#also im so sorry if this is terrible i am so rusty

[ohliviaruth]

Try as Olivia may, there’s no making sense of what’s just happened.

While she’s seen her fair share of crazy fucking shit — because really, who the hell hasn’t at this point unless they’ve been living under a goddamned rock — watching some kind of other-worldly creature suck out someone’s….soul? Life essence?

Yeah, that wasn’t exactly an every-day sort of thing. Not even during the end of the world.

❝ Hey — yeah, yeah, it’s me. We have to go, Pete, come on. ❞

The fire across from them crackles, the heat from it already increasing in intensity; they need to get out of here, and soon, or they’re going to end up no different than the walkers they’ve had to set fire to. 

                Where is he?

So, whatever that thing was — Peter knows him. 

(Okay, that’ll have to be a question for later, because what the actual fuck is going on?)

❝ Don’t be fucking stupid, Pete. We’ll move faster if you let me help. ❞ Despite the words, Liv’s tone is gentle, the fear of nearly losing him driving her forward; immediately does she take one of his arms and sling it over her shoulder, supporting as much of his weight as she can while they make their way out of the clearing.

Away from the fire. Away from the nightmare.

❝ Hey, you can’t sleep on me yet, alright? We gotta’ wait until we get up the stairs to the roof at least. ❞ She can’t be sure what injuries he’d sustained before her arrival — while she’d followed his attackers as fast as possible, she’d still needed to be careful; her dying wouldn’t exactly help him get out of that place.

Though after seeing what she has, that thought seems incorrect. 

Something had protected Peter — but what?

❝ I have painkillers in my bag, ❞ it’s offered while they make their way back up to the roof, each step more difficult than the last; Peter isn’t heavy, but watching out for Walkers and trying to keep Peter upright isn’t exactly a trivial task.

By some miracle, she only has to put down one stray Walker on their way up to their safe haven, a straggler from their earlier encounter — and christ, thank fuck they’d cleared this place earlier.

❝ Come on — come on, here. ❞ Olivia’s not taking any of his bullshit refusals, already helping him onto one of the blankets she’d left behind; it’s not like her to leave supplies, but seeing the person she’s been traveling with getting grabbed like that?

Yeah, sue her, but the blanket hadn’t been a priority. 

❝ You scared the shit out of me. ❞ It feels safer now to speak, though her trembling fingers give away some of her anxiety. ❝ Pete…what exactly just happened back there? You asked where ‘he’ was. Who is he? ❞

What is he?

As her question hangs, Olivia makes quick work of assessing some of his injuries, the fire from earlier providing some degree of warmth as she begins to rifle through her backpack.

❝ You don’t have to answer now. It’s…fuck, you’re probably in pain, so...here. Go through my bag and take what you need, okay? Painkillers, water, applesauce…whatever you want. You can have it. ❞

The bag is passed to him then, firmly pressed into his hands and held there until it's finally accepted; she can always gather more supplies, but there won't be a way to replace him.

                        You’re getting soft, Fulbright.

❝ I’m…uh. I’m sorry. About earlier. I don’t…I don’t know why I was so mad. Still don’t. And it all just kind of came pouring out. ❞

This has never been her area of expertise; for as long as Olivia has been alive, pretending to be okay — and, whenever possible, not admitting fault — were rules of her well-traveled, shitty road.

Survival has never favored softies.

So what the fuck are you doing then, Liv?

           the last thing he remembers is soul-bending terror.

           uh-oh, peter! bad decision!

           that seems to be the only kind of decision he's made tonight. from arguing with olivia to deciding to go off on his own in the dark of night, propelled by some self-serving anger that he still can't make sense of ( he's never so clumsy, nor so driven by his emotions ), he's wound himself up in the deepest shit he's been in in a long while.

           "ugh... ugh..." it feels as if he's fighting with the void as he struggles to open his eyes. immediately, peter raises a weak hand to his forehead, the pounding there bad enough to provoke a groan. he can make out a blurry figure above him but can't, for the meantime, discern them.

           a deadhead, probably. i'm fucked...

           but the dead don't speak, and after hearing his name a few times, it becomes impossible to ignore. with great effort, peter forces his eyes open again, squinting against the blinding light of a nearby fire. it's big, its flames reaching towards the sky, its fumes thick and grey. peter's head rolls against the dirt before a face— olivia's face— reveals itself to him.

           "olivia...?" he blinks slowly, groggily, as if stirring from hibernation before winter has passed. fatigued. "wh... where is he...?"

           paimon. he was here. he remembers now. the demon revealed himself shortly after amon lost all sense of control and began to choke him to death, rising from the shadows like an ashen phoenix— and by god had he been angry. in fact, seeing him bare his razor teeth like that had made him very aware of the fact that he'd never seen the demon in any other state than poorly restrained mania. the moment his wings had unfurled from his back, eyes sprouting all over his form like ugly garden weeds, even peter— the one attached to this creature through ritual, even if his body was not yet his home— had been dizzy with a renewed sense of terror. it had been a terrible time to realise that he truly didn't know that much about the entity at all; had sparked hopelessness like he'd never experienced before save for the night of the accident. as amon had had his soul forcibly torn from his body, piece by piece, as if it was clinging to its rightful vessel, peter had attempted to retreat.

           no such luck. just as asking olivia about the creature will reap. she can't know.

           slowly, peter pushes himself up into a sitting position, forcing his blurred vision straight. regardless of the shape he's in ( and it's pretty awful, all things considered ), he has no choice but to get to his feet and make some sort of progress. if he stays here anchored to the mud for much longer, he's going to find himself the dead's next meal.

           "i can walk," he says through a wheeze, pushing himself to his feet despite her hand looking mighty inviting to his exhausted body. he has to do it himself; he most definitely should not be letting himself grow accustomed to the notion of someone being there to pick him up should he need it. the second he becomes taken by the idea, he's as good as dead. "i can... i can walk—"

           just about. very slowly. nevertheless, peter drags himself away from the noise with olivia in tow. as they hobble their way through the forest and back onto the road, peter realises he's counting things as he passes. rocks. trees. blood spatters. anything not to focus on how much his body aches..

           "where're we gonna go...?" he rasps, and all at once does his throat begin to hurt. it isn't just the inside of it feeling scratchy and raw from a late night of wailing at the top of his lungs. it's the feeling of phantom fingers locked tight around his jugular. superhuman strength pinning him to the floor via his adam's apple alone. "...back to the roof. you were right— it was safe. i need to—zleep... just need'a 'leep..."

[byemizumikahago]

hey, sorry if this is random and out of the blue but i wanna say what ur doing is extremely noble. Im glad there's people out there like you who still care enough about calling out terrible people, keep it up! (btw i shared the dropbox link and everything on r/danganronpa like you said to in ur pinned post!)

(DEC 16 EDIT: This post now has outdated information. Please read here.)

I haven't logged into this account in a long while, as I didn't have much of anything to say regarding Mizumi anymore.

Frankly, I assumed I had done my job, and posted as much as I knew and spread the information as far as I could. I trusted that others would do the same for me, and willingly handed off the reins to them. Clearly, it seems to be doing well, since this person has made a post on reddit sharing the information, so I am very grateful towards them. It's not just me who should be thanked for bringing this situation to light, it's also the victim, for having the courage to speak up in the first place, and to all the people who spread the information on what Mizumi has done, as well. So, thank you too, to everyone who tried their best. And thank you, person who sent this ask. While I don't consider myself noble at all, I just try to do what's right, I appreciate it. HOWEVER. It seems as though not everyone is doing their part. I read through the reddit thread, and, while I saw a lot of the expected reactions someone should have to this new information, and many others wishing the victim well, I also saw something much worse; A subreddit moderator, someone with power, someone who is supposed to protect people from harm or punish those breaking the rules, trying to silence and censor people sharing this information. I, essentially, saw a subreddit moderator trying to protect Mizumi. This... is frankly disgusting. I expect better from people that hold authority and power over something, and I expect them not to abuse it just to shut down a conversation because the topic makes them feel a little icky. I don't care that the topic of a child groomer in the danganronpa community makes you uncomfortable— this is a real thing that happens in the world, and it needs a light shone on it. To try and paint this situation as something that has no place being discussed is, frankly, irresponsible on the part of the r/danganronpa moderators. r/Danganronpa mods, expect a response within a few days. I'm a bit rusty in terms of my abilities to gather up information and type up a comprehensive response within a few days, but regardless, I shall do my best.

[kaunis-sielu]

Schoolyard: 3

“Six months! Thor I can’t just uproot my life for six months! Do you know how long it took me to get to this position!” You’re starting to get light headed, “I need to sit down.” You mutter and Thor guides you gently to the couch.

“Can I get you anything? Water? Vodka?”

“Water.” Your mind is spinning, “with ice please.” How can he expect you to just pause your life for six months?

“Here,” he passes you the glass of water and you take a couple of sips before looking back over at him.

“Why six months?”

“Because I’m royalty.” He sits down next to you and you resist the urge to lean against him. “I am so sorry. Had I known that it would be considered legit because Loki memorized all the correct words and we did everything correctly I would’ve never fake married you.” It’s all so ridiculous that you you can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you.

“Oh god Thor I’m being terrible. I’m sorry. I don’t blame you for this, we were both just kids now were you to know?” You sigh heavily, “I guess the biggest concerns I have right now are my job, my apartment, and my friends.”

“All things I can understand, but unless you want to stay married this is the only option.” He tells you and you lean against him. You’ve always wanted to travel back to Europe as an adult to go see the sights and actually appreciate them in a different way.

“Let me see what I can work out with the hospital, I’ve got work in the morning.”

“It might not be the best idea to tell anyone that we’re married.”

“I trust Hope. She doesn’t particularly like other people so I don’t think she’ll say anything.”

“You know the people in your life and I trust you.”

“Thank you.” You watch the news together in silence, you both show up toward the end just outside your apartment and you change the channel to some baking show or another. It’s too weird to see yourself on the news,

“I should go.” Thor says softly but neither of you move. He’s warm and you’re comfortable and you both end up drifting off.

Thor’s phone rings and it startles you both awake.

“Shit, ‘m sorry.” He says digging his phone from his pocket. “I need to take this. I’ll let you get some real sleep. Can I call you later?”

“Yea,” you mumble following him to your door, once he leaves you lock it then get ready for bed. Morning is going to come quickly.

Thor texts you again in the morning, telling you he needs to be back in Asgard in three days and that if it works out he’d like it if you’d come home with him. You send him a thumbs up emoji then head to Hope’s office.

“Hey Hope, do you have a minute?”

“Sure.” She says not looking away from her computer.

“So, I’ve got to leave the country for six months for, personal reasons.” This gets her attention.

“Is this because of that Crown Prince you were spotted with?”

