#Whoever did this shot made goddamn sure they got every single detail in there

[superalloyman]

Highly recommend going through some of the ATSV TV spots frame by frame - saw this incredible little detail while grabbing suit references (Miguel puts away his claws just before he misses Miles)

Those talons are legit pretty damn deadly and its so funny to see him keep them out as some kind of threat display until the very last second, but he definitely isn’t out to actively harm Miles

[viole-tmoon]

Lamia

- summary: jungkook is a vampire hunter looking to party and wants his crush. oc is a vampire who just got cheated on. what could go wrong

- genre: angst

- word count: 4k

- notes: IN PART 3 THIS FIC CHANGES TO A READER INSERT. lmk what you think! this is a reupload from my old account that got deleted. i renamed this fic!! 

- warnings: vampire fic, indecent exposure, public nudity, talking through a bathroom door, possible death mentions(i don’t remember right now), alcohol mentions and usage, cheating, sex mentions

masterlist - part 1 - part 2 - part 3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I��m not gonna drink your piss,” I said sipping on my vodka tonic as I watched Sana point her bottle towards me. She rolled her eyes and picked at the glitter that was all over her boobs.

“It’s just Bud Light. I don’t like it just as much as you do,” she said still obsessed with the annoying glitter. I could almost feel glitter sinking into my hair from watching her. 

As I continued to stare at Sana’s boobs, I saw from the corner of my eyes my ex, who had broken up with me less than three days ago, kissing another girl. 

I was going to puke.

“What’s wrong?” Sana inquired. “Does this push up bra make me look too thirsty?”

I heard her but I couldn’t understand a word she said. I was watching the guy who almost proposed to me tongue punch a girl I was pretty sure was a freshman. 

I wanted to die. I wanted to die.

“Hey,” Sana said snapping my attention back to her. I nodded, eyes glued to the scene before me, and sat my drink on the counter behind us. Sana eventually got the memo and turned to the scene as well.

“Oh my God,” Sana said. “And I thought he had to ‘work things out’.”

“Shut up,” I nearly shouted. I knew I was being selfish and I didn’t care. I snatched my purse off of the counter. “I’m going to the bathroom...”

I could feel my best friend staring at me. It hurt more than she could ever know to feel her pity.

I knew she wanted the best for me but I’d never felt so much pain at once because of someone who I thought loved me. Her eyes asked if I was okay but I wasn’t at all and I wasn’t going to be. I wanted to scream at him and make a scene but my face was red with confused anger and I could feel my tears already falling. I needed to leave. Unfortunately, it was one of my oldest friends, Jongin’s, party so I couldn’t leave without hearing about it tomorrow and being asked every goddamn question in the world. 

Why was this was happening to me?

I was so sure he loved me too. All I thought we needed was a break. I thought we could be happy. I thought we were meant to be beyond time and space. I thought he was my one. Sure we’d broken up a few times but he’d never done that. The scene flashed before me again as I waded through the masses of my colleagues. I was conscious of the weight of their eyes on me. They were probably wondering what was wrong and why did I seem as if I were going to cry? Jongin noticed me and I rushed away. I didn’t want to deal with anyone other than myself right now.

.........................................................................................................................................................

{Jungkook}

“A man’s car is his life,” I said, watching my elder spray paint ‘Learn how to park’ in bright green on some poor fuck’s car. Yoongi had his tongue poked out as he observed his masterpiece. 

“If it’s his life he should take better care of it,” Yoongi said turning around and putting his hand on his juniors shoulder. 

I scratched at my forehead beneath my red cap and let the sound of leaves crunching under my shoes drown out the party. Yoongi was way too quick to anger sometimes, everyone knew it and he had quite a few enemies because of that. I watched Yoongi step closer to his friend's house, I could see that it was brimming with people. They were an hour late because Jin and Namjoon asked them to go to the store to pick up an exorbitant amount of Mountain Dew and 7up. Apparently, Jin was going to ‘surprise’ his ex who had recently left him for their professor.

“Anyways, I heard Jennie was going to be here,” Yoongi spouted as he opened the glass-paned door to the two-story house. He glanced at me with a knowing smile. Jennie was one of the few girls I had ever been interested in actually dating. She just had something about her that made her seem perfect to me. Maybe it was her eyes or the way she smiled when talking about physics but I wanted her.

“Cool,” I said nonchalantly and he chuckled.

The party was fun, while I was sober. While I was detailing a few girls about some of the trouble I’d gotten into last weekend Yoongi found me and convinced me that I had to leave if I didn’t drink five shots: in a row. After that, I wasn’t sure where I was until, about an hour in, Jennie’s eyes pulled me in, requesting that I spend quality time with her. I plowed through the waves of students, stepping on a few shoes and splashing alcohol under my boots. 

“I didn’t think you’d be here,” she said, emphasizing the ‘you’.

“Really?” I said, examining her and edging in on her personal space. Jennie was usually annoyingly busy so I’d never had the chance to get to know her. She was also normally dating someone.

“You never seemed like the type,” she said with a smile. I really tried to not let people know about my personal life at university. Most people in class thought I went home and studied. Everyone I’d met outside of class had a very different picture of me.

“And what type do I seem like?”

“Like you don’t want to be here,” she said. Her face seemed closer than before and I couldn’t help but smile. 

“I mean, I can imagine of a few places I’d like to be,” I said to her and she giggled with her bright smile. We spoke for a few moments longer before I felt the consequences of those five shots and excused myself to the restroom.

On my way up the stairs, I noticed the long forming line next to the nearest bathroom and sighed. Jennie was probably getting chatted up by another guy already and that was all I could think about. I waited for a few moments before I noticed Jongin, Yoongi’s friend who was throwing the party, and asked, in a whisper, if there was anywhere else I could go. He pointed me upstairs and told me that there was a bathroom in his parent's room.

 When I finally found that room, it was hidden behind couples making out, I heard distinct wines and groaned echoing from the bathroom chamber. 

If it wasn’t one thing it was another. 

I knocked on the door, softly. I didn’t receive an answer so I waited and heard a girl continue to cry and talk on the phone to someone.

“Yeah, he kissed her and it was really hot and steamy,” a female voice said, followed by sniffles.

I want to die. 

Jennie was waiting downstairs for me and I needed to see her suck my dick at least once in my life. I couldn’t lose this opportunity because some girl was getting cheated on. I knocked again louder and more rapidly.

“Please solve this drama somewhere else,” anywhere else, “I have to piss,” I said.

“I’m sick,” the voice said with the saddest fake cough I’d heard in my life. The cough reverberated inside what I assumed was a large bathroom.

“Really?”

I heard a hiss at the door, kinky but not what I was really looking for at the moment, and she spoke again. I knew she was back on her phone. At this point, I would’ve been better off waiting in line. I banged my head on the door. I’d never see Jennie at this rate. I’d never have the chance to talk to her while she was single either. I sighed into the door. 

“When I sucked his dick that night I thought we were meant to be,” she said and I couldn’t help but smile at whatever this girl was going through as I banged my head on the wall, continuously, to let her know she was being overdramatic.

“Could you stop?”

“Nope,” I said still banging my head on the door and questioning my life’s purpose.

“You’re being an asshole, you know that?”

“You’re being a b-i-t-c-h,” I said. “Please, I really need to pee. I’m asking nicely.”

“I can’t leave here.”

“Just for like...two seconds, there’s no one around,” I said, but she had already started talking to her phone. 

I couldn’t wait any more and my dick was going to explode in the next few seconds if I didn’t relieve myself so I rushed down the steps. I watched the bathroom line and it had increased into the dining area. I searched for an exit until I spotted one to the left of the steps. I saw two large glass-paned windows filtered by a haze of smoke. I rushed over to the window panes and pushed them open. I gazed at the cerulean pool that reflected the waxing moon. The drizzling rain made ripples in the pool’s moon and I knew my night really wasn’t going to get any better. I eyed the bushes to the left of the pool and immediately ran there. I was finishing up when I heard a familiar voice behind me.

