#and then i had to hunt down a refund

[skxrbrand]

:{

[dilatorywriting]

Hello! May I request 94. With Rook?

I certainly wouldn't mind the smoot if you think it fits into what you write-

Gender Neutral Reader x Rook Hunt Word Count: 1.2k

Prompt 94: "Don’t act innocent, you had me pinned underneath you 5 minutes ago."

🌶️ Warning for Mild Spice

[EVENT MASTERLIST]

“Just a bit of chase!” he says.

“The thrill of the hunt can be so fun!” he says.

Except now you’re covered in sweat and doubled over panting like you’re going to go into cardiac arrest. Because Rook’s idea of ‘oh, just a little run around, je promets!’ involved nothing less than a full fucking sprint through the wooded areas of the campus—over hill, and under hill, and godyou were so out of shape.

You gasped into your knees, bent over in anticipation of just, I don’t know. Death? Vomit? All of the above?

“Ah, don’t tell me you’ve given up already, mon cher!” the aforementioned demon cooed from somewhere in the trees. In the trees! Like a literal, freaking hunter of old, and not your coddling boyfriend smiling all pretty when he says ‘just a bit.’ Absolute bullshit. You wanted a refund. “We’ve only just begun!”

“It’s been—” you gasped, swiping a furious hand over your dripping brow, “—an hour! You fucking masochist!”

“A true predator knows best that a subtle, steady approach is always the most satisfying, mon petit lapin,” he hummed, voice echoing discordantly over your head. “And how could I not take my time, when the reward is bound to be so sweet, hmm?”

“What reward?” you snapped. “Me doing this at all is the reward!”

The blonde’s trilling laughter curled through the air like the tinkle of a windchime. Light, and airy, and pleasant. Which was deceptive. And entirely unfair.

“Ah, but mon favori. I doubt you could ever say no to a little death, hmm?” he cooed. And the continued, with an air of faux consideration. “A bit for you, and then perhaps a bit for me. And then a bit more for you—”

Fuck his poetry. It was going to be a big death. A literal death. With rigor mortis, and decay, and a bloating corpse if you didn’t have a chance to collapse into a puddle in the next five minutes. Normally Rook’s sweet sonnets and romantic ramblings were something you found quite endearing. But surely anyone would be pushed past their Cutesy Bullshit Tolerance after being chased like a bat out of hell for the past literal hour. You felt woozy, and wrong footed, and like maybe that muffin you’d snagged for breakfast might be in the process of making up its mind to come back up to say hello.

“You have to run, petit lapin,” that chittering voice called again. “That’s the whole point.”

“No!” you snapped, stomping your foot like a toddler. “I give up! I’m a dumb rabbit! A lame rabbit! A rabbit with no legs! Just—get me already!” you shouted into the leafy canopy.

Silence.

You glared up into the kaleidoscope of greens, eyes narrowed as you searched the shadows. Surely he was somewhere. Somewhere close. You just had to—

And then you were crashing forward with an inelegant screech��a familiar, gloved hand pressing into the skin at the back of your neck and the other twisting into your uniform jacket to push you down into the dirt. And then Rook was sitting astride your hips, looking down at you with a sharp, brilliant gleam in his emerald eyes.

“Ah, mon pauvre lapin perdu,” he sighed, all faux sympathy, and shifted to lean forward so that he could grin into your flushed face. “Whatever shall I do with you, hmm? Rolling over to show your belly so readily. Certainly that’s far from safe.”

There was a tight, warm, whoosh in your gut. A twisting thing that you knew far too well at this point. And it spelled nothing but bad things.

You raised your chin as best as you could, meeting that toothy smirk of his head on, and then—

Ah. Nope. That had been the muffin after all.

Your face went green and you rolled onto your side to barf chunks of banana-nut-nonsense all over the grass.

.

.

“Mon cher, how can you ever forgive me?” Rook wailed, dabbing a soft, silk cloth against your heated forehead, nearly in tears. “I have failed you so horribly! So completely! I deserve to be cast from your good graces! Cursed to errer seul! Mutilé par des chiens! Jeté en enfer! Forcé de se repentir pour toujours!—”

“Enough, please,” you whined, pinching at the bridge of your nose. “I’d rather you just, I don’t know, got me a glass of water.”

“Right away!” he chirped, shooting to his feet and darting out the door and down the hall. He was back hardly a moment later, depositing a clean cup into your hands and plunking a curling, purple straw into the center of it.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, leaning forward to take a sip.

“Anything at all for you, mon cher!”

This was almost worse somehow.

“Would you cut it out,” you sighed. “It’s fine. Really. Shit happens.”

He stared up at you from where he was kneeled on the floor at your side with the largest, most doleful eyes you’d ever seen. Like a kicked puppy dog had a sad, sad child with, like, an even more pathetic, more kicked, kitten. You jabbed at him with your foot.

“And stop that!”

“Stop what?” he asked, blinking those stupid, stupid green eyes at you.

“Acting all innocent!” you complained. “You literally had me pinned underneath you, like, five minutes ago!”

“I did, didn’t I?” he hummed, sounding almost pensive. He reached up to tap at his chin, like he was chewing over a thought. “And I wasn’t even able to keep my promise, was I?” he lamented, deflating.

“What promise?” you frowned.

“For a bit of mutual demise,” he sighed. “Une petite mort.”

You felt heat crawl up your cheekbones and all the way to the tips of your ears. Because this had been some whole, elaborate setup, hadn’t it? Something that you’d only agreed to because he’d seemed so, ah, enthusiastic. And then you’d gone and barfed up banana chunks and ruined the whole thing.

“Sorry,” you mumbled.