“Sort of. It’s a long and complicated story but one I need to leave to get sorted.” Hope looks at you expectantly and you sigh before launching into the whole story.

“Damn.”

“Yea I know. So now to get an annulment I have to go all the way to Asgard and since he’s royalty it’s gotta be for six months. So I’d like to stay on as staff just like on leave or something. I love working here and I know it puts you in a bit of a bind but it’d be a huge relief to have a job to come back to.” Hope leans back in her chair and studies you.

“You won’t be back.”

“What do you mean? Of course I’ll be back.”

“You don’t see how he looks at you. This might have been a mistake and you might have lost touch but that man is smitten.”

“Yea okay.” You laugh and she rolls her eyes at you.

“If you can come work a weekend once every other month I think I can keep you on staff. Check with your prince and let me know.”

“He’s not my prince but okay. Thanks Hope. Oh, and Hope, can you keep this a secret? The whole marriage thing.” She nods so you leave her office and text Thor who assures you that should be totally fine. Something you confirm with Hope. Now you have to tell Jane.

You text her that you need to meet her and she agrees for the following night. Thor asks if you want to join him for dinner again but you decline. You just need some time alone, so much of your life is going to be changing in the next couple of days and you just want some peace and normalcy for a night.

When Jane shows up the next night you’ve got brownies coming out of the oven. You needed some chocolate and brownies sounded good.

“Are you okay? You sounded stressed on the phone.”

“Yea, I just have a lot to tell you.” So you do, you tell her every single detail just like she’d requested. Jane sits in shocked silence when you’re finished.

“You’re a fucking Princess.” She whispers, “oh my god my best friend is a fucking Princess!”

“Oh my god Jane shut up! I am not!”

“Bitch you are married to a Prince. Therefore you are a Princess.”

“Well, I hope you’re still willing to be friends with someone who isn’t a Princess because we’re getting an annulment.”

“What? No! You’re so cute together!”

“Yea, and I have to go to Asgard for six months so you wanna sublet my plane?”

“Wait seriously?”

“Yea, I’ll be back for a weekend every other month but Thor said that it would take six months since he’s royalty.”

“Actually that’s perfect my research assistant is looking for a new place, I’ll see if she wants to move into my place for the next six months and I can move in here.”

“That works for me. I just would like someone I know here so when I have to come work a couple of shifts.”

“What are you going to tell Peter?”

“Nothing? We went on two dates and he was awful for both.”

“Oh, well he’s been asking about you.”

“He hasn’t texted or called so keep letting him ask. I’m not interested in a man child who thinks he’s better than everyone because he’s a pilot.” You tell her rolling your eyes. Jane laughs softly and raises her brownie in a cheers motion.

“Do you want me to tell him you’re out of the country?”

“He’s a grown man; if he wants to ask me out again he can ask.”

“Preach sister.” You spend the rest of the night talking, eating brownies and laughing. It’s exactly what you needed before you have to pack up enough clothing to help you get through the next two months.

You end up borrowing one of Jane’s massive Arctic trip suitcases because your little carryon will not do the trick. But you get everything packed, including your passport, an hour before Thor said he’d be by to pick you up.

He’s exactly on time, you sigh softly closing and locking your door.

“I am sorry, Elskede.” He says, “I’m sorry you have to uproot your life but our friends are excited to see you again. Especially Sif.”

“I always thought you’d end up with Sif, she was always so beautiful and badass.”

“She’s dating a very successful business man. Nice guy, he meshes well with our little group of friends. You’ll like him.”

“Oh, it will be nice to visit again. If I can I might travel a little bit, I’ve never seen Europe as an adult and since I won’t be working I feel like this is a good time.”

“If you’ll allow, I’d like to come with.”

“Yea, that’d be nice.” You tell him as you take Thor’s arm at the doorway again. You let him lead you through the doorway and to the car. There are more press this time than last time, they’re still yelling for Thor to look and but thankfully it seems that they still don’t know your name yet. Thor ushers you into the car then he climbs in after you, Volstagg climbs in the front seat and you’re off.

You don’t go to the airport, at least not the one that you expect to go to. You pull up to a much smaller airport and after you go through a security gate you see that you’re at a private airstrip.

“Are we flying private?”

“Yes Elskede.”

“What does that mean? I don’t know that word.”

“It’s kind of like, honey or sweetheart.” He explains and you nod. “How is your Norwegian?”

“Probably rusty but I’ll catch back on quickly. I’ve always been pretty good with languages.” He nods as Volstagg opens the door then climbs out and again waits to help you out of the car. You follow Thor up the stairs of the private jet and over to a set of seats.

Tag list:

@abschaffer2 @dsakita @dramadreamer14 @thesassmisstress @eralen @andahugaroundtheneck @loving-life-my-way @thefridgeismybestie @killcomet @dumblani @im-just-another-monster @mywinterwolf @scuzmunkie @biskwitmamaw @geeksareunique @paintballkid711 @lumar014 @also-fangirlinsweden @connie326 @inkedaztec @valsworldofcreativity @silver-lupines

[scribbles-and-dribbles]

Somnium

This is my entry for @sherrybaby14 ‘s prompt challenge (requested via my @im-marie-poppins-yall​ account)  Thank you for letting me join. Your writing is amazing and I am so inspired by you. Also,so sorry I’m sending this so late!

  My prompt was: 

Geralt spending the night at an inn reader works at after killing a monster that had been terrorizing the town, and reader sneaks into his room at night to give him her own thanks but then gets frightened at how actually Violent and Strong he is and makes to leave, but he insists on following through

It’s been a long time since I’ve really sat down and written some good smut (It’s been a year!),so forgive me if I’m a bit rusty. But nonetheless I had so much fun! And this was what I needed to get back into writing again. (Also I apologize to the person who requested this, if this isn’t exactly what you had in mind!)

Warnings: 18+, Rough Sex, edging,No Archive Warnings

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

The room was darkly lit, a single candle in the far left corner was barely a flicker behind the dusky glass. It cast shadows over your hips as they rolled against his. It washed a faint warm glow over the rise and fall of your chest as you tried to catch your moans before they woke the entire inn. 

He watched from below you, your eyes fluttering closed in pure bliss, and his nearly predatory gaze drinking in the sight of your shaking body. Your hips swayed to some unheard music as you lost yourself in the pleasure, his cock driving up into you, meeting your eager thrusts. He growled and his hand slid up your back, over your shoulder and into your hair, fisting it and pulling you down into a ravenous kiss. His other hand slid down to grip your hip, and before you knew it, in a whirl he had you flipped and pinned underneath you, pushing your leg up and picking up his pace, driving deep within you. 

Gods it felt amazing, his hips rolled into yours with expert ease, and his teeth grazed your soft neck, marking it giving not a single damn about how visible they were. You didn’t want him to stop. You could stay like this forever if you had your way. But the universe had other ideas.

-

You wake with a start, the sound of shattering glass and drunk squabbling shaking you out of your dream. You sit up, pressing a hand to your neck where those teeth had felt so real. Your skin is flushed and slick with sweat and you’re sure you look a sight. But you only have time to slip out of your nightgown and into far more suitable attire to deal with your awake and seemingly very drunk guests. 

A glance out the murky window and you’re disappointed, but not the least bit surprised to see that the sun has barely risen over the horizon. Smoke still hung low over the village, the last remnants of the winged beast that had terrorized your neighbors for the last four months. Never had you realized just how idiotic the people of your village were until they mistook a basilisk for a dragon, and attempted to lure it into the village square and kill it themselves. Suffice it to say that it didn’t end well. 

You’d finally been fed up with the pigheaded men refusing to ask for help. A half-melted town was terrible for business, and you weren’t having any of it. If they wouldn’t admit that they stood not a chance against the beast with their poorly thought out planning, then you were going to take matters into your own hands. 

You’d heard rumor of a Witcher roaming the surrounding area, slaying any beast- for a price. You were a small village, but you were one of the lasts villages before any weary travelers reached Cintra. Your inn was always bustling with new and strange characters. Stranger or not, they brought in enough coin to appease the Butcher, as your neighbors so...fondly referred to The Witcher. 

So when he stopped in your humble little town, on his way to Cintra no doubt, he was god-sent. He’d come into your inn, ready to pay for one night. You convinced him to stay for three, free of charge and with a hefty bag of coin if he made quick work of something your town’s strongest men had taken four months to fail at. He’d left last night and as you peered out the window, tying your apron around your waist, you caught sight of his unmistakable white mane trekking up the hill atop his gorgeous mare towards the inn, something large swinging from the saddle.

Your dreams were going to have to wait.

“I wager he doesn’t make it back before nightfall.” One of your patrons slurred, swirling his bandaged finger around the amber liquid you’d just poured into his stein. You swatted at his wrist and he reeled back with a yelp. 

“You keep stirring that bloody stump in your ale, you’ll not being getting another refill today Byron.” You quipped, tossing him a cloth to whip his hand. The dressing around his finger was already soaked through with blood and you could tell the alcohol was beginning to burn through. He’d been one of the ones to go out first and try to take the beast down. He’d lost his finger because he couldn’t shoot an arrow to save his life. Though that wasn’t the story he told anyone unfortunate enough to be in earshot. 

 He grumbled and took a long swig from the frothy liquid, grimacing at the acrid taste. You chuckled and swapped his drink. You leaned against the counter an inquiring eyebrow raised. 

“I’ll take a shot at that.”

 He frowned and took yet another large swig from his stein. “What? I don’t strike you as the betting type? You wound me, Byron, you should know me better than that.” You laugh, moving around the bar and intercepting Beth, and relieving her of two trays of piping hot gruel on her arms and another tray balancing precariously on her very pregnant stomach - she’d insisted upon working despite it being nearly the eve of her bairns birth. She wanted to catch a glimpse of The Witcher herself. 

“It’s not that. I just don’t want to have a sore loser on my hands.” Byron slurred after you, watching you whisk around the dining area, weaving expertly between patrons were beginning to rouse and make their way to help themselves to the seemingly bottomless kegs your father had installed years before he passed and left the inn to you.

“Alright then, since you’re so convinced that a man with far superior hunting skills is going to have worse luck than a drunk who can barely drink me under the table- you’re on.” You place the last bowl of gruel in front of Byron’s skeptical face and sidle back behind the counter. You lean towards him, resisting the urge to cringe at the stench wafting off of him. He’d been drinking longer than you’d originally thought. You were going to have to reconsider leaving the kegs out at all odd hours of the night.

“I wager he comes through that door in the next twenty minutes.” Byron scoffs. He thinks you’re ridiculous. “And what, pray tell girlie, will you be winning if he comes through that door on anything but a stretcher?” 