“Jungkook?” Jennie said. “I’ve be-”

.........................................................................................................................................................

I never wanted to hear Yoongi’s laugh ever again.

“So...let me get this straight,” Yoongi said in between fits of laughter. “She caught you .... outside .... with your whole dick out. The girl you’ve been talking about since school started.” 

Yoongi had been going over the events over and over as if he were a tape recorder. I kept remembering it through flashbacks that I never wanted or cared to see again. Her face was so red and she stammered over her words when I stupidly turned around with my dick out. 

“Can you please shut up,” I groaned. “I get it.”

“She probably won’t even remember.”

She did. 

The next time we spoke it was the most awkward conversation in the universe. She totally avoided my eyes entirely and talked about anything but last night and when the topic came up of if she had fun she went totally silent. Whoever that girl was had ruined any chance I had with her I hoped she burned in hell. 

.........................................................................................................................................................

{Avery}

I spread out my notebooks on the table and sighed while staring at them. History was my worst subject and I knew next to nothing. My next essay was 10 pages long and I knew I was going to fail this course. I was already on probation so I definitely needed all the help I could come by. 

Sana told me that she knew this tutor who helped her out a lot last semester and that she’d slept with him once. Apparently, he was a playboy. I tapped my pencil on the table and peeked at my phone. The guy was already 10 minutes late and I grew more restless with every passing second. I decided to scroll down Twitter with the few moments of freedom I had left. 

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” I heard the voice echo throughout the room. It seemed oddly familiar. I flipped through my book to the most recent page in my studies. ‘It’s fine,’ I murmured as I scanned the text for my most recently highlighted part. I didn’t even know where to begin, so this guy was a godsend for me. He scanned me over and introduced himself and I did the same. I sensed his gaze on me for a little longer than I thought was normal, so I looked up from my book.

“Do you know Jongin?” He asked as I picked my head up. “Or Yoongi?”

I shook my head and answered that I knew Jongin.

He bit his lip and nodded at his backpack. He opened it and scattered his studying objects onto our now shared table. I looked them over, eyeing them for any more details on his personality. I sighed when all I could spot were ‘ordinary’ things you’d find in any university student’s backpack. I saw pieces of scattered notebook paper, a binder, a few pencils, a textbook, and a small black book. No panties or anything interesting. 

“You just seem familiar, what high school did you go to?” He asked.

I told him and he still scratched the back of his head. He glanced over his pile before I noticed a small ‘aha’ smile on his face but I wasn’t really interested in finding out more. He seemed like the type of guy to play with you and throw you out like you were a cat’s new toy. 

I needed to ask Sana to clarify if this guy was a tutor or someone she had only fucked because he did not care in the least bit what was going on. He said that my questions made no sense and that I was grasping at straws with all of my opinions but he refused to clarify any of my questions or even put me on the right path. I groaned as I watched the clock slog on past an hour and he began putting his books away. 

“So, that’s it?” I said tapping my pen on the desk. I couldn’t help but deem this as a huge waste of my time.

“Yep, I did the best I could, good luck on your test, you’re gonna need it.”

I could only stare at this guy. While watching him I noticed how his brown hair lit up in the white light of our study box and how his pink lips curved as he put away his utensils. He was too attractive. It was almost as if he were an angel.

“I just .... don’t think you actually came here to help me, Jungkook.”

At that statement, he stared at me with a profound amount of incredulity, as if he’d never had someone be so straightforward to him.

“Why do you think that?” he asked.

I told him.

“Ah.”

“Did you like .... lose a girlfriend or something? .... Or do you just not know what you’re doing?” I said while fiddling with my pencil. I had a certain amount of rage inside me. I wasn’t going to let an asshole screw me over. I was so close to graduating and I couldn’t let him get in my way.

“Sana told me you were good and I don’t think she would lie to me .... Look I really need th-,”

“I don’t really give a shit,” he said. It was almost as if we were in a game and his true personality came out. Some part of me was surprised, at this outcome, but most of me was frustrated. 

“Why would you tutor me if you were just going to show up and do nothing.”

“I like getting paid.”

I rolled my eyes, “Please,” I begged. “I really can’t fail this.”

“It’s just a midterm.”

I rolled my eyes and in frustration threw a piece of paper at the door when he closed it, “Fuck you.”

.........................................................................................................................................................

“I wanna die,” I said and leaned on her best friend’s shoulder. I couldn’t believe I was going to fail my history midterm all because of a stupid guy. Sana stroked my hair, while Jihyo watched, and cooed to me that it was going to be okay and that there were plenty of tutors out there.  

“You said he was the best you’d ever had,” I whined. A part of me was worried that she might have meant that specifically sexually but I had no clue. I drank until I couldn’t feel my face and whined to Sana and Jihyo about how I was never going to graduate.

When I had turned away from the bar to get drinks for my friends I bumped into a hard chest. I managed to get half of my beverages on his white shirt. Fuck, was the only word going through my head. I shot out a ‘Sorry’, but immediately regretted it when I looked up and noticed that he held the same scowl I had seen less than 6 hours ago. I wanted to die but I also smiled at the karmic resolution the universe had placed before me. 

“So—rry,” I said slowly, as I stared at his white shirt with a pout.

“Jesus Christ, Avery,” Jungkook said while pulling on the hem of his now discolored shirt. I let out a tiny smile at his dismay.

I rolled my eyes, “Don’t be such a baby,” I said as I grabbed the nearest paper towels and pressed them on his shirt. I felt the impression of his abs underneath and was surprised by how sculpted they were. I stopped pondering for a moment before I heard an ‘ahem’ coming from the annoying guy. I pouted when I noticed that his shirt refused to return to its original state. “Let me get these .... drinks to my friends and we’ll figure something out.”

.........................................................................................................................................................

I stared at the washer and then inspected Jungkook who was in my father’s largest white. He seemed ridiculously cute to have such a bad personality.  I didn’t feel bad at all when I rinsed detergent all over his precious shirt that he had complained about all the way up here. 

“If it doesn’t come out you owe me so much money,”

“How much could a white button-up cost?”

“It’s a Kanye West or-ig-i-nal,” he stated as he sipped on the beer can he’d stolen from my tiny refrigerator. I couldn’t believe this asshole ruined my entire day and college career.

“You know you can go to your dorm and wait,” I said pushing open the laundromat door.

“And miss out on the free alcohol you owe me? No way,” he said.

.........................................................................................................................................................

As soon as I opened my dorm door he spotted my refrigerator once again, much to my chagrin. This guy was going to drink me out of a house and home. I sat on my bed and opened my laptop while I watched him open another can. 

“You really don’t remember me do you?” he said in the most drawled out tone. My bed shifted under his weight. 

“As the worst tutor I’ve ever had? Of course, I do.”

At that statement, he threw the rest of his body onto my bed and I knew I needed him out of my bedroom before I strangled him. He came in here as if he owned the place.

“You,” he said while drunkenly waving a finger in my vague direction, “kept me away from my future girlfriend.” I was glad when I saw that he was losing his ability to speak but upset when he decided my bed was the perfect place to rest.

I made a face of incredulity at his statement and decided to pry his beer from his drunk hand. “Ok .... That’s enough for you,” I said. He must’ve had me confused with someone who gave a shit.

“Maybe even wife .... whatever dude ....,” he said grasping for my drink as I pulled it away from him. He muttered out a few words before falling fully asleep in my room.

.........................................................................................................................................................