Rook’s head shot up and he reached out to snare your hands in his.

“Non, non, mon cher!” he gasped. “This was hardly your fault to speak of! It is I and my poor planning that ought to make recompence,” he said.

And then, a terribly acute sort of brilliance came over his face. Like a lightbulb went off in his brain. Those green eyes went sharp with focus. He seemed to roll the his words around on his tongue, as if deciding exactly how they ought to taste when he let them fall back out again.

“And recompense I shall make!” he chirped, determined and shifted so his chin was resting in your lap. He sent you a coy little grin that had shivers racing down your spine.

“I literally just threw up,” you complained.

“This will certainly help you feel better,” he offered.

“That’s not the point!” you squawked. “Shouldn’t I—I don’t know—at least brush my teeth or something first?”

“Forgive me, mon petit lapin,” he laughed against your thigh. “But last I checked, I don’t think your mouth has anything do with this. And besides,” he crooned, reaching up to press a firm hand against your shoulder and help ease you down to the mattress below. “That was from overexertion, I’m afraid. Not illness. And I can promise, mon cher, that this time, you won’t have to bother putting any work in at all~”

.

.

[horreurscopes]

so after months of apartment hunting hell and many rejections from apartments i fell in love with that hurt more than any romantic breakup i have ever had, i moved into a new place about two months ago and i thought i would love it but there were many little things here and there that were obscured from me during the tour and it's not working out and it's making me so incredibly unhappy (unresponsive management, loud neighbors, and it's so filthy from the last tenants [bathtub has jets??? which i thought was sick until i found out they were full of biofilm because they have never been cleaned out and yes i have disgusting pictures] and it's really dark because it's north facing and has scaffolding around it and the broker just made stuff up about the scaffolding being about to be taken down but it seems its just not going to come off because it's cheaper for the owners to have the scaffolding there to comply with safety law than it is to actually fix whatevers wrong with the building) anyway. so now, a really cool gorgeous place that's significantly cheaper and SO sunny and much better that i immediately fell in love with went up on streeteasy, so i thought, hey, it will be super mega tough to pull off but i can probably transfer my lease (wherein you find someone to take over the contact and are free of it) and move again, but then the listing agent messaged me that the current tenants had decided to stay and i was bummed out because the same thing had happened to me months ago during the beginning of my search with another place i really liked, so i looked it up and hey, turns out last time it happened it was the same leasing agent. so what i think is happening is that because it's such a desirable place at such a low cost, the broker probably has too many people who want it and just brushed me off with a lie because they can just do whatever they want. so i pretend i didn't see the cancellation email and show up to the building anyway, and ring the apartment number, and im LET IN but when i go up the stairs and walk into the place turns out it was true and the tenant's friend IS taking the apartment and they're like oh we're so sorry the broker was supposed to cancel ): and I'm like oohhhh nooo...... oh well! because at least i got closure lol

but i shit you not, as im walking out the tenants yell at me through the window to come back in because they JUST heard from their friend that he backed out and actually, the apartment is back on the market, and im the only person who knows and has seen it. so i stay for a solid hour just talking to the tenants who let me know the #honest ins and outs of the place, and that the broker basically did nothing (what is new) because they took the pictures in the listing and the guy hadnt even stepped foot in the place.

anyway it's a great story, kismet meant to be etc, im imagining my entire life in that apartment, until i realize i can't move in because the broker's fee that *im* supposed to pay (on top of first month + security deposit, which i would've had to figure out/loan out anyway because i definitely don't have enough money to put those payments in before getting the security deposit and rent refund for the rest of the month back from the CURRENT place) is fifteen (15)(IX) FIFTEEN percent of the annual rent. fifteen percent of the annual rent. FIFtEEn PercEnt. Of The Annual Rent. For Doing Nothing. so long story short i briefly thought I'd try to fundraise like $7k for all of moving expenses but then i deflated like a depressurized blob fish..... the unstoppable force of panache grit and scrappiness alone will get you far but it's not enough against the immovable object that is nyc capitalism. hashtag american dream hashtag bootstraps

[yourmomxx]

Family Line

father of mine masterlist

summary: the hunt for the monster starts. We find out what happened all those years ago between Dean and his daughter.

warnings: canon violence, child abandonment, swear words, angst, daddy issues, character death, descriptions of blood, descriptions of murder, this is written like an episode of Supernatural

word count: 8,5k

a/n: we did it, guys! this is the last part of the father-of-mine series. I’m really sorry about the late upload, but I do hope it was worth the wait! This might be the ending of this series, but not quite the ending of the story … thank you all so much for sticking around and supporting this story, sequels and prequels about dean and his daughter will definitely come!

pt1 pt2 pt3

Sioux Falls 2007

It was late at night, and in Bobby Singer’s Junkyard, the lights were still on. Accompanying the chirping tunes of the cicadas, a fading pop song from somewhere in the ‘70s was trailing out the windows.

On the small wooden table in the kitchen, Dean and Sam Winchester had spread out a multitude of lore books found in Bobby’s bookshelf, some worn out, some torn, and Sam was currently leaned over a particularly ugly-written paragraph dedicated to the magical use of a pan’s flute.

“Dean, I can hear you being silent.” Sam raised his head to look his older brother in the eye. “What is it?”

Dean shrugged, threw a look at the numerous variations of old books about supernatural creatures laid out in front of them, then at his little brother.

“You’re overworking yourself, Sammy,” Dean pointed out. The keyboard clicked as he typed something on the laptop.

“Dean, we’ve been over this,” Sam said. “I’m just trying to find a way for you to not die. You can’t exactly blame me for that.”

“Yes, exactly, we’ve been over it,” Dean countered. “And I told you there’s no way around it. I made a deal, that’s it. Period, no refunds.”