“Every round for the rest of the week is on you.” You chuckle at the scandalized look that crosses his face before he tosses his head back and has a good laugh before fixing you with an amused look.

“You’re on. And when I win, you’ll be clearing my tab and-”

Before he can finish the door to the inn swings open with a frame shattering thud and the Butcher of Blaviken stomps in reeking of acid and guts and covered in just that. Every head not hanging from a raging hangover turns to watch him stride over to the bar. His eyes catch yours, and you’re momentarily transported back to your dream this morning. You shake your head and raise an eyebrow at Byron who’s gone pale.

“Clearing your tab and...what?” He scoffs and glares at The Witcher as he stops at the bar. You cast a sidelong glance at him, trying to ignore the fact that you’d just been dreaming of him not even an hour earlier. You place a pint in front of him, he looks like he could use it. He offers a curt nod of thanks and knocks it back faster than you thought possible. 

“So, did you actually kill the beast?” Byron asks incredulously and you find yourself rolling your eyes. You wave a hand over the Witcher.

“What do you think? That he just rolled around in guts and called it a day?” Byron scowls at you and the sound of The Witcher chuckling underneath his breath catches you by surprise. You raise an eyebrow at him, smirking. “If he had,” you continue, directing it at your visitor. “He’d be sorry he ever stole money from me.” His eyes look almost amused as he stands. 

“If you’re so skeptical, you can ask your Lord of the Manor how he likes his new trophy.” Byron, looking thoroughly pissed, huffs and slips of the stool and wander over to the kegs, muttering something about being bested by a filthy mutant. 

You shake your head and wipe the counter down with one hand and refilling the Witcher’s stein. Guests have wondered out of their rooms to stare at him like he’s an amusing new animal, though they keep their distance. And you’re certain it has nothing to do with the state of his attire. You shake your head, ashamed of the people you’ve grown up calling friends and neighbors, listening to their barely concealed whispers about him. 

“I’m sure you’ve heard it all.” You say, casting a sidelong glance at him as you mark Byron’s tab down. “But I’m sorry the rest of my town isn’t as grateful as I know they should be.” 

He shrugs and takes another swig. He sets the cup down and even though you’re turned away refilling the glasses Beth had just brought to the bar, her eyes unabashedly drinking him in, you can feel his eyes on you. And when you shoo Beth away and turn back to him, he’s still watching you. Dried blood from the beast no doubt has darkened his hair a bit, and a small scar that he’s haphazardly treated is still bleeding a bit on his chin. Despite all of this, you still want him. And the way he’s staring at you, you’re certain he can tell.

“And are you?” He asks, his honey-colored eyes seem to darken a bit and although they’re incredibly intimidating, you refuse to look away. You stare him down, setting your rag down and leaning against the bar towards him. 

“Am I...what?” How does one man look so damn kissable covered in the blood of a slain beast? 

“Grateful.” He raises his eyebrows, looking genuinely curious, but you know why he’s asking. 

“What, the hefty bag of coin wasn’t enough to prove that?” You tease. He chuckles wryly. Twice you’ve amused him, and something tells you that that’s rare and you should relish it. He stands and places a coin on the bar for the pint. You wave it away.

“You single-handedly took the beast down in record time, consider it a thank you.” He raises an eyebrow at you. “Hmm...you know where to find me if you have anything else you’d like to say.”

You gape at him as he strides up the stairs. You laugh incredulously, heat flushing to your cheeks. 

“Not very subtle is he?” You nearly leap out of your skin at the sound of Beth’s voice right behind you.

“Good lord Beth-” You laugh, turning to her, watching her bustle about as if that large belly of hers is no hindrance to her. You shake your head, taking the Witcher’s stein off of the bar and wiping it down once more, trying not to think about the meaning behind his words. But Beth has other ideas.

“If you don’t take him up on his very generous offer- I will.” You swat at her with the rag laughing. 

“I’m sure he’d happily have you. But you’re near bursting at the seams, and I thought you were happily married.” She scoffs and casts a glance across the inn where her husband is beguiling the young boys with his tall tale of how he lost his finger. “Sometimes I wonder why I let that idiot convince me to be stuck with him until sweet death does us part.” Her words are teasing but you see the endearment in her eyes. 

You smile and pat her on her shoulder. “He’s just nervous about his first child. And sore that a Witcher bested him. He’ll be right as rain when he sobers up to see that beautiful baby of yours.” You reassure her. She nods and turns back to you, fixing you with a determined gaze.  

“Enough about me and mine. You haven’t been with someone in years girlie.” You flush and open your mouth to protest. “And I know, you’ve been too busy taking care of the inn after your father passed, bless his soul. But you need to take care of yourself, dear. And that includes your more primal needs.” She’s not that much older than you, but she reminds you of your mother the way she plants her hands on her hips and fixes you with that look. 

You sigh. “I appreciate the concern Beth, but I barely know the man. And he’s a Witcher, mind you. I don’t think sassy innkeeper girls are what he favors.” 

“Ha!” She snorts, shaking her head. “You’re as beautiful as you are blind. Did you not see the way he was looking at you? Not just today, but the day he arrived he couldn’t take his eyes off you. Now I’m not asking you to make the man fall in love with you,just...share something with him. He wants you and you most certainly want him.”

You flush. You can’t say she’s lying. It has been some time since you’ve been with anyone. Taking over the inn that had been in your father’s family for generations had made it a little hard to have flings. 

“Fine. But if he laughs in my face, don’t say I didn’t tell you so.”

~~

And now you were standing in front of the man’s door several hours later questioning once again how you let Beth convince you to do this. She’d sent you away hours ago but you’d stubbornly found some other thing that needed doing around the inn. Bedding for the other guests, refilling the kegs with your father’s special blend, cleaning god knows what because you kept the inn spick and span.

Finally, she’d practically swatted you up the stairs. You’d begun to look a bit worse for wear. The word that not only was the infamous Witcher was in town, but that he was fresh off of a hunt, had spread like wildfire. And you finally hadn’t needed an excuse for why you weren’t pursuing ‘your primal needs’ as Beth had so gracefully put it.

But by then your other barmaid had arrived looking like she was ready for a night on the town, and not to serve the hoard of weary travelers hoping to catch a glimpse of the man. 

“If you don’t get your ass upstairs and see that man, I have no doubt in my mind that Linda will do it for you.” 

--

Beth wasn’t exaggerating when she’d pointed out that you hadn’t done this in years. You’d felt like a silly school girl standing in front of the mirror trying to make yourself look less like an exhausted, albeit horny, innkeeper. But you did want him. She hadn’t been wrong about that. You could still feel the phantom touch of his hands on your hips, gripping them as he pulled you down onto him. It’d been a dream, and yet it had felt incredibly real. 

You sighed and reached up to knock on his door. You were unsure of what you were going to say. You didn’t want it to sound like a proposition. Though you supposed it was. You falter and realize that whatever you ask, it will never sound normal. What if Beth had mistaken a stare of indifference for a gaze of “unbridled lust in those golden eyes”? Maybe it was better to resign yourself to thinking of him as you soothe the ache that had started between your thighs the moment he walked back in this morning, on your own.

You drop your hand with a sigh and begin to turn away. The door swings open before you’ve even begun to walk back down the hall to your room. You give a start, steadying your hand on the door frame, and your instantly aware of just how...naked he is. He's clean of all the guts and blood that had previously clung to him like a second skin, and his hair gleams in the low lantern light that shines on his broad chest. The towel he has wrapped around his hips is barely hanging on. 

“Er, good evening.” You hear yourself say, and you internally cringe. God, you were off to a terrible start. You manage to glance away from his pectorals and meet his shining eyes, and you could have sworn that for a split second a smirk tugged at his delectable looking lips.

“Are you coming in, or are you going to stay out there for the rest of the night?” He chuckles, and you blush again scowling as you slip into the room. He barely moves and your arm brushes against his warm skin. It sends a spark of excitement through you. Had it been so long that the mere touch of a hot body was enough to set you off?

It doesn’t matter. You’re here now, and there’s no turning back. You want him, you just have to make sure he wants you too. You turn to him, your hands clasped before you as you open your mouth to speak. But before you can, his hands are on your waist and he’s tugged you against his chest and captured your lips in a hungry kiss. You let out a surprised squeak that slips into a soft moan. It feels so damn good to have someone’s lips against your own.

Your reach up to snake your arms around his neck and push yourself up to meet the kiss with as much vigor and desire as he does. His hands slide up your hips and over your bodice, his fingers make quick work of the laces and removing it and let it fall to the floor. Your breath catches in your throat when his hands run up over your chest, and dip into your dress. You pull away from the kiss to catch your breath and moan softly as his calloused fingers run over your nipples and tweak and tease them in the best way. 

You open your eyes a bit to look up at him and are a bit startled to see the color his eyes have taken. The bright golden has seemed to darken to almost deep amber, and they pierce your own with an almost predatory look. His hand's run-up to your shoulders and he pauses, casting a questioning look over you. You’re nervous, and this isn’t how you thought this would all transpire. But you were more than willing. You reach up yourself and watch him as you slip your dress down off of your shoulders and let it fall to pool around your ankles. 

He gives an appreciative growl and a smile quirks his lips. 

“I thought you’d be too scared to come.” He chuckled. The way he spoke, an underlying growl underneath every word, made you shiver. You watched his hands trail over your shoulders and down your back, his fingers pressing into your skin when he reaches your hips. He slips his arms behind your knees and to avoid falling against him, you hop into his arms, your own wrapping around his neck again.

“Fearful? What do you take me for? A scared little girl?” You laugh because honestly, you were a little fearful. You’d heard the other women tell tall tales about their night with a Witcher when they were young and childless. And how it was best to expect a broken bed by the end of the night. Even if they weren’t 100% truthful, you knew Witcher’s weren’t human, and they more than likely didn’t fuck like a human. “You asked me if I was grateful, and I’m here to prove that I am.” You whisper, your hand slipping into his hair and pulling him towards you for another kiss. Your lips slant against his and you run your tongue across his bottom lip, nipping at it playfully, and drawing a growl out of him.

He places you on his bed and crawls over you, one arm braced against the mattress and the other snaking down your body his fingers tracing over your breasts as they rise and fall with your labored breath. 

“Certainly not, if you’re so bold as to invite a Witcher you’ve only spoken to twice, to sleep with you.” You scoff, and then moan when he dips his head down to capture one of your sensitive buds into his mouth, rolling his tongue around it and nipping at it. 

“You’re..oh gods..you’re the one who kissed me, Witcher.” You retort, your fingers finding their way back into his pale locks, tugging at them as he alternates between tweaking and twisting one nipple with his fingers and sucking at the other with his expert tongue. He stops his generous teasing at your words and smirks at you.