{Jungkook}

I was pretty sure I was in a girl’s room. 

Which girl I had no clue. 

I stretched over in the empty bed and searched frantically to no avail for my phone.

“You talk in your sleep and cuddle a lot,” Avery said over the sound of rushing waters to which I let out a ‘huh.’ She came into my view wearing my shirt. What the fuck? I thought as I stared at my dick. Dude!!! I put my hand over my face and peered back at her. She looked really cute in it. Too cute. She wore it as if it belonged to her. I couldn’t help but think about ripping it off of her, for multiple unspecified reasons. 

“Um, did I? Did we?” A lot of me was pissed that I couldn’t keep my dick in my pants with a girl that I hated, but watching her in that made me reconsider. She giggled and I was scared yet excited for her answer

“Yeah, you proposed to me,” she said and covered her face as if she were embarrassed. I felt all of the life drain of me. What was wrong with me? What was wrong with me? When was drunk me going to realize that there are consequences to my actions? The onslaught of giggles made me reconsider my descent into madness. 

“Dude, you’re so gullible,” she said, unbuttoning my shirt. A certain part of me grew in anticipation for the outcome of her actions but I pouted when I found out that she had a shirt underneath. 

“We didn’t have sex...You did try to cuddle me a ton,” Avery said before gliding her way to her bathroom. “You owe me, like, 10 study sessions, dude. You’re welcome,” she said. I was left with my thoughts before she peeked her head back in. “Also, I told Jennie you were gay,” she said with a snigger. 

My whole body froze.

“You’re literally the most gullible person on the planet,” she said while throwing her head back in ungodly laughter.

.........................................................................................................................................................

{Avery}

The first few times we studied I was exhilarated at the pace at which he taught me. After the events of last week, he seemed way more inclined to help me in my struggles. I was surprised by how organized and studious he was in contrast to his asshole exterior. He showed me how he kept track of his ideas and why I needed to study at least once a day. This was our last study session so I needed it to be in a quiet environment, so we decided on his room.

“Did Jennie talk to you today?”

“This isn’t going to help you,” Jungkook said as he watched me answer questions on the quiz he’d created for me. I sighed at the feeling of his scrutinizing gaze on me. I was glad that he was helping me but it felt as if I were in boot camp. The boy didn’t know when to take a break, his energy was overwhelming. I could tell he was leaning in closer when I smelt his musky honey scent creeping in.

“You’re probably not going to understand this one,” he said as he pointed at the question.

“I feel like it’s .... George Washington?”

“You’re closer than .... Napoleon?”

I sighed as I rubbed my finger on the desk. I was really glad for his help. I sensed his shadow creep in on my personal space and heard his chair roll closer to me.

“So, what do you suspect the answer is?” he asked. I could tell he was teasing me and I wasn’t able to focus on my memory. 

I groaned, “Could I get a hint?”

“Do you really think I’m going to give you a hint,” he asked while watching my emotions run over the question he had asked me. I pouted at my page.

“Yes...?” I sighed. We’d been working really hard to make sure I understood everything and I still couldn’t comprehend it. I sat my forehead on my desk. I felt him pull my chair closer to him and I had completely forgotten my last few thoughts. 

“I just feel like you’re stressing yourself out over nothing.”

“Mmm,” I let out. I was more than tired and had considered drinking coffee for the first time in at least two years. I turned my face so that my cheek sat on my cool desk and peered at his big bunny eyes. I noticed his arm wrap around my waist and he started speaking again, but I couldn’t tell what he was saying, I was obsessed with the way his touch felt against my shirt and how cozy his hand felt. I couldn’t stop staring at his lips.

“This is something you should focus on,” he said while pointing at my book. He watched me and I was sure he could tell I was dazed and confused. His lips turned into a grin before he pulled his face to my ear.

“I don’t think you’re listening,” he said, into my earlobe. I was surprised by his closeness and my goosebumps raised. I let out an ‘mmm’ and ‘I am’ absentmindedly. He pulled my chair until I was flush against him. I wanted to whine in embarrassment but I couldn’t even let that croak out of me.  He pulled away from me and my body missed the warmth he presented. My face slid so that my forehead was back on the table to avoid his gaze.

“It’s okay to look at me,” he said while lifting his hand onto my neck to press on any of my tensions. I peeked back up at him and was surprised to find his lips on mine in less than a second. Sana had told me a little about how he kissed but she never explained it like this. She never really gave it the amount of praise it deserved. His lips were like pillows and the gates to heaven. I never wanted someone more in my life. He pulled away from me in a knowing gaze.

“Yeah, I know,” he said, while smoothing his thumb over my lips. I knew he could see the dumbfounded look on my face and I wished I could take it all back.

.........................................................................................................................................................

[forestwater87]

The Jungle (Day 4 of Gwenvid Week 2019)

Gwen has to go into the city alone to propose an idea to Camp Corp. It was supposed to be an easy, unexciting trip.

It wasn't.

(Gwenvid Week 2019, Day 4: Whump/Comfort)

(an unofficial companion on S4E12, “The Forest”)

Chapter 1

“I know you’ll be just great, Gwen!” David took her by the shoulders and gave her a smile that was way too happy for 5:30 in the morning (and should not have made her feel just the tiniest bit brighter, but she’d long resolved herself to the fact that David had that effect on people). “And just think: after this, we can just focus on making Camp Campbell the very best it can be!”

What did he think she was going all the way to their offices for? It wasn’t for her fucking health, that was for sure. But she bore his optimism with the best grace she could muster before the sun was up -- namely, sighing and not kicking him in the shins.

“Now, do you have everything?” The Campmobile was broken -- Gwen was inclined to blame Max and the other two, but David was convinced it was “just something mechanical” that he’d be able to fix despite his complete lack of interest in cars -- and QM, the only one of them who knew how to drive the bus, had disappeared on some sort of mysterious retreat that neither of them had wanted any details about. Which meant she had to walk into town and from there take a regular, crowded, non-school bus into the city to make her 9:00 meeting with Camp Corp. (She’d initially suggested a taxi or Uber or something, but then looked in both the camp budget and her bank account and decided that wasn’t going to happen.) She’d change into her heels and interview suit in the bathroom and then blaze into that meeting and charm the Campwells’ attorneys into hopefully partnering with them as an “independent Camp Pals partner camp” -- which mostly just meant “you give us a bunch of money and we’ll use it to do our thing and you can take credit for anything we don’t royally screw up” -- after which she’d triumphantly cram herself back onto the next overstuffed bus of sweaty assholes and be home in time to collapse in bed and not move for at least 14 hours. To facilitate this plan, David had insisted on packing her a hiking bag complete with a change of clothes, three water bottles, and enough granola bars to feed the entire city. (He’d tried to sneak in an extra pair of socks and a first-aid kit before she’d told him if he made her bag any heavier she’d clobber him over the head with it.) “I know it’ll be chilly at first, but make sure you stay hydrated anyway! Dehydration can --”

“Got it, David. I usually run the First Aid camps, remember? That’s my speech.”

“Well, okay!” He hovered around her anxiously as she tugged on her boots and hooked her purse onto the backpack. “And just remember, I know things didn’t go all that great last time, I’ll have my phone all day! If you find yourself getting nervous, or starting to feel like -- like you might sell the camp --”

Gwen rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything.

“-- you just give me a call!” He looped an arm around her shoulder, squeezing her against his side painfully. “Remember, Gwen, we’re a team!”

“Yeah, got it,” she grumbled, extricating herself from his grip. She made it to the cabin door when she was suddenly hit with a wave of nervousness, turning around to see David standing where she’d left him, his hands clasped in front of his chest and his smile bright and a little wavery. She put her hand on the doorframe, focusing her gaze on the pine tree clock above his shoulder to avoid having to meet his earnest gaze (and the way her chest tightened at the sight of it). “Seriously, though, thanks.”

