even two minutes after he left.  Leave it to him to make light of it, she thought.  But it was the following text that got her thinking.

can u tell how the boys wouldn’t say a word now?

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Spitting Venom (Supernatural x Criminal Minds)

Word Count: ~10,300 yikes

Warnings: Non-explicit violence, nothing more than you’d see on either show. More cursing though. Don’t even try to tell me Emily Prentiss doesn’t swear like a sailor. 

A/N: This is for @stunudo​ and her “Lie To Me” Challenge! My prompt was the Modest Mouse song “Spitting Venom.” Thanks to @fookinghelljensensthighs​ for reading and exclaiming and also just loving Sam and Spencer with me. 

This is part of the “Coffee & Psychopaths” series. It follows the events of Quitting, but you don’t need to read that to understand anything that happens here.  

This centers around (and steals dialogue from) the events of “Slash Fiction” (SPN) and “Proof” (CM). In order to smoosh the timelines together right, I had to do some wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey stuff, so don’t think about it too hard. You should be able to tell from context clues, but for reference, the flashbacks (in order of appearance) correspond to “Shut Up, Dr Phil” (SPN) / “It Takes A Village” (CM), “To Hell... And Back” (CM), “My Bloody Valentine” (SPN), “Amplification” (CM), “With Friends Like These” (CM) / “Unforgiven” (SPN), “Appointment In Samarra” (SPN), and “Memoriam” (CM). Seriously, wibbly-wobbly. So much canon juggling. Just go with it. 

“Just for the record, the weather today is partly suspicious with chances of betrayal.” 

― Chuck Palahniuk

-

“Strap in, folks, we’ve got a weird one,” Garcia says cheerily, handing Spencer a paper folder as everybody else opens their tablets. 

“I thought the Winchesters were dead,” Hotch says. 

“That is part of the aforementioned weird, yes. Okay, for those of you who weren’t paying attention four years ago…” 

Spencer opens his file, and Garcia’s words stop making sense, because that’s Sam in the mugshot. 

His first instinct is to shout, This is a mistake. 

Spencer’s stomach churns. He’s cold all over. 

This feeling (betrayal, his brain supplies helpfully) is becoming a little too familiar, lately. 

Garcia is showing a video: a bank, a group of people scared and screaming, two men opening fire. That’s Sam. His expression is stone-cold, maybe even satisfied, as he empties the clip into the crowd. 

That’s Sam. 

Garcia’s talking about M.O. now, or the total lack of a consistent one, and Spencer can’t listen. He forces his features into the bland, neutral expression that has made people underestimate him for years, and he takes slow breaths, trying to calm his racing heartbeat. 

“Spence?” he hears, and when he looks around the table he realizes that it wasn’t the first time somebody said his name. They’re all staring. 

“You okay, kid?” Morgan asks, brow furrowed. 

“I’m fine,” Spencer insists, with a shrug. 

“No you’re not, I know that face. Are you feeling okay?” Emily prods, and Spencer hates her for a moment, hates that she can still read him. 

He tries to force a smile, but it feels stiff on his face. 

“I know him,” Spencer blurts out. “Sam. Sam Winchester. He’s… he was my friend. Or I thought he was.” 

There’s a moment of stunned silence all around the table. Spencer looks down at his hands, twirling a pen idly, instead of looking any of them in the eyes. 

“Reid,” Hotch says quietly. 

“We met at a… meeting,” Spencer says. He looks up at Hotch to make sure he understands, and Hotch nods. “About two years ago. He was only here for a couple weeks. We got along, though. We… he left. We kept in touch.” 

“When did you last speak to him?” Hotch asks, frowning. 

Spencer swallows around the lump in his throat. It’s taking his best effort to maintain his mask of composure. 

“It was eight days ago.”

Hotch nods. “I’m assuming he’s already using a new number, but just in case, we’ll need you to give Garcia any contact information you have.” 

Spencer tries to smile. “Of course.” 

Emily asks, “And he didn’t say anything that would…” 

“That would, what, tip me off that he was planning a massive murder spree?” Spencer says. His voice cracks.  

“Anything that might be helpful,” Morgan interjects diplomatically. “Locations, names.” 

Spencer shakes his head. “No, it was… we didn’t talk about that sort of thing. It was random, mostly. When something was on my mind that I couldn’t… couldn’t talk to you about, or - when I couldn’t sleep. But there wasn’t much small talk.” 

“And you never suspected?” Garcia asks, wide-eyed. 

“Do you really think that if I suspected -”  

“We know that if there were any hints, you would’ve seen them. Nobody is suggesting that you should’ve known,” Hotch says firmly. 

“I should’ve, though,” Spencer insists, with a hysterical edge in his voice. “There were so many things that he just… avoided talking about. He looked familiar, even! I kept wondering where I recognized him from!” 

“Enough, kid,” Rossi interrupts. “Getting angry at yourself doesn’t help anybody. It was before you joined the Bureau, there was no reason for you to remember his face.” 

“This is a good thing, right?” Emily points out. “The better you know him, the easier it’s going to be for us to catch him.” 

“Apparently I didn’t know him, though,” Spencer says hoarsely. “I didn’t know him at all.” 

“Are you going to be able to work this case objectively?” Hotch asks. “We’ll all understand if you want to sit this one out.” 

Spencer stares at him helplessly. He’s not sure he knows the answer to that question.

“I remember Gideon talking about the Winchester case,” Rossi muses. “Couldn’t make head or tail of it, no apparent connection between victims, witnesses who kept changing their stories…” 

“Your insight will undoubtedly be useful,” Hotch adds quietly. 

Spencer grits his teeth, shock turning quickly to anger. 

“I want to find him,” he says. He wants to know. He wants to hear the confession. 

Hotch gives him one more steely, appraising look before nodding. 

“Very well. Let’s talk victimology.” 

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

September 2011 (eight days earlier) 

“I don’t understand how she could do that,” Spencer says bitterly. “If I saw one of my friends hurting like that, and I knew something that would stop them hurting…” 

“Shit,” Sam mutters. “I’m sorry.” 

“Did they not trust me to keep the secret? Did they not think I could handle it? We’re a team. We’re not supposed to keep things from each other. Not important things, not like that.” 

“Yeah, I hear you.” 

Sam leans against the kitchen counter, watching Dean through the window. Baby’s hood is open and Dean’s wrestling with something inside, and Sam wonders, for the thousandth time, whether he’s imagining the wariness in Dean’s face whenever they talk these days. He can’t shake the feeling there’s something Dean’s not saying. 

“I don’t know what to do,” Spencer says quietly, and his voice cracks on the last word.  

“I don’t know if there’s anything you can do, except give it time.”

“I hate that answer,” Spencer says flatly, and Sam laughs. 

“Yeah. But… I think hearing the truth is the hard part, sometimes. Or saying it. Right? It hurts like hell, and it’s going to hurt for a while, but now that it’s all out in the open… now it’ll start getting better. It has to.”  

“I guess.” 

“She thought she was doing the right thing,” Sam repeats. “Do you really think she’d do that, if she didn’t feel like she had a choice?” 

Spencer sighs in a rush of static. “No,” he says begrudgingly. “But I think she had a choice. And now it’s my choice whether to trust her or not.” 

“You’ll get there.” 

“How do you know?” 

“A very smart man once told me that’s what friends do,” Sam says wryly. “They trust each other.” 

“Quoting me back to me doesn’t seem fair,” Spencer grumbles. 

“Doesn’t make it wrong,” Sam retorts with a grin. 

Sam watches Dean slam the hood shut, and he wonders why his brother has such a hard time trusting him. 

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

“Are you kidding me right now?” Dean snaps, and the sneer in his voice makes Sam feel all of six years old again. 

“No, Dean, I’m not kidding,” Sam says stubbornly. He leans against the doorframe and watches Dean pace back and forth, like a wild animal on a too-short leash in the tiny living room of Rufus’s cabin. 

“Dead or alive, Sam. We’re wanted dead or alive. You try to talk to a Fed, which one d’you think it’ll be? They’ll have you pumped full of bullets before you can blink.” 

“He’s got a point, Sam,” Bobby says quietly. 

Sam rubs his eyes, feeling a headache building. “I trust him.” 

“Yeah? Well, I don’t,” Dean retorts. “Who the hell is this guy, anyway? When’d you make a friend I don’t know about?”

“Is that what this is about?” Sam asks bitterly. “You’re pissed there’s something about me that you don’t get to control?” 

“In case you hadn’t noticed, you don’t have a great track record here,” Dean spits, and Sam’s throat clogs with anger even before Dean says, “Whenever you’ve made a friend on your own, how’s that gone for you, huh? Meg, Ruby, Amy… two demons, a monster, and now a fucking Fed?” 

Sam balls his hands into fists to fight the urge to start swinging. “Why can’t you just trust me? You don’t know Frank, either.” 

“I trust Bobby,” Dean says. The I don’t trust you goes unspoken. 

Sam clenches his jaw, breathing until he knows he can talk without shouting. 

“Just go, then, Dean,” he says, quiet and venomous. “Go ahead. Do whatever you want. I’m going to call Spencer.” 

Dean’s frozen for a moment, stone-faced. Then he whirls around and heads for the door. “Fine. I’ll check in when I get to Frank’s.” 

Sam sits down on the couch, resting his head in his hands for a moment. He hears the dim rumble of the engine starting outside. 

“I’m gonna use the landline, if that’s okay,” Sam says quietly. 

“I sure hope you’re right about this, boy,” Bobby growls. 

“So do I.” 

He finds Spencer’s number on the worn slip of paper in his wallet, written down with the five or so others that he doesn’t want to lose, and holds his breath as he dials. He has a feeling Spencer might not pick up on the first try, if he picks up at all. For all he knows, Spencer’s on the job already, in Colorado with his team looking for clues that aren’t there. 

He closes his eyes and thinks, please, and then Spencer picks up.

“Hi, Sam.” His voice is icy. 

“Hey,” Sam says. There’s a long, weighted pause before he continues, “It’s not me.” 

“You’re kidding me, right?” It’s clipped and robotic and forceful. 

“No, look, I - it’s not me, okay? That’s why I’m calling. I’ll turn myself in.” Another weighted pause. Sam clears his throat. “Not to the police, ‘cause I’m pretty sure they’ll shoot me on sight, but. To you. It’s hard to explain, but I’m innocent, it’s someone else pretending to be me, so if you can get to Montana -” 

“Montana?” Spencer interrupts incredulously. 

“Montana,” Sam repeats. He hesitates. “I figured you’d be tracking the call, I used a landline to make it easy for you.” 

“She’s working on it,” Spencer admits begrudgingly. 

Sam feels a twist of guilt, wondering how Spencer’s coworkers are reacting to this… even worse than Dean, probably. 

He hears a faint female voice in the background, too quiet to make out more than, “...not sure how, but…” 

“Fine, then,” Spencer says quietly. “Montana.” 

“Wherever you want, okay? I - I won’t put up a fight. Just…” Sam can’t help but laugh. “Don’t let them shoot me, okay?” 

There’s a crackle of static as Spencer sighs. “We’ll call you with details when we land.”

A voice in the back of his head that sounds like Dean is shouting, this is a terrible idea. 

Sam ignores it. 

“I trust you,” he says. “And Spencer?” 

“Mmhmm?” 

“Thanks for picking up.” 

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

May 2010

Spencer feels like he’s choking on the thick stink in the air. He looks around the packed dirt yard of the farmhouse and can’t find any relief; he’s surrounded by ugly raw grief, and he can’t stand it. Emily is consoling the crying girl. Hotch is talking to the locals, tying up loose ends. Morgan is staring numbly at the rows and rows of muddy shoes on the ground.  

He knows he’s not the only one dealing with the weight of what they saw today. He should find Penelope, give her a hug, face this together, but he can’t bring himself to do it. Sharing this would make it a little too real.  

Maybe it’s all the practice he’s had at being alone; his first instinct is to hide, when things start to get overwhelming, and to maintain a certain level of clinical detachment until he can make sense of what he’s feeling. He can dissect his own feelings. When his friends are hurting, though… that’s a different story. When he sees his friends hurting, he hurts too, hurts in a way that chokes him, hurts in a way that crowds everything else out, and all he wants to do is fix it. Even when it’s not something that can be fixed. It’s illogical. 

Love doesn’t leave any room for logic, he’s learning. 

He slips away, into the barn. 

Dust motes and chaff drift in the scattered beams of light that cut through the empty space, swirling around him as he climbs the ladder to the dark drafty loft. Spencer sits down on the floor in front of the wall of drawings. He hugs his knees to his chest and looks, committing the clumsy crayon strokes to memory, because it doesn’t seem right to let all those empty shoes live on without also remembering this: bright color, crushing loneliness, constant fear. 

The loneliness is too much, after a few minutes. He pulls out his phone and closes his eyes. 

“Hey, Sam,” he says. His voice cracks and wobbles. 

“Hey. What’s up?” 

“I’m just not having a great day,” Spencer says, aiming for casual, falling short. 

“You wanna talk about it?” 

“Not really,” Spencer says. His voice is thin and scratchy and small in the darkness of the barn, lost immediately in the blanketing silence. 

Sam hesitates, and Spencer waits, hoping he’ll understand. 

“If you could have one object from a fictional universe, what would you want? Has to fit in your pocket.”

Spencer lets out a grateful little huff of a sigh. “Obviously the -” 

“TARDIS doesn’t count,” Sam interrupts, laughing. “It has to be portable in its normal everyday form, not just temporarily shrinkable.” 

“Sonic screwdriver, then. Obviously.” 

“Right? That’s what I said.” 

“What else would there be?” 

“Dean would go with a lightsaber,” Sam says, and Spencer can practically hear him rolling his eyes. 

It’s the first time Spencer’s really smiled all day. “Based on what you’ve told me about your brother, that doesn’t actually surprise me.” 

“Yeah. That’s Dean…” 

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

There’s a dial tone. Spencer closes his phone and tries to breathe. 

“Do you believe him?” Hotch asks quietly. 

Spencer looks down at his hands, twirling his pen again, feeling claustrophobic with all their concerned gazes pinning him in place. There’s too much going on in his head, too many things trapped and buzzing inside him with nowhere to go, and he wants to start running but all he can do is shrug. 

“I don’t know,” he says, voice strained. 

“Even if he is telling the truth, there are parts of this case that just don’t make any sense,” Morgan says. 

JJ adds, “If it’s a ruse, it’s a bizarre one.” 

“Gut feeling, kid,” Rossi says softly. “Are we walking into a trap?” 

Spencer wants to scream. Instead he says, “I don’t think he’d hurt me, but…” 

“If you trust him, that’s good enough for us,” Emily says fiercely. 

Spencer can’t help it; he looks at JJ before staring stubbornly down at the table again. The words burn on their way out: “This wouldn’t be the first time I trusted the wrong person, though.” 

“We need to make sure we’re prepared for all eventualities, but I think it’s worth the risk,” Hotch says. “We can discuss it more on the jet. Wheels up in thirty.” 

Spencer refuses to meet any of their eyes as he gathers up his folder and his bag. He gets out of the conference room before anyone can try to talk to him. His cheeks are burning, and his hands are shaking, and he’s already jittery but he really needs coffee; beyond that singular thought, his brain is stuck between stations, all white noise and useless static. 

The coffee pot in the break room is empty. He’s glad; it’s good to have something to do with his hands, a ritual, a tiny piece of his life that he can still count on. Filter, measure grounds, fresh water… 

“Spence.” It’s JJ, of course, and Spencer’s first petulant instinct is to ignore her. “Spence. Look, we gotta talk about this.” 

“About what? The fact that one of the few people I still trusted turns out to be a serial killer?” Spencer says sharply. “It’s becoming a pattern, me trusting the wrong people. I’m getting used to it.” 

“You know what I mean.” Her voice is low and soothing, like she’s talking to a victim’s family. 

“I don't want to talk about it.” 

“I get it, okay?” she says, still in that calm, professional voice. Spencer wishes she’d scream instead. He wants to scream. “You're disappointed with the way we handled Emily.”

He breathes in through his nose, out through his mouth, focusing on the steady drip of coffee into the pot. 

“Listen, I have a lot going on, all right?” he says coolly. 

“You know what I think it is?” He doesn’t look at her, but she continues anyway: “You're mad that Hotch and I controlled our micro-expressions at the hospital and you weren't able to detect our deception.” 