“Are you saying you’d like me to stop, Innkeeper.” You laugh and fix him with a warning glare. He growls, amused at your determined look, and returns his left hand to your heaving chest while his other hand runs down your side. His fingers trail over your hip, sliding down the v of your body and trailing just above your cunt before stopping. 

“You’re certain you don’t want to run for the hills?” He asks, and at first, you think he’s joking, but he looks dead serious. And you open your mouth to answer but it’s cut off by a whine. His middle finger dips down to brush over you. It slides over your lower lips, collecting your juices on it and teasing the hell out of you. He just barely pushes it in, drawing a needy whine out of you. It’s been so long since anyone else has touched you in this way, and now that someone is, you remember just how sensitive you are. He continues teasing your opening, and it’s not nearly enough. The way he watches you, those enhanced eyes catching every flutter of your eyelids, reminds you of something beastly. 

And you remember that you’re in bed with a Witcher. Not a ‘normal’ human man. His stamina is far above your own, and your certain you’ll be a sore aching mess in the morning. And a small voice of reason in the back of your head mutters that you should probably leave, and let your dreams be dreams. But just when you’ve just about convinced yourself that you should take him up on his offer to leave, he slides that teasing finger inside you, curling upwards in just the right way. It’s almost too much and just enough to let you throw caution to the wind.

You pin him with a hungry gaze and buck your hips up against his hand moaning out when the movement pushes him deeper, and his palm brushes against your wanton clit. 

“If you stop, you’ll wish the Basilisk had eaten you.” You snip and growls amusedly. He sits up and removes his hand from you and you glare up at him incredulously. You push yourself up a bit and open your mouth to protest and demand that he finish what he started. But ever one to interrupt, he’s gripped your hips and flipped you over onto your belly before you can even get a single breath out.

You groan out and bury your face in the pillow when two of his fingers slip inside your now aching cunt from behind, diving into you at an absolutely delicious angle. He leans over you, his chest against your back as his fingers begin to piston in and out of you, the lewd sound mixing with your moans. You gasp softly when his hot breath hits your cheek.

“Be sure to remember that I gave you some warning.” He growls into your ear. 

His fingers don’t let up, and only pick up in pace, stroking your walls and stretching them to accommodate his fingers. He continues forcing them deeper inside you at a rapid pace. You groan out and you tighten around fingers, which only seems to make him want to drive into you harder.

You gasp when his tongue teases the shell of your ear, his breath hits your neck, and sends a shiver running up your spine. You feel like you’re being claimed by a beast, and you love it. He growls softly as his fingers start to grip your walls, scissoring at a rapid pace stretching you out. 

You open your mouth in a silent whine, and then you finally feel him. His cock brushes against your thigh. You lift your hips to meet his fingers, silently begging for him. He chuckles and only continues to drive his skilled fingers into you. He flexes them, pressing up against that sweet spot and then retreating before you can get too much pleasure out of it.

“Damn it, Witcher-” You snap, your words melting into a muddle of moans when he dips down to kiss your shoulder and lets his underhand slide between you and the bed and flutter his digits against your clit. “You know what I want.” You finish, gasping softly when he flips you onto your back. Your chest is flush and his eyes trailing over your heaving chest, and back up to your eyes only makes your entire body flush with heat as well.

“Then say it.” He murmurs, kissing down your neck and capturing a hardened nipple in his devilish mouth when you rise in response to his fingers thrusting into you at this angle. 

Looking back, you could only blush madly at the thought of your response. You weren’t one to be so brazen, even with other past lovers. But something about this man had you tossing bashfulness to the wind. You didn’t care that you didn’t know him, didn’t care that this was nothing more than two bodies fulfilling a need. 

Your hands slipped up to cup his chin, pulling his face up to look at you with those honey eyes. Your legs spread a bit more and you groaned softly when his thumb settled on circling your clit, just barely touching it.

“I want you to fuck me, Witcher.” You whispered, biting your lip and grinning at him. You were more than ready for him. He growled, satisfied with that answer. You watched him with bated breath. A needy moan escaped your lips when you caught sight of just how much larger than you he truly was.

His fingers retreated from your dripping sex, and you watched him drink your juices off of his fingers. He lifted one of your legs and ran his hand up your thigh positioning it over his shoulder, pinning your hands over your head and leaning over you. And before you could demand that he stop teasing you, he pushes into you, filling you up and stretching you out. 

“Gods yes.” You moan, grinning up at him and wrapping your legs around his waist. His hips roll against yours, just barely moving. Though he flexes his cock inside you, and it sends a delicious jolt running through you. He’s silent, save for his growls and somehow he’s still intimidating- in the best way.

His eyes never leave yours, and it only heightens the pleasure you’re feeling. He watches your mouth fall open into a small silent ‘o’ when he slides out of you slowly and slams back into you. You bite your lip and pin him with a challenging glare.

“I thought, fuck- I thought Witcher’s were known for being rough?” You teased. You’d blame it on being drunk with pleasure and need. It’d been so long since you’d lain with anyone, you might as well get the most out of it. He chuckled and you let out a quiet squeak when his arms wrapped around you and pulled you up to sit face to face with him. You moan and roll your hips in his lap. 

“You’ve been listening to too many bored wives.” He chided as his hands settled on your hips and began bouncing you on his cock. His hands run up to tangle in your hair, tilting your head back and biting at the most delicate parts of your neck. With each nip, his thrusts seem to pick up speed until the entire bed is shaking and you’ve given up all hope of silencing your moans.

“Ha, sure, but am I wrong? How many times am I going to get the chance to bed a Witcher? I want the full experience~” Your hands run up his back and your nails dig into his shoulders while your hips bounce against him. You grind against him, your clit rubbing against his skin and burning a hot pleasure through your core. 

He growls in our ear, nipping at your shoulder. He pushes you back down onto the bed, raising your hips and bracing his hand on the wall. He grunts and dips his hips down to push into you, the head of his cock reaching the deepest parts of you and driving you wild. You can only hang on for dear life, and enjoy the ride. 

He fucks into you for what seems like hours, and every time he feels your cunt tightening around him and your moans turn desperate, he flips you toying with your clit but backing off every time you're ready to let go. By the time he’s edged you for the umpteenth time, you’re a spluttering needy mess. And he’s barely broken a sweat.

“I- Gods-” You can’t muster up a coherent response. He lifts you into his arms and stands walking you towards the wall until your back is flush against it, your shaking limbs clinging to him. His arms enclose your body on either side of your head as he presses on, his hips snapping against yours, the lewd sounds of his cock fucking into your sopping sex filling the room. And just when it feels as if you can’t take it anymore, he slides you down onto the floor, flips you onto all fours, and slides back into you.

“You wanted the full experience.” He teased, his tongue running across your shoulder. Your body is practically buzzing from the over-stimulation. You growl in response and arch your back bucking back against him. You want, and desperately need to cum. His arms lock underneath your shoulders and pulls your back up against his chest. He captures your lips in a hungry, almost possessive kiss that leaves you breathless.  With one arm still locked tightly around your body, his other hand trails down your side and his fingers trace tight little figure eight’s around your clip as his cock slams into you. 

His golden eyes stare into your own as he draws you closer to the climax you’ve been hungry for since he first stepped into your inn. His roguish smirk is the last thing you see before a pillow comes colliding with your face and wakes you. You sit up spluttering and swatting at the air. You blink into the bright sunlight streaming through your window and glare at your assailant. 

“It’s about time. You were giving your guests quite an earful.” Beth chortles, dropping the pillow in your lap. “Now come on, I hear The Witcher is going to be riding through town come nightfall.”

[dathen]

TMA 164 liveblog dump

Spoilers under the cut!

WELL THAT SURE ISN'T A FOREBODING NAME I almost gotta laugh at how terribly these themes lined up, RIP rusty quill

"Beaujester Real" returns for the patreon thanks slfkjsdf still a legend

oh I hate this! I hate this!

oh I’m getting that hefty Brexit commentary through the metaphor BUT ITS NOT EVEN A METAPHOR ANYMORE

holy xenophobia batman

“they dress in blue and red and white, sometimes splashed with crimson red” convenient this works for both our countries   god I thought this would hit hardest on plague level but nope the real horror is MAGA/Brexit all along

KEJDJJFJDNFIFIND MARTINS MIDDLE NAME OH GOD THAT “YOU THINK MARTIN IS MY REAL NAME” SHITPOST WAS RIGHT IM HOWLING

(also east asian martin hc GO GO)

JON STOPPING HIS OMNISCIENCE DEMONSTRATION TO RANT IN BETRAYAL I’M CRYING I LOVE THEM

“I believed you! That’s ridiculous, I thought; that’s not a real name, but you wouldn’t LIE to me—“ I CANT STOP LAUGHINF STOP THIS EMOTIONAL WHIPLASH AFTER WORST STATEMENT

Basira is alive and moving!! looking for Daisy!! DAISY IS OUT THERE!!!!!!!!

“Daisy, I’m sorry—“   ;A;  “She thinks she’s going to kill Daisy, like she promised, but she’s conflicted”  ;;A;;  ;;A;; this isn’t emotional whiplash this is emotional blender

I’m genuinely surprised bc I thought of all of them, Basira would be the most likely to be trapped in something, I AM SO RELIEVED

can’t see melanie or georgie!! the fic theories are right!! the fear immunity!!

Jon having the Panipticon’s power is both sexy and horrifying in implications

“we are something between a pilgrim and a moth”  MOTH JON MOTH JON MOTH JON!!!!!