His grin steadied and widened, and he gave her the Camp Campbell salute. “Any time, Gwen! Now go get ‘em!”

She didn’t return the salute, but she was smiling as she closed the door and headed off into the very early morning.

---

“Jesus.” Gwen collapsed onto the bench outside Sleepy Peak’s sole bus stop, tipping her head back toward the muted sunlight that had begun stretching tendrils across the sky. It was actually a rather nice walk, but ever since she’d taken over the business-and-paperwork side of running the camp, she’d kind of let herself fall out of shape, and she was just relieved the morning was a relatively cool one. She lifted her ponytail off the back of her neck, enjoying the cool air on her sweaty skin just long enough to feel the pinch of a mosquito. “Fuck!” An old lady approaching the stop jumped, shooting Gwen a wary look like she was rabid. “Sorry,” she muttered. “Just . . . you know, waiting for the bus.”

She nodded, taking a seat on the other side of the bench. “I’ve been taking this bus every day for the last fifty years.”

Oh, god, that sounded like the beginning of a conversation. “Neat,” she said, hoping her “please dear god don’t talk to me anymore” voice was obvious enough. She pulled out her phone and sighed with relief; at least the bus would be here soon.

“It started when my husband Edward lost his job at the silicone implant factory. ‘No good would come from changing the gifts God gives,’ I said when he took the job, and you know I was just right. That factory burned down in 2007, and I think the foreman -- he was a dear friend, the foreman; that’s how Ed was offered a place in the factory in the first place. Factory jobs weren’t common even in those days, and lord knows they’re all but gone now, so you better believe he thought he’d gotten lucky when old Jimmy Fitsimmons called! Dear Jim is now working at a packing plant in Missouri, and you know Missouri is just beautiful most of the year -- but goodness, the winters are rough. ‘I hope you know what you’re doing, Jimmy, with those winters,’ I told him, but he and his wife Enid were determined to make the best of it, and we’ve even been down to see their home. It’s small, you know houses just aren’t as easy to pay for as they used to be, and my Ed and I are very lucky to still have the home we bought as newlyweds -- and oh, that is a funny story! You see, my father . . .”

---

“-- oh goodness, where was I? That’s right, Edward lost his job at the silicone implant factory. So I said, ‘Edward, I’ll have to help you get back on your feet,’ and he didn’t like the idea of me working -- he’s an old-fashioned man, my Ed, but times were changing then and still are now; you young people might think we don’t pay attention, but we --”

“Wow, the bus sure is running late, isn’t it?” Gwen interrupted, glancing at her phone for the third time in the last ten seconds. She was supposed to have a full half hour once she got into the city to make herself look less like a swamp monster, but she was starting to wonder if she’d have to run straight from the bus to the meeting in her sweat-soaked camp clothes. “Wonder where it is?”

“Oh, don’t worry, my dear,” the old woman said, taking a long sip from her thermos. “It’ll be along any minute now; I should know, I’ve been riding this bus every day for the last fifty years, ever since --”

“Great. I just kinda have an appointment to get to, so . . .” She tapped her fingertips on her knees, trying not to panic. Panic made her break out, and she probably didn’t have time to put on the makeup she’d packed in her bag, so she needed to have a nice clear Dove-commercial face for this meeting.

“It’ll be here,” she said, and Gwen forced herself to take a deep breath. Deep, soothing breaths, like she’d learned during those six weeks she’d taken yoga. In through the nose, out through the mouth; breathe out stress and negative self-talk, breathe in positivity and healing . . .

“Unless, of course, they’ve canceled the run,” the old woman added casually, and Gwen nearly choked on the positivity and healing.

“Wait, what?” she managed, coughing past the swallowed air. “Canceled it? You mean they just don’t show up?”

She nodded. “It happens sometimes, in a town as small as this one. On those days we just have to wait for the next one to come along.”

Gwen couldn’t exactly afford to wait for the next one, not that she seemed to have much choice. Maybe if they cut one of tomorrow’s camps, they could stretch out the supplies enough to afford a single lousy cab ride . . . “When’s the next bus?” she asked, holding up her phone and cursing the lack of a signal.

“There’s a schedule down outside the general store.”

I thought you did this every goddamn day for fifty years, she thought, grinding her teeth. But the store was a straight shot down Main Street; she’d never be out of sight of the bus stop. “Don’t let them leave without me!” she called to the old woman before half-jogging, half-running down the road to the general store.

Of course there were a thousand fliers papered all over the store’s windows, and of course the schedule was buried under a months-old announcement for a “xmas family fun fest!!!” But another bus should be arriving in . . .

The bus blew past her, barrelling like a runaway freight train toward the stop at the other end of the street. “Hey!” Gwen broke into a sprint, the rising sun searing as she tried to reach the bus stop in time. She tripped over a rock, hitting the dirt road face-first and seeing stars as she scrambled to her feet. “Fucking -- hey!”

The bus started pulling away, and she tried to force her body to run even faster despite the stitch forming below her ribs and the throbbing sting where her knees, chin, and palms had scraped the road; she swiped one hand across her face and it came away bloody. That old bitch hadn’t even told the bus to wait thirty seconds! After she’d pretended to listen to that whole goddamn story about Jim and Ed and whoever the fuck else . . .

It finally stopped just at the edge of town, its engine growling impatiently as she staggered up to it. The driver stared at her for a long moment before opening the doors, his expression blank.

“I was at the bus stop,” she panted, dropping her money into the till. “I’d been there for half an hour.”

The driver shrugged. “I coulda just kept going, lady.”

She resisted the urge to flip him off and just continued onto the bus, which was somehow completely full even though she was pretty sure Sleepy Peak didn’t even have this many people. They weren’t even the last stop before the city, which meant it was only going to get more crowded.

Great.

She squeezed in between a family of six and a young businessman, grabbing onto the overhead bar just as the bus started moving again; one of the children stumbled into her, jabbing his elbow into her side and clinging to her backpack with sticky fingers.

“Whoa!” A lanky young man leapt out of his seat, gesturing for her to take his place. She sat down with a grateful smile, her legs starting to feel like jello after all the abuse they’d taken that day. Thank god there were still some decent people out there.

She opened her mouth to thank him when he shook his head at her and added:

“Just keep your arms down, girl. You stink.”

Mortified, Gwen dropped her gaze, searching for literally anything to look at that wasn’t involved in this conversation when she noticed that she was somehow seated right next to the old bitch who hadn’t held the bus for her. She smiled at Gwen serenely, like she hadn’t just been the cause of all this bullshit.

“You look familiar, my dear,” she said. “Have we met?”

“Nope,” Gwen replied shortly, preparing to disappear into her phone when the woman continued.

“Well, I’ve seen so many faces. I’ve been riding this bus every day for the last fifty years, you know. Ever since my husband Edward lost his job at the silicone implant factory . . .”

She dropped her head into her hands and prepared to spend the rest of the bus ride trying not to exist.

Keep Reading

[punk-mentality-blog]

Never Happy Enough

Chapter One, I guess:

Some people can never truly be happy. I have a friend who has recently started taking medication. I support her because I understand that some people need to have meds in their life. I personally do not believe taking medicine will fix my issues. But just as people need God to get through life, some need medication. However, when my fiance to-be suggested I could go on Anti-Depressants and/or Bipolar medication, I had to explain that I just couldn’t. He’s concerned for my deteriorating mental health and I know he means well. I just don’t believe that pills will solve all my issues. All medication is is a placebo that people profit from. You are told that if you’re filled with these missing chemicals that you’ll be happy..but it’s just a pitch, a means to an end. 