Sam clenched his jaw. “Well, I don’t want that to be it.” He muttered under his breath.

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but stopped himself when they heard the sound of tiny footsteps over the floor.

Dean perked up and turned his head.

“Hey, my little love.”

A while ago, the soft tone in his brother’s words would have caught Sam completely off guard. By now, he was already getting used to the way Dean’s eyes had a different look in them – one of pure love – and he spoke with a softness as if his words alone should wrap their recipient up in satin cloth.

Sam turned around to look at who Dean was talking to, and was not surprised to see a small girl trutting towards them, little legs still uncoordinated after only just waking up. Her small fists were rubbing her squinted eyes, the light in the living room must be blinding her.

Y/N made her way over to Dean and made grabby hands up at him.

Dean chuckled and picked his daughter up under her arms, placing her carefully on his thigh as she nuzzled into his dark flannel shirt.

Sam smiled at the contrast of Dean’s shirt, and her bright yellow children’s nightgown with the washed out Led Zeppelin-logo printed on.

Dean’s big hand was rubbing circles on her back, as he craned his neck to bow it down to her.

“What are you doing awake so late, sweetheart?” He hushed.

Y/N nuzzled her nose into his neck. “’d a bad dream,” she mumbled.

Sam could see the emotion cross over his brother’s face for a brief second as he made eye contact with him.

They both knew that this could – would – happen. That little girl had been through so much already, at her young age, had seen and lost things no child should ever see or lose.

They both had known that nightmares would probably eventually start haunting her, but yet, they had still not been prepared for when it was the time.

Dean didn’t know what he should be feeling, his daughter had had a nightmare, and all he wanted was to wrap his arms around her, keep her there, and kill everything in her way to becoming happy.

But he knew he couldn’t do that. And that’s why he wanted to, so much more.

“Really?” He asked instead, hand not leaving her back. “Do you want to tell me what it was about?”

“Everybody was leaving me,” Y/N sniffled, small fist rubbing her nose. “You, Auntie Ellen, Jo, Uncle Sam, Grandpa Bobby.” Another sniffle.

“I was all alone.”

Dean felt like sobbing. A heavy weight had latched itself on his heart. Oh, his little girl. How much he loved her.

“Sweetheart, it was just a bad dream,” he promised to her. “We are not going to leave you alone, I swear.”

Y/N pulled her face from the crook of his neck and looked up at him with red rimmed eyes.

“Pinky promise?” She asked.

Dean lifted his free hand and linked his pinky finger with hers. “Pinky promise,” he said.

Something told him he had made a mistake. But he couldn’t care right now.

Still, he felt like a liar.

“Now,” he said, a conspiratorial tone in his words, “What do you say we get you back to bed and I stay until you fall asleep, hm? How does that sound?”

Y/N didn’t fuss long about it, she just nodded her head and nuzzled closer to him.

Dean understood the silent command, and lifted her into his arms as he stood up. “Alright. Let’s go.”

Sam looked after them as they disappeared up the stairs. Now alone, he turned his attention back to his research. Why he was reading everything about the dog Cerberus right now, he couldn’t quite decipher, but he was grasping onto every straw.

A few minutes passed by, and Dean was still not back. Another few, another few.

Sam frowned as he looked at the clock on the wall. 5.13 in the evening. Sam realized now that the clock was broken.

Curtly, he stood up from the table and climbed the stairs to the bedrooms.

The door to Y/N’s room was open, hiding the colored sign she had written her name on (with Dean’s help) to inform everyone of her territory.

Careful to be quiet, Sam stepped closer to the threshold, peeking into the dark room. A dim night light in the form of a crescent moon was burning on the nightstand. In the bed laid a small bundle of blankets and stuffed animals, which Sam could only guess was Y/N.

Next to her, holding the girl in his arms, Sam spotted Dean, probably holding on for dear life on the edge of the narrow bed.

Sam smiled at them.

Through the silence, a soft, hummed melody reached Sam’s ears, and he perked up.

He knew that song from somewhere, he just couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

Na-na na na. Nana na-a.

Sam’s eyes narrowed. “Dude, are you singing her Smells like Teen Spirit?”

Dean looked at him, grinning. “Yeah. It’s a classic.” As if it was the most obvious thing in the world and Sam was the stupid one.

“I mean, look at her,” he said, his gaze shifting to his daughter again. “She’s gonna be a badass one day. Right? One day, you’re gonna be as badass and cool as your daddy.”

Oh yeah, that girl was out like a light.

Sam just shook his head chuckling. “All right, I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

Dean didn’t answer him, but he knew he heard him.

A few minutes after Sam had left, currently sitting at the kitchen table again, starting a new chapter of the same book, Dean came downstairs.

Wordlessly, he took his seat across from Sam, and pulled one of the lore books closer to him.

And though he had an idea where his brother’s new sense of determination came from, Sam didn’t say a word when Dean started reading.

༺｡° ୨❀୧ °｡༻

Now

When you called, for a brief second Sam was worried that Dean was gonna crash the car. The way his face morphed into shock, concern and then anger, while he was talking to you on the phone had his little brother worried.

After you hung up, Sam pretended not to notice the way Dean pushed further into the gas pedal.

The first rays of the morning sunlight made their way over the hills, when Sam and Dean arrived at the Group Home. Dean didn’t bother with a neat parking maneuver, and just turned the motor off, then made his way with fast steps over to the castle.

Sam trailed behind.

They had no problem entering the building, Maria had given them an official key card for their investigations. Dean stormed down the hallways with a fast step, as if he had memorized the entire way by heart.

Sam wouldn’t blame him.