ANNABELLE CANE WAS CALLING MARTIN I KNEW IT WAS THE WEB I KNEW IT WAS THE FUCKING WEB I’m glad they didn’t keep us in suspense for that one long

all those “Martin’s been web all along” theories just got demolished, he couldn’t have refused to pick up a call from her if he was on their side, but I doubt that will stop the theories

I bet the reason why jon can’t see annabelle is the same reason he can’t think about the web lighter

I am literally shaking from now cute jon and martin are, martin’s little “ah!” when jon admits he guessed something rather than Knowing it

“I’m starting to get a bit self conscious, being your post-apocalyptic google~” THE WAY HE SAYS THIS IS SO CUTE SO FUCKING CUTE CUTE JON NATION CUTE JON IS THE TRUTH

also I love Jon hinting that he wants to stop soon and martin agreeing and asking for one more, like I love that even for not Hard Boundaries they feel comfortable saying when they’re wearing down on something and know the other will respect it

MARTIN GOING SOFT SO FAST WHEN JON HURTS HIMSELF WITH THE KNOWING AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

oh boy oh boy I can’t wait to post screenshots of the times Jon rushed to calm Martin down with  “hey, hey, hey, it’s okay—“ next to screenshots of martin’s “hey, hey, it’s okay, we’ll go slow for a while”

I can just picture Martin curling around Jon and tucking Jon’s head under his chin as he says this Jon muttering his weak little “alright” into Martin’s chest bblvlbllrbrbrlrbrbrlrbrr

yesssss Jon calling out the Distortion pretending to be Helen Herself as a lie I KNEW IT AND WILL INCLUDE THIS IN MY ESSAY

BRLGKRJGHLRKFBRKR “THE HAPPY COUPLE” oh my god I remember when we were fantasizing about how “more explicit relationship” would happen in s5 and “what if a villain taunts them about how cute they are together” was one THIS SEASON REALLY IS GIVING US EVERYTHING

helen: I always knew you crazy kids would make it work ^_____^ martin, warily: thanks. THIS IS REAL DIALOGUE?? THIS IS REAL????????   

also it is just like the Distortion to actively sabotage Jon’s attempt to save Martin and laugh at him in his desperation, only to turn around and act chummy like a gossipy old friend placing bets on their relationship 

HERE IT COMES HERE COMES OTHER PEOPLE BLAMING JON FOR THE APOCALYPSE RAGE TIME RAGE TIME fandom better not pull any bullshit

but of course the Distortion would try to paralyze Jon with mind games and guilt and make sure he doesn’t undo the fun new world 

Martin I’m sorry but you suggesting Helen might be able to help is the lowest brain cell thing you’ve ever said. She literally just smelled the world loudly and called it a wonderland. 

Martin, to the beating heart of the apocalypse: Jon honey darling don’t be rude Martin, to the manifestation of a fear power exulting in a dead world: Excuse me what you just said is rude to me 

Martin: So...no shortcuts then. Understood. I’m not leaving you on your own. Helen: *gasp* Such devotion! BGNBBTBRHGLGJKTLGKTBGBBEHGBGBTBBTBFB ARE YOU KIDDINGNGNG NGNG MEEEE 

I don’t trust her at all but can we PLEASE have helen trail along behind them the whole journey commenting on all their cute couple moments?? frodo and sam need a gollum after all 

“Such devotion! You really don’t deserve it. But you know that already!” Jon.... ;;A;;  ;;A;; god helen really is out to crush the humanity out of him with despair so he gives it up, going right for the jugular of not deserving Martin’s love 

“Just taking a moment to look. You two are such an adorable couple!” jonny: I spent the whole hiatus creating this sign titled “Martin and Jon are in love and a couple and it’s wonderful” I hope you enjoy being beaten over the head with it ^_^ 

Jon, venomously: I am NOT nor have I EVER BEEN adorable!! Martin: Okay, first of all, not true. JFJFJFJJFJDNDFJJFJF MARTIN THINKS JON IS ADORABLE MARTIN IS PRESIDENT OF CUTE JON NATION AND HE’S RIGHT not about helen (wtf martin) BUT ABOUT CUTE JON?? correct as FUCK  

Jon, adorably: I’m not CUTE I’m DEADLY   

someone PLEASE sound clip jon denying that he’s adorable there are tears in my eyes I love him so much I’m going full cat parent 

I am so glad Mir introduced me to the phrase “cute aggression” because I got it bad and it is suffocating I gotta go punch a WALL is that why helen is running around killing people?? cause of too much cute aggression over jonmartin???  

[moonflower-31]

You Found Me - Gabriel x Reader

Warnings: Language? Somewhat? Oh and some self doubt, but not a lot. There is a looot of angst though. This is part of a two part oneshot. Hope you enjoy the feels.

Pairing: Gabriel x Reader

Character(s): Gabriel, Dean, Sam, Castiel

You were worried, to put it simply. Gabriel had told you three weeks ago he'd start to change. That he would take you out more. See you more in general. Not go off to Chuck knows where, doing who knows what.

You were worried. Yeah. That's the word. You were also pissed. Pissed he hadn't answered your prayers at all in those three weeks. Dean and Sam and Cas had all been through all the ways to try and bring him back, figure out what was going on, except to summon him. You had insisted that be the first thing they do, but Cas had intervened. He had said that if Gabriel was gone somewhere, that it was probably good reason. And that he would answer them in other ways.

But look where that got you?

"Look, kid, I know you miss your archangel douche of a boyfriend but-" Dean starts, looking up from the table he sat at in the main library. You rolled your eyes and looked up from your lore book on angels.

"But what? Dean? He might actually be in real danger! And you're sitting there--eating take out!" You exclaim, gesturing to his heart-attack-inducing food in front of him. Dean immediately gave you an offended glare and wrapped an arm around his food. You rolled your eyes again, and then put your eyes back to the book you were reading. No one would tell you the summoning for an archangel. And since the only archangel that would be able to be summoned would be Gabriel, you figured your chances of getting his ass back here were pretty good.

"Come on, let him live a little! I mean, I don't like the guy but every now and then, a guy has to have his alone time. Find himself. I did it. Sam's done it more than once." Dean reminds. You shake your head. Dean continues. "What I'm saying is maybe you should stop trying to summon him and let him come when he's ready. I'm sure he's fine, alright? He would have let you of all people know he was in danger if he was." Dean reminds again.

You grumble and slam the book in your hands closed. "You know what? I'm done. Done with you, and Sam, and Cas's petty excuses! It's like you don't even care!" You exclaim, and stomp out of the library.

You stomp off and slam the door to your room closed, locking it behind you as you collapse onto your bed, wishing and praying for Gabriel to return.

He hadn't returned in three weeks. Not even when you were in danger on hunts and you prayed to him. It made you question if he even loved you anymore. The thought of it made you sick. But it was possible.

You felt your chest heave and tears began to pour from your eyes as you sat back up and pulled the book from where you had dropped it beside the bed. You began wiping away your tears only for new ones to take their place. You opened the book and kept scouring the pages as a knock came to your door.  You immediately hid the book under your sheets and then stood up, and went to the door.

"Who is it?" You ask.

"Castiel. Dean said you were upset."

"Go away Cas. I'm fine. Just distraught over your damn older brother, nothing new." You grumbled, walking away from the door and sitting back on your bed.

A flutter of wings sounds and you look up, finding the trenchcoated angel standing at the foot of your bed. "Y/N... Gabriel will be okay. I promise." He says, looking at you with as sincere enough eyes as an angel can probably muster.