You are told time and time again what to do to achieve happiness. People say that with the right amount of exercise, a healthy diet, keeping around your loving family and friends, and if you keep on top of your goals in school or work, you’ll be happy. Then it leaves people like me wondering why it’s too exhausting to try even one of those. You just don’t have the motivation and energy to work out today, tomorrow, or the hundreds of days that may follow. You can’t afford the over priced fruits and veggies your body aches for but make you sick to your stomach; because you’re too full of enough food as it is. Your family has their own issues at home and you can’t pull away their attention for something that you know they can’t fix; So why bother them with it? Your friends have lives outside of you, and because there’s only two of them, you run out of places to turn. You run out of loved ones because you’re too scared to surround yourself, knowing that no matter how many spots are filled, it’s never enough. So, it’s better to isolate yourself and say there are plenty of places to be taken, plenty of other peoples to fill them and tell you that you matter. But it’s still not enough. Isolating yourself is so much easier than letting yourself be vulnerable, than sitting around everyday, wondering everyday when they’re going to leave and why. You can’t keep up with your grades because when you’re at home, all you can think about is how badly you’re doing and have been doing since the beginning. You tell yourself you’ll get better, but let’s face it, you’re nearing on 19 years old and you’re already out of that childhood hope that you can be anything you want to be. You can’t just be that person, you can’t just be happy, and healthy, and successful. You have to work for it, but how are you supposed to stay motivated long enough to get your life together when it’s exhausting to brush your teeth in the morning or take a shower at night? 

I know what to do to be happy, at least what people tell you is that will make you happy, but is it? Can I ever be happy? When I was 16, I thought my life was the worst it could possibly be with the people in my life and who came into it, destroyed everything I had, and then left without a goodbye. Then I graduated high school, and I was so lost. I didn’t plan on living passed 17, let alone making it long enough to say that my 19th birthday is this month. Then when I realized I didn’t know what I wanted to do because I never planned on doing anything, I was scared all over again. And how the hell is that fair? Why did I only ever give myself the one option? I’m all about planning for every terrible situation that could ever come to mind. So, why didn’t I think of the worst outcome? That I couldn’t go through with it. That I was too scared of the endless list of possibilities after I take that final breath. When you’re born, you’re given a script of different events that must happen by the end of it all, but that everything in-between was filler content. You are expected to improvise with the characters, props, costumes and personalities that will come into the shot. Some characters are pre-cast, such as yourself and family. Then the other characters will be cast as the show is produced. Some will be fired, others will quit, and for some.. it’s decided that they would be leaving the show for another, whether by whoever is behind that camera making decisions as Director. Or if they just got tired of the same old episode structure with less pay off the more it happened. The ending just isn’t close enough, and they hate the wait. They’re too impatient for what it takes to make the happily ever after. You are the main character, living between the pages of a book that’s empty. You don’t get to read ahead, or skip to the ending so you know how it ends up. You live through every imaginary page from the end of one chapter to another. Because that’s how life is. You’re the writer of a book that has no set ending, so you try and figure it out, but life isn’t like writing a book. Not at all, because as an author, you can manipulate the story in any which way you so please. While everyone tells you that you can, it’s not really true. You have co-authors you never agreed to take over, but they want to write this chapter, so they steal the pen from you and who are you supposed to tattle to now. You have reached a point in your life where you would rather let the co-author control your book while you waste away your life in the slowest way possible. You convince yourself they’re the better writer, and it’s just easier this way. Then the day will come where you either gather up the courage to fire them because you remember that you’re the Boss around here. Or, they leave like everyone else because even someone who is obsessed with every detail of your life can get tired of looking too hard at this worthless book that should just be scrapped for ideas and throw out the unimportant details like their identity because it was a shitty character anyways. Nobody wants to read that it doesn’t always get better.

So, why do you live through life even though you’ve convinced yourself that it’s pointless? Who knows, it’s different for everyone and you think you’re the only one with this special case. Special case? That’s laughable, what do you even have to be depressed about? Sure your dad was hardly there, but your mom was a goddamn rockstar who loves you more than you thought anyone ever could. Then you tell yourself she had to. But hey, what about your wonderful friends? They choose to have you in their life, right? Sure, but that doesn’t always mean they love you. You’ve had a toxic best friend who show you how much better they are wearing your skin. Which sounds more fucked up if you actually see her as the Devil incarnate who tore your identity from you and wore it like a trophy. But she didn’t, she just wore the same clothes that she didn’t even personally like so that you would shame yourself for the body you’ve let yourself be happy with even though you’re just a blob. Then again, you were strong enough to tell her to get fucked and risk living life without her. Finally you realize, hey, I didn’t need this girl to guide me around and pretend that you’re the one staying at her heel like a sad little dog who’s been shown affection for the first time since it gave up hope. No, you don’t have to let her wrap that leash around you. She doesn’t have the power to hold you back unless you let her. 

When you realize that you are worth so much more than you let yourself believe, you know that you couldn’t have done so without help. You finally let someone into your heart to stay, and holy shit that’s scary. This asshole that you thought came into your life to teach you the same lesson you’ve learned for the last 3 years on a loop: That you deserve to be used. He hurts you like every other guy has since you moved to this shitty town. He teaches you that it’s not the town, or even the people in it who have come in and ruined everything you thought you knew. It’s you. That’s the hardest lesson to learn. You, and you alone, decide how this is all going to happen. You know that you can strive for greatness, and great things will happen. But he wasn’t thrown into your life to teach you the same cheesy message they slap on motivational posters so they can say they tried to reach out and help you.

No, he comes into your life to teach you that none of that shit matters, and it’s okay to not be okay. It’s more normal than people let you believe, and even if the details are different, the feeling is the same. He opens up your mind to the peace that comes with knowing that you can change yourself. He teaches you how to love yourself, that some people really do stay for the long hall. He teaches you that sometimes your soulmate isn’t always supposed to play a romantic role. There are people in the world who so perfectly understand you that you can not speak a single word and they’ll know that you’re in pain. He teaches you that soulmates are real, and the connection is something you can totally ignore if you’re too scared to feel it.

Unfortunately for you, he was also a lesson in not wasting time on trivial details.. Because the day you found out that he died was the worse day of your life so far. You don’t hear much on the grief felt when losing a best friend. You hear about losing family members, and significant others, but you’ve hardly been made to understand the grief that plagues your heart when your best friend is gone. It’s a pain so raw that you can feel every tear in your Soul like the expose roots of teeth. You can feel it getting worse the longer it goes untreated. It hurts in the cold. It hurts when you pay too much attention to it, not being able to leave it be so it can try and heal a bit on it’s own. Soon enough it hurts to breathe. You have to admit you need help, and it’s a vulnerable position to put yourself in. There are no root canals for the Soul. There’s no easy fix. You find yourself even more lost when the one person you had to go to, isn’t there anymore. Not just because you made the mistake of dating again. Not because you’re in some petty fight that you will move passed in a day or two, depending on how pushy he is at the time. No, you can’t turn to him ever again, and your left filling in his half of the conversation hoping for guidance. You have to restart from the beginning, only now you won’t have him to hold your hand.

It’s like some sick joke that just keeps getting worse. Suddenly there’s an actual reason to be sad, and all you feel is… Empty. You thought the worst was behind you and then a part of your Soul was ripped away and you were expected to move on without it. Time doesn’t stand still because suddenly one of the most important people in your life is gone. You must again realize that co-authors exist, not just for you but for other people as well. He didn’t have life figured out either, he just showed you a better perspective to live by. He was just as lost as you. Just as lonely, depressed, and empty as you. You knew that, of course you knew that, you were what he was for you. At least you hoped you were.. 