It hurts. Her words bite down somewhere deep, venomous needle-sharp fangs that sink in and sting, and the toxic ache spreads through his system before he can take a breath. 

“You think it's about my profiling skills?” he spits back. “Jennifer, listen, the only reason you were able to manage my perceptions is because I trusted you. I came to your house for ten weeks in a row crying over losing a friend, and not once did you have the decency to tell me the truth.” 

Her expression is hurt, confused, and she says quietly, “I couldn't.” 

“You couldn't? Or you wouldn't?” he snaps. 

“No, I couldn't,” she insists. Her eyes are brimming with tears now, and Spencer feels a sick rush of satisfaction. 

He knows it’s cruel, but he lashes out anyway: “What if I started taking Dilaudid again? Would you have let me?” 

She recoils. “You didn't.” 

“Yeah, but I thought about it.” It’s petty and it’s unfair and it’s vicious, and he doesn’t care, not even a little bit. 

It stuns her into silence for a moment, and he turns to pour coffee into his travel cup, hands shaking so badly he almost spills. 

“Spence,” she whispers. “I'm sorry.” 

He whirls on her, almost shouts: “It's too late, all right?” 

“Reid,” she says, but he’s already brushing past her, and he doesn’t stop. 

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

February 2010 

He’ll never forget the look on Dean’s face. He knows it a little too well, by now: disappointment, disgust. I expected better. This isn’t who I raised you to be. You’re not the person I thought you were. 

“You know I couldn’t have gotten out of that bathroom on my own,” Sam says. “You know I wouldn’t have - I wouldn’t have done that. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to.”  

Dean doesn’t trust him, though. He’s not sure Dean will ever trust him again. 

Sam lets Dean lock him in the panic room. He doesn’t protest; he goes without complaint, head down, like a dog with its tail between its legs as it waits for a kick that never comes. Detox will hurt. It always does. He feels like he deserves that, though. 

Dean almost says something, before he closes the door. The words catch on his lips and die on his throat, and he just shakes his head as he slides the deadbolts into place. 

“I’m sorry,” Sam says, but Dean’s already walking away, and the hallucinations are already creeping in around the edges of his vision: his mother sighing sadly, his younger self shaking his head in contempt. 

Sam sits down, curls up, and looks around at the bare walls and the locked door. The floor is cold under him, and he can already feel the chill sinking into his skin, down to his bones. He leans back against the wall and tries to breathe through the panic. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, over and over again, but he’s not really sure who he’s talking to any more. 

The hallucinations fade. The bloodstains won’t, not really. Dean will see those forever. 

He can barely look at Sam when he finally unlocks the door. 

Sam’s still itchy and wired, that night, even though the worst of it is over. Dean’s not even trying to pretend he’s doing anything other than keeping watch outside. He’s sitting in the hallway with a bottle of whiskey for company. Sam can’t leave, and he sure as hell can’t sleep, so he calls Spencer, and he doesn’t realize until it starts ringing that it’s two in the morning. 

“Hi, Sam,” Spencer says, staticky and distant. 

“Hey.” 

“You okay?” 

Sam sighs, stammers, stops, tries to start again. He doesn’t know what to say. 

“Not really,” he manages. There’s another long pause before he can admit, “I fucked up. I keep fucking up.” 

“Oh,” Spencer says softly. “Okay.” 

Sam exhales. “I didn’t mean to.” 

“I know. I believe you.”

“You’re the only one who does.” 

“I trust you,” Spencer says. It’s so matter-of-fact, so easy, and it’s been a long time since someone trusted Sam like that. He didn’t realize how much he missed it. 

“Why?” Sam asks. He tries to laugh, but it comes out wet and choked. 

“That’s what friends do, right?” 

Sam takes a deep, shaky breath and swallows down the lump in his throat, trying not to wonder if Dean’s still standing guard outside his door.  

“Thanks for picking up,” Sam says, barely a whisper. 

“Any time.” 

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

They cuff his hands behind the back of the uncomfortable metal chair. Sam didn’t expect anything less, but he still hates it. They had the entire team except for Spencer there to take him in, and that was a few too many guns trained on him for comfort, but he’s alone now. It’s cold, and the walls are blank, and he shivers. 

He’s spent too much of his life locked in cages of one sort or another. 

When Spencer finally opens the door, Sam can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief, even as his stomach twists with nerves. He’d worried they would insist on sending someone else in. 

“Hey, Spencer,” he says quietly. 

Spencer doesn’t answer. He avoids eye contact as he sits down, settling in with his posture stiff and his hands clasped on the table in front of him. He looks like a different person from the one Sam first met; the jittery, fidgety, chattering Spencer is gone, and there’s an actual Fed in his place. Even when he meets Sam’s eyes, his expression doesn’t give anything away. He’s ice-cold and completely closed-off. 

Sam tries to breathe. 

“Where’s Dean?” Spencer asks bluntly. 

“He’s at a friend’s, trying to figure out how to clear our names.” 

“Why isn’t he here with you?” 

“He didn’t think this was a good idea,” Sam says. “We haven’t had great experiences with law enforcement, but… him even more than me. I trust you. He doesn’t.” 

Spencer’s eyes narrow. “You trust me.” 

Sam shrugs helplessly. “That’s what friends do, right?” 

Spencer’s face goes stormy immediately, and he leans closer, glaring at Sam with startling intensity. “Let’s get one thing straight. You and I are not friends. You’re a murderer, and the only reason I’m here is that I want to see what you look like when you’re telling the truth… because apparently you’ve been lying to me since we met.” 

It’s not unexpected, but it still hurts. Sam hesitates for a moment before saying softly, “I’m not a murderer, and I haven’t been lying to you.” 

“There’s video.” 

“It’s not me.” 

Spencer stares at him incredulously. “All that stuff you never wanted to talk about. All those times you talked about… being scared of yourself, worrying what you could do. What was that, then?” 

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Sam says. He feels exhausted, suddenly. 

“You’ve never even told me what you do for a living!” 

“I can’t.” 

“How am I supposed to believe you?” Spencer asks. He’s starting to lose his composure, an agitated edge creeping into his voice. 

“Look, remember when you called me, and told me you might be dying?” 

“How is that relevant?” Spencer hisses. 

“I figured it out, afterward. Anthrax. Right?” 

“How did you…” 

“And you told me that you couldn’t give me details, and the details weren’t important anyway.” 

“That’s right.” 

“And I accepted that, because I trust you, and I trust that if you’re not telling me something, it’s for a damn good reason,” Sam says determinedly. “They tried to keep it out of the news, but later, once I knew you were okay, I did some digging, and I figured it out. Why didn’t you alert the public?” 

Spencer looks utterly baffled. “Because people would panic. There’d be mass hysteria.” 

“There you go. It’s the same thing.” 

“It’s not the same thing at all,” Spencer exclaims. “I work for the federal government!” 

“Look, I know you, okay?” Sam says desperately. “I know that your job is to notice the details that don’t make sense. Even when something seems obvious, you and your team pay attention, and you make sure everything fits, and you figure out the truth, not just whatever bullshit explanation seems easiest.” 

Spencer nods slowly. 

“That’s why you’re here, and that’s why your team didn’t shoot me on sight,” Sam continues. “And I know you’re good at your job, so I know you’ve noticed that there are things about this case that don’t add up. Okay? Why would I be here talking to you, if I was guilty? Did you ask yourself how I got to Montana so quickly? Did you talk to any of the witnesses from the old cases? Diana Ballard? Rebecca Warren? Did you try to profile us? Find any similarities in m.o. between all those murders? No. None of it made any sense then, and none of it makes any sense now. You know why? Because it wasn’t us,” he finishes.  

“Sam. Maybe there are details from the old cases that don’t make sense, but…” Spencer trails off, shaking his head, like he doesn’t even know where to start. Then he stops himself, sets his jaw, refocuses, and when he looks at Sam again, there’s nothing but pure clear anger in his face. “Look me in the eye, right now, and tell me you’ve never killed anyone.” 

Sam instinctively goes to tuck his hair behind his ears, but the cuffs cut the movement short. Spencer sees it. His face falls, bitter and disappointed. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he mutters. 

“I’ve never killed anything that didn’t deserve it,” Sam insists. 

“Any thing? Really? Or any person?” Spencer asks. Sam doesn’t answer, and Spencer continues, rushing, like he can’t stop the words from coming out: “Do you know how many times I’ve heard a serial killer say that? Everybody thinks they have a reason, Sam, whether angels told him the guy was guilty, or… Satan was possessing them, or… a talking dog told them the meaning of life.” 

Sam lets out a borderline hysterical laugh, and Spencer just stares like he’s completely crazy. Sam can’t blame him. He’s starting to feel crazy. 

“Okay, here, look,” he says, in a sudden burst of inspiration. “Go through the old case files, look at the dates. Every one, I guarantee you, people were dying before we got to town. There’s gotta be a way to prove it, right? The murders started happening before we got there. Everything you’ve told me about Penelope, I bet she can do it, easy.” 

“What, so now you’re telling me you’re some sort of vigilante?” Spencer half-shouts. 

“Not exactly, no.” Sam’s starting to run out of ideas. 

The door opens abruptly, and a stern-faced agent says, “Reid. A word?” 

Spencer gives Sam one last look before he gets up. It’s a familiar expression: disgust, disappointment, you’re not the person I thought you were. Then he turns his back, and the door slams shut behind him. Sam can hear the click of the lock. 

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

April 2010 

He writes to her every day, pages and pages of words. He hopes she realizes that they all boil down to “I love you,” because right now, he doesn’t know what else to say.

“Hi, Mom, this is Spencer,” he says, “I just… I just really want you to know that I love you. And -” when he blinks away tears he can practically see her, her smile swimmy through the salt water, same as it looked when he was small and crying over a scraped knee, and if he keeps thinking like that he’ll never make it through this message. He pauses, gulps for air, steadies himself. “I need you to know that I spend every day of my life proud to be your son.” 

She hasn’t taken care of him since he was small. Right now, though, he feels small and scared, and all he wants is for his mom to tell him that she loves him, and that it’s going to be alright. 

“Reid?” Penelope whispers, and then he hears Dr. Kimura, and he doesn’t get to be a child right now; there’s nobody there to take care of him. 

“I gotta go,” he says, and hangs up before Garcia can ask questions. 

“Doctor Reid?” 

“You look nice,” he jokes, with a watery laugh, and she smiles. “How are the patients doing?” 

“Let’s worry about you,” she says smoothly. 

Spencer forces a smile and shakes his head. “I actually… I feel fine.” It’s one of the most obvious lies he’s ever told. 

“If you feel any pain, I could give you something,” she offers. 

“No, I’d rather not take any pain medication.” His hands are shaking, but at least his voice sounds strong. 

She looks concerned. “We can at least make you feel more comfortable.” 

“I am comfortable, and I don’t want to take any narcotics,” he says fiercely. It’s not easy to say the words, but he feels better once he does; he feels proud. 

There’s someone else he needs to call, Spencer realizes. 

“Tell me how I can help,” Dr. Kimura says, and Spencer nods. First things first: if the poison is here, so is the antidote. 

“I think the cure for this strain is in here somewhere,” he says, ignoring the way his chest aches.  

“Well, shall I start here?” 

“Yes, just… I just need a moment.” 

Spencer looks down at his phone. He could call Garcia, again, have her save the message as a contingency plan, but he’s not sure he could handle her questions right now, and he can trust Sam not to push for details; he’s always been good about that. 

“Hey, Spencer.” 

“Hey, so, I can’t explain, but I’m not sure I’m going to make it out of this,” he says, stumbling over the words. “Don’t interrupt, I can’t - I just wanted to say thank you. In case I don’t get to say it again. Recovery was… I don’t… you helped. Thanks for always picking up the phone when I needed you.” 

“Right back at you,” Sam says quietly. 

It’s getting harder to breathe, and the panicked hammering of his heartbeat isn’t helping. 

“Thanks,” he says again, and closes the phone without saying goodbye. 

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

“Reid, you need to calm down,” Hotch says, as soon as the lock clicks behind them. 

“I know,” Spencer says, rubbing his eyes, agitated. “There’s just… there’s so much that doesn’t make sense.” 

“It’s more than that.” Hotch gives him one of those piercing glares he’s so good at. “You’re allowing your anger with JJ to cloud what you’re seeing in Sam.” 

Spencer can’t really argue with that. He just nods. 

“When this is over, I want you to take a couple days,” Hotch says. “You need some time to process.” 

Spencer’s instinct is to argue, but one look at Hotch’s face tells him it’s pointless. He nods again, reluctantly. 

“Garcia is checking into the pattern that he talked about,” Hotch says, as he leads Spencer back into the observation room. “She may be able to pin the Winchesters’ locations at the times of the original murders. JJ’s talking to old witnesses. There has to be something Henricksen missed.” 

Emily, Morgan, and Rossi are clustered in the small, spare room, watching Sam through the one-way glass. Emily cuts herself off mid-sentence as Spencer and Hotch walk in. 

“You okay, kid?” Morgan asks again, looking at Spencer like he’s a bomb about to go off, and Spencer tries to smile for him. 

“All my time in the Bureau, I’ve never seen a case that made less sense,” Rossi comments. 

They all look at Sam, who’s frowning down at the table, deep in thought. 

Spencer clears his throat and asks, “Do you believe him?” 

“I believe that he’s telling part of the truth,” Hotch says. “It’s what he’s not saying that concerns me.” 

Inside the interrogation room, Sam starts, eyes wide, and looks from the door to the one-way mirror. 

“Hey,” he barks. “Hey, I know you’re listening! It’s St. Louis. I figured out the pattern, and they’re going to St. Louis next.” He tugs at the cuffs, clearly agitated. “Come on. Can anybody hear me?” 

“He’s genuinely distressed,” Emily says, frowning.

“If it’s a delusion, it’s a complex one,” Morgan adds. 

The door swings open, and JJ starts talking before any of them can ask: “That was Diana Ballard. She swears up and down that it’s all a big misunderstanding, but she’s not clear on any of the details; she just said that she’d trust the Winchesters with her life. Rebecca Warren said the same. There was someone impersonating the Winchesters, back then, and she swears up and down that someone’s got it out for them now.” 

“How did Henricksen not have that statement in his file?” Morgan asks. 

“Maybe Sam’s right, as much as I hate to admit it,” Emily says. “Maybe this is a case of agents just wanting the easy explanation.” 

“You guys are gonna want to see this,” Penelope interrupts, hurrying through the door as fast as her hot pink heels will allow, holding out her tablet. 

“Another one?” JJ asks. 

“Unfortunately, yes, and it’s a doozy. This just came in from -” 

“St. Louis,” Hotch fills in grimly. 

“How did you know?” Penelope asks, but she presses play without waiting for an answer, and they all cluster together to watch the grainy cell phone footage: Sam, leaning in close, giving the camera a smug smile before he opens fire. 

“Is that really…” Spencer says numbly, looking from the screen to the window, where Sam is tapping his foot, impatient, undeniably solid and real. 

“It’s real,” she confirms. “And to top it off, I found a call that the local brass dismissed, but I just talked to him a couple minutes ago and it sounds like the genuine article. A guy thinks he saw the older Winchester just a couple hours after Sam originally called us. He was at a gas station in, you guessed it, Montana.” 

There’s a stunned pause, while everybody tries to digest that news, until Emily breaks the silence with a succinct, “What in the ever-loving fuck is happening.” 

“I’m going to talk to Sam,” Hotch says. 

Spencer’s acutely aware of everyones’ eyes on him again as he moves closer to the window. His reflection in the glass looks masklike and composed, but he doesn’t feel anything of the sort. 

He’s kind of starting to believe Sam. That’s his first instinct, at least. Something deep in his gut is telling him to trust, but it’s being strangled by the suspicion and twisted fear that have been poisoning him slowly since Emily came back. Now that it’s in his system, Spencer’s not sure how to flush it out; it’s just in him now, like some sort of chronic infection. 

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

March 2011

“I hate how often we see it,” Spencer says quietly. “It’s the first thing everybody thought of, with this kid, even though it wasn’t just schizophrenia, but… what’s the difference, between him and my mom?” 

“Your mom has you,” Sam points out. He can hear the murmur of Dean and Bobby’s voices downstairs, constant and comforting. 

“The headaches haven’t stopped.” 

Sam grimaces. “No answers, still?” 

“They all say there’s nothing wrong with me, physically.”

“Yeah,” Sam sighs. “That’s… kinda harder, isn’t it?” 