You were sitting on your bed when they came in. Or more, cowering there.

Sam was all too familiar with the look of disturbed terror in your eyes, even when you firmly avoided looking at either of them.

“Y/N?” Dean moved a step forward, stretching his hand out towards you as if to soothingly touch your shoulder, but hesitated in his movement and pulled away.

Sam threw him a worried look that Dean didn’t seem to catch.

“What happened?”

Your fingers were continuously drumming against your knee pulled close to your chest.

“’d a bad dream,” you mumbled. Sam could hear the fear in your voice. Dean sat down in your chair opposite the bed.

“When I woke up, there was …” You swallowed and hardly squinted your eyes. “I don’t know what it was. Looked like two yellow … eyes.”

Sam couldn’t help the disgusted twist his face made at the word. He couldn’t imagine waking up to something like this.

Dean exchanged a look with him. Your story confirmed their theory even more.

On the bed, you had gone quiet again. Your fingers were still drumming an uneven pattern on your skin.

This didn’t make sense. This didn’t make sense. She was dead, Cass was dead. Roy was dead. Dean Winchester was here. He left you, and now he was here, but not for you, no, but for Roy. They were all dead.

And you were next.

“Have you ever heard of an alp?” Your head snapped up as Dean’s question pulled you out of your spiraling thoughts.

“An Alp?” Your eyebrows furrowed. “I mean - yes, I came across that lore when I was still taking German literature.”

“You took German Literature?” Dean regretted his question as soon as he asked it.

“Yes,” you answered, but something had shifted in your tone. It was low and pressed. Shit. He knew he should’ve just kept his mouth shut. Sam felt like smacking his brother across the head.

“So you know what they are?” He asked instead, and you shrugged, looking at your feet again.

“Yes, well, I know that the Germans believed that an Alp would sit on their chests while they slept, and it would feed on their good dreams - plaguing the sleeping person with terrible nightmares. That’s why they used to have shortened beds, because if they weren’t lying down, the alp couldn’t sit on their chest.”

While you talked, realization hit you like a brick. Or more like a huge wave, rather, if the feeling of being violently ripped of all air was anything to go by.

“Oh my God,” You breathed out. “Cass and Roy both had nightmares before they died.” You looked between Dean and Sam with shock-widened eyes. “This Alp thing was the reason for all of this, right? I’m gonna die, aren’t I?”

“Not if we have a say in it.” Dean’s jaw remained stoically clenched as he spoke his promise.

“What did you dream about?” Sam asked.

You ducked your head even further into yourself and picked at the skin next to your nails. “’s it important?”

“It could be.”

You took a deep breath and bit the inside of your cheek. “Same as Roy,” you simply said. “Worst day of my life.”

And, okay. Sam didn’t get into college for being slow, he knew exactly what day that was. And judging by the brief flicker of emotion crossing over Dean’s face, he knew, too.

But he didn’t address it and only cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. “Look, if it really is an Alp – which it probably is – then we already know how to get rid of it.”

“We would lure it into a trap. You know, get us some … bait and then just –“ Dean symbolically dragged a finger across his throat.

You raised your eyebrows in concern. “And how do you think that’s gonna work?”

Admittedly, this hadn’t been your smartest moment, but given the circumstances you were in, you figured you could be forgiven.

Sam dipped his head. “That’s where you come in.”

“You can always say no,” Dean carefully offered. “If you don’t want to do it.”

You lifted your chin in the air. “This thing is the reason two of my best friends are dead,” you said. “I want to pay back the favor.”

Sam nodded. “Alright then.”

“So you guys got a plan?” You asked.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look and Dean sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, we do.”

—

It was loud in the cafeteria. It always was. Today, though, you were especially aware of it, because most of the noise was heavily directed towards you.

Or rather, about you, which had just the same effect in your opinion.

You had barely entered the big room and had already felt a few dozen eyes fixated on you. The whispering had started when you got closer to the buffet, and the occasional double-take and looking-fast-away-when-she-is-looking had continued when you had sat down.

Of course, how else should it be, you had been given the rehearsed “My condolences” or “I’m so sorry for your loss”.

Long story short, to you it felt like the day of Roy’s death all over again.

Except this time, they were serving pasta, and not chicken with rice.

It was days like these (which, in your opinion, had been happening far too often over the past few weeks), that made you hate this place even more. It’s not like you had had a reason for that before, the supervisors were nice, so were the helping staff and, of course, Maria.

Maria, who had taken you under her wing from the first day you arrived here. She had acted like a mother towards you, the one you had never had, no matter how hostile you had acted towards her.

Still, as you grew older, the whole thing felt simply more washed out and sickening.

Maybe this really was just a side effect of puberty, as your gynecologist had said.

As you let your gaze travel over the many familiar faces, you couldn’t help but notice that Finn wasn’t under any of them.

Finn, your beloved Finn. You then suddenly remembered the text conversation the two of you had had the other night. Before, well – everything. You still needed to stay true to that.

Silently, you made a note to yourself in your head, to drop by his room straight after lu-

A broad silhouette squeezing into the seat opposite you blocked your view over the hall, and your eyebrows shot up as you realized who it was.

“Uhm, hello?” You asked as Dean folded his hands on the table.

“You told everyone I was dead?” He asked, purposely skimming over your question.

You frowned and opened the small package of parmesan. “Well, aren’t you? About six times?”

Dean frowned and you caught him counting something under his breath with his fingers.

You shook your head, making a point of ignoring him and poured sauce over the dry spaghetti.

“That’s not even my point.”

“What, you’re saying you didn’t barge into the middle of my lunch – after the night I had – to scold me over the inaccuracy of your death rate?” You clicked your tongue. “Surprise.”