You let out a sad chuckle. "Really Cas? Same speech as last time? I just want him back... I don't want to lose him..." you say, hugging your arms for a moment as you fight the incoming tears. Castiel walks over and wraps his arms around you in a comforting hug, letting you wrap your own arms around him as he holds you. You're appreciative of the gesture as he lets you cry, and lays you down on the bed when you fall asleep. Your first real sleep in days.

~~~~

When you reawaken, it's later in the day, around midnight. You sigh and check your bed, seeing the book still there. You bring it out and start flipping through it, until you find it. And after a few quick translations, find out what you needed for summoning your absent boyfriend.

You write a quick note of the ingredients you needed, and then got up. You had some of the ingredients. But lacked two. You needed some herbs and some leaves that were hard to come by. So you needed to talk to someone.

"Yeah, those'll do. Thanks. I'll be down to pick them up in a few hours. Thanks." You say, hanging up on the friend who owed you a few favors. He had some of the ingredients that you needed. And all you needed now was to put it all together. And say the chant, of course.

You were walking out of your room, when Sam stopped you. You raise an eyebrow as the tall, moose-like man stood in your way.

"Uh...Sam? What are you doing?" You ask, a bag of essentials on your back.

Sam gives you a bitch face. "Really? You really don't think I didn't see you sneak that book into your room? I've read it. And it has what we've been telling you we shouldn't be doing. Wait it out. Alright? I promise, it's all gonna be okay-" Sam starts.

At this point, you were done of hearing that. After so many instances of Dean, Sam, Cas, hell, even Charlie saying it, you were done. Absolutely done. So you snapped.

You immediately shoved Sam out of the way as soon as his guard was down, pinning his sleeve to the wall with one of your knifes. Sam calls out to Dean to alert him of your escape, but you're too quick. You race up the stairs behind you and then you exit the bunker, racing down the road as adrenaline fills your veins.

You didn't dare take the Impala, knowing Dean would kill you if you did.  He rarely let Sam off the hook when he took it. So what's to say he wouldn't kill you?

You finally slowed down near a gas n' sip, and found an abandoned car. You went into the store for a moment, and picked out a few of Gabriel's favorite sweets. You took them to the counter and payed for them before going back outside, and hotwiring the abandoned car.

The adrenaline had finally left you after you'd been on the road for awhile. You'd left your phone at the Gas n' Sip, so you weren't able to be tracked. Damn Sam and Charlie's hacking abilities.

You finally pulled up to your buddy's place around 4 am, and parked in their driveway.

"Damn, Y/N, you look great for three years gone." Your old pal Brad said as he opened the door. He opened the door for you to come in soon after, drinking a beer.

You smile but shake your head. "I'm sorry, but this is an urgent hunt. I need those ingredients now." You say.  Brad chuckled.

"Really? You ain't gonna sit down and tell me how you've been with those... those uh.." Brad starts.

"Winchesters." You remind, nodding a bit. "Yeah uh... not now. I don't exactly have the time. But uh... I promise, ill come by soon. Okay?" You promise. Brad chuckled.

"I'm just messing with ya. I know you're busy. Just lemme know if I can help at all. Okay? Any time of night or day. I've got open ears." Brad says, smirking at you with a broken smile. You smiled and nodded.

Brad soon disappeared behind the door, and after five minutes returned with the herbs you needed.

"Take care now. Call me if you ever need anything else." He says as he sees you off. You nod, and wave back at him as you climb back into your stolen car and pull back onto the dark road.

It wasn't until 5 am that you found the place. It was old, it was rusty. It was perfect. You found an old table and set everything up. You used your lighter and lit up the ingredients, soon after uttering the chant.

"Rah ah gah ee oh es Vee nu nohno kee ah seh peh teh poh ah ma lah deh zod" you utter, and a bright light enters the room. You shield your eyes and wait a few moments before you hear him.

"Really? You're resulting to summoning me?" Gabriel grumbles, looking at you annoyedly. "Im busy, Sugar." He says.

You weren't listening. You were merely relieved that he was okay. You walk around the table, and then wrap your arms around him, almost too tightly.

Then he pushes you away.

"Sugar, please. I'm busy. Can't this wait?" Gabriel asks. You look up at him dejected.

"Busy? You're just 'busy'?" You ask, venom and hurt in your voice. Gabriel looks a bit hurt by your words, but doesn't react otherwise.

"You promise me that you'll spend more time with me, cuddle more, hang out more, watch more movies, but no. No you're 'busy'" you hiss, looking at Gabriel with tears in your eyes.

"Yeah, I am. I’m not gonna keep having this conversation right now. Like I said, I'm busy. I have somethings I need to do." He says, looking at you.

You furrow your eyebrows. You stomp forward and you grab his collar. "You know what would have been appreciated? Gabriel? If you would let me know you were okay! I've been worried about you this entire time! 'What if he's been kidnapped and he's being tortured? What if it's my fault?' Wow, but you're too busy!" You spat, shoving him back and turning away from him.

Gabriel sighed. "Y/N, please, okay? I couldn't get back to you. And besides, this isn't something you should be worried about. I don't understand why you were so worried-" he says. You nod your head as you turned back around. You were done.

"Why am I so worried? Gabriel I have lost so many people, so many. So yeah, im sorry that I just don't want to lose another. Especially not you. But no, you can't understand that, can you?" You growl back. Gabriel rolled his eyes and went to speak again.

"Don't twist my own words against me-" he starts. You shook your head and pointed in his face.

"No, no you need to listen. You, don't understand how hurt you've made me. How badly, I kept thinking about myself. Thinking that you just didn't love me anymore. So you know what? I'm done. I don't care of you still do, or still don't. I'm done." You snap, shoving him back as you toss the altar over.

Gabriel goes to speak again, panick filling his eyes. But you shake your head.

"No, Gabriel. You've done enough damage." You hiss. "Come find me when you understand how I felt." You say before you cut your hand and start drawing a sigil on the wall.

"Sugar, please, we can talk this out-" he starts, walking towards you just as you finish the sigil and hit against it with your hand, sending him back wherever you'd summoned him.

You felt tears re-emerge from your eyes as you walk out of the building and climb into your car. You turn it back on and start driving down the road, sniffling a bit as you decided that enough was enough. You stopped by another Gas n' Sip and walked up to the pay phone.

You dialed a number in after using the last of the money you'd brought. After a few rings, the line picked up.

"Hey Brad... mind if I cash in that favor?"

[notsoguiltykpop]

FIRST LEMMA SAY hot cocoa is so cute!! and the latest to the tenth floor OMMFMFgbut anyways a while ago i said you inspired me to get back in writing but do you have any tips? i find that i write like, three sentences an hour >_

I’m so happy you liked it!! I honestly don’t know what I’m doing when it comes to writing, but I can definitely try to give you some tips I’ve found work for me! 

My number one rule for myself is to try not to edit while I type. Nothing slows me down more than trying to fix mistakes as I go. Don’t worry about how stuff is spelled or even basic grammar to begin with, just focus on getting your thoughts down. When I’m struggling to keep going and keep changing my mind about how/what I’m writing, I turn off spell check and grammarly so the red underlined words don’t distract me. Alternatively, I grab a notebook and pen so I can’t keep re-wording and just write (unrelated, but I also do this with timed essays in college because I have to work with what I’ve already written, and then I edit while I transfer it from paper to a word document.).

If what you’re working on isn’t going the way you want, don’t feel bad about setting it aside. Sometimes the words just aren’t flowing for a story, and that’s normal. Admin Bread recently reminded me that Jordan Peele stopped writing “Get Out” more than twenty times. While I don’t recommend quitting, I do think it can be really helpful to work on something else if you get stuck on a part. I write snippets of a nameless couple’s life when I feel like writing but none of the stories I want to work on are going quite right. Sometimes even just typing out how I feel helps to get the words flowing!

I never time myself, per se. Years ago, back when I first tried NaNoWriMo, all my friends told me that the best way to write fast was to set a timer and write as many words as possible. This never worked for me–I ended up with random words that usually didn’t even relate to what I was originally trying to say. This doesn’t mean it won’t work for you, only that if it doesn’t, that’s okay too! Instead, I like to set aside designated time to write. Like I’ll look at the time and say “I’m going to focus on writing for the next hour,” put my phone on silent, and close the other tabs on my computer. I take breaks, but they’re usually to make more tea/coffee or stretch, avoiding looking at apps/notifications so I don’t get distracted. 

If I’m at a loss for ideas of what to write next, there are a number of things I do! Prompt blogs are a great place to start–I recently discovered @hellsdemonictrinity and highly recommend checking them out!

Most of my series ideas come from asking myself strange questions, and answering them with illogical answers that are way too detailed. For instance, I have this one Hoseok wip that all started because I was looking at laundry lines and asked my sister “Okay but what if you hang up your laundry and your neighbor just keeps stealing your socks?? Only the left one’s, of course. What would you do? Leave notes in them asking them politely to cut it out?” She told me to shut up, but I just kept on until I had this whole story about neighbors stealing socks and starting a passive-aggressive note-leaving war that eventually leads to romance lmao. Anyway my point is, asking yourself questions can help with the creative process. If I’m in the middle of something and get stuck, asking “why is she feeling this way?” Or “what if he secretly loves elephant plushies?” can lead to some fun answers that get me going again.

Story planners are also really helpful for me! I get terribly sidetracked lol (one minute I’m writing about JK the race-car driver, the next I’m off on some tangent about Jimin the adorable cop whose best friend is a drug dealer rip I get so off topic), and knowing exactly where I’m trying to go with something helps with that! When I find myself just staring blankly at the page like “where am I supposed to go from here?” or just can’t get the words out, I can look back at it and see a clear path of what happens next. There are some great apps out there for free to help with this, but I usually just grab a piece of paper and sketch out a basic outline of the main points.

I keep a notebook with me at all times to jot down ideas or funny phrases as they come to me, so when I’m writing slow I can look back at them. 

I do try to write every day, but not always for stories. Recently I’ve been emailing colleges constantly and working on transfer essays which have taken up most of my writing time. 

And of course, don’t pressure yourself. Writing can be therapeutic and relaxing, but if you get too caught up in “I have to finish this chapter today” or “I need to write 2k words every day” it gets stressful and the fun drains right out of it. I find that I’m much more productive when I simply write what I feel like when I feel like it rather than give myself unnecessary deadlines.

I am not a professional, and have so much more to learn, but I hope some of these helped! Sorry it’s so long, I was trying to think of as much as possible that I do that might answer your questions. Every writer is different, and it’s really a matter of trial and error to figure out what works for you. If there’s anything else I can help with please feel free to ask!

[80srichie]

second chance

okay this really bad as i wrote it while i was half awake and distracted

pls forgive me as the second part will be better (if its wanted enough 

LOLLL)

its also really short ugH guys im sorry 

summary: eddie gets taken in the neibolt house and richie’s totally not okay with it

pairing: eddie x richie

words: 753

Eddie Kaspbrak had never felt pain like this before. His mom had sheltered him so much that the most pain he’s ever felt was a bee sting when he was seven. His arm was most definitely broken. Eddie nearly passed out again from the searing pain, but the noises coming from the fridge jolted him awake. It came crawling out of the rusty refrigerator, its bones seemingly nonexistent Eddie started to try and back away, but the broken table prevented him from going anywhere. The clown smiled menacingly, calmingly speaking, “time to float.” Eddie was horrified, trying once again to move away. It made gestures as if he was having trouble breathing, but Eddie knew it was just making fun of his asthma. What an asshole!

The monster suddenly stopped once it was on top of Eddie, putting a gloved hand over his face. It growled inhumanly, growing angry. He heard a yell of his name, presumably from Richie, but it was too late. It had picked Eddie up, dragging him down to the basement and into the well. The last thing Eddie saw was Richie running down the stairs before it all went black.

Richie Tozier had never been more pissed in his life. “You saw the well? You saw the well? All I saw was Eddie getting dragged in there with that damn thing!”