“I hate not knowing,” Spencer fumes. “I hate that there’s no test for it. Even if it was a positive diagnosis, I’d rather have that, you know? I mean, that’d be awful, obviously, but… ” 

“At least you’d know,” Sam finishes. “Yeah.” 

“It’s like my brain may or may not be a ticking bomb. No way of knowing what’s hiding up there,” Spencer bites out, with a warped attempt at a laugh. 

Sam can’t help but think of his flashback: coming back to reality with Dean pale and wide-eyed above him, the disorientation of feeling the solid floor under his back, the way his skin still burned. It felt so real. 

He pushes those thoughts away. 

“Like you can’t even trust yourself,” Sam says softly. 

“Exactly.” Spencer’s voice is small and thin, and he sounds very young, suddenly. “My mom’s counting on me. What if… if something happened - I don’t know who would take care of her. Of us.” 

“Your family,” Sam says, without hesitating. 

“My team? Yeah, I… I guess so.” 

“Your family,” Sam repeats. “Even if you can’t trust yourself, you’ll be able to trust your family.” 

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

Sam’s heart leaps at the sound of the door opening again.

“They’re going to St. Louis,” he says, all in a rush, before the stern-faced agent from earlier can even sit down. The guy doesn’t bat an eye, just sits down calmly, pinning Sam with a stare that could strip paint. 

“Sam, I’m Supervisory Special  Agent Aaron Hotchner.” Sam’s heard Spencer talk about “Hotch,” and it all makes sense now. “What makes you think St Louis is next?” 

“They’re retracing our steps,” Sam answers. “Dean and I, when we started working together. They’re hitting each town we stopped in. Jericho, Black Water Ridge, Manitoc. St. Louis is next.” 

Sam holds his breath, hoping he won’t be pressed on his definition of working. He can see the moment Hotch comes to a decision with an infinitesimal nod. 

“We’re too late,” he says. “We just got the news.” 

“Shit,” Sam can’t help but mutter, and he tugs instinctively at the handcuffs, frustrated, done with sitting still. 

“This means you’re innocent,” Hotch points out, clearly watching Sam’s reaction. 

Sam can’t help but roll his eyes. “Yeah, but I already knew that. It’s… Iowa next, then. Ankeny, Iowa.” 

“Very well,” Hotch says flatly, giving Sam a critical, evaluating look. “It’s very clear that you’re not what we thought you were, and you may be able to help us end this. Are you still interested in accompanying us?” 

“Yes,” Sam replies impatiently. 

“First, I’m going to give you one last chance to tell me the truth about what’s going on here,” Hotch says, in such a low, dangerous voice that Sam’s almost intimidated. “Otherwise, if one of my agents gets hurt because you withheld information, or if there’s even a hint that you’re leading us into a trap, I will shoot you without hesitation. Do I make myself clear?” 

Jesus. But if the FBI can help him get to Iowa in time, with enough firepower to put a dent in the Leviathans, this’ll all be worth it. 

Sam leans forward, as much as his cuffs will allow, meeting Hotch’s impenetrable glare with a determined stare of his own. 

“Look, I could tell you more, but you’re not going to believe some of it until you see for yourself,” he snaps. “So as far as I’m concerned, the only truth that matters is this: people are dying, and we both want to put a stop to it. Now, are you going to waste time asking for irrelevant details, or are you going to choose to trust me?”  

Hotch holds his gaze for a moment before nodding tersely. “Let’s get going, then. I’ll go get the keys.”

He gets up and Sam grimaces at his retreating back, twisting his wrist uncomfortably to get the bobby pin at the right angle. Then the cuffs fall to the ground with a metallic clatter, and Hotch looks back at him in disbelief. Sam smiles at him, equal parts sheepish and smug. 

“I told you, full cooperation,” he explains, and Hotch shakes his head like he might just be a tiny bit impressed. 

The rest of the team is waiting out in the hallway, some looking skeptical (tall, dark, handsome, eyebrows; Morgan, if Sam's guessing right), others nervous (pink pom-poms in her hair; that’ll be Penelope), but almost all with some degree of confusion written across their faces. Sam can’t exactly blame them. Spencer’s staring at his shoes, avoiding eye contact. 

They’re a very clean, professional-looking bunch, and it’s making Sam incredibly uncomfortable, even aside from the obvious awkwardness inherent in the situation. 

“I’m Sam,” he blurts out, and then winces. “Um. You knew that.” 

“Yep,” Penelope squeaks. “This is weird.”  

“Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, David Rossi,” Hotch says brusquely, pointing to each in turn. “Jennfer Jareau, Penelope Garcia, and you know Spencer. There’ll be time to talk more on the jet. Everyone, grab your things, meet outside in five.” He’s already pulling out a cell phone and striding away as the team scatters, and Sam feels sort of windswept in his wake; the guy’s intense.

Sam and Spencer are alone in the hallway. Sam’s stomach twists. This is familiar. This is another person he’s let down, and the bitter voice in the back of his head whispering you fucked up again is familiar too. 

“I’m sorry,” Sam blurts out. “I know it doesn’t change anything, but… I’m sorry.” 

Spencer looks up at him with a quizzical frown, head tilted. “I was going to apologize to you.” 

Sam blinks. “Why?” 

Spencer presses his lips together in a funny little grimace. Sam had forgotten that face, the weird things he does with his mouth when he’s not sure what to say.

“For not trusting you.” His voice is scratchy and uneven and honest, now that there isn’t any anger keeping it strong and sure. “I wanted to believe that you… that it couldn’t be you. When I saw the first video, that was my instinct. But my instincts haven’t been great, lately.” 

Sam shakes his head. “No, you have nothing to apologize for.” 

“I think maybe I don’t trust myself right now?” Spencer barrels on. “But there’s video, and... I trust Hotch. If Hotch believes you... yeah. I’m sorry.” 

Sam’s not used to being forgiven so easily. It takes him a moment to remember how to speak. 

“You gave me a chance,” he says. “Most people wouldn’t have even picked up the phone. And there’s still… I still haven’t told you everything, why would you -”

“There are a lot of things going on that I don’t understand, and I want answers, don’t get me wrong.” Spencer looks frustrated for a moment. “But… knowing that you’re not a murderer goes a long way. The details can wait.” 

“When I start sharing details is when most people start running in the opposite direction,” Sam admits. 

“I think that’s sort of a universal human experience,” Spencer offers. He looks like he’s trying not to laugh, now. “Or at least, the fear is. Nobody likes telling the full truth. It’s uncomfortable at best, painful at worst.” 

Sam huffs out a laugh and swipes a hand over his face. “Yeah, okay. Got me there.” 

“I’ll trust that you’re not lying if you trust that I won’t run,” Spencer says, and he’s not smiling now. He’s dead serious, determined, maybe a little scared. 

“Okay,” Sam says hoarsely. “Deal.” 

There’s an awkward moment where they both just look at each other, but then Spencer jerks his head in the direction of the front doors. “C’mon, we should go.” 

Sam nods and lets him lead the way. “Should we - do you know where my phone is? I need to call my brother.” 

“Garcia will have it.”

They walk out into the bullpen, where the team is bustling around, collecting their things, and Sam’s reminded again of how much they’re risking on his word. It’s overwhelming. His throat feels too tight. 

“So, that handcuff thing,” says Rossi, tossing his bag over his shoulder and falling into step next to Sam. 

Sam laughs. “Yeah, I can teach you. It’s just a bobby pin.” 

“Might help next time I get kidnapped,” Spencer says, with alarming nonchalance. 

“Would’ve come in handy a few times during college,” Rossi comments. 

“You mean as a party trick?” Spencer asks him. 

“Yeah. Sure, kid. A party trick.” 

“...oh.” 

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

November 2010 

“Spencer?” 

“I… is that you?” Spencer asks, so shocked he feels dizzy. It’s been six months. 

Spencer’s first thought had been, ‘Weird, that's the second “just in case” call in a month,’ when he got the voicemail. He’d almost laughed.  

Spencer had called Sam from the hospital, though, after the anthrax thing, when the antidote worked and he woke up. 

Sam never called. Spencer assumed he never woke up. 

“It’s me,” Sam says. “I’m so sorry, I -” 

“What happened?” 

“I was… sick,” Sam stammers. “Really… really sick. I’m sorry.” 

Spencer has to pause for a moment to digest that. His head is spinning. 

“What -” he starts, but he cuts himself off. He has some idea of what kind of sickness might cause someone to go away for six months, and it’s not physical. “Oh,” he says softly. 

“Sorry,” Sam says again. He sounds miserable. 

“No, don’t apologize,” Spencer protests. “You shouldn’t - it’s not your fault. I’m just glad you’re okay. I thought…” 

“Yeah.” 

All Spencer can say is, “I’m really glad you’re alive.” 

“Me too,” Sam says quietly. 

Spencer’s been wanting to talk to him for six months, but now he can’t think of anything to say. Eventually he just goes with the first thing that comes into his head: “You missed some really good episodes of Doctor Who.” 

Sam laughs. “Yeah, I’ve got some catching up to do.” 

Spencer closes his eyes and reminds himself to breathe. He’s never been so happy to be wrong. 

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Emily says flatly, as Spencer brandishes the Super Soaker in her direction. “Of all the stupid fucking ideas.” 

“Yup,” he says, popping the p and maybe kinda enjoying the way her eyes have gone all buggy. In a low voice, he adds, “Play along, remember?” 

She casts a glance over to where Sam is busying himself with the rest of the water guns and a box of Borax. “As long as he doesn’t try to take my fucking Glock.” 

“Nobody is taking your Glock, Emily,” Spencer says dryly. She shakes her head and goes over to join Morgan, Hotch, and JJ, who have already been outfitted and are standing at the other side of the parking lot. Garcia is sneakily taking a picture of them. 

Admittedly, when Sam insisted that they make an emergency stop between the airstrip and the police precinct, Spencer wasn’t expecting Toys R Us, but he was also pretty gobsmacked when Sam started talking about monsters. He’d waited until they were in the jet to do so, which was probably a smart move. This isn’t the first time they’ve played along with a delusion in order to get answers, but it’s definitely the strangest. 

Funniest, also. Spencer hopes Garcia got a lot of pictures. 

Sam will definitely be headed to an institution, when all of this is over, and Spencer’s having trouble processing that, but… well, it’s not like Spencer’s unfamiliar with that sort of facility. Spencer’s just glad Sam’s not a murderer, and he’s ready to get Dean, arrest whoever’s framing them, and get some answers. He can deal with the rest later; there’s only so much he can handle right now. 

It’s been a weird day. 

“Okay, we’re ready,” Sam announces, passing the last Super Soaker to Spencer. “Bobby didn’t know where they’re keeping Dean, but I’m guessing the cells. I’ll lead the way. Don’t trust anyone, we have to assume the local cops are Leviathans, at this point. Stick together, don’t let them touch you. Clear?” 

“And I’ll be right here with the emergency radio,” Garcia chimes in cheerily. “Thank God.” 

Sam tucks his own water gun into the back of his jeans, hefting the fire axe he’d somehow stolen from the cockpit of the jet without anyone noticing. “Let’s go,” he says authoritatively. 

“We’re right behind you,” JJ says, in her warmest, most soothing “placate the crazy man” voice.

Sam leads them around the corner and through the front door of the station, easing the door open without a sound, and they follow, entering the oddly quiet precinct quickly and efficiently. 

Spencer can see his teammates starting to draw their real weapons; luckily, Sam’s too focused on what’s in front of him to notice what everyone is doing behind him. Spencer hooks a finger on the Super Soaker and lets it dangle from his left hand, drawing his gun with his right, and most of the team is doing the same, for the sake of appearances. Emily and Morgan just set their water guns on the floor. 

“Dean?” Sam calls out. 

“Sammy!” 

Dean walks jauntily out into the bullpen like it’s a very normal thing to find a team of federal agents aiming their guns at him, but he does a double take, disconcerted, frowning for a moment at all the neon plastic toys on display. Then he recovers and turns a wide grin on Sam, who’s hanging back, wary. 

“You brought backup,” Dean says, laughing. “Good, I’m hungry. I’m very glad you made it.” 

“You’re not Dean,” Sam says, low and certain. 

“No, I am not,” the man says, almost gleeful. “Close enough, though! I have all his memories, and I wanted to chat for a moment, before I eat you. I like my meat a little bitter.” 

“What the almighty shitfire,” Emily breathes, but neither Sam or Dean pay any attention to her. Spencer has a hysterical urge to laugh, but he swallows it, heart pounding, not daring to look away from the insanity that’s unfolding in front of them. 

“Dean thinks you’re nuts, you know.” The man’s eyes flick behind Sam, taking in the team fanned out behind him. “So do your new friends.” 

Sam reaches behind his back to grab the handle of his water gun, but he holds it out of sight, still. Spencer keeps his finger firmly on the trigger of his real gun.

“Where’s my brother?” Sam snaps. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll get to the point.” He’s wearing a smug, nasty smile, and this isn’t going the way Spencer expected at all. “Dean killed Amy.”

Sam seems frozen, completely paralyzed. 

“There it is,” the man who isn’t Dean says, laughing. “Now I can eat you.” 

Sam draws his water gun so quickly it’s just a blur of neon orange, and then the man (thing, Spencer corrects himself frantically) is smoking. He’s smoking and sizzling wherever the water touches, and he’s screaming, looking just as stunned as Spencer feels in the split-second before Sam swings the fire axe and chops off his head with one powerful blow. 

There’s a moment where everything seems to slow down, like Spencer’s moving underwater, as he takes in the black goo pouring from the stump where the creature’s head used to be. 

“What in the almighty motherfucking shitfire,” Emily says again, into the momentary silence. 

“More incoming,” Sam snaps. “Heads up.” 

Then everything speeds up, too fast for Spencer to process, and it all blurs together: he’s holstering his gun, spraying water at something that’s wearing Sam’s face, as someone screams. Glass shatters, somewhere. Out of the corner of his eye Spencer sees Morgan pulling the station’s fire axe out of its case, whirling around without hesitation in a spray of black goo, and he keeps getting caught in the water pistol jets but it’s better than all those goddamn teeth, what the hell, in the massive mouth that just appeared, so he shoots, what, how, and then - 

And then it’s over as suddenly as it began. 

It’s over. 

Spencer’s heart is racing. He’s surrounded by puddles of water and puddles of oozing black, Morgan’s clutching an axe like it’s a life raft, and everyone is okay. Spencer looks around frantically, double-checking, but everyone is okay; they’re still standing, at least, although JJ, greenish-pale, looks like she’s seconds away from keeling over in shock. 

“Back here, Sammy!” comes a muffled voice from the back of the station. Sam casually wipes the blade of his axe on the side of his pants, expression unreadable. Spencer watches him clench his jaw and take a deep breath. 

“Sweet baby Jesus,” Rossi mumbles. 

Sam’s face is blank as he looks around, taking in the mess and the team. 

“I told you so,” he says mildly. Then he steps over the headless remains of a monster and goes to get his brother. 

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

November 2009

He doesn’t bother trying to go back to sleep after the second nightmare. He goes outside instead, sits on the curb in the parking lot, looks up. The stars are barely visible with the Vegas light pollution, but it still helps to be outside. He can breathe a little easier. 

There’s this tightly-knotted mess of rage in his chest, sitting on his ribcage like a tumor, poisoning him slowly. 

It’s almost four in the morning, and he has no idea where Sam might be, or what time it is there. He takes out his phone anyway and fires off a text. 

You awake? 

The phone rings less than a minute later. 

“What’s up?” Sam asks. He doesn’t sound like he was sleeping. 

“I’m in Vegas,” Spencer says softly, and then realizes that doesn’t mean anything to Sam. “It’s where I grew up.” 

“Win big on the slot machines?” 

“I guess. I won two thousand dollars today, actually. I… I gave it to a prostitute,” Spencer admits. He adds hastily, “Not for sex.” 

Sam laughs. “Right.” 

There’s a moment of silence. Spencer could make small talk, now; he could pretend he called for no reason in particular. Sam wouldn’t believe him, but he wouldn’t question it, either. 

He takes a deep breath and spits the words out fast, before he can regret letting them loose. “Apparently my dad lived really close by my entire life, even after he left my mom and me. I didn’t know. He never told me.”

“Shit,” Sam says. 

“He was keeping tabs on me my whole life,” he says. His voice gives him away, breaking and rasping, and it hurts to keep forcing the words out. “He read all my articles, my dissertation, everything I ever had published. My friends seem to think I should be happy about that.” 