Dean apparently didn’t deem it necessary to address your sarcastic tone. That, or he knew just how much he deserved it, which you were fine with, either way.

“Look,” he started, and Jesus, this was going to be serious. “I wanted to talk to you about what happened last night.”

Confused, you tilted your head.

“I mean about the dream,” Dean quickly added. “I mean, we both know what it was about, and I just …” He cut himself off, cleared his throat, and let out a short breath that was probably supposed to be failed attempt at a laugh.

“I’m not a big … talking guy, you know? But I just … I always told myself, if I ever had kids, that I would be different then. That …” He stopped again.

“I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry.”

You scoffed. “You’re a bit late for that,” you spat. “I mean, it’s been what, almost a decade? ‘Sorry’ travels far, but not that many years.”

“I know that,” Dean said, “But I want you to know, that-“

“Well, I don’t want to know!” You interrupted him. Maybe too loud, if the simultaneous turn of heads was anything to go by. “I don’t want you to tell me anything. No excuses, no explanations, I want, and I need absolutely nothing from you, you understand?”

Dean bit the inside of his cheek.

“Believe me, I do.” He said. “But still-“

“No!” The dishes clattered as you slammed your hand on the table. “Dean, you don’t understand! You just left me here, at this orphanage –“

“It’s a group home.”

“Same thing, Dean!” You snapped. “Just a fancier word.”

Dean carefully pulled his hand away from the table, folding it with his other in his lap. You could feel him watching you, but you consequently avoided his gaze.

“Look, I’m not gonna have this conversation right now,” You decided. “I am going to go talk to my best friend, and when I go to sleep, I’ll try not to get killed! So goodbye.”

And with that, you picked up your still full lunch-tray, dumped it on one of the cleaning wagons, and made your way out of the cafeteria.

You never turned around to see Dean looking after you.

༺｡° ୨❀୧ °｡༻

St. George, Louisiana 2012

Dean Winchester was standing by a window. Through the clean glass he had a clear view of green gardens, well-kept flowers and trees leaning in the soft breeze of the wind.

Further away, he spotted the tall hedge walls of something that had to be a garden maze.

“I hope you know just how grateful I am for what you and your brother did for me.”

The voice of Maria Whitlock lifted Dean out of his thoughts, and he turned around to face the older woman.

She spoke in a soothing tone, one that reminded him of a mother he never had, but learned to long for.

Dean nodded. “That’s our job.”

Maria gave him a look and tilted her head. He was standing in her office, a neatly tidied room with a shelf for books and files, and a rather expensive looking desk. Very clean as well.

“What you decided to do was probably very hard,” she continued. “But I can assure you, in most cases, it turns out to be the better option for both parties.”

He didn’t like the way she talked about his plan like it was a good thing, when it wasn’t. It didn’t make him a good person for doing it.

“I’m sure, Dean, that there will be a lovely family out there who will take care of her –“

“No, no, no, that’s not what I meant.” He quickly interrupted her. It was the first time in here he had spoken more than for words. “I don’t … I don’t want someone else to take her in.”

Maria raised her skeptical eyebrows at him. “Do I understand correctly, Dean?” She asked. “You want her to just - stay here?” And her tone was implying exactly what she held of that idea.

“Look, I know how that sounds.”

“I really hope you do.”

“But my job doesn’t allow me to properly take care of her. When Bobby was still - well, she stayed with him, and we visited her from time to time.”

Maria nodded. “I understand. But what you have to understand, is, that this will surely not be easy for her. Whereas many of the elder children indeed do live here, the younger ones are usually adopted by a foster family who can take care of them. Who can love them,” she added.

Dean looked out the window again.

“I understand that,” He said. “But this is how I want it.”

He couldn’t see Maria behind him, as he was turned away from her, but he could well sense the way her observing, maybe judging gaze was burning between his shoulder blades.

“Well, then.” She sighed.

And as Dean watched the flowers dance in the wind, listening to Maria shuffling through her papers, he couldn’t help but think that this might be one of the most selfish decisions he has ever made.

—

Soft wind was tugging at Dean’s hair. Somewhere in the distance he was aware of the rippling water of a small fountain.

Dean tried to not actively think of what he was doing here. Of the consequences his actions would inevitably cause. He knew he wouldn’t be able to bear it.

Y/N’s hand was holding his in a strong grip, as they walked up to Maria and he greeted her.

Maria leaned down to be on eye level with his daughter and smiled at her.

“Hello Y/N, it’s very nice to meet you. Your Dad has told me so much about you! I’m sure you’ll settle in here just nicely.”

Dean crouched down and placed both his arms on Y/N’s for her to look at him. She had been eyeing Maria and the castle suspiciously.

“Look at me, sweetheart,” he started. “Maria is really, really nice. And because Uncle Sam and I have to work so much, she is going to take very good care of you.”

Y/N averted his eyes and stared at her shoes. Then, sh burst forward, slung her small arms around Dean’s neck and buried her face in his chest.

“I wanna go with you,” she mumbled into his jacket. Dean sighed. With a heavy heart, be broke out of the embrace. “I promise I’m old enough, I want to go with you!” She pleaded again. With every word, Dean’s heart shattered just a bit more.

“Look, you remember when you stayed with Grandpa Bobby for a while when me and Uncle Sammy had to work?” She nodded, sniffling.

“This is gonna be just like that. I promise.”

Y/N sniffled again. Then she held out her hand to him. “Pinky promise?”

I promise that we’ll be fine.

I promise that we’d never just leave you alone.

I promise that Grandpa Bobby will be alright.