“W-We know where it is a-a-a-and next time we’ll be better prepared,” Bill argued.

“Why are you waiting?! Eddie could be getting eaten out by that clown and you’re just standing here! We need to go in there now.”

“Richie-” Bill started.

“No! Listen to me, Bill! Georgie is dead because of that thing and I am not letting it kill my best friend!”

“Georgie is not dead!” Bill said, stopping Richie from moving.

“You couldn’t save him, but we can still save Eddie.”

“T-T-T-Take it back! You’re scared, and we all are, but take it back!” Bill yelled, shoving Richie backward.

That was the last straw for him. Richie ran forward and shoved Bill, only to be punched and knocked to the ground. He reached his hand up to his nose, pulling it back to find blood on it. 

“Fuck all of you!” Richie spat, standing and getting his bike. He biked the long way home, clearing his head. As soon as he got home, he went to get supplies. He grabbed his empty school backpack and got a baseball bat, a knife, a flashlight and his old BB gun with extra BBs. He found an old rope in his room he used to use to climb out his window and shoved that in his backpack as well. Richie biked to the house, lots and lots of adrenaline coursing through his body. He was going to get Eddie back, he knew it. 

The house looked even more menacing at night if it were possible. Richie set his bike down on the lawn, taking out his BB gun and making sure it was loaded correctly. “Let’s fuckin do this.” He mumbled, standing up and walking inside the house slowly. Every step he took creaked the floorboards. He waved the flashlight around, slowly making his way downstairs.

The well was pitch black, even shining a flashlight down it didn’t help. Richie didn’t have time to wait until morning; he was getting his best friend back.

Richie knew Eddie was way more than that to him. He’s known it for a while but he had no idea if Eddie was gay, or if he even liked boys at all. Richie covered it up with ‘fake’ flirting and constant teasing. That was the only way he knew how. Richie was lost in his thoughts, tying the rope quickly to the base of the staircase and over the well rig so he could lower himself in. 

He threw his BB gun over his shoulder and put the flashlight in his mouth, gripping tightly onto the rope, using his foot to push off the wall. Richie saw a hole in the wall, slowly making his way over and crawling inside of it. He let out a sigh of relief, crawling out and into the sewer. The water was definitely greywater, as Eddie had called it. It smelled awful. Children's giggles filled Richie’s ears as he walked toward the light at the end of the sewer opening. Everything smelled terrible and he knew he could never wear these sneakers again. 

Richie had to find Eddie and he would, no matter what it took.

HOnestly plEase forgive how horrible this was. i wanted to post something and tHIS was all i had in me

if y’all want a part two? lemme know? I have an idea and im sure i’ll write it better tomorrow if i have some MOTIVATIOn

also lemme know if you wanna be tagged and what not

masterlist

ask for a part dos/ask to be on the tag list

tysm for reading this shit fic <3

[luvvvlydeannnn]

The ‘Hunting Club’ Ch. 1

Authors Note: Alright y'all, so this is my first time ever making ‘fan-fic’ so I am soooooo sorry if my writing is trash, but Im kinda new to this, so go easy on me please. 

Summary: Jess meets Sam and Dean Winchester, after attempting to join their dads hunting club. After helping Sam and Dean find John, they team up to find what killed their mom. 

Pairing(s): Not a single one 

Word Count: 2883

Warning(s): terrible writing skills (:

‘Hello, I’m Jess Colt, I’m 23 and I’m a hunter. I’ve been hunting for forever and a day. Basically since the day I learned to walk. I first shot a gun when I was three, and I killed my first monster at nine. My dad raised me alongside my two brothers, Axel and Van. We moved from town to town. Crappy motel to crappier motel. There was no ‘home’ for me, not then, not now, but i’m always working towards that. I’ve lost more than I’ve gained and all I really got now is family. Which I’d do anything to keep. My eldest brother, Van (24) is currently helping me keep up the ‘family business’ and my younger brother Axel (18) is away at college trying to escape the life. I understand you guys aren’t open to newcomers but i’d like for you to give Van and I a chance. No one really ever has. I understand if you toss this in the trash after reading it, but if there is even a sliver of a chance that we’d be right for your posey then please give me a call at 867-555-5309’

I re-read the letter I’d written so long ago to the people I now called family. I remember feeling so embarrassed after mailing it, I was practically begging them to let me in their club. I convinced myself that thousands of people probably sent them letters, and that mine would never be read, just sat in a pile with all of the others. But I was damn wrong.

7 years ago

“Jess, what the hell are you doing?” Van said asked me, as he watched me write the letter.

“I’m trying to get us into this hunting club, okay. Bobby Singer, John Winchester, Rufus Turner, The Harvelles, every legendary hunter is in the club Van. If we get in we might finally have someone to rely on other than ourselves.” I said hinting on the fact we hadn’t seen our father since the day we drove Ax to college.

“You do realize that they probably won’t let us in. We’re outsiders. Besides we’ve never hunted with anyone in that group other than Bobby, and that’s only because Bobby was working the same case we were. And Jess hunters aren’t very hospitable, hell if you even look at them wrong you’re as good as dead.” chuckling to himself, he knew that he could be considered one of those and he didn’t mind a bit.

“Well, I’m done anyways. I’m sending in this letter and we can get back to finding a case. If they call, they call. If they don’t, they don’t.” I said acting like I didn’t care, not even the slightest.

“Whatever you say dork, I already found a case by the way. Guess where?”

“Vegas?” He shook his head, while laughing. Vegas was always my first guess:

“Dallas?” He shook his head again.

“Where?” I had a snowballs chance of guessing where the hell he’d found a case, it was very quiet lately and we hadn’t been on a solid case in forever it felt like.

“Jericho, California”

“How the hell was I supposed to guess that?”

“Telepathy, maybe. I thought you were a hunter jess.” Van said pushing my shoulder while snickering to himself.

“Alright bitch, when are we leaving?” I asked rolling my eyes, shooting him the bird when he turned his back to me.

“If you want to, we can leave now. I really want to get out there and see what the hell is going on. We haven’t had a good hunt since… well you know.”

“Yeah, maybe we can convince the kid to come with us. The weekends coming up and we’re already driving to California. He told me he missed hunting when I called him last night.”

I knew he wanted to see our brother, hell I wanted to see him too. We practically raised the kid, fed him, taught him all the important shit and made sure he knew the ins and outs of everything hunting related. But we both knew we’d be over stepping our boundaries. The kid was starting a new life, an apple pie life. If we walked into it after the first six months and asked him if he wanted to go on a hunt he’d look at us like we were crazy. I knew he’d come with us, he loved hunting but he also wanted something we could never give him, a home. But selfish as we always were, we were still going to try and suck him back into our lives.

“Yeah he’s been telling me to call him if we get a hunt in the area”, he said packing his bag in an unorganized fashion.

“You ready to hit the road?” I asked happily, ready to see my brother after six months.

“Hell yeah!”

And like that we sped off. We finally got to Palo Alto the day before halloween. Of course like the idiots we were we had to sneak up on Ax as he was walking out of a class. We nearly scared the shit out of him, and Van ended up getting punched in the face, while I just got a hug and some brotherly love. We sat down and had lunch with Axel, we reminisced on the good times and everything under the sun, like we hadn’t seen each other in years. By the time lunch was over he was begging to know why we were visiting after just six months.

“We were rolling through California on a hunt, and since you were practically begging to jump back on the horse we decided that we could use an extra hand on this hunt.” Van said nonchalantly, like he hadn’t missed him.

“Plus we missed you. Vans been acting stupid lately and I have no one to out-stupid him” I said, lightly punching Ax on the shoulder.

“Well, I have been waiting to get back on the horse. It’s been a while and my skills aren’t getting that rusty, so I guess I could help you, I mean if you really needed it.” looking at Van who’d mentioned that we could use a ‘little help’.

“Alright Ax, we really need your help.” Van mumbled rolling his eyes.

“Then I guess I can help. When do we head out?” Axel asked excitedly, we could see from the look in his eyes that he was ready to hunt again.

“We thought about leaving tonight, but if you have something you want to do tomorrow we can head out tomorrow night.” I stated, knowing my brother had a life from all the late nights he’d called me talking about the girls he’d hooked up with.

“Yeah, my friend Sam. He invited me to a halloween party, and I sort of told him I would. But… I can call him and tell him that I’m going on a hunt.” Axel said lowly, almost mumbling it.

“Hold up… have you been telling people that you’re a hunter.” Van said in barely a whisper, almost scolding Ax.

“No man, Sam is the only person that knows I’m a hunter, and the only reason he knows is because he’s a hunter too.”

“Wait… what’s Sams last name?” I asked, wondering if it was the same Sam that I thought it was. “Winchester.”

“Shit, he’s John Winchester's boy, Van.”

“Alright, call Sam and tell him that you’re heading up to Jericho for a hunt and that you won’t be able to make it to his Halloween party then.”

Axel finally called Sam when we had left Palo Alto, Sam said that he’d hold down the fort and everything should be ‘aye okay’. We finally got to Jericho around 4 AM that morning, we checked into a motel not too far outside of town under the alias Leigh Foxx and began our search. We didn’t come by much other than a few ‘missing’ signs. We talked to the girlfriend of the guy who went missing and she told us that she talked to him not too long before he disappeared. And that he said he’d “be home shortly”, but she got worried when he never showed that night. The cops showed up at her door in the early hours of the day before and told her that her boyfriend was missing. They’d found his car on the side of the road, but it was like he was never even there. No blood, no signs of a struggle it was just like he took off. Van asked her if she thought he’d just take off and she said “he’s not that type of man, we were going to get married in two months, he was so excited for it.” So there we were, no clues, not even a smidge of evidence. So what did we do? We searched through local legends. Found anything that we could possibly find and start building a case off of that. By the time we had gathered a few local legends regarding the disappearance of men it was time to hit the hay. We woke up the next morning and headed towards town, when we noticed a group of police officers looking at a car. We got out to investigate what was happening grabbing our Federal Marshal badges.

“Who are you?” asked the officer there already, he was wearing a shit eating grin, probably about to bust us if we even looked at him wrong.

“Federal Marshals. Agents Corrleone and Vito” we each flashed our badges.

“No I mean, who is he? Kid can’t be old enough to be a marshal, looks like he’s fresh out of highschool.”

“Yeah, his father works down at the bureau. He wants to be a Marshal so, he gets to tag along with us.” Van said in an annoyed voice.

“Well I don’t know why you three are here, there are two more marshals up ahead.”

“Oh, well I’m sure they’ll fill us in later. I really wish the office would get this straightened out, it seems like everywhere we go there are a billion other marshals doing our job.” I said in a fake annoyed voice.

With that, we walked back to our car and waited to see who those ‘federal marshals’ were, they were obviously imposters due to the looks of the black impala they were driving, no way the bureau would approve of that.

When they began walking back Axel said that he recognized one of the men. When they began walking toward their car we got out and walked over. The one that Ax recognized must have recognized him too because he came jogging towards us.

“Hey Sam. You guys find anything out?” Ax said softly to the man so the other officers wouldn’t overhear him.

“Nah, not much other than another guy disappearing. This your family?”

“Yep, Jess and Van.” Ax said pointing to each of us as he said our names.  

“Sam Winchester right?” I said holding out a hand for him to shake, Van doing the same.

He shook my hand and smiled, “yep that’s me and this is my brother Dean” he said motioning to the man on the other side of the car.

I walked over and shook his hand, “Hi, I’m Jess.”

“Dean.” “You guys find anything out about the disappearances?”

“Not a damn thing. No evidence, no clues, not even a damn hangnail.” “Shit. Well were going to head on over to the diner in town and grab some grub if y’all want to tag along.” “Sounds good to me. I could use a good burger.”

Just then Van walked over, “Ax invited Sam to go eat, you up for that?”

“Hell yeah.” I said looking at Van. “Dean, this is my brother Van. Van this is Dean, Sams brother.”

“Hey man.” Van said reaching his hand out to shake Deans.

We all got into our cars and headed for the diner in town.

We all walked into the diner and sat at a booth in the back. The waitress took our orders and got them back to us quickly. When we finished our meal we began to talk about the case and the connections.