“That’s bull,” Sam says firmly. 

“Why wasn’t it enough?” Spencer whispers. He’s been holding that question in all day, and it’s been choking him. 

His lower lip is wobbling. He’s glad Sam can’t see him. This is the sort of honesty that’s much easier from a distance; Sam might hang up right now, but at least Spencer won’t have to watch him walk away. 

“Do you think they know?” Sam asks. “How badly they messed us up, I mean.” 

“Do you think they care?” It comes out more bitter than he intended. Spencer makes a face and looks down at his feet in their mismatched socks. “I think that’s the important part. If he cared, I could probably forgive him, but… I don’t think he does. Not really.” 

“Yeah.” 

Spencer takes a breath. The anger is gone now. He doesn’t like how hollow he feels in its wake, but he does feel lighter. He feels better. 

“Thanks for listening,” he says. “It helps.”

There’s a long pause, and Spencer thinks maybe he should hang up, now, try to rest even if he can’t sleep. 

“Want to hear a joke?” Sam asks. “I tried to tell Dean, but... I don’t think he got it.” 

“Sure.” 

“How many existentialists does it take to screw in a lightbulb?” 

“How many?” 

“Two. One to change the light bulb and one to to observe how it symbolizes an incandescent beacon of subjectivity in a netherworld of cosmic nothingness.” 

Spencer laughs, grinning up at the stars. “That’s good. I’m gonna steal that.” 

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

Sam sighs as he closes the door of the precinct behind himself. They’re not totally done with cleanup, but all Hotch’s wild-eyed muttering about paperwork is starting to make him anxious. 

Also, every time he looks at Dean, he feels sick. 

He sits down on the bench that’s out front, under a little awning. The sky is dark with clouds, and the air is thick, threatening rain, so humid it seems hard to breathe… but maybe that’s the shock setting in. 

He barely gets a minute of peace before Dean comes out to find him. 

“Hey,” Dean says cheerfully. “Ready to go? I’m starving, and I don’t want to be here when that bunch starts asking questions. Pretty cool, though, having an in with the FBI. Definitely makes life easier, bein’ dead again.”

He’s standing there on the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets, grinning like it’s just another day. Sam’s chest hurts. 

“Don’t,” he says quietly. 

“What’s up?” Dean asks, frowning. 

“You killed Amy,” Sam says, and he watches Dean’s face as he realizes, the way he shifts his weight uncomfortably. 

“Listen, Sam...” he says.

“No, you know what, don’t,” Sam spits. He knows the drill. Dean thought he was doing the right thing, he made a choice, he had to take responsibility if Sam couldn’t. Sam looks at his feet and says, “I don’t think I can be around you right now.” 

“So… what, you -” 

“You should go,” Sam says. He looks up and searches Dean’s face for some sign of guilt, remorse, empathy, but Dean just looks resigned. Sam wishes he would just start screaming, or throw a punch so Sam could hit him back. It’s not fair that Sam’s the only one in pain right now. 

“Okay, Sam,” Dean says, and he turns to go. Sam watches him walk away. 

He’s not sure how long he sits on the bench, watching people pass. The sky is getting darker by the minute. 

Spencer doesn’t announce his presence when he comes outside, just sits on the bench next to Sam and waits quietly. 

“He killed my friend,” Sam mumbles, without looking at him. “She was a monster, but she didn’t… she didn’t mean to. She didn’t want to hurt anybody.” 

“Let me guess, he thought he was doing the right thing?” Spencer says wryly. 

The lack of pity in his voice makes it easier for Sam to keep talking, and sarcasm feels better than grief. “Shocking, right?” he says. There’s a low rumble of thunder overhead, and they both look up at the sky. “I didn’t have many friends, but… I liked her.” The grief seems to be creeping in whether he wants it or not. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Thanks.” Sam’s throat feels tight. “He’s my brother, I just… I’ve fucked up in the past, I know I have. But I always feel like I have to earn his forgiveness. It feels like I’m always asking him to give me another chance, to trust me again, and… and he still doesn’t really look at me the same way. Then he pulls something like this, and I know, one way or the other, he just doesn’t trust me. He thinks it’s okay to lie to me, because I don’t deserve the truth.” 

Spencer doesn’t say anything, just makes an unhappy, understanding sort of sound. The first fat raindrops start to fall on the concrete in front of them, and they’re both quiet for a moment. 

Sam smiles in spite of himself, remembering. “She changed her name, since I met her. Her name was always Amy, but she changed her last name to Pond.” 

“Cool,” Spencer says. 

“Yeah. I mean, no, she wasn’t cool, neither of us were, but… yeah.” 

Sam can breathe a little easier, now. 

“What are you going to do?” Spencer asks. 

Sam looks sideways at him and sees the way his mouth is twitching. “Don’t.” 

“Nothing you can do, is what I seem to remember you saying,” Spencer says innocently. “Give it time. Right? Does that make you feel any better?” 

Sam laughs, burying his face in his hands. “That was fucking useless advice. Fuck, don’t ever listen to me.” He wipes his eyes. “This just sucks.” 

“Yeah, it really does,” Spencer agrees. It’s pouring steadily now, rain streaming off the sides of their little awning. “Apparently Hotch thinks I should run away from my problems for a little while, give myself time to process, so I’ve been ordered to take a couple days off.” 

“JJ, still?” 

“Yeah. I think maybe he’s right. But… I was going to rent a car and drive back to DC, instead of taking the jet. Make a couple detours. Get some space. Give it time. You could come, if you want.” 

Sam turns to him, surprised, but Spencer looks sincere; he’s giving Sam one of his trademark anxious not-quite-smiles. 

“I was just going to hotwire a car,” Sam blurts out, and then winces. “That might be a better idea.” 

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.” 

“I guess you probably have some questions,” Sam says reluctantly. 

Spencer grins. “Harder for me to run away if we’re in a moving vehicle, right?” 

Sam laughs, tucking his hair behind his ears. “Yeah, guess so.” 

“After today, I’m not actually sure I want to know all the details,” Spencer says, wrinkling his nose. “But I do have some questions.” 

“Anything you want to know,” Sam promises. “The truth. I promise. I should’ve… I should’ve told you sooner.” 

Spencer shrugs. “No, I’m pretty sure you were right, I would’ve run away screaming.” 

Sam laughs and rolls his eyes, and they sit there in silence for a moment, watching the rain start to slow. The clouds are already starting to blow over. 

-

“Never tell the truth to people who are not worthy of it.” 

― Mark Twain

-

You can now read about the road trip right here!

[wandercrss]

‹ kathryn newton. cis woman. she/her. muse 1q. › cassandra ‘cass’ mitchell is back in rochdale for the summer. they’re currently twenty two years old and are known as the lot soul of the rioters, especially after they were constantly skipping classes and smoking during school hours. they graduated in 2017 and since then they’ve been nomadically moving from place to place working odd jobs. they decided to come back for the summer because she’s alone and secretly feels like the rioters are the only family she’s ever had. let’s hope they have the summer of their dreams! ( jess. she/her. 24. est. )

trigger warnings: death, abandonment, drug mention

full character page here

G E N E R A L

FULL NAME: cassandra elaine mitchell

NICKNAME(S): cass

TROPE: the lost soul

B A S I C S

AGE: twenty-two (22) 

BIRTHDAY: november 1, 1998

NATIONALITY: american

ETHNICITY: caucasian

GENDER: cis-woman

PRONOUNS: she/her/hers

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: panromantic

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: pansexual

POLITICAL AFFILIATION: liberal 

RELIGION: atheist 

OCCUPATION: moves from job to job / currently looking for something new

R E L A T I O N S H I P S

PARENTS: kristen mitchell (mother - estranged), biological father (unknown)

SIBLINGS: penelope mitchell (older half-sister - deceased)

SIGNIFICANT OTHER(S): none.

CHILDREN: none.

CLOSEST FRIENDS: tbd.

RIVALS: tbd.

ENEMIES: tbd.

P H Y S I C A L   T R A I T S

FACECLAIM: kathryn newton

EYE COLOR: blue

HAIR COLOR: blonde

HEIGHT: 5′5

BODY BUILD: slim

NOTABLE PHYSICAL TRAITS: eyes

AESTHETIC/STYLE: casual (punk undertones...yes, i’m making that up)

P E R S O N A L I T Y

POSITIVE TRAITS: brave, determined, adventurous, loyal

NEGATIVE TRAITS: resentful, secretive, deceptive, isolating

TYPICAL MOOD/EXPRESSION:  neutral

ZODIAC SIGN: scorpio

MORAL ALIGNMENT: lawful evil

ENNEAGRAM: type eight - the challenger

MBTI: entj

HOGWARTS HOUSE: slytherin

M I S C E L L A N E O U S

SKILLS: getting out of trouble, making something you’d least expect an adventure, thought-out pranks, ‘hangover cures’ 

HOBBIES: sketching/photography, pulling a prank on friends, smoking/drinking, more to come

FEARS/PHOBIAS: being left completely alone, losing those she loves

FAVORITES: iced coffee, burritos, thunderstorms, sunrises over sunsets

B I O G R A P H Y

cassandra elaine mitchell, mostly known as cass, was the second child born to kristen mitchell on november 1, 1998. cass’s upbringing was known to be rocky, at best. kristen was a single mother to cass and her older half-sister, penelope. cass and penelope were almost seven years apart in age, but that couldn’t get in the way of their bond. 

from a young age, penelope felt very protective over cass. part of that was out of necessity. see, kristen wasn’t exactly committed to the whole mother-gig. penelope and cass weren’t apart of her plan, just byproducts of drunken one-night-stands. kristen often had trouble holding down a job and seemed more invested in finding herself a relationship to dive into. when it came to being a mother, though, she often didn’t even try. she relied on penelope a lot as the girl got older, even leaving the young child in charge for days at a time as kristen went off on another bender or to another party. penelope tried to shield cass from a lot of it, but that wasn’t an easy job. 

when penelope turned 19, kristen was even more of a mess than usual. she had lost her job completely, their home was about to be repossessed, and the woman just couldn’t handle it all. so, she disappeared. packed up and left, leaving cass under penelope’s care. 

it was less than ideal for a 19-year-old to now be on her own taking care of a 12-year-old child, but penelope and cass were closer than anything. they knew they could make it work. now that it was just the two of them, they didn’t have to worry about their mother coming in and screwing things up. penelope began working two jobs in town so she and cass could rent a tiny one bedroom. it was tough, but it brought penelope and cass together. 

with penelope at work so often, cass was suddenly on her own more and more. it was lonely and isolating, so she decided she would find adventure for herself. cass was always an explorer. a wanderer, as penelope would often call her. she liked to dive into unknown territory, discover new things, and jump off high places just to see how it would feel. it drove penelope crazy, but it made cass feel alive. 

cass always prioritized herself over school. it wasn’t that she wasn’t smart. it was that she hated the idea of being cooped up in a classroom for eight hours every day. she became known for her skill in cutting classes. 

when cass was in high school, she started to make more and more friends. eventually, she found herself apart of the group known as the rioters. other than penelope, cass had never really had a family. and slowly but surely, the rioters really became to feel like one. she was their very own sarcastic, jaded, adventurous lost soul. some of her best memories ever were with the rioters. 

as high school came to a close, cass had to decide what was next. most of her friends were off to exciting things, but cass didn’t have a plan. neither did penelope. but the older girl was exhausted all of the time, having spent half of her 20s just working to put a roof over their heads. so, the two decided to leave rochdale behind and actually see what else the world had to offer. after graduation, they jumped in their car and were off. 

they spent many years travelling...setting up shop in small towns where they could earn some money, spending nights eating one-dollar cheeseburgers and sleeping in their car. it was far from glamorous. but it was exciting. all they needed was each other. cass would take photos, documenting their journey. they would pick up jobs in retail during the holiday season or waitress at a local diner for a few months until they decided to move on.  they lived their lives month-to-month. week-to-week. minute-to-minute. 

eventually, penelope felt like they should think about settling down somewhere. as much as she enjoyed the adventure with her sister, she craved stability. cass didn’t agree. this was the life she liked. nomadic. impermanent. nowhere they could hang around too long and risk getting hurt. they fought about it. weeks went by, and the two still couldn’t agree. hurtful things were said, accusations were made. cass and penelope had finally found the thing between them they just couldn’t settle. 

one night, cass stormed out of their motel, having had enough of her sister. little did she know, penelope went after her. she drove around all night looking for her sister, but it was no use. penelope was starting to feel tired behind the wheel. she decided to go back to the motel, thinking perhaps cass had returned. on her way back, penelope was drifting, trying like hell to stay awake. she didn’t even realize when she had run the stop sign. then...crash. 

the police were already at the motel when cass decided to head back. she found them there, lights flashing, waiting. they told her about penelope and the crash. they told her about how her sister, her person, died instantly from the impact. and that day, something inside cass broke. 

as soon as she could, cass packed up her stuff and left. she was full of anger and resentment. she hated the world, but mostly, she hated herself. cass continued to travel around, now on her own. she spent a lot of time in colorado, working on a horse farm. but she couldn’t let anyone get close to her. she was incredibly lonely. after almost a year of life without penelope, cass felt herself drawn back to rochdale. for how long? she didn’t know. maybe just the summer seeing old friends would do her some good. but she was afraid to admit the truth. she needed them. the rioters. the only family she had left.

C U R R E N T L Y

cass has just come back to rochdale for the summer. she is looking forward to seeing her old friends again, but she is more than scared to admit how much she feels like she needs them. she intends to play it cool...exercising her usual bit of not letting people in. at least, not enough to see the pieces of her she keeps hidden away. 

having been on the road for a long time, cass isn’t used to staying put, so she might start to feel a little restless. despite her loss, she still craves adventure and maybe even a bit of recklessness.

C O N N E C T I O N S / P L O T S

partner in crime: i would love for there to be someone who was cass’s ride or die, her partner in crime while they were in the rioters. 

on-again-off-again: cass is bad relationships, but there could have been someone she was in that classic on-again-off-again relationship with. she probably cares about them a lot, but just couldn’t let her go there. 

unrequited love: come on, she would also be the type to have head a friend that was like in love with her or something, but she never knew or never wanted to admit that she knew. 

frenemies: someone she bumped heads with a lot. maybe they got in each other’s way or just couldn’t stand each other. 

exes (flings, hook-ups, brief relationships etc): anything like this i’m totally game for.

hateship: am i a sucker for a hateship/enemies-to-lovers trope? perHAPS

anything at all: i am truly open for anything. please don’t be afraid to ask if you think she fits something you want for your character too. i can be bad at asking for plots so please don’t hesitate to hit me up!! :) 

[bi-peanut]

Underneath The Stars Of 23rd Street

All parts

The truck spluttered to a stop, sighing and creaking. I pushed down on the excelorater hard. Nothing. “Come on” I groaned, hitting the steering wheel. The cold night air creeped into the truck like icy fingers wrapping around my body, the heating system had shut down with the rest of the car. I can hear the coyotes in the distance. Town is at least 75 miles away, and here I am. Stranded in the desert. The coyote's high pitched growl grows closer. My hands are sweating and suddenly the cold air seems to be the least of my worries. “START” I shout at the car, slamming my foot against the excelerator. But it's no use, the shreakes grow closer and closer I can hear their ragged breath. “shit” I whisper.