Dean pulled Y/N into his chest again. He breathed in deep, as if that would somehow help him savor this moment, savor her to be engraved in his brain to never forget. His little girl, the only thing good and pure in his life.

“Have fun, sweetheart,” he said when they broke apart again.

He stood up, and even though he wasn’t that old, everything in his body hurt at the movement.

“But I don’t know anyone here!” Y/N said again. It has been her go-to argument the entire car ride to the castle.

“I want to go with you and Uncle Sam!”

“Y/N!” The sharpness in Dean’s tone felt like it was cutting him. “I said you can’t.”

Her bottom lip started to tremble, before a big tear rolled down her cheek. Then another one, and another one, until she was full-on sobbing.

“Please, Dad!” She cried, and Dean’s heart shattered.

Behind her, Maria put a caring hand on her shoulder.

“Come on, sweetie, say goodbye to your dad.”

Y/N violently shook her hand off her body. “No! No, I don’t want to go with you! I want to stay with my dad!”

Maria and Dean exchanged a look. In her eyes, he recognized something that told him to change his mind.

It took everything in Dean to turn around and walk away.

He fixated his eyes on his car a few feet away from him. He wasn’t walking very fast, but with the weight that felt tied to his feet, it was the best he could do.

Behind him, Y/N kept crying. And as she was pleading and pleading, for him to come back, for him to stay, the feeling of realization started heavily sinking in, that he was really waking away.

Not only from this situation, from his daughters cries, but from her. From his child.

His feet felt even heavier.

When he reached the car door and opened it, he didn’t feel anything. Everything happened in a haze. He vaguely registered starting the car and pressing his foot on the gas pedal.

His daughter’s sobs were still replaying over and over in his mind like the sounds of a broken vinyl, as the naked road flew by the dirty windows.

Sam didn’t address the single tear that rolled down his brother’s cheek. And Dean just kept driving.

༺｡° ୨❀୧ °｡༻

Now

Since forever on, you had never been quite good with your emotions. Portraying them, talking about them, feeling them.

It was an obstacle.

Looking back at it, you figured it was probably somehow running in your family, the whole being emotionally unavailable thing.

Could that be inherited? According to your biology teacher, yes, but you didn’t know how well you believed that.

Nevertheless, as you knocked on the cold door that was the entrance to your - only left – best friend’s room, emotions welled up in your throat as choking as a tidal wave clashing its weight over your head.

It was dark in there. The curtains had been pulled closed and the thick material wouldn’t let a flicker of daylight in the room.

A smell hung over the entire place, of stale air and leftover food, and the sensation of hopelessness. Finn was sitting on the edge of his bed, a dark silhouette staring crooked at his hands in his lap, only illuminated by the weak light of the bedside lamp.

Without properly acknowledging him, you took quick strides to the other side of the room, and without further ado, ripped his curtains open.

The sun was already lowering down the horizon again, but the leftover light was still enough to turn the dark silhouettes in the bedroom into concrete shapes, of dirty plates, glasses, and clothes scattered all over the floor.

From his place on the bed, Finn groaned lowly, like a small bear being awaken from hibernation.

He rubbed a hand over his eyes as you sat down next to him. The bed dipped under your weight and you moved over a few study sheets that laid on his duvet.

“Hey,” you said.

Finn dropped his hands into his lap again and turned his tired gaze on you.

“Hey,” he said back.

“You wanna talk about it?”

Finn’s eyes tiredly scanned the room around him, the mess it was in, and then shook his head.

“Nah.”

“Alright.” You weren’t, really, but that conversation could wait until another time.

“How you holdin’ up?”

Finn tilted his head to you in a way that said ‘Ain’t it obvious?’ and you shrugged in response. “Stupid question, got it.”

Finn sighed.

There was a silence building between the two of you that you didn’t like. You kept yourself from fidgeting impatiently on the sheets.

“I just-“ Finn cut himself off and ruffled his hand through his hair. “Ever since – well, yesterday – I’ve been thinking about …”

He broke off again, blinking with his face towards the ceiling to avoid the falling of tears.

“Y/N, the last thing I said to her, was – we fought.” Finn’s confession was almost a whimper as he looked at you, awaiting your reaction.

Your heart broke at the look in his eyes, so clouded full with guilt and self-loathing, you almost didn’t recognize him.

“Oh, Finn, she loved you.” You sighed, and placed a gentle yet firm hand on his arm. “She knew what you were going through, what we were all going through. And trust me, she never, not for a second, held it against you. That was one moment out of almost ten years we all spent together. It didn’t mean anything, not in the long run.”

Finn sniffed and rubbed his nose, diverting his gaze to his hands again.

“Finn, she didn’t die hating you.” You put emphasis on every word as much as you could, because you wanted him to hear you, to understand, to believe. You didn’t want to let him wallow in his own self-destructing thoughts about something that wasn’t even true, not in the slightest bit.

Finn just hummed, but didn’t meet your eyes, just kept them trained on his lap. You sighed and let your hand slowly slide from his arm.

For a while, it was quiet again.

“My father is here,” you then blurted out.

Finn’s eyebrows shot up. “The one that died?”

“Yeah.” You weighed your head. “In my defense, I thought he died too, until he showed up in a fancy suit, investigating my best friend’s murder.”

The typical phrase of ‘seeing gears turning in someone’s head’ was the only way you would describe what you were seeing displayed on Finn’s face right now, just before the realization hit him.

“Wait, your father’s one of the hot FBI agents?”

You pursed your lips and nodded.

Finn blinked in disbelief.

“Wow,” He breathed out.

“Yup.” You said, popping the ‘p’. “Just got a lot less hot, huh?”

Finn raised his hands in surrender and shook his head. “For my own safety, I’m really not gonna answer that.”