Hell, were you? How could you ever know if you helped him as much as he helped you. His co-author butted in with the idea of spicing up the story with a great tragedy on a secondary character they’ve shown sudden interest in. So they mixed a little binge drinking and depression with a loaded shotgun and told you that you were invisible. You find yourself glad that he died like a drunk idiot rather than think about how he messaged you two days before he died asking to hang out with you but you turned him down because you were isolating yourself like a moron. You find yourself glad that you weren’t the one who let him down. You have nightmares about his last moments and wished that you’d taken more pictures with him. Grief is a funny thing when you’ve gone through life, blissfully unaware of how those funerals you had gone to in the past had affected the people who cared. Until now, you’d never lost someone who you loved. You don’t have close family, and going to your grandmother’s funeral was just another day for you. Just like when you found out this extraordinary person was taken away forever, life went on for everyone else around you because they didn’t know him like you did.

So what if you finally learned you deserved love? What kind of lesson ends with killing off the person who taught you it? No matter the number of words you scribble down and type out, you know it won’t bring him back. How are you supposed to move on when you’ve never known such a unique love as your Soulmate being your best friend and nothing more. Fuck, but wasn’t he though? He wasn’t your True Love, but he was your Soulmate. You believe that, he was more than a friend, and more than a lover. You connected with him in a way that was scary to feel, but he showed you that it could be so beautiful to be vulnerable.

After you’ve finally found love, he has to watch you break over a relationship he doesn’t understand. He understands that this boy in your life is important to you, and that you have no romantic feelings for, he’s gone now, and it hurts. He doesn’t know how to fix it, and neither do you. Your best friend understood you more than anyone ever could; Especially you. You love him for holding you when you found out, because news like this can be dropped like an Atomic Bomb, it shows no mercy and stops everything around you. You have to move on, and for a while you live in denial. You convince yourself that your best friend’s sense of humor has gotten a hell of a lot darker than usual. Then the day comes when you have to sit in a church and listen to story, after story about how he was an amazing person, and he was really gone. For the first time in your life, you see him without the goofy fucking smile that is engraved in your heart. But you move passed it and eat your feelings.

There’s something about this idiot that makes you want to be better though. Not your best friend, but your boyfriend. He’s the sweetest guy you’ve ever met, and you think it’s too good to be true. He loves you, he’s been with you for a little over two years now, and that’s the craziest thing. Of course, you wouldn’t have been able to remove the filter that insecurity and anxiety put over him because of people from the past. No, you did that because of your best friend showing you that you’re just a paranoid idiot who is just falling back into self destructive tendencies. So, you finally just let it happen, you let someone love you and treat you right without panicking that he has some ulterior motive.

No, for once you’ve actually met a guy that both makes you happy, and treats you right. You never thought you’d find him. Hell, you didn’t even mean to. You had every intention on killing yourself before this asshole said ‘I love you’ first. You didn’t think anyone but your mother was capable of such a thing. He proves you wrong when he tells you he loves you, and you find yourself blurting out ‘I love you, too’. Such a simple phrase you’d only ever been on the receiving end of up until now. The hell are you supposed to say after something like that? I usually panic and insult him afterwards. As if he’ll react differently than giving me that big stupid grin of satisfaction knowing that I’m being a bitch because I’m still adjusting to the whole ‘being happy’ thing.

He’s pretty phenomenal himself and you think that this could finally be your happily ever after. However, you are once again reminded that there are no time skips in real life. Love stories don’t end after the two main idiots finally decide to let another person love them. They work at that ever after or it won’t ever come. Just because you’re in love and you finally have happiness, doesn’t mean your happy. Okay, now how the hell does that make sense? Why is it that no matter how much your heart swells when he tells you how beautiful you are, or when he plans your future while you sit there and listen to him preparing to live with you for the rest of his life; Willingly, like some idiot. Why doesn’t that fix it? You didn’t realize that you were filling your life with meaningless relationships.You don’t go around sleeping with everyone, but you serial date because you’re afraid to be alone.. God, you’re a love-whore.

You have depended on this idea that being in love will help you heal. You convince yourself that this person is the reason you’re better. Just like when you let people control you before, only this time instead of depression, it’s supposed to be hope. Hope is just a spiritual drug you develop an addiction to because it’s easier that way. You need a healthy dose of hope in your life, so why not take it? All this hope can lead you to becoming better. Never even realizing that it’s not because of this person that loves you, through no fault of your own. It was you. You are the reason you are happy. You are the reason you are depressed. You are responsible for everything you feel, it all started with you. It all ends with you. You’re not happy because you’re in love. You’re happy because you believed you couldn’t be without these pre-set goals crammed down your throat from the very beginning. When you realize that this thing you thought you needed your whole life isn’t what changed you? You change again. Like an idiot, you’ve questioned why you are allowed to be happy again. 

You realize that you aren’t fixed. 

You’re just as broken as you were a year ago, if not more so, only you had love to depend on, to distract you. No, you haven’t changed. You’re the same sad loser you were before him. Once again, you feel empty. Hope, love, and happiness are the same as taking medication. Yes, I actually remembered where I was going with this.. Medication doesn’t change you anymore than being in love changed me. His love isn’t what changed me. Medication isn’t the reason people change. You just have a new sense of hope that you can change. So, you swallow a pill because you think you need to, or you steal a kiss because you know you can. It doesn’t change the way you are, just the perspective you live by. Whatever it is that you let yourself get tricked into fixing yourself with, it helps you be you. Not because you needed something else for help, but because you needed to remind yourself that you’re capable of doing it. It just takes a really long fucking time, and you’re an impatient person. 

Signed, A Depressed Goth Loser.

[rainygalaxynerd]

Brave New World - Chapter 51 B

Warnings: Caitlin’s distraught at the interview, as we left her. They talk about some of the stuff she’s been through but nothing graphic. Very mild triggers for sexual abuse/child abuse, I’d say.

Summary: There’s explaining, hacking, and breaking and entering to do. 

Word count: app 3000

A/N: Still fighting so hard to keep up and get these out every week and finish this amazing journey in a good place for everyone. Sorry for any mistakes, they’re all mine.

This is part of a chapter story. Link to mobile friendly master list here.

Tagging: @twenty-onepages  @winchesterprincessbride @fangirling-instead-of-working @kbrand0 @vibou25 @jotink78 @jencharlan @mrsjohnsmith @littlegreenplasticsoldier @deandoesthingstome

When had she become so dependent on him? Well, it wouldn’t do. This world didn’t care about what she wanted and needed and Dean certainly couldn’t be expected to mold his chaotic life around her. Get over it, Caitie… Oh God. That’s his nickname for me. She pushed the chair back and got up. Once safely out of the camera’s view and her back turned to the others, she cried.

Dean blinked. “Well, what are you waiting for? Do it.”

Cas touched his forehead and Dean’s vision swam momentarily while every single nerve in his body tingled.

The sensation faded and the world came back into focus. Dean raised a finger at Castiel. “When this is over, you and I are gonna have a talk about you not mentioning this earlier.” Dean’s mouth quirked upward as he spoke, however.

“It only works on humans.”

“Spoilsport.” With a squeeze to Cas’ shoulder, Dean went up the broad steps to the police station.

He went straight to the first available officer. “Excuse me, can you tell me where to find Agent Morgan?” At the puzzled look, he clarified. “He’s with the B.A.U. and conducting an interview with a witness at the moment, if I’m not mistaken.”

Caitlin fought to regain control over herself and stop crying. Every attempt to focus her thoughts on justice and setting examples dissolved in random pictures, sensations, sounds, and smells from her childhood and recent captivity.

She was far from winning the battle and sensing Morgan and Prentiss’ patience waning when there was a knock on the door. She shied away from the sound, hiding in her corner and vigorously rubbing her face in her sleeve.