I frantically fumbled with they keys praying for the truck to start. But it stayed silent and still. "Think!" I shouted to myself. I thought back to a time where my dad and I took an trip to Chicago and our car broke down on the way. He had jump started it "for educational purposes only" my dad grinned as I watched him. "Yes!" I thought. I slid down under the steering wheel. It was dark. I got back up and grabbed a torch out of the glove compartment before sliding back down under the dashboard. They coyotes where right outside my truck now, I could hear them pacing around curiously pawing at the doors and wheels. My heart was pounding out of my chest. I pulled open the wireboard and shined the torch into it. I remembered he pulled the red wire or something. My pulled at the wire not really registering anything I'm doing. Suddenly the car purred to life. "Yes!" I cried pumping my fist in the air. I scrambled back up into my seat and placed my hands onto the steering wheel. My truck was surrounded by coyotes, and as much as I knew they would hurt me I couldnt hurt them. I reved my engine and they jumped back. I slammed down on the gas, rocketing straight ahead. I drove and drove and didnt stop untill I got too the outskirts of town. I checked my watch, 00:30. Shit, dad was expecting me home half an hour ago, its not as if I could let him know I had broke down. It took me about another 10 minutes to pull up to our house. I was expecting dad to be asleep by now and he would let me have it in the morning, but when I walked in the door, there he was sitting at the table, a notebook infront of him. "Oh, hey dad" I say nervously rubbing my hand through my hair. "Miles" my dad says sternly "I can explain ok," i say "my truck broke down and there were coyotes and i had to jump start it like you did in Chicago and i tried to get back as soon as i could and-" "Miles. It's ok, as long as you are safe now" My dad walked over and hugged me. He never really did that, it was nice. My dad was a nice person dont get me wrong and he would never hurt me but he was never really a touch person, well I guess that part of him died along with my mom. She died when I was 5. Cancer. It destroyed my dad and I. Especially my dad. When my mom died he spiraled. He drank. A lot. It became so much of a problem I was sent away to live with my Aunt Lydia for 8 months while he "sorted things out" I was five. I didnt know what was going on. When I moved back home for a couple months after that aunt lydia would would come come and check in on us to make sure dad wasnt drinking again."So, how was aunt lydia?" I was visiting her in New Mexico for the weekend before coming home for the last couple days of school before summer break. "She was pretty good, shaken about Uncle Jimmy but other than that shes good"Uncle Jimmy died a few weeks ago. My dad and u went to his funeral in Colorado two weeks ago."It was terrible what happened to Jimmy, we will all miss him for sure" my dad sighedUncle Jimmy and Aunt Lydia are my moms brothers and sisters. Aunt lydia is married to Uncle Michael and they have two kids, James and Rick. They are both grown up and finished college. Uncle Jimmy wasnt married and my grandparents died beofre I was born. My dad doesnt have any siblings and he never knew his Aunts and uncles. His parents were split up and I never met my grandad. Grandma is still around tho and we spend the holidays with her. She lives in New York. I have no siblings. It has been just my dad and I for the last 12 years. And I like it that way. I do wish my mom was still around though. I loved her so much.

My eyes would barely stay open as I sat stooping over my bowl of porridge at the dining room table. Shit! The time! I hadn't been paying attention and I was late. "Miles!" My dad called from down the hall"I'm going now!" I call. Lies. I'm not even dressed yet. I run up the stairs to my room. I grab my Jeans, red t shirt and black and white flannel. I have fifteen minutes untill I need to get to school. The next bus leaves in 7 minutes, it takes 8 minutes by bus if there is no traffic and then another two minutes to walk from the bus stop to school. No. Too long. I'll have to walk, well run. If I take a short cup through the park and if i go down past the library I cam get there in time. And that's what I do. I make it to school just as the bell rings. I join the stream of students heading down the hall. English, my favourite class, is first. When we get in I sit down in my usual seat in back right corner. I dont have much friends. Well I have people to talk to, but I wouldnt meet them outside of school. My only friend that I would do anything for is Regan. I've know her since middle school, she is the kindest but scary at times person in the entire world. I turn to the empty seat beside me, wher Regaan always sits beside me. I tap the girl infront of me, Marjorie, on the shoulder. "Hey Miles" she says "What's up?""Hey, I was just wondering if you've seen Regan around?" "Um, no I dont think so sorry."Marjorie turns back around to her seat and I lean back in mine. Mr. Honran, my english teacher walks into the room. "Good morning class" he calls cheerfully. Just then Regan runs in the door."Ms. Treece, you are late, again." Mr. Horan says, hands on his hips."Sorry" Regan groaned, slumping into her chair beside me."How come you were late?" I ask"Stupid Ben was late dropping me again"Ben is Regans step father, she hates him because her mother cheated on her dad with him and then they got caught when they discovered that Regans mom was pregnant. Now she has a little baby sister Fiona. Fiona is the only one in Regans family that she can actually be around with out yelling. She really does love her.The day dragged on the only hope was that tomorrow was the last day before sunner break. I was only home for about 10 minutes to change into my uniform before I had to head to work.I work in the icecream parlor Happy Swirls, beside the library on 23rd street.

When I got to work there was only five customers inside. My co worker Jamie was behind the counter."Hey, sorry I'm late" I say as I tie on my apron"Its fine" Jamie replied as he hung up his apron.That's the thing about Jamie, he never really talks. He just keeps to himself hiding near his shiny brown bangs and baggie hoodies. There was a time where I considered asking him out but soon changed my mind when I heard him talking to someone about a girl he liked. I'm over that now, i didnt really mind, it wasnt as if I was in love him or something. But he was the first guy that I didnt block out that I liked. "I'll see you tomorrow miles" Jamie called as he walked out the doo. I washed my scooper and brushed my hands off my apron as my first customer of my shift walked up to the counter. "Welcome" I say in a cheery voice. "What can I get for you" I look up to see the customer. I stop in my tracks. Shit, he is beautiful. He has soft brow black hair that falls in curtains over his brown eyes, framed by glasses and soft caramel skin. I almost miss what he says."Umm, could I have a mango frozen yogurt with strawberries on top, please" His voice is soft and sweet. I realise I'm staring and quickly snap back to what I'm supposed to be doing, getting his order. "Sure!" I scoop the the yoghurt into the tub and sprinkle the raspberries ontop. Say something! I think to myself. But I dont. I stay awkwardly silent as I get his order. "That would be $2.99 please" He hands over the money thanks me and walks out of the store. I curse myself for not even getting his name. I probably wont ever see him again. After all, Phoenix is a big place.

@creamybadshadows @melophilic-joon-koya7 @keya-123 @the-writing-avocado

[finalgirlagatha]

reacting to heathens galore a week after the one year anniversary

uh hi guys. happy fanfic writer friday! today i’m going to be revisiting my most popular sge fic and third most popular fic overall (for reasons i do not understand) so, yeah let’s get into this 

its just trivia and cringe. also it’s long so... beware. 

i don’t understand why people like this fic. i’m going to start off with this. i know it was only a year ago but it feels so much longer and i legitimately can’t get through reading it without shriveling up into a ball and dying 

one time someone asked me, ‘why tagaphie?’ and i genuinely do not know why. the sister twist was dead to me even though this fic came out slightly after acot. i just wanted agatha to be happy. 

i hadn’t read the camelot years at the time, because i didn’t think they needed to exist 

i still don’t, not really, but moving on-

hhh why so many drug jokes. why. whyyy. 

this was drafted in 2018 and i know that doesn’t explain all the drug jokes but i was living in colorado at the time so maybe that’s it. 2018 me needed to get a grip 

yeah i hc hort as a stoner what about it? how else could you explain why he is the way he is

heres the embarrassing moment where i admit i was planning on writing one sided! hophie the entire time but the writer of the first and best horavan fic commented (i almost passed out) and i was like ‘what if... i did a thing’ 

i should’ve made this a nineties chatroom au with the ancient slang i’m using

the any1 hort uses haunts my dreams. i just want to talk :) 

teenagers are mean i’m so sorry teddy

i was not the biggest fan of tedros back then but i’ve changed i swear

chapter one haunts me  let’s move on 

bruh 

feels bad man

is it really a group chat fic if no one makes fun of the use of ‘y’all’ ? 

that link never attached and i’m noticing this now. i think it was supposed to be this tru.mp4 because roasting cowboys is funny to me

ravan gets the most dramatic anime entrance because i love him and HE CAN  

snake charmer is such a stupid username

i was going to do this thing where everyone's usernames were their circus talents but i forgot

this is uma slander and i will not stand for it

the time span between chapter four through chapter thirteen is friday to saturday.

this fic is the reason i started shipping chaddick/ravan. enemies to lovers 25k slowburn you know it 

i’m so ashamed of all the dick jokes i made. i’m like a middle school boy. 

WHY DID I LAUGH THIS IS SO BAD JSHDJJSHD

“im 🙋‍♂️not 🙅‍♂️emo🤬🕶️ i just like🥰😍 a lot of music💽.”- Hort Scourie, 2019

a friend of mine actually told me this once and i have never moved on 

chaddick ships hortrix 😔👏 good for him but wrong universe buddy 

gd i hate it here

reena is my self insert 

this whole fucking chapter is my last two braincells talking to each other during a math test 

chapter six is like a fever dream and i don’t like it, lets move on

my titles authors notes increasingly get more chaotic as the story progresses. chapter seven ‘you all flatter this old woman with your comments, bless you all’  bruh what was i on

nick is such a sweetheart tbh i love him

chaddick=fergie was such a big brain comparison 

i HATE that attack helicopter joke so much i was dreading it 

sorry about chapter eight lemme help you out 

b r u h

i swear this should have been a nineties au 

actually me

i didn’t want to me reminded of the fact that i used to listen to garage rock unironically. but now i am and oh man am i glad someone introduced me to better bands. the song i linked is not as much as a banger as i thought it was back then. 

a woman with taste. ska band coven au? anyone? no? okay. 

I RICKROLLED MYSELF JHSJFHJS WTF I WAS LIKE ‘Oh boy what did i do now” AND KSDJKSHD WHY 

we’re halfway through and i think i’m going to cry this is very accurate to irl groupchats but that doesn’t mean i have to like it 

my jokes peaked here 

chaddick in chapter eleven: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LI4LMWI5o8k

@crackedpepper​ this is for you. i wrote this for you before i even knew you. 

yes, yes he did just type tick tok. 

anyways, i’m gonna stop halfway because i forgot how long this was and i need to recover. part two may be in the making. Have a lovely day. very sorry about this 

overall verdict: being pushed down memory lane in a barrel of nails and awkward jokes 

[kittywolves]

1-200 if you want lmao If not then just your favourites

200: My crush’s name is: don’t have one tbh, not romantically anyway

199: I was born in: west virginia, 2000

198: I am really: dumb

197: My cellphone company is: idk man

196: My eye color is: blue w/yellow bursts but they just appear green if you’re not super close

195: My shoe size is: 7+1/2-8

194: My ring size is: 7+1/2-8

193: My height is: 5′5″

192: I am allergic to: sesame :T

191: My 1st car was: N/A

190: My 1st job was: N/A

189: Last book you read: uh, Percy Jackson? i think

188: My bed is: warm, cozy, full of plushies & cat fur

187: My pet: CALCIFER!!! 

186: My best friend: uh,, i don’t have one?

185: My favorite shampoo is: idk fruity scents that aren’t watermelon

184: Xbox or ps3: PS3

183: Piggy banks are: cute or terrifying, no in-between

182: In my pockets: my phone

181: On my calendar: birthdays

180: Marriage is: cute 

179: Spongebob can: CAN SPONGEBOB FINALLY END PLEASE

178: My mom: can go die 

177: The last three songs I bought were? uhh, i haven’t bought any songs,,

176: Last YouTube video watched: DrawingWiffWaffles newest video

175: How many cousins do you have? 1

174: Do you have any siblings? yes, 2 alive 1 dead

173: Are your parents divorced? no,,

172: Are you taller than your mom? around the same height

171: Do you play an instrument? no, but i wish i could play the harp tbh

170: What did you do yesterday? uh, i went shopping with my mother and then watched Futurama 

[ I Believe In ]169: Love at first sight: ? i dunno anymore

168: Luck: i guess so, yea

167: Fate: yea

166: Yourself: no

165: Aliens: YES

164: Heaven: yea

163: Hell: yea

162: God: ? yea?

161: Horoscopes: not really

160: Soul mates: YESSSSS

159: Ghosts: yep!!

158: Gay Marriage: %100

157: War: no >:(

156: Orbs: what

155: Magic: yep!!

[ This or That ]154: Hugs or Kisses: hugs pls

153: Drunk or High: never been either, both sound fun

152: Phone or Online: usually use my phone tbh

151: Red heads or Black haired: all are adorable!!

150: Blondes or Brunettes:  a d o r a b l e ! !

149: Hot or cold: uhm, comfortable warm,,

148: Summer or winter: SUMMER

147: Autumn or Spring: HALLOWEEN !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

146: Chocolate or vanilla: CHOCOLATE 

145: Night or Day: NIGHTTIME

144: Oranges or Apples: apples 

143: Curly or Straight hair: both are great!! i have slightly wavy hair uwu

142: McDonalds or Burger King: neither >:(

141: White Chocolate or Milk Chocolate: MILK PLS

140: Mac or PC: um, idc

139: Flip flops or high heels:  F L I P F L O P S

138: Ugly and rich OR sweet and poor: SWEET AND POOR PLS GIVE ME A KIND BAB TO LOVE @ UNIVERSE

137: Coke or Pepsi: coke !!

136: Hillary or Obama: obama!!

135: Buried or cremated: cremated so i can’t come back :’)

134: Singing or Dancing: i can’t do either :(

133: Coach or Chanel: ugh, coach ig

132: Kat McPhee or Taylor Hicks: who or who

131: Small town or Big city: i live in a city, but a town sounds nice tbh

130: Wal-Mart or Target: TARGET

129: Ben Stiller or Adam Sandler: what

128: Manicure or Pedicure: PEDICURE PEDICURE PEDICURE

127: East Coast or West Coast: i live on the west, so west

126: Your Birthday or Christmas: MY BIRTHDAY BC I GET TO PICK THE THEME !!!

125: Chocolate or Flowers: flowers die and give off the aesthetic but chocolates are delicious so both

124: Disney or Six Flags: i love disneyland it’s just SO EXPENSIVE and six flags is gr8 for the thrills, plus i currently have a pass so

123: Yankees or Red Sox: who? which sport is this[ Here’s What I Think About ]122: War: blehhhh no

121: George Bush: idk american presidents lmao

120: Gay Marriage: YES YES YES YES YES YES

119: The presidential election: ew

118: Abortion: i’ll allow it lmao, i don’t think it’s great, but ik people will still get it whether it’s legal or not so might as well legalize it. also some cases actually need it so like,, yea!! let it happen!! pro-choice!!

117: MySpace: never used it lmao

116: Reality TV: ew ew ew ew EXCEPT FOR COOKING SHOWS

115: Parents: mine or just in general? bc eh

114: Back stabbers: M U R D E R  T H E M 113: Ebay: lmao shipping expenses 

112: Facebook: haven’t used it in years, do use messenger tho

111: Work: i like wedding coordinating with my aunt!! that’s about all the work i’ve done, oh and i’ve babysat

110: My Neighbors: don’t know em, they probably think we’re crazy tho, always yelling

109: Gas Prices: too!! high!!

108: Designer Clothes: eh, clothes are clothes, and some clothes are ugly (a lot of times it’s designer clothes blehh)

107: College: i mean i guess

106: Sports: go team! hit the ball! score the points! woo

105: My family: dysfunctional,,

104: The future: nooooooooooooooooooo

[ Last time I ]103: Hugged someone: uhhhhh....

102: Last time you ate: uhm, around 4?? maybe?? it’s 7 now

101: Saw someone I haven’t seen in awhile: uh?? i never see anyone OH i guess on wednesday last week,,

100: Cried in front of someone: ???? idk??? i cry while everyone’s asleep usually

99: Went to a movie theater: last week !! um, thursday?

98: Took a vacation: uhh, february, early march? i went to ohio

97: Swam in a pool: uh, last monday 

96: Changed a diaper: um, not this year lmao, maybe last year tho idk

95: Got my nails done: ???? i dunno

94: Went to a wedding: last november?? or wait no,, uhm i dunno sometime recently lmao

93: Broke a bone: never! did drop one in water tho :/

92: Got a piercing: december!

91: Broke the law: ?? i don’t wear seatbelts when i sit in the back seat lmao

90: Texted: around two hours ago[ MISC ]89: Who makes you laugh the most: um,, my friends

88: Something I will really miss when I leave home is: MY KITTY BABY

87: The last movie I saw: missing link! the stop motion- i’m a wh*re for animation lmao

86: The thing that I’m looking forward to the most: changing my name, moving out, getting married & having a stable life :’)

85: The thing im not looking forward to: being stuck here forever and eventually kmsing due to stress and depression :’)

84: People call me: Kitty!! Kiki!! (birth name) karebear!! 

83: The most difficult thing to do is: exist within the same room as my mother without bursting into tears or storming off 

82: I have gotten a speeding ticket: nope

81: My zodiac sign is: Virgo! Viriborn for all you homestucks! and dragon in the animal one!