You let out a laugh and playfully shoved him with your shoulder.

“Idiot.”

Finn grinned. “You love me.”

You hummed. “You’re right, I really do.”

A long while later, the door closed behind you again with a click.

Finn had to promise you to get in touch with you if he felt the need to, and to at least try and keep his room in order. After a brief conversation of how his view of himself and his ‘need to call you’ was very different from yours, you had hugged him and decided to leave.

Before you had walked out, your hand had rested on the handle, and you had turned around to Finn, not quite looking him in the eye.

“You know I love you too, right?” You had said. “No matter what happens.”

Finn frowned, but if he got suspicious, he didn’t mention it. “I know. Same here.”

You swallowed and nodded.

Then you left the room.

Now you were standing outside of his door, gaze drifting into the distance, and the same weight that had been lifted off your shoulders replaced by another one, just as heavy.

Funny, how, even if indirectly, saying your Goodbyes, made the lingering presence of death looming over you like a dark shadow much more real. If only one thing went wrong tonight, then-

You shook your head at the thought. No, Sam and Dean were going to take care of it, they promised. You had to put their trust into them with this.

But if tonight really was it, then you were content with the feeling that the last conversation you had, had been with Finnegan Beckett.

The walk back to your room stretched longer than usual.

--

Sooner than you would like it to, the sun disappeared behind the hills and night reigned over the land.

Sam and Dean were standing in your room, rehearsing their – honestly, pretty vague – plan with you, making sure you knew exactly how everything would go down. To be fair, you didn’t really play a big part in the whole thing, but it was nice having some sort of reassurance.

“Alright, so you know what to do?” Sam questioned once again.

Slowly, you nodded your head. “Lay still and look pretty,” you joked. “And try not to get killed.”

“Leave that last part to us,” said Dean. “You don’t have to worry about anything. By the time you wake up, everything will be over.”

You nodded.

You had seen it in Dean’s eyes, that he wasn’t all in with the idea of using you as bait, but you had done it nevertheless.

You weren’t a little child anymore, especially not his, he wasn’t going to decide what you wanted or not wanted to risk.

You took a deep breath that lifted your shoulders and huffed it back out. You were going to do this. It was easy.

—

Like hell it was.

Whoever told you you had the easiest part of the plan had been fucking lying to you. Turns out, sleeping is way harder with the knowledge of probable death hanging over your head like a dark cloud.

Every time your eyes slipped closed, a glimpse of doubt squeezed its way into your mind. What if Sam and Dean didn’t make it? What if everything went wrong? What if, in the end, you did die?

The sheets were already pooling crumbled by your feet when you slipped out of consciousness.

--

The mass of hot bodies pressing together and towering over you was clamming. A figure was running away from you, you were chasing after it. You smelt old leather and gunpowder. It made you feel comforted. You wanted more of it.

Gravel clattered underneath your boots as you got out of the car on your own, like all the big girls would.

“Look, Daddy!” But Daddy wasn’t there.

“Come on, I’ll help you.” There she was again, the nice girl with the black hair. She held out her hand and you went to grab it, her warm presence looming you in, and then the floor opened up under your feet and you were falling into nothingness.

--

Your heart pounded rapidly in your chest, as you startled awake in your bed, feeling your lungs tighten up and making it hard to breathe.

Your panicked gaze flew to the door of your room – wide open, the light of the hall casting a dim shadow into the room.

“Wha- Sam! Dean!” Hastily, you pulled the covers off your body and hurried out the door. Something must have gone wrong, terribly, terribly wrong.

You followed the sound of footsteps and scuffle down the hallway, turned the lights on where it had gone off at a few junctions.

Your breathing was still shallow, but you pushed through that and your still dazing mind, adrenaline pumping through your veins with every step you took.

Rapidly turning around another corner, you almost stumbled over the long legs of Sam’s body on the floor. You came to an abrupt halt and kneeled worried next to him.

“Sam? Oh my God, are you-“

Sam groaned and moved his head, eyes still pressed shut. “’s strong,” he babbled, and you tried your hardest to understand what he was saying.

By the way he was slurring his words, you had well reason to think he had suffered a concussion.

“It’s alright, stay here,” you ordered him, as he tried to sit up.

Only then, you first noticed the struggling noises a few feet away from you, and lifted your eyes away from Sam to check where they were coming from.

What you saw almost made your heart drop into your stomach.

Not that far away from you, maybe a few armlengths, was Dean, laying on the floor on his back just like his brother. But he was wrestling with something sitting on his chest, something small and hairy, hunchbacked like an old witch but only with the size of a cat.

The thing, which had to be the Alp, had long, bony limbs, and was fighting tooth and nail, hissing, biting and scratching, against Dean.

It reminded you of a gremlin, of sorts.

In your head, you heard Roy’s voice scold you, “There’s a distinct difference between all supernatural creatures. Elves don’t equal fairies, and gremlins don’t equal goblins, because while gremlins are fuzzy and cute in the beginning and only bad later when they turn, goblins have always been known for harassing humans.”

Alright, so no gremlin then.

Near you, Dean was still rolling around on the floor, fighting for the upper hand with the Alp.

Your heart sped up as you realized that something had to be wrong. Because why wasn’t he just killing it?

--

“So how do you kill it?”

Sam pulled something out of his duffel bag and turned it in his hands, the dim light of your lamp reflecting on the material. “Silver dagger dipped in vampire blood.” He spoke.

“Wait – vampires bleed?”

Dean scoffed. “This isn’t Twilight, kiddo. Yes, vampires bleed.”

You shrugged and inspected the phial he had laid into your hand. “I was thinking more of Fear Street, but alright.”