Morgan opened the door, ready to slip through it and talk to whoever was there outside. He froze. “You can’t be here,” he muttered.

“I’m here to offer my support to Ms. Smith. Of course, I can be here. I belong here.”

Caitlin gasped at the familiar voice, laced with way too much swagger and smugness. Slowly she turned to take in Dean’s familiar form.

Dean reached out to shake Derek’s hand as if they’d never met before, his eyes begging the man to play along. “I’m Dean Smith. No relation to Caitlin. Well, you knew that, of course, since Smith isn’t her birth name.” He chuckled and stepped into the room to shake Prentiss’ hand.

Derek couldn’t breathe, ready for Emily to recognize the infamous, undead Dean Winchester.

Instead, she calmly shook his hand and introduced herself. “It’s good you’re here,” Prentiss added and motioned toward Caitlin.

Dean finally met her eyes, apologetic and excited all at once. “I hope you don’t mind,” he began but didn’t get any further.

Caitlin threw herself into his arms. “Dean.” Breathing deeply, drinking in his scent, she smiled into his chest.

He stroked her hair and back, holding her close. She looked up at him, still smiling, and he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’m sorry I was an ass, Caitie.” I’m sorry I snapped at you. I was nervous too.

Caitlin pursed her lips in a mock pout. “You should work on your apologies, Mr. Ass.”

Dean grinned at her. “Yeah, yeah. After we save the world.” He threw a glance back at the two obviously eavesdropping and intrigued agents. “‘s population of baby seals. Gotta save seals.”

Caitlin laughed at him and stood on tiptoes to press a chaste kiss to his cheek. She turned to Morgan. “Can you get him a chair?”

Ten minutes later, the interview was back on track. With Dean there to ground Caitlin, the agents quickly discovered that they could ask for more details without her crumbling before them. This led to Prentiss finally asking some of the difficult questions they needed answers to before they could do more about the Mitchells.

“As you probably know, we were already looking for you when you were kidnapped by the Mitchells. We had reason to believe that a couple of notorious serial killers had taken you from your home a few weeks prior to the abduction in Dewe. What really happened?”

Dean placed a hand on Caitlin’s arm before she could speak. “She’s not at liberty to tell you.”

“What?”

“I said,” Dean leaned forward and fixed Prentiss with a steely glare, “she’s not at liberty to tell you.”

“I heard. What’s that supposed to mean?” Prentiss shot back, no less relentless.

Dean leaned back and relaxed into his chair. Time to load the bullshit cannon with sharp rounds. “The Winchesters are dead,” he stated matter of factly. “I’ll most likely lose my job telling you this but Caitlin here has become my highest priority.” He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze and smiled at her.

Caitlin stared at him, open-mouthed.

Dean squeezed her shoulder again and she hesitantly shut her mouth and managed to look like she was perfectly in the know. Dean sighed, as if reluctant to continue. “Their DNA was abstracted from the biomaterial of the explosion back in ‘08 and has been used in a series of classified experiments. Last spring the Chinese got hold of a sample. The latest Winchester sightings were really Chinese robots.”

There was stunned, disbelieving silence in the room. Finally, Prentiss spoke, flatly. “Robots?”

“Yeah, robots. I’m afraid we lost that race by lightyears. Anyway, Caitie got sorta caught in a dispute with the Chinese over the Winchester robots after we stole ‘em back.”

Prentiss stared at him, ready to call his bluff.

Dean smirked. “Obviously, that entire affair is a CIA matter, not to mention a diplomatic nightmare. It has nothing to do with what happened to Ms. Smith when her family found her in Dewe.”

“And the fact that the Mitchells claim that a man matching Dean Winchester’s description came to their door three days ago?” Prentiss asked, her tone a bit softer.

“What? 6ft2, dark blond hair? C’mon, that could be anyone. It could be me.” Dean chuckled. “It was me. I’d just had a run-in with the damned Chinese when I stumbled upon their hideout.” Shit, I hope I look enough like myself for this to work.

Morgan looked like his eyes might pop out any second but he wisely kept his mouth shut as Prentiss slowly nodded.

“Very well, Mr. Smith. We’ll check your explanations through our official channels.” She turned to Caitlin. “Are you ready to continue, Ms. Smith?”

Caitlin nodded, eyes still a bit round. She recounted how Saul had dragged her into the living room and how Cody had been there, waiting.

Dean reached out and held her hand, constantly rubbing circles in her palm and occasionally squeezing it as she talked. When she described his dramatic and well-timed entry, he let out a small snort of protest. “It wasn’t that bad.”

Caitlin was about to argue when he squeezed her hand, hard. He gave her a worried look. Right. Angels don’t exist. “Maybe not, but it sure looked bad,” she amended, squeezing his hand back.

Cas showed up in the motel room, just as Sam and Charlie were getting ready to go out. They were hungry.

“Dean is with Caitlin. I have made him unrecognizable to humans who don’t know him. It works. He asks if you could do him a “solid”.” Cas did the air quotes with his hands, addressing Charlie.

“Um, maybe? What does he want?”

“He wants you to hack into CIA’s database and create a fake project using Winchester DNA from ‘08, a fake report on a security breach in 2011 casting suspicion on the Chinese. Finally, he wants a fake agent named Dean Smith on the case. If you can make up some reports from said agent about Chinese Winchester robots in Seattle causing a bit of a ruckus resulting in the death of a band of Chinese spies that would be tippity top.”

“Tippity top?” Sam smiled.

“Dean’s words,” Cas answered, completely deadpan.

Charlie was already opening the laptop, mumbling curses about not being a goddamned fiction writer.

Sam sat down next to her. “Just get us in there, I’ll help with the details. Cas, do you have something you want to do or would you be willing to get us some food while we work?”

“I can do that, Sam. Pepperoni pizza?” A soft, barely there smile ghosted over his face.

Caitlin was so tired she could barely stand when the interview ended and she was allowed to leave.

“Take a day to relax and process,” Morgan told her. “We’ll have thought up a new batch of questions for you by Thursday.”

She acknowledged his words with a nod while yawning.

Dean wrapped an arm around her and kept her on course. It was 8.15 PM by the time they returned to the motel.

They halfway crashed through the door where Charlie and Sam jumped to their feet.

“About time!” Charlie’s hair was a mess and her lower lip looked red like she’d bitten down on it repeatedly for hours.

“Wouldn’t miss our Bond-girl doing her thing,” Caitlin slurred, smiling at her.

“Hold up, Caitie, you’re wiped. Get some sleep.”

“Didn’t you hear Morgan? I can sleep tomorrow. Right now, I want to come with you guys.”

“And if someone spots you in Chicago when you’re supposed to be here?”

“They won’t be seeing me, just a Chinese robot.” Caitlin chuckled, then she laughed out loud until she was crying from laughing so hard. “Do you have any idea, how hard it was to sit there and keep a straight face?”

Dean shrugged and scratched his neck. “Just had to get them to stop worrying about all that.”

Caitlin snorted. “Yeah, like they’re not going to talk to the CIA and learn that it was all bullshit. They’ll probably drop the case completely,” she realized, voice dropping low.

“Of course not,” Charlie said indignantly. “Via Angel telegraph we received a request for a new entry in the CIA database. I can assure you that when they check, they will find as much information as their security clearance allows them on Project W-08.147.”

Sam took over. “They’ll also find the reports on the theft of the project’s data and experiments as well as the valiant counter theft by Agent Dean Smith and his partner, Agent Nick Wesson.” Sam grinned. “There’s even a short note about a civilian helping them out in a shoot-out with the Chinese.”

Charlie chuckled. “It’s all completely legit. Manipulating the financial markets through panic and indebting the US further, included. No bullshit. Though I doubt anyone will ever take the CIA seriously again.”