80: The first person i talked to today was: my dad :’) and then i messaged @deanilise even tho she was asleep 

79: First time you had a crush: uh, as far back as i can remember i had a “crush” on Daphne Blake :D but i was like a small child and didn’t know what love was so anytime i saw anyone who i thought was cool or pretty or i wanted to befriend i had a supposed “crush” on them :/

78: The one person who i can’t hide things from: i try to be pretty open, but sometimes i just wanna close off 

77: Last time someone said something you were thinking: yikes idk

76: Right now I am talking to: like talking to or talking to? for the first, just some group chats for the second, no one

75: What are you going to do when you grow up: i wanna be an artist! i would love to be a youtube artist, but i fear i’m not creative enough for such things.. i would also like to be able to tell my stories!

74: I have/will get a job: i dunno,,

73: Tomorrow: church

72: Today: overslept, did some chores, been online

71: Next Summer: hopefully i can go back to colorado to visit my brother !

70: Next Weekend: ugh, church activities & then actual church, as well as other easter festivities

69: I have these pets: baby kitty, and some dogs.... 

68: The worst sound in the world: FORK SCRAPING ON BOWL, ERASER SCRAPING ON PAPER, DOG’S SNORING, MY MOTHER’S VOICE WHEN I’M HAVING SENSORY OVERLOAD

67: The person that makes me cry the most is: my mother, she’s like the only person that makes me cry unless someone says they’re attempting and i can’t get through to them

66: People that make you happy: @onedirtysock @aliaitee @deku-is-tired @deanilise @awkward-scarfy-boi @fourth-best-jeanist @bnhaworld @bnhya @helloiliketits @trashyfxndoms

65: Last time I cried: last night oops

64: My friends are: (see 66) they’re all very nice & supportive which is amazing & i love them all dearly

63: My computer is: a MacBook air with a galaxy cover

62: My School: not in one but the one i’m gonna go to in the fall is just a community college

61: My Car: N/A

60: I lose all respect for people who: hate on anyone, racists, homophobes, transphobes, pedos, terfs, ableists, etc

59: The movie I cried at was: uh, i dunno, but i was crying abt futurama the other night

58: Your hair color is: orange-y with dark brown roots, supposed to be dyeing it soon :)

57: TV shows you watch: BNHA, HIMYM, Bob’s Burgers, TUA w/ @deanilise Futurama, The Simpsons, Fairytail, Runaway’s, Adventure Time, SVTFOE, etc

56: Favorite web site: Tumblr!

55: Your dream vacation: Ireland,, ofc i always dreamed of going to paris when i was younger, and Britain sounds cool too, & i’ve heard belgium is pretty && japan sounds fun && new york city sounds super cool as well so idk any of those places ig

54: The worst pain I was ever in was: uh, probably when i broke my arm, although i can’t remember it, i did used to get growing pains in my legs when i was younger & could hardly sleep so there’s that option as well

53: How do you like your steak cooked: medium or medium-well

52: My room is: messy, but it’s home & also warm

51: My favorite celebrity is: uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh i dunno

50: Where would you like to be: idk, in my bed ig

49: Do you want children: yea! i wanna adopt!

48: Ever been in love: uh, i thought i was, but it was just an intense crush on this girl lmao

47: Who’s your best friend: already answered this lmao

46: More guy friends or girl friends: girls,,

45: One thing that makes you feel great is: laughing, music, & seeing my friends

44: One person that you wish you could see right now: any of y’all would be great tbh

43: Do you have a 5 year plan: survive 

42: Have you made a list of things to do before you die: lmao no, 

41: Have you pre-named your children: uh, i have names picked out that i like, but idk depends how young my kid is when i adopt them, and even then idk if i could bring myself to change their name uwu

40: Last person I got mad at: my mother,,

39: I would like to move to: IRELAND OR SOMETHING I DUNNO I WANT OUT OF THIS GODFORSAKEN COUNTRY

38: I wish I was a professional: artist!! youtube maybe!![ My Favorites ]37: Candy: hmm, i like smarties, m&ms, gummy bears, & sweetarts

36: Vehicle: uhh, vw beetles? WAIT NO JEEP WRANGLERS I THINK

35: President: uh idk

34: State visited: the one i live in lmao, California :)

33: Cellphone provider: idk a lot about them

32: Athlete: N/A

31: Actor: eeeeeeee

30: Actress: eeeeeeee

29: Singer: Case! Patrick Stump!

28: Band: FALL OUT BOYYYYYYYYYYY

27: Clothing store: Hottopic

26: Grocery store: N/A

25: TV show: Arrow! Adventure Time! (ripip) i haven’t seen Arrow in a long time tho so idk if it’s still any good...

24: Movie: Heathers!!

23: Website: Tumblr,,

22: Animal: CATS

21: Theme park: DisneyLand! it’s just sooooooooo expensive ;-;

20: Holiday: HALLOWEEN

19: Sport to watch: Soccer!!

18: Sport to play: none

17: Magazine: i don’t read them

16: Book: The Hunger Games 

15: Day of the week: probably friday or saturday

14: Beach: uh, maybe seal? or hermosa?

13: Concert attended: i’ve been to exactly one (1) and i didn’t enjoy it bc it was for Ariana Grande

12: Thing to cook: well you don’t cook them but, COOKIES!!

11: Food: Ice Cream!! Burgers!! Mashed Potatoes !!

10: Restaurant: In-N-Out probably

9: Radio station: 98.7 alt radio 

8: Yankee candle scent: uh i dunno

7: Perfume: Vanilla Bean Noelle from bbw

6: Flower: daffodils 

5: Color: pink! purple! green!

4: Talk show host: no

3: Comedian: Bo Burnham or John Mulaney

2: Dog breed: Retrievers !

1: Did you answer all these truthfully? yes!

here’s my baby for reference & for putting up with all that

[palmettoes]

Prompt from your prompt list: 49, andreil. Bonus points for angst.

(this is not really as angsty as i intended bc it’s big soft hours and i need them to love each other but ! thank u pls enjoy some protective and emotional andrew for ur soul)

send me prompts! (p.s. these will stay open indefinitely so feel free to keep em coming. doesn’t have to be from the list if u want smth else!!)

49. “Take off your shirt.”

Seeing Neil for the first time after being apart alwaysfeels a little like heartburn. Andrew very much thinks he should be used tothis after a year of living in pockets of time between Colorado and SouthCarolina, but Neil steps through the door to his apartment and Andrew’s chestaches with want.

Neil has no reservations about making himself at home inAndrew’s space, filling the silence with a presence so loud it makes Andrewyearn. They have spent long enough watching each other’s backs that Andrewdoesn’t try to hide the way he tracks Neil’s every move. Neil is a good actor,or a good liar, or some combination of the two that makes no difference toAndrew, so he wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t been looking.

Neil kicks his shoes, drops his bag, and flops onto thecouch, spreadeagled and with his leg overlapping Andrew’s at the ankle, thesame way he always does. But Andrew is looking and it’s been five years.He knows what to look for.

Neil’s movements are familiar in their casual indifference,but Andrew can see the way he tilts slightly to the left, how he calculatesevery breath around the position of his chest. Andrew is looking, as he alwaysis, but for the first time in years, Neil is hiding.

“I didn’t expect you to still be up,” Neil says into thecrook of the arm draped over his face, exhaustion evident in every line of hisposture. Andrew drops his hand to rest on Neil’s thigh and presses his thumbinto the dimple at the side of his kneecap. Yeah right, it says andNeil’s smile peeks out from behind his forearm. Andrew always stays up to greetNeil’s arrival. It’s what they do.

“The Lions weren’t impressed when I took off at the firstsign of a break. Something about it not being team spirit.” Neil lets his armslip away, tilting his head to watch Andrew watch him.

“But what do you care?” Andrew says when it becomes apparentNeil has lost his train of thought.

“But what do I care,” Neil agrees. “They’re lucky to have meat all.”

Andrew snorts. “Don’t let Kevin hear you getting allbigheaded.”

“Kevin wouldn’t want me selling myself short,” Neil says,affecting surprise, “Haven’t you heard? I’m going to be Court.”

Andrew digs his thumb into Neil’s knee again but it isn’t areprimand, not really. He has long since stopped denying Neil a future and,more recently, stopped denying his place in it. It’s a work in progress butthey both know he would follow Neil anywhere, to the ends of the Earth or tothe Olympic Court.

Neil struggles against a yawn for several seconds beforelosing and letting his eyes drift closed in the wake of it. Andrew’s thumbreleases its pressure and takes to rubbing light circles into Neil’s skininstead, delighting in the way Neil’s muscles relax beneath his touch.

“There’s a perfectly good bed just two rooms away,” Andrewoffers and Neil hums in agreement but makes no move to get up. If anything, heslackens further into the dip of the couch cushion. Andrew bites down on theinside of his cheek and looks away, willing his frenetic heartbeat into astandstill. He knows better than to let himself be caught up in Neil’s web oflies, even if it’s been a long time since Neil spun one just for him. He triesnot to think about the implications of that.

“Take off your shirt,” he says conversationally, givingNeil’s leg one final squeeze before forcibly moving his hand away. It’s like amousetrap, how quickly Neil goes stiff again at the first pressure against hisfaçade. He sits up straight and watches Andrew, who watches him, and they playtug of war in the push and pull of their gazes.

“What?” Neil asks, but it comes out full of everything else.He sounds too open, too secretive; too brash, too easy. He must know Andrewdoesn’t believe it for a second.

“I’m not blind, Josten, even without my glasses. Take. Off.Your shirt.”

“It’s nothing. I’m fine,” Neil says, and Andrew can’t tellif it’s habit or a poorly-timed attempt at a joke. He stares at Neil forseveral loaded seconds.

“It wasn’t really a request,” he says, which they both knowis bullshit. If Neil said no, he would find another way to get the answers hewants that doesn’t involve asking more than Neil can give. But Neil isn’tsaying no, he just isn’t acting on the yes resting under his tongue.

Neil fists his hands in the hem of his shirt, pointedlyevades Andrew’s glare, and tugs it up and over his head. Andrew’s chest bottomsout. The cartography of Neil’s torso is familiar, the way dark skin gives outto a mesh of mottled scars and puckered wounds. Andrew could map every inch ofit with his eyes closed.

The despondent blue of fresh bruising isn’t whollyunfamiliar, but nor is it a welcome addition. Andrew wants to touch it, but hishands stay steady in his lap. He doesn’t trust himself not to press down, down,down, not to bend and break and burn the only thing he can reach. Neil islooking at him again but Andrew can’t afford to look away from the discolouredpatches under his ribcage, just in case. Just in case Neil crumbles before hisvery eyes.

“Who,” Andrew says, a choked question abandoned midwaythrough delivery.

Neil shrugs and looks away, then looks back all too quicklylike he can’t decide which is safer.

“It was just a bit of fun,” Neil says, though hisnonchalance falls several steps short on believable.

“Fun,” Andrew echoes, and the word tastes ashen in hismouth.

“Hazing, I guess.”

“The Lions did this to you?”

“It was just a bit of fun,” Neil repeats and in that moment,Andrew hates the word. He is a spring coiled tight around the one thing heholds close and Neil is making a show of releasing the catch.

“What did they do?” He can’t tell if knowing will make theviolence easier or harder to contain under his skin, but he knows he will snapif he doesn’t find out.

“Nothing, really. They had me tied up, but it wasn’t theirfault. They didn’t know I would panic.”

Andrew can taste his heartbeat, a pulsing anger in the backof his throat. He swallows against it but his chest constricts and he wondersif his hands have ever known anything but the shape of violence, but the weightof a knife.

“You are transferring teams,” he says because it’s the onlything he can think with any sense of finality.

“Andrew, I have a contract.”

“I don’t care.”

“Okay. Well, you know who does care? The Moriyamas.”Andrew’s glare snaps back to Neil’s at that, and Neil returns it with equalweight. “I think the bruises I’d get from them might be a little worse thanthis if they found out I turned down a contract because of a silly bit of fun.”

“It isn’t silly when your safety is concerned.”

Neil laughs hollowly. “And you’d be the expert on keeping mesafe, I suppose.”

“Well it’s not like you do a very good job of it,” Andrewsnaps.

“I managed just fine for eighteen years. Your concern ismisplaced. I didn’t need you then and I don’t need you now.”

Andrew caves and falls apart. He slams his walls in placereflexively, holding himself together between brickwork and mortar. He wasfoolish to think he could have this, to think he could have anything at all.But he knows the pattern of his breakdowns better than he knows how to openhimself up and let Neil climb inside. Fighting is familiar. Breaking is anunfortunate side effect.

“Whatever,” he says, the word freezing over before it has somuch as left his lips, and he leaves the room before Neil can retaliate.

Staring at the double bed in his bedroom isn’t much better.It is full of Neil, from the creases in the linen to the stray hoodie abandonedover the left pillow. It feels hot to the touch and cold in all the cracks,like winter is creeping between their bed sheets, and Andrew has never done toowell with snow. He cannot take it. He grabs his pillow and the spare blanketrumpled at the end of the bed and storms out with ice filling his veins.

Neil is still sitting on the couch, watching the doorway,and his presence is so obnoxious it bursts at the seams. Andrew gives himseveral seconds to catch on and, when no recognition is forthcoming, stepsforward to dump the bedding onto his abandoned spot on the couch.

“Move,” he says without looking at Neil. It’s hard when heis the loudest thing in the room, taking up so much space Andrew has to breathehim in just to release the tension in the air.

“What are you doing?”

Andrew scoffs and makes a point of glaring into the back ofthe couch despite the weight of Neil’s gaze, despite the way his eyes betrayhim with subconscious darts to his left.

“It’s one in the morning, Neil. Most people like to use thistime to sleep.”

“I’m not taking your bed, Andrew. I’ll sleep on thesofa.” Neil’s voice is laced with exhaustion, like he has sewn all his energyinto keeping his gaze sharp and left nothing to knit himself together. Andrewdoesn’t have to look at him to feel his stitches come loose; they snap liketwigs under Andrew’s fingers.

“Funny, I don’t remember giving you an option,” he says,patience slipping from the weak end of his grasp. He kicks lightly at Neil’sfoot—not close enough to touch, but the gesture sets alarm bells ringing. IfNeil knows anything at all about reading Andrew in fragile moments, he willtake it as the warning it is.

Infuriatingly, he does. He leaves just as Andrew wanted, andAndrew hates him for it. Neil has a habit of reading between the lines evenwhen there aren’t lines to read between, and he gives Andrew what he wantswithout hesitation. It sets Andrew’s blood boiling and his teeth grinding. It’sbeen five years and some days Andrew still doesn’t know how to take what he’sgiven without bracing himself for the fallout.

Of course, Neil has always been good at flipping the cardswhen Andrew finds the pattern of aching all too familiar.

What Andrew doesn’t expect is to wake up to gentle breath athis brow, ghosting over frown lines and dipping towards his hairline. The roomis still dark enough that he can’t have been out for more than a couple ofhours. Neil is curled on the floor, head resting against the arm of the couch ascant few inches from Andrew’s, and knees tucked to his chest. Andrew noticesthe dip in his cheek when he bites the inside as they make eye contact.

“Sorry,” he whispers and Andrew feels it in the warmthfanning his face. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Andrew takes in the stiffness of his posture, the tightlines either side of his mouth, the harsh cut of his gaze.

“Have you slept?” he asks, more for show than anything, ashe already knows the answer.

“Couldn’t. I don’t like fighting.”

Andrew can’t help but roll his eyes at that because, really.Neil smiles and amends, “I don’t like it when it’s us.”

Andrew rolls onto his back and eyes the ceilingthoughtfully. There is a crack running from the edge of the cornice to a metreand a half short of the light fixing, and he is surprised to find nothing butwarmth pulsing back at him when he traces it.

“We aren’t fighting,” he says and it is as much news to himas it is to Neil.

“Okay,” Neil agrees easily, “but I don’t like this either.”

And that seems fair enough. Andrew lets it settle betweenthem, because he doesn’t know how to fix it just yet. It is strange to besomeone who fixes, who mends and builds and holds on tight, when he was raisedto break. To break his enemies, and his friends, and himself most of all. Hewonders if healing always feels like a bruise on every fingertip.

“Your team, your call,” he says eventually. He still isn’tlooking at Neil but he hears the answering sigh, feels it tickle just under hisear.

“Thank you. For worrying, and for letting it go,” Neil says.He softens around the edges and folds in the middle, going malleable beneathAndrew’s words. “I promise I’m handling it.”

Andrew turns back to Neil and reaches out a careful hand, apeace offering to seal the collision of their apologies. Neil keens into thetouch almost immediately and Andrew digs his fingers into soft curls, cuppingthe side of Neil’s face and smoothing his thumb over the mottled skin at Neil’scheekbone.