Dean ignored that he didn’t know what that was, but made a mental note to look it up later.

Sam stuffed the dagger back into his arsenal.

“You don’t have to worry about that part, though,” He assured you. “That’s what we’re here for.”

Dean nodded. “He’s right. You just dream sweet, and we’ll handle the rest. Fool-proof.”

You nodded, passing Dean the blood back. You could only hope they were right.

--

The shining silver of the dagger caught your eye. It had most likely been scattered away from Dean and landed near a wall, far out of his reach.

You took quick steps over to pick it up, Dean’s struggling grunts making you alert, and probably the reason why you didn’t think about what you did next, you just did it.

The silver dagger felt light in your hands, coated in the dark fluid of what had to be vampire blood. The blade reflected the clinical white light from the hallway as you lifted it up over your head, and, using the strength of both your hands, pushed it with force into the monster’s upper torso.

The squelching sound it made, as it penetrated bristly fur, skin, and organs, would later make you feel repulsed and gagging, sort of like nails scratching on a blackboard, but in this moment, you just clenched the dagger tighter and pushed it further into the monster’s chest.

The screech it let out could not be compared to any animalistic sounds you had ever heard before. In a swift move, you pulled the weapon out of the Alp’s body, and the small creature slumped to the floor right next to Dean.

You waited for a second. Two, three panting breaths. Dean was the first to move. He put a hand somewhere where the thing’s neck should be.

Then, swallowing in-between his hard breaths, he nodded. “Done,” was all he said. But it was enough for a sigh of relief to leave your tired lungs, and you sunk to the ground right next to him.

Looking closer at its lifeless body, the Alp had more similarity with one of those dead, stuffed animals that hunters hung in their houses as trophies. But maybe that was just rigor mortis.

Through your haze, you barely registered Dean clapping a firm hand on your shoulder. You turned your head to look at him, eyes suddenly feeling heavy as the adrenaline was wearing off. Like sucking air out of a balloon.

“You did good today, kid.” He said, and though you were tired, in his eyes you could see that he meant it. It filled your chest with a warmth that hadn’t been at home in there since … God knows when, and it made you smile.

Near you, Sam staggered closer, still holding his hurting ribs, and tilted his head as he squinted his eyes at the lifeless Alp before you.

“Is it just me or does it … look like a cat?”

You and Dean both looked over at him, and then at the dead monster on the floor.

“Looks more like a gremlin-goblin hybrid,” You panted. “A gromblin.”

Sam threw you a look of pure confusion, while Dean was grinning proudly. You smiled back. It felt honest.

And very likely, it was.

-- It was quiet again.

From the fight and struggles a few days ago was no trace left, as you stood by your desk and sorted through some old photographs you had replaced on your wall.

The pictures you were sorting through mostly showed you, Finn, Roy and Cass together.

At school, at the movies, going out to eat.

You sighed and plucked some tape from the back of another one.

Right at that moment, a knock sounded from your door. Without even looking up from Cass and Roy smiling at you, holding a stray cat, you let out a “Come in,” at the person on the other side of the door.

The familiar sound of the hinges creaking signified the opening and closing of the door. And then, Dean Winchester was standing in your room.

“Uhm …” He was rubbing his neck awkwardly, as you looked at him expectantly.

“Hey. What’s up?” You asked, and put the photographs in a drawer.

Dean took a deep breath and looked at you. He wasn’t wearing the same casual clothes as he had been that terrible night, but had settled on his FBI suit again. Maybe for effect.

“Look, I was just-“ Dean fumbled for a second and then took a seat on the small chair that was standing around. “We should talk. This time for real.”

You tilted your head, and avoided looking at him.

Dean didn’t wait for any response, he simply kept talking. Maye rambling.

“I know I already tried, but it wasn’t my best, so I …” He sighed.

“I never explained anything to you. why things went down how they did. Y/N, please look at me.”

You had sat down in your deskchair, pulling your legs to your chest and now did your best to fix your eyes on Dean.

“What we do, the hunting … it’s no way to grow up for a child. I know how that is. And I never, ever, wanted that for you. I already had plans to end things sooner than they did, but then ..” He shook his head. “Didn’t work out. So, when Bobby died, I saw no other chance than to get you somewhere else. And I took that chance to just … remove you from my life, as hard as it was.”

“But I promise you, Y/N, it was all just to keep you safe. I never would’ve done it if there had been another way. And I wanted you to know that.”

Dean stood on his feet again and placed the chair back on its original spot. You looked away as he reached for the door handle, to get out of your life, again.

“So you’re just gonna leave? Again?” Your words were accusing and they were meant to be that way, but still you almost felt bad, as Dean dropped his hand by his side and let out a sigh.

“Like I said, it was for the best. Still is, in my opinion.”

“What, to remove me from your life again?” You jumped out of your chair, fury burning in your eyes and voice growing louder with every word you spoke.

“Y/N, you don’t get it-“

“No, you don’t get it!” You jelled at him. What was burning in your eyes were now more tears than anger, but it didn’t matter.

“For years, I’ve been trying to … to figure out what I did wrong. For years, I’ve been trying to do better, every day, I wanted to be better, because I thought —. I thought that if I had good grades, and if I started working out, and if I was always on my best behavior … I thought that you would come and get me. But somehow you never did. And I just … I don’t understand, I want you to tell me, what did I do wrong, what made you leave, because I swear, I’ll change. I’ll change, and I’ll work on it, just please…” A begging undertone accompanied your tear-choked words. “Don’t leave me here again.”

Wordlessly, Dean quickly crossed the room and put his arms around you. it took you a second to realize what was even happening, before you clung to his suit jacket, digging all your