“We know that all of the victims were male, and were on centennial at their time of death. We found some local legends, some of them about women in white along the highway. You think they could be connected?” I asked questioning the guys

“I don’t know, we can look further into it” Dean said nonchalantly.

Well, we did look into it and it turns out they were as full scale as I’d always heard. We quickly wrapped up the hunt, there were a few bumps in the road though. Especially the almost dying part, apparently Constance also goes for unfaithful women too. After finishing up the hunt, we all hauled ass back to Stanford, because Axel was too much of a nerd to miss a class.

We finally pulled up outside of Axels apartment after around four hours of driving, when we saw a shit ton of firefighters exiting his building.

“Stop!” yelled Axel. We stopped and parked behind a black impala that Axel seemed to recognize. “That’s Sam” he said motioning toward the tall fellow standing behind the car, and that’s his apartment Ax said pointing to the top floor.

We all got out of the car and walked over to the two fairly large men standing near the impala

“Sam, what happened man?” asked Axel. “I don’t know, I came home and Jess was on the ceiling… on fire” Sam then broke down, so I pulled Dean off to the side while my brother talked his friend through what happened. What happened to this girl sounded like what happened to our mother, the story was way too similar.

“Who’s Jess?” I asked Dean.

“Jess is his girlfriend.” “He said she was on the ceiling, on fire?” I asked flabbergasted at the remarkable similarity between my mother's death and the death of this woman Jess.

“That’s what he said, he could be mistaken though.”

“No, I highly doubt that. Your mother died in a nursery fire, today if I’m not mistaken. Right? Well my mother died the exact same way.” “Yeah, how do you know that?” “Growing up I heard about the Winchester case nonstop. Why the mothers of children were spontaneously combusting on ceilings of nurseries, six months after their children were born. Why my mother was caught in the crossfire of demonic activity.”

“Shit, that is right, my dad told me about your mom growing up too.”

“I don’t know, but this does seem hairy to you, right? Two women that Sam loves dying six months after his birthday. I’m not saying it’s Sams fault but what if it’s after Sam?”

Van must have overheard the chat that we were having on the deaths of our mothers because he began walking over.

“So what were you saying about mom?”

“You know how dad used to talk about the Winchester case, whenever he mentioned moms death and what he thought was behind it?”

“Yeah, and what does that have to do with this?” Van asked confused

“Jess, she burned on the ceiling.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t in a nursery or six months after the birth of a child.”

“Yeah, well Sam’s birthday was six months ago.”

“Our mom died the exact same way your mom and Jess died” Dean chimed in.

“Shit…. Do you guys actually think..?” Van realized there were too many connections.

“I don’t know.” I said shrugging my shoulders along with Dean.

Van and I exchanged numbers with Dean and told him to call us if Sam and him needed help. When Van walked away I apologized for what happened to his brother.

“I’m sorry for jumping on you like that, when Sam said Jess was on the ceiling, on fire, it all just kinda clicked. And I’m sorry for what happened to Sam.”

“Jess it’s fine, I understand. It just shows that whatever killed our moms is coming back for something.”

“Yeah, I hope it doesn’t involve Sam. That kids already been through enough.”

“Tell me about it.” Dean said rubbing a hand over his face.

“Well now that Van and I have gotten a taste of what killed our mother, I know he’s going to want to go after it. If you want to tag along you can, we can always use help. I know that you’re going to have to look after Sam for a while, but whenever you’re ready to get some revenge on this mother just call me.”

“Alright, I will.”

“Take care Dean.” I said walking towards the car.

I got into the driver's seat and looked at Axell, “so what do you want to do man?”

“I want to kill this mother.” Axel stated

“Alright, so are you coming with us or…?” Van asked

“I sure as hell ain’t staying here.”

“Well let’s head out.” I said as we pulled off.

In a series of 3 days so much has happened. I got my brother back, but I knew things would never be the same, we’d gotten a whiff of what took our mother as well as our childhood and we weren’t letting it go. Not until it was gone. 

[encomiium]

Think of a Wonderful Thought, Any Happy Little Thought 02 January 2017 Charles

The treehouse was buzzing with voices, shouts ricocheting off the bark, each attempting to eclipse another. Boys shoved against each other, all clamoring for a chance to speak and weigh in on the miracle that had happened earlier that day. Little faeries twinkled with intrigue, leaning over branches and lighting red cheeks and watery eyes, shaking fists and clenched jaws.

“You saw him! The way he sword fights, it had to be him!”

“He’s finally come to lead us again!”

“But why is he so… big?”

“S’not him! ‘E mus’ be a pirate in disguise! We hafta kill ‘im!”

“No! It’s gotta be him! He promised he’d come back!”

“He also promised not to grow up. So either way he’s a stinkin’ liar!”

All around Charles, the Lost Boys erupted in a roar of agreement, some boys holding their swords up high, ready as ever to charge into battle. Sitting high in his hammock, swinging softly in the breeze, Charles watched two stars hanging in the sky side by side, twinkling in unison. His lips pressed together, he breathed in the cold night, a hand pressed against the throbbing spot on his hairline.

“Shut up, all of you!” screamed an especially shrill voice and the crowd quieted a bit as Leila climbed up onto the trunk of the giant banyan tree the Lost Boys called home. She pulled back her hood, red fur and black-tipped fox ears falling away to reveal a shock of blonde hair, sheared short, long hair, of course, being very easy to grab in the heat of battle. “We don’t know anything for sure, but there’s one Lost Boy here who’d know better than anyone if we’re dealing with the real Robert here!”

“Why do we gotta’ listen to a dumb girl for?!” baited someone in the crowd. Leila drew her dagger quickly, teeth bared and startling green eyes wild, looking for blood.

“She’s as much a Lost Boy as any of us are!” Leila softened slightly, Joshua tall and looming in the crowd. He growled, chest puffed as he singled out the boy who’d spoken up, “Listen to her, or I’ll toss you out of the tree myself!”

The treehouse erupted in another peal of crazed whoops, rickety wooden bridges shaking and leaves disturbed in large clumps.

“Enough,” Charles finally groaned, rolling out of his hammock and landing on a platform, built to overlook the rest of the Boys. The rowdy pack hushed themselves quickly, looking up at the oldest of them all, a child with bright, livid eyes that demanded the utmost attention. Leila stepped down and nodded at Charles, proud that she knew exactly who would have the answer.

“I will talk to him,” he said finally, pulling a leather belt on over the rags of a shirt long torn to pieces and tied up in knots over his body. His sword fell against his leg as another boy softly interrupted.

“But–Charles? He–he… Your forehead,” the boy tried, wringing his hands.

“Didn’t I bring him to his knees?” Charles shouted, sliding down a thick vine and landing in front of the Lost Boys. “I invited him to eat with us,” he barked, the congregation of Boys parting in front of him as he stepped towards the ladder to the levels below, “I gave him a room to sleep in. He is here on my mercy, whomever he is, and I will not let some stranger tear the Lost Boys apart, is that understood?!”

“Yessir!” the Lost Boys cheered, a ripple of pride coursing through the gang. The Boys followed him to the ladder and watched their leader descend to the lowest floor, whispering amongst each other and shoving for the best view.

Charles pulled himself onto the decrepit, unkept patio to one of the dilapidated and frail chambers within the massive treehouse. The wood was rotted and unattended, completely abandoned for the better lodgings at the top of the treehouse, where a Lost Boy could see the rising or setting sun. Dead leaves crunched and floorboards creaked as Charles walked through the door without so much as a knock, watching the giant man on the moldy bed sit up quickly before standing, nearly knocking his head on the low-hanging branch at the ceiling. Lit by a small candle in a lantern hanging by a rusty hook, the stranger was still as large as he had been with a sword in his hand. That same hand reached up behind his head and tugged on long blonde hair tied back in a tight bun and Charles’s chest tightened.

“Hi, I–I heard you all up there,” the man said and god Charles wanted to punch him right in his stupid face.

“And?” Charles asked, glaring at the man. His chest hurt and his breaths came in ragged, angry huffs.

“I don’t mean to hurt you all–I didn’t mean to hurt you–”

“You didn’t hurt me!” Charles bristled, closing the gap between him and this–this man. This grown-up.

“I’m sorry I just–I need your help! Please, my children are–”

“What should we care about your kids?” Charles’s stomach hurt, it twisted on itself in a sick and disgusting way. He didn’t know why he felt this way, why it hurt so damn much.

“I-I- no, you know how to make me into the Pan, that’s what Hook told me!”

Charles couldn’t contain himself. Shaking, he drew his sword, his heart aching and his nose burning. The tip barely grazed the man’s golden beard as Charles looked up at the giant, fearless and furious. “You. Are not. Robert,” he spat, gritting his teeth.

“Trust me,” he man said, his voice even and soft, “That’s just my name. I don’t know who everyone else thinks I am, but it’s just not me, kid.”

Charles dropped his sword, quickly running his face against his shoulder and sheathing the heavy iron blade. The man continued, shaking his head lightly, “Please, I’m not him, but you can turn me into him.”

“Robert is dead, no one can be him anymore.” Charles shot a venomous look up at the man, his lips curling in a vicious sneer, “Especially not some grown-up.”

The man groaned, running a huge hand across his face in a way that was too familiar. A coincidence, it had to be. “I have to be him to get my kids back. If you’re not going to help me, I’ll find help somewhere else.”

Charles turned to look at the man, taking in a deep breath before speaking softly. Lightly. Trying his hardest to be diplomatic when all he wanted to do was cut the man’s chest open and watch him bleed. “Who am I?”

“Charles,” the man answered quickly.

“No,” Charles growled, biting back a few snide remarks, “Not because you heard the others say my name. Do you really know my name? What about my birthday? Do you remember how I got to this place, Robert? Do you?!” The man didn’t speak, just collapsed back onto the creaking bed, his head falling into his hands, resting on his knees. Charles shook his head, staring down the man who’d given up, a shadow of the boy Charles knew he’d been, all along. “You left me. You left me and you don’t even remember my name.”

“I–You’re a dream,” Robert said, staring at Charles’s eyes sparkling in the moonlight pouring in through the window.

“Yes,” Charles laughed, his lip quivering and his voice shaking. He wiped his face against his shoulder again, his chest squeezing and bursting like a passion fruit in an angry fist. “And I bet you remember Olympia just perfectly, don’t you?”

Robert looked up, his eyes bright with recognition, “My ex-wife? You know her? Is she here?”

Charles bit his lip, eyes closing as he tried to breathe. Robert sat in front of him, excited to hear her name while he tossed Charles away from his mind, a useless memory. A piece of trash. The boy he–he loved. His one and only kiss. The boy he followed into sure death over and over, bright, mischievous, shining blue eyes and a smile like a windy ocean breeze, sat there a man, a hollow shell. A good for nothing grown-up with no dreams, no happy thoughts. Charles turned, pulling his hood up over his head without a word. He heard the giant stand behind him, knees creaking and breath caught in his chest, looking for words he just didn’t have anymore. Sweetheart, wait. Wagon, don’t go! Charles, I’m sorry. Look at me. Charles could hear these simple things trapped in the jail cell of Robert’s old mouth, completely unsaid and forgotten. Charles turned to the small desk beside him, a silver thimble sitting on the desk, dusty and dull. With a flick of his wrist, he knocked it to the floor and watched it roll in a circle before falling through a hole in the wood, clinking softly on its way down.

He walked to the edge of the platform and jumped off, running into the thick of the forest. He heard Lost Boys in the trees howl to the moon above, wisping gentle white light into the clouds as Charles disappeared into the darkness, sprinting. The cold night air was cleansing in his pallid, decaying chest, tight with the agony of facing the reality that Robert never died. Robert lived on, he left the Lost Boys for an adventure Charles was not fit for. He abandoned all of them to grow up. He married that awful Olympia, that terrible girl he’d brought to be a Lost Boy with all of them. He had children, he had his own children he’d turned his back on so much that they were taken in the middle of the night to a place of happiness, where no one ever had to grow up, ever.

Charles remembered his parents. How he ached to see them smile at him, just once. Robert smiled at him that night and it was all it took for him to fly off to Neverland and be at his side for so many snowing seasons, for hot suns and chilly nights. He remembered wanting so badly to go with Robert when he flew away that last time, a sick feeling in his stomach, just like the one he had tonight. I’ll be back for you, pinky promise!

Charles wished, in that moment, sprinting through the trees and finding Hook’s ship floating quietly on a silent night, that Robert had just stayed dead.