“I trust you,” he says, and somehow it is enough.

They end up in bed together like second nature and Andrewthinks this is how he knows best to fix things. His fingers curl into the gapsbetween Neil’s and they are warm, warm, warm in all the cracks. Andrewcan feel himself begin to thaw.

“I do,” Neil says drowsily, his breath ruffling the hairfrom Andrew’s forehead.

“What?”

“I do. I do need you.”

It’s like a sucker punch throwing Andrew off course justwhen he got his hands back on the wheel. All the breath leaves his body thenbowls back into him in one swift hit. He chokes on it.

“You don’t. Don’t lie to me.”

Neil is silent for a long moment and Andrew half expects himto slip unconscious before his brain comes up with a response. Half expects,half hopes. He doesn’t know which is dumber.

“Okay, I don’t. But I want you,” Neil says and Andrewbreathes. The air is a different kind of tight, his breath a different kind ofrushed, and his body stuck in a different kind of freefall. This one feels likeflying. Andrew doesn’t know how to translate the weight in his chest intowords, so he shifts forward instead. He kisses Neil in tandem with the pulse oftheir hearts and it means

and I you.

[wheresivy]

 *  ⋆  ✹ i v y ‘ s  i n t r o.

hi hello this is my new child ivy & do not let the face fool you, she’s a fuckin wild animal who doesn’t know when to stop !! here’s a few ( or a lot of depending on how deep i get in this) lil bullet points to help you know what to expect with her / help creating some plotting + character relationships w her !! [ ps. feel free to send a message my way if you ever wanna plot something !! ivy can pretty much fit into any situation one way or another. ]

sooOooOoO i wanted to get away from the traditional singer/actor/etc & went with a youtube and then this lil bean quickly developed into a full on influencer !!

she grew up in denver, colorado & was born into a family that expected success--her mother is rated as the best obgyn in the state & has successfully delivered hundreds of children to date, while her father spent his days designing & constructing extravagant homes for the wealthy

they divorced when ivy was fourteen, causing an almost immediate negative change in behavior & attitude with ivy

she grew up spoiled but she had never let it get to her until the divorce happened--suddenly she had two bedrooms, two birthday parties, two holidays, two of everything and then a little bit extra

having everything she asked for & then some, along with her newfound wild streak, created a complex with ivy that essentially made her believe that she was, in fact, just naturally better than a lot of people

not at anything specific literally j...ust better than people she’s a mess

around sixteen her week long trips to her father’s turned into actual trips as he began traveling to design the homes he was creating 

she began vlogging the experiences of traveling the world under the name “wheresivy” & quickly gained a following of people who just couldn’t get enough of the sixteen year old experiencing her travel through the states 

around seventeen, ivy decided she wanted to go out on her own & venture farther than just the united states. her parents agreed to pay for whatever tickets she wanted ( her vlogs were taking off well & making money, enough to pay for whatever she would need while still on the trip ), just as long as she graduated first--she left for paris the day after she received her diploma & continued to travel around the world for the past year & a half. this eventually made her gather a large following on all of her social medias, not just youtube

now here we are in 2018!! ok so she literally JUST got signed to shine studios & probably doesn’t know many people yet, though i’m sure she’s met a celebrity a time or two in first class and/or walking around shine before she officially made her deal

she’s now living in LA full time, taking a break from traveling the world to experience everything the city & shine has to offer

she’s one of those instagram promoters + ad vloggers that everyone hates to love u know ??

u remember that wild streak i was talking about ?? yeah it’s not over

she’s still a complete wild card & willing to do & try pretty much anything 

she loves being the center of attention + doesn’t rlly have moral compass, cause & effect do not register with her until post-event

she’s extremely bright & intelligent, but buries it around certain for a multitude of reasons

extremely manipulative !! she’ll twist words, she’ll make you think you said something you never did, cons you into doing things you never would have considered

she likes to stir up trouble and do bad things u get the point 

absolutely hates being alone & spends most of her nights curled up to a different person -- having a single home in LA that she will sleep in every night is a hard thought for her to grasp

due to her hatred ( and slight fear ) of being alone, she often makes bad decisions involving alcohol, drugs, promiscuity, & day to day relationships. she may be your best friend one minute, but she will also be in bed with your significant other that night if they offer her a spot.

ok basically she’s just a damaged lil thing and i’m sure i could go on for hours but right now ?? she’s just here to start trouble and raise her fanbase up--all she cares about are her fans & herself tbh

[marleyshipp-blog]

     taps mic .. is this thing on.. ... hello everyone !! i’m becca, and i’m super excited to be here— i’ve been eyeing this group for like two weeks and i finally gathered the Strength to apply. blesst tf up. highkey i’ve been dying to bring this muse Life, so cue cute lil intro for my babi boi marley, please be gentle w him~

[ luke hemmings, twenty two, cismale, he/him ] ━ hey, I just saw [ marley shipp ] walking down the streets of crownsville. they’ve lived in town for [ four months ], and you can catch them around town working as a [ volunteer at top to tail ]. I hear they’re known to be [ self-sufficient & tender ] and [ cloistered & inattentive ]. if asked, they would say their aesthetic would be [ smiles that don’t meet eyes, oversized sweaters on hot days, the scent of cinnamon sugar ].

𝓅𝒶𝓈𝓉 

marley grew up in denver, colorado (and surrounding cities), with an older brother and two parents who weren’t... exactly in love or anything, but they stayed together for their kids. it wasn’t a toxic environment— they weren’t on bad terms, and there was more than enough money to go around —but any eyes that lingered longer than a fleeting moment could easily see through the thinly veiled ‘marriage’ they shared. 

he grew up without many hiccups. life was easy. he finished up high school relatively easily, but that’s not to say he was at the top of the class or anything. his ‘c’ average was just enough to scrape by, though it wasn’t impressive by any means. from an early age marley fell into the habit of letting his hobbies take precedence over most things, school included.

he’s always been a music junkie tbh. his parents were never really too keen on this interest (whose would be honestly nsncsf) but nonetheless, they supported him on it. for the most part. so long as he made it through school, they didn’t complain much.

he completely threw himself into it once he graduated, and for the past four years or so it’s all he’s done. he lives and breathes music, so much so that it gets a bit unhealthy at times. regardless, there’s no way that he’ll ever stop. he’s put out his fair share of songs/eps and managed to gather a small following (prob has like 20k insta followers but ya boi’s engagment is low so do w that what u will).

𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓈𝑒𝓃𝓉

things got a little hectic back home; his parents finally separated, and marley wasn’t in the best headspace when news got back to him. he was in the middle of working on an album, and oh boy did it fuck with him. he really secluded himself then, way more than usual, and it took a couple weeks for him to find solid footing. 

he kind of went a lil mad for a bit, which like... was completely unnecessary because he’d known for a long time that his parents weren’t actually into each other. it was just that it became more real, and he didn’t wanna deal with it. 

long story short, he just wanted to get away for a while so he packed most of his things up and wound up relocating to crownsville. he hasn’t been here very long, but the change of scenery was definitely refreshing. 

he doesn’t exactly have a job— he volunteers at the animal shelter just to get out of his own head every so often, but that’s about all the work he does outside of home. he doesn’t make much of anything off his music, but he doesn’t really need to since he’s sitting on a trust fund (that’s slowly trickling away but oh well).

𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓈𝑜𝓃𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓎

above all else, marley is an introvert. he values time spent on his own, though he tends to get lonely rather easily. he's not the type to reach out first— he'll let himself go stir-crazy until somebody invites him out. maybe his aspirations don't exactly help in this aspect. after all, a majority of his time is taken up by his music, which keeps him practically stitched to his laptop for hours on end. he's always mixing this or that. writing. obsessing over the smallest details that hinder a track's perfection. 

when he's not holed up in his apartment, nearly everything feels like a breath of fresh air to him. he thrives while out with friends. he's extremely sociable, and kind to anybody he comes across. one good day of interaction is truly all he needs to rise out of whatever slump he may be in, but once he's on his own again the splendor begins to fade. after a few days he's back where he started, submerged fully into his cycle of work and isolation.

it isn’t irregular for marley to emerge from the depths of his home once or twice a week, usually only for a quick grocery run, or to head down to the animal shelter to lend a hand. he’s never been particularly good at tending to his needs, but when he’s going through the creative process this inability to properly care for himself hits hard, and it truly shows once he snaps back out of it. he’s a mess of dark circles and unkempt hair, stubble that’s slowly but surely taking over the whole of his jaw. his ribs start to show, though his baggy t-shirts and sweaters hide them well enough. he doesn’t do it on purpose— hates the way he looks when he gets this way, actually. but it happens all too often, and he just doesn’t have enough drive to change anything most of the time.

his sense of humor isn't misaligned compared to that of younger generations. self-deprecation is his go to in most situations. his tone may come across lighthearted, but there's almost always a sense of conviction lying underneath. he's well aware of his insecurities, his flaws. each flippant note that slips through only lays them out before the entire room, but his nonchalance is more than enough to mask any ill feelings. 

okayyyy this is all i have for now, props to u if you actually read through everything,,, if anybody’s up to plotting pls feel free to like this or message me if i don’t message you first lolol

[hhemeraa-a]

Rules: Answer the questions you’re given, write 11 of your own and tag 11 people.

(1.) Is there anything you dislike about the character(s) you play? OC or otherwise?  How difficult he can be. He doesn’t make plotting or interactions easy for anyone and it’s hard to be spontaneous with him unless he’s under some influence. It gets bothersome at times when you see muses you as the mun like, but know your OC would never have anything to do with them. 

(2.) How many languages can you speak?  I can only speak English. I took over 2 years of Mandarin but still couldn’t properly speak it, though I can read it pretty decently. Same with Japanese - took 4 years but at most can just read it. I understand a lot of Spanish and some Korean. I took Arabic in high school, but I suck at it. Only know like 3 words now. 

(3.) Where did you first go on vacation?  I remember as a child when my parents were still together, we went on a road trip from Chicago all the way to Disneyland in California. We went through Colorado, I got to hand feed a giraffe, I fell on a cactus, I cried about not being able to go on the monorail, had my first BBQ sauce pizza (which I hated) -- I think that was my first vacation. 

(4.) Do you have any potentially-unpopular opinions about your character or the fandom that they’re involved in?  Since Myles started off as a Starfighter OC, I guess you’re asking me if I have any unpopular opinions on Starfighter? Do you have 8 hours?  I understand that Starfighter is/was supposed to be a smut comic and was actually supposed to stop after “chapter 1″ but got so popular that the author decided to continue writing it. I understand that a majority of the plot is based around two dudes fuckin’ and I understand that expecting or asking for more than that is silly.

BUT THERE IS SO MUCH POTENTIAL JUST WASTED. THE WHOLE REASON I EVEN FUCKIN JOINED THAT FANDOM WAS BECAUSE I THOUGHT I COULD DO IT BETTER AND YOU KNOW WHAT?  I fucking did. Hamlet gives such a great basis and outline for amazing world building that just ends up falling flat because the story is focused on well detailed dick draws (which are great btw, I won’t slight her for that). The concept of the last surviving humans fighting against an alien collective using their own tech against them just gets my dick hard, but all of that is sort of thrown to way side and lost under “who emotionally betrayed who” and “I love you now even if I didn’t at the beginning” nonsense. You can still have a great romance story OR EVEN PWP?? But establish it in a world that makes fucking sense. There are all of these aspects that we’ll never get answers on that she’s just thrown into the story as a vehicle to get to the next sex scene and it just rustles my fucking jimmies. 

I had to stop writing in the fandom because I honestly am incapable of writing with the new people who come in -- nothing against them and their writing abilities, I’m sure they’re great, but everyone always comes in like “I’m looking for an Abel for my Cain” or vice versa, or just some smutty locker room pwp and weird Commander Daddy Doms -- just things I’ve read over and over and over again that have just become absolutely bland. 

DID YOU KNOW??? There are whole constellations?? of crystals floating through space? Shattered diamonds and acidic clouds?? Did you know?? that there are 3 different theorized ways to bend space and time to create warp drives? Could you imagine being the final ship BSG style trying to float your way to what essentially might be your grave in space avoiding stars that are literally eating each other so that you can fight an alien race that has destroyed not only one, but many of your species homelands??? 

BUT WAIT, LEMMIE GET A DICK IN THIS SPACE CRAFT FOR A MINUTE AND WE CAN BICKER ABOUT HOW U LOOK LIKE MY EX.KJDHGJKGHKDJGHS IT JUST MAKES ME SO MAD. DONT GET ME STARTED, I FEEL VERY PASSIONATE ABOUT SPACE.

(5.) How many kids would you like in the future? 0 is also an acceptable answer!  z e r o -- I can barely take care of myself, how am I supposed to take care of another life??

(6.) Have you ever broken down into tears because of writing a roleplay scene?  No, idk, I don’t get that emotional about things? Last time I cried was because I was on drugs after my surgery and there was no ice for my tea. 

(7.) Where did you first get started roleplaying?  Gaiaonline.com sgjkdhskgjs  I still have my account. 

(8.) Quick! Make a list. FIVE FILMS TO SEE BEFORE YOU DIE.  That I haven’t seen already??? uhhhh UHHHHHH 1. Schindler’s List 2. Breakfast At Tiffany’s  3. Shape of Water  4. Hurt Locker 5. 13 Assassins 

(9.) If we had to ask your friends to explain you in five words or less, how do you think that they’d describe you?  avoidant, funny, no-shit taking, emotionally strong, positive ((I guess????))

(10.) What is one of your life mottos that helps you get through each and every day?  “No regrets.” “No excuses, nobody cares.” “But will it kill you?”

(11.) Do you feel comfortable writing NSFW themes? Hahahahaha WELL.  Yes - I’m comfortable with plotting out the nasty nast, but when it comes to actually writing it? It takes me forever because I get really really really embarrassed. I once talked to Lex about lube and it was just me screaming uncomfortably for about 15 minutes, but ask me about nasty fuckin and I gotchu. 

Rules: Answer the questions you’re given, write 11 of your own and tag 11 people.

(1.) Hardest thread/plot you’ve ever done and why? Did you complete it? (2.) A song that triggers a memory and what happened (3.) Favorite subject in school (4.) Do you have any potentially-unpopular opinions about your character or the fandom that they’re involved in? (5.) Would you chose to be immortal? (6.) Have you ever considered veganism / vegetarianism? Why or why not?  (7.) Who/What was your first OC? Describe them. (8.) Be honest... how honest are you with your friends? Your family? (9.) What would be your superpower and would you use it for good? (10.) What did you do before Tumblr? (11.) Guilty pleasure food

Tagged by: @celestialspitfire Tagging: @banditborn / @corpusdxlicti / @sonderrow / @portalipsis / @viclate / @vicariousphotographer / @dcsidcrium / @paxeuropaea / @catastrophicur / @sokrovennyi / @inionnaforaoise / @sukkubxs / @evildcers / @fluffmiester / @flieuthi / @moonsought / STEAL IT AND TAG ME

[deactivated337]

43. Did You Eat Paint Chips When You Were a Kid?: What the fuck are you talking about, no 44. Favorite CD you own: Mark Tom & travis Show 45. The ONE Person Who You Hate The Most:I’m happy to say that I really can’t think of one person who I really despise... 46. Favorite Food(s):Turkey stuffing, pizza, sweet potato, steamed vegetables 47. Who Is The Hottest Guy or Girl In The World?: Still him 48. What Is Your Favorite Salad Dressing?: Italian 49. When You Die, Do You Wanna Be Buried or Burned Into Ashes?: Buried I want to rot 50. Do You Believe In Aliens?: yes but I believe God has control over them as well 51. If You Had The Chance To Professionally Do Something, What would You Do? Make sure that everyone in the world was able to bathe, eat, and have a clean place to rest 52. Things You Obsess Over: guns, boys, muscles, authority, hitler, damage, pain, hurt, friendship, love, death, physical hurt 53. Favorite Day of the Week: friday 54. A Teacher You Hate: I stopped hating them when I realized how miserable many adults are 55. Favorite Disney Movie: Pocahontas 56. What Is Your favorite Season? summer, my birth time 57. What Toppings Do You Like On Your Pizza?: pepperoni, banana peppers 58. Do You Like Your School Food Itself (As In The District Food): HATE it, never was satisfying, but shitty. 59. If You Could Live Anywhere, Where Would You Live? I think..Colorado 60. Favorite Thing(s) To Do On Weekends: camp and drink beer 61. Favorite Thing(s) To Get Clean up: eh? 62. Favorite Magazine(s): Playboy, Cosmopolitan? Idk they don’t make good magazines anymore really. Just bullshit. 63. Favorite Flower(s): Casa Blanca lilly. 64. Favorite Number(s): 3, 72111. 65. Favorite Ice Cream flavor(s): cookie dough, Oreo, Oecan, Caramel, I’m obsessed with all ice cream 66. What Kind of Guys/Girls Are You Attracted to?: dominate and masculine ones 68. What’s Your Most Embarrassing Moment? getting in trouble for something I didn’t do. 69. If You Could Change One Thing About Yourself What Would It be?: feeling so passionately 70. Do You Eat Breakfast First Then Brush Your Teeth or Brush first ten eat breakfast: Brush my teeth always first, maybe five times a day depending on a mood 71. Favorite Time of Day: 2am. 72. Can A Guy and Girl Be Just “Best Friends”?: Fuck no. Don’t let them lie to you either. No such thing. 73. Do You Ask the Girl / Guy Or Do You Wait For Them To Come To You?: they need to pursue me. 74. Do You Mind Paying For Sex?: I don’t want to pay for it, no. 75. What’s The Most Important thing in Someone’s Personality?: compassion, empathy, protection, devotion, loyalty, strict allegiance, obediance 76. Do you have a pager or cell phone? a cell phone that I hate but I think would feel good to hear ring for a call 77. Favorite Sport: tumbling 78. What Was the Best Gift You Ever Received?: College Education. Everything that I take for granted. 79. How Long Did This Letter Take You To Finish?: 8 minutes. 80. What Did You Listen To While Completing It?: Eminem, Beautiful, same Song and Dance, My Mom 81. Are you or would you like to be married in the near future (next 5 years)?:Not marries but Yeah I want to be pregnant and have children soon yes 82. Don’t u just hate how psychics never win the lottery?:Psychics are bullshit and I was under that bullshit spell for damn near a decade.