Caitlin laughed with her. “Has anyone ever taken the CIA seriously?”

“More power to them,” Dean grumbled. He gave Sam a sharp look. “How long have you waited to use Nick as a nick, knucklehead?” Then, shaking his head at Sam’s answering grin, he continued: “Is everyone ready to go? Is it impossible to convince you to stay, Caitlin?”

The girls sat in the back of the van they had made their base of operations, as Dean drove with his usual nonchalance and disregard of speed limits.

Charlie moved purposefully, connecting wires and stacking equipment. Occasionally she’d pause to write seemingly random combinations of letters and numbers into Sam’s laptop.

“Pass me that circuit board, please.”

Caitlin clutched a steel rack, slightly green. She looked at the heap of stuff they had picked up on the way (Cas had agreed to mess with the security cameras only after they promised to put everything back in perfect order when they were done.)

“This one?” She picked up a random item and held it out to Charlie.

Charlie chuckled. “Not a geek girl, are you?” She took the thing and put it back, digging around until she got hold of the board.

“I fix people,” Caitlin shrugged.

Charlie arched an eyebrow at her and smirked. “Nurse?”

“Doctor. I’ll be choosing my specialty next year if they let me finish this term.”

Charlie grinned. “You go, girl. I can totally forgive your technical ignorance, then.”

“Oh thank God. I don’t know how I could survive without your approval,” Caitlin deadpanned.

Charlie shook her head, smiling. The circuit board already connected to her satisfaction, she continued setting up a surveillance system and readying it to hack into the system at Roman Enterprise. It was easy and left her too much brainpower to worry about what she was going to be doing in an hour or two.

“Please don’t freak out on me again,” she said, “but can you tell me anything about what was going on this afternoon? I’ve been wracking my brain but I just can’t connect the dots to how that CIA hack had anything to do with monster hunting.”

Caitlin nodded to herself. Charlie had earned some measure of trust. “I guess that Sam and Dean are branching out a bit, because of me.” She rubbed her forehead with her free hand. “I’m sure you’re aware that humans can be monstrous, too. They’re helping me put my stepdad and his sons behind bars.”

Charlie frowned. “Bonnie and Clyde types or Michael Jackson fans? If they’re up Dahmer’s ally, don’t tell me or I might abandon this mission.”

Caitlin shivered and looked through the narrow opening at the small visible strip of road. “Jacksons.”

She let out a small gasp when she felt Charlie’s hand at the side of her face. She looked into a pair of sad eyes did Charlie and Sam practice puppy eyes all day? and braced herself for the inevitable pity.

“I really admire your strength,” Charlie said and ran her thumb over Caitlin’s cheekbone once before removing her hand.

Caitlin’s cheeks flushed. “Thanks.”

“Flirt? What do you mean flirt? He’s not exactly my type,” Charlie hissed into the microphone hidden in her t-shirt, careful not to let the security guard standing between her and Roman’s office hear.

Sam and Dean turned to Caitlin, hovering behind them in the cramped space in the back of the van

“Don’t look at me. I’ve never flirted in my life, all I want is for guys to leave me alone.”

Dean rolled his eyes and sighed. “Fine. I’ll talk you through it. Ask him if he works out a lot.”

“I’ve got something. A special delivery arriving at the airport in 40 minutes. Everything about the way it’s described screams fear. Well, perhaps not fear but caution.” Charlie spoke breathlessly into the mic, now going through the emails at her own desk.

The three in the van all held their breaths. The plan had been for Charlie to return to them so they could review the stolen data somewhere else, but Charlie insisted that she had stuff she needed to do on her own work computer before leaving the place behind for good.

“She’s probably deleting her tracks after hacking Pentagon,” Dean muttered, frowning with worry.

“Goldman Sachs, actually,” came the flippant reply over the intercom. “Do you want the secret stuff? Go to DuPage Airport, strip 5. I’ve made it look like the plane is half an hour delayed.”

“Thanks, Charlie,” Sam told her sincerely.

“Yeah yeah. Now scoot, I’ll cover for you.” Charlie focused on the rather time-consuming task of permanently deleting any mentions of Winchesters from Frank Deveraux’s hard disk as well as any trace of the information ever having been there or having been tampered with.

“How far to DuPage,” Dean asked.

Sam looked it up on his phone. “With you driving and this time of night, we should be able to make it in 30 minutes.”

Dean grinned. “Perfect. I’ve got an idea.”

“I’ll stay and keep an eye on Charlie,” Caitlin offered.

The brothers clapped her on the shoulder and left her in the van. She waited, eyes locked on the security camera feed, heart in her throat. Thirty minutes later, she hailed Charlie over the intercom. “Charlie, a big black limo just drove into the garage. I’d say it’s time you leave.”

“Five more minutes.” Charlie’s fingers moved so fast it looked like she had at least twenty of them through the camera feed.

Caitlin watched Roman exit the black limo downstairs. “No. Charlie, whatever you’re doing, it’s not worth it. Get out, now.”

Charlie sighed and contemplated the screen for a moment. “Fine. After all, I won’t be there to help fix this.” She got up and left.

Thanks to a warning from Caitlin, Charlie was able to duck into a restroom, narrowly avoiding Roman striding toward her cubicle. Soon, she joined Caitlin in the van. Just then, Caitlin’s phone went off.

“We got it and left the bigmouths a surprise. Is Charlie out?” Dean’s voice was a mix of glee and concern.

“She’s out,” Caitlin told him.

“Awesome. Meet us at the electronic store.”

Somehow Charlie had managed to take apart all their borrowed equipment while regularly shouting to Caitlin to ignore the GPS and take alternative routes with fewer traffic cameras. They were all bone tired when everything had been returned. Cas zapped them back to the motel room in North Carolina.

“Should we look at the mystery suitcase now or sleep first?” Caitlin yawned before anyone said anything.

“That’s your answer, I guess,” Sam said reluctantly. “I’m dying to know what it is but it might not be safe. We should at least be prepared and able to think on our feet.”

Dean and Charlie expressed their agreement. Then Dean scratched his neck and cleared his throat. “We, um, don’t have enough cash to rent another room for you, Charlie.”

“Isn’t there a cot in Sam’s room?” Caitlin smiled at Charlie and blinked sleepily. When Sam nodded his affirmation, she stumbled into the bathroom to get ready for bed.

Dean had to swallow several times to get the gruff words out: “I’ll just get my stuff.”

Charlie gave him a confused look. “Wouldn’t I be using the cot?”

Dean looked at her and the closed bathroom door. “She seems to like you, so I’ll just…”

Charlie crossed her arms over her chest. “That girl is head over heels for you, you daft man-child.” She pointed toward the bathroom and continued: “She’s really awesome, dude, and if I had a snowball’s chance in Hell, I’d be all over her. But my gaydar works just fine. You’d take it up the ass from Star Trek Trench dude before she'd even consider having sex with me.”

Charlie left the room before Dean had time to close his open mouth. Sam followed her hurriedly, giving Dean a cheeky grin over his shoulder as he shut the door behind him.

Dean was still analyzing all the ways Charlie’s words were dead wrong when Caitlin exited the bathroom.

“All yours,” she smiled and gestured behind her.

Dean stared at her. She didn’t notice, simply crawled into the bed and burrowed into the pillow, content. If she felt any disappointment that she’d be sharing the bed with him and not Charlie she hid it incredibly well. Dean rubbed his eyes one-handed and went to brush his teeth.

As soon as he lay down, Caitlin snuggled in close, throwing an arm across his stomach. She sighed and mmh’ed and pecked his cheek before closing her eyes and relaxing.

Despite his exhaustion, it was a long time before Dean fell asleep.