83: How do you feel right now? Jealous

[iloveyounojutsu]

All Of Them for the ask meme. or whatever ones u wanna do kaskkaskj

1: Do you sleep with your closet doors open or closed?CLOSED

2: Do you take the shampoos and conditioner bottles from hotel?not really

3: Do you sleep with your sheets tucked in or out?i think in??

4: Have you ever stolen a street sign before?oh for sure i actually compulsively do things like that so my sister has to stop me sometimes

5: Do you like to use post-it notes?nope

6: Do you cut out coupons but then never use them?YEAH

7: Would you rather be attacked by a big bear or a swarm of a bees?bees i think

8: Do you have freckles?nope!

9: Do you always smile for pictures?nope

10: What is your biggest pet peeve?genuinely cruel people

11: Do you ever count your steps when you walk?i used to

12: Have you ever peed in the woods?nope

13: What about pooped in the woods?that’s my sexy sweet secret (no)

14: Do you ever dance even if theres no music playing?oh yes

15: Do you chew your pens and pencils?sometimes

16: How many people have you slept with this week?none in my life

17: What size is your bed?medium

18: What is your Song of the week?https://youtu.be/D2uLAWhFcuI , heard it in an edit and i cant get it out of my head? also https://youtu.be/b7cls_NxM1U

19: Is it okay for guys to wear pink?yeah

20: Do you still watch cartoons?yeah

21: Whats your least favorite movie?i hate old movies :/ stuff like little rascal and things like that idk so probably those

22: Where would you bury hidden treasure if you had some?i wouldn’t bury it

23: If you’re a girl, bra size? If you’re a guy, pants size?i have no idea i think a 34C it’s what this one says

24: What do you dip a chicken nugget in?nothing

25: What is your favorite food?OYSTERS

26: What movies could you watch over and over and still love?Room

27: Last person you kissed/kissed you?no one

28: Were you ever a boy/girl scout?hell no

29: Would you ever strip or pose nude in a magazine?fuck yeah if i was getting good pay

30: When was the last time you wrote a letter to someone on paper?when i wrote a letter to you for your package

31: Can you change the oil on a car?no i’m gay

32: Ever gotten a speeding ticket?i’m gay dont drive

33: Ever ran out of gas?actually yeah on a highway my mom was driving

34: Favorite kind of sandwich?turkey w mayo cheese n pickles

35: Best thing to eat for breakfast?cereal or a nutella pancake

36: What is your usual bedtime?LOL

37: Are you lazy?yes

38: When you were a kid, what did you dress up as for Halloween?nothing really, my parents never bought me actual costumes.

39: What is your Chinese astrological sign?i have no idea

40: Are you horny?i’m cumrag is that even a question

41: Do you have any magazine subscriptions?nope

42: Which are better legos or lincoln logs?lego’s

43: Are you stubborn?yes

44: Who is better…Leno or Letterman?don’t know them

45: Ever watch soap operas?yep! not intentionally just there’s always a novella on somewhere here

46: Are you afraid of heights?quite

47: Do you sing in the car?yeah

48: Do you sing in the shower?sometimes

49: Do you dance in the car?yes

50: Ever used a gun?yes

51: Last time you got a portrait taken by a photographer?not sure actually

52: Do you think musicals are cheesy?i don’t like musicals actually!

53: Is Christmas stressful?quite!

54: Ever eat a pierogi?JFKFKDK idk what that is

55: Favorite type of fruit pie?… does pumpkin pie count

56: Occupations you wanted to be when you were a kid?archeologist

57: Do you believe in ghosts?no

58: Ever have a Deja-vu feeling?yes

59: Take a vitamin daily?nope!

60: Wear slippers?nope

61: Wear a bath robe?no

62: What do you wear to bed?leggings and a sweatshirt usually

63: First concert?i’ve never been to one!

64: Wal-Mart, Target or Kmart?WAL MART

65: Nike or Adidas?ooo tie

66: Cheetos Or Fritos?cheetos for sure

67: Peanuts or Sunflower seeds?FUCK that’s hard peanuts

68: Ever hear of the group Tres Bien?no

69: Ever take dance lessons?yeah! i used to take ballet and was also in a dance club at school (lol i cant dance though actually)

70: Is there a profession you picture your future spouse doing?whatever job you said you wanted!

71: Can you curl your tongue?yeah

72: Ever won a spelling bee?JDKFKFKFKFK i have a bad history with spelling bees i’ve never been in one cause i could never spell properly (i spelt teeth theeth out loud cause i cant spellfnfjkdkd)

73: Have you ever cried because you were so happy?YES

74: Own any record albums?no

75: Own a record player?no

76: Regularly burn incense?no

77: Ever been in love?am right now!

78: Who would you like to see in concert?big time rush, no joke

79: What was the last concert you saw?never seen one

80: Hot tea or cold tea?i actually dislike tea fkfkfkfkkd ive never found one i liked

81: Tea or coffee?coffee though i drink neither

82: Sugar or snickerdoodles?sugar

83: Can you swim well?i think so yes

84: Can you hold your breath without holding your nose?yes

85: Are you patient?mostly no but i can be if it depends

86: DJ or band, at a wedding?dj

87: Ever won a contest?HDJDNN i’m not sure

88: Ever have plastic surgery?no but i do want to in the future just need $9000

89: Which are better black or green olives?oooof i think green

90: Can you knit or crochet?nope

91: Best room for a fireplace?living room?

92: Do you want to get married?yeah!

93: If married, how long have you been married?not married, but me and you have been dating for over three months now

94: Who was your HS crush?technically you

95: Do you cry and throw a fit until you get your own way?GGFJFJFJKD SOMETIMES DONT CALL ME OUT

96: Do you have kids?my dog

97: Do you want kids?sure i guess!

98: Whats your favorite color?red, also deep green

99: Do you miss anyone right now?you ;; also my friend in colorado

[toxoiddiamond]

T H E B A S I C S Given Name: Nam Jihun Nicknames: Julian, Jules Age: 32 Birthday: June 7th Zodiac Sign: Gemini Birthplace: Aurora, Colorado Current Location: Grand Island, Nebraska Speaks: English, Korean (he is fluent in Korean and always spoke it at home with his parents, but he doesn't speak it much anymore) Dominant Hand: Right Education: He has his Associates Degree in Automotive Technology. Occupation: Before his life got turned upside-down, he was a mechanic, a job he genuinely liked. Now that he's in a new city and planning on staying for a while, he is hoping to find a job in another garage. Vehicle: He doesn't have a car anymore, but has enough money saved up that he could get one off of Craigslist or something if he really needed to. But for now, taking buses and trains has been working out fine for him. Worldly Possessions: He left most of his possessions behind when he went on the run. Now he just has a couple changes of clothes, along with a few other necessities. Pet(s): He has never had a pet before, but always wanted one.

A P P E A R A N C E Height: 5'9" Hair: Slightly wavy and unruly, just long enough that it gets in his eyes/face if he doesn't push it back. Facial Hair: Usually has at least some facial hair, though he occasionally shaves it all off. Eye Colour: A lovely shade of brown. Skin Tone: His skin tone tends to change slightly with the seasons-- darker in the summer, paler in the winter, though he is never pasty or anything. Clothing: At the moment, he doesn't have much. A couple of t-shirts, a couple of flannels, and two pairs of jeans. He has a worn-out pair of combat boots that he wears most of the time, and a pair of even more worn-out tennis shoes in his bag as a "just in case" sort of thing. He also has a sherpa-lined denim jacket, though he doesn't often need it. Distinguishing Marks: A bunch of scars here and there on his body, most of them fairly recent, because for some mysterious reason he has found himself in a lot of fights lately~ Face Claim: Steven Yeun

H E A L T H Physical Health: He's always been in good health, but since he became a werewolf, it's been excellent. He has seemingly endless endurance and stamina, never really gets sick, and is twice as strong as he used to be. The only downside is that he doesn't sleep as well now, though he at least seems to need less sleep than before. Still, he hasn't felt fully rested since his transformation. He's also noticed that his appetite has increased, which doesn't help his food budget, but isn't too much of a problem. Physical Abilities/Limitations: Thanks to his werewolf blood, Julian is almost always warm, and does well even in very cold weather. He is also surprisingly strong, and is fast with good reflexes. However, in hot weather, he tends to slow down and be very lethargic. Addictions: He smoked as a teenager, but had managed to quit in his twenties. Of course, now that he has all these stressful things going on in his life, he has taken it up again. Allergies: No allergies, lucky for him. Mental Health: He's definitely going through some shit right now, what with being recently turned into a werewolf and dealing with all the ramifications of that. He misses his old life, and feels very isolated and lonely.

H I S T O R Y Job History: His first job was working at his dad's used car lot, helping to fix up cars and get them ready for sale, and also helping with some of the office work. After becoming a certified mechanic, he took a job in a small but reputable auto repair shop/garage. Fondest Memories: A family trip to Korea when he was a teenager. A spring break trip he went on with his friends in his freshman year of college. Various memories with his two best friends. Worst Experiences: Being attacked by a werewolf. His first transformation into a werewolf-- he doesn't remember much of it, but he remembers it was painful and he was terrified. And after his transformation, realizing that he had put everyone in his town in danger, and that he had actually killed someone.

C O M M U N I C A T I O N Speech Pace/Style: He's usually a bit soft-spoken, unless the situation calls for him to speak up. He's not exactly a smooth talker, but he doesn't stutter or stumble over his words much either. Accent: American. Even when he speaks Korean, he has a little bit of an American accent. Usual Curse Words: He doesn't curse a whole lot, but he does have a fondness for saying "Jesus Christ" or "fucking Christ" if he's frustrated.

P E R S O N A L I T Y, M I N D S E T, A N D B E L I E F S Personality Type: INFP-T Sense of Humor: Julian is pretty easily entertained. Chances are, if someone tells a joke, even if it's really bad, Julian will at least crack a smile. Habits: Laughs when he's nervous or uncomfortable. Has a hard time making eye contact, so he usually just looks at the floor or off to the side when he talks to someone, or he might focus on the other person's chin/mouth so it at least seems like he's looking at them. Quirks: He has a tendency to arrange things in order of color, or in alphabetical order. Also, there is a certain spot on the back of his neck that he has always really liked to have touched/stroked/massaged, and that has only intensified since he became a werewolf. That is definitely the best way to calm him down or help him relax~ Fears/Phobias: Public speaking-- he freezes up if he has to speak in front of more than a few people, and he absolutely hates being the center of attention. He also hates crowds/being in a crowd, and gets really tense and anxious anytime he's forced to be somewhere crowded. Strengths: Although Julian is usually a bit of a loner, he is very loyal and protective over anyone he does get close to. He would do anything for his friends and family (and let's be real here, he would do anything for Cybil as well). Julian is very level-headed, and often acts as a voice of reason. He is able to take a step back and look at things from a logical standpoint most of the time, and because of that, he gives excellent advice (though he doesn't always make the wisest decisions himself). He's a very honest person, and he wears his heart on his sleeve. Though that is sometimes a weakness for him, it can also work in his favor-- he doesn't lie, and he doesn't play games or try to hide how he feels about anyone. Flaws: Julian tends to freeze up when he's in stressful situations, or if he has to make any difficult decisions. He does not do well under pressure, and always prefers having more time to think through any decisions he may have to make. If he gets really stressed out or anxious for whatever reason, he may completely shut down, not really hearing/responding to anyone, sort of having a deer in the headlights look. It didn't used to happen much, but now that he has significantly more stress in his life, it's been happening more often. Julian kind of has a tendency to blame himself for a lot of things, even if they're not really his fault. This also leads to him being quite a pushover, and forgiving other people way more easily than he should, even if they really hurt him. He's ended up in more than one relationship where he kept getting hurt, but still kept coming back for more. Hopes/Desires: He used to have really simple hopes and desires. Like, he wanted to have his own garage someday, get married, maybe raise a couple of kids. Now, he has no idea what he wants, and is having a hard time accepting that a lot of what he wanted may not be possible anymore. Self-Esteem: At the moment, not so great. He accidentally killed a person, so he doesn't like himself much. It's pretty much all he can think about. Religion: He was raised Christian, but stopped going to church as soon as he moved out of his parent's place. The only time he goes now is on Christmas, just for nostalgic reasons.

R A N D O M Sleeping Position: He hasn't been sleeping well lately, so he kind of tosses and turns, trying to sleep in various positions and get comfortable. Boxers or Briefs?: Boxer-briefs. Day or Night?: He's kind of torn. He used to like nighttime the best, but now he always feels uneasy at night, like someone-- or something-- is watching him. Top or Bottom?: Usually bottom. Partying or Relaxing?: Parties freak him out, so he'd take relaxing anytime.

R E L A T I O N S H I P S Closest Friend: Julian had a wide circle of friends back home, and his closest friends were a couple of his coworkers at the garage, Allan and Isabelle (Izzy). He left without much of a goodbye to either of them, and doesn't plan on ever talking to them again, even though he misses them. Relationship History: His relationships have all been on-again-off-again sort of things, for various reasons. He was taken advantage of a lot and put up with a lot of shit he shouldn't have, because he's a sucker and gives out infinite second chances. One of his boyfriends cheated on him, and Julian still took him back when he came begging, even though he swore to himself he wouldn't do it. So, yeah. Not the best relationship history. Sexual Partners: He's had three boyfriends over the years that he's slept with, and one very awkward one night stand when he was lonely after a break-up. Thoughts About Sex: He loves it, and has kind of a high sex drive. He's usually been the one initiating sex in all his relationships-- not that any of his partners have minded that.

P A R E N T S Name(s): Nam Jinho and Nam Minji Age(s): 60 and 57 Occupation(s): His father owned a used car lot for a long time, but is now retired. His mother buys beat-up furniture and refurbishes it, mostly as a hobby, but she actually makes quite a bit of money from selling her pieces. Religion: Christian Quality of Relationship With Their Child: It was kind of rough for a while after Julian came out-- they told him what he was doing was wrong, that it was a sin, etc. But they've somewhat changed their minds. It still makes them uncomfortable that Julian is gay, but they've done their best to accept him for who he is, and have even asked him about his boyfriends although it's very awkward for them. But they love him, and just want him to be happy, whatever that means for him. Living/Deceased: Both alive~

D A I L Y L I F E Living Arrangements: Julian recently went on the run, and is now trying to settle down and live a low-key life in Grand Island. He's managed to find a small studio apartment for himself, fully furnished, but hasn't yet left any sort of personal mark on the place-- it's very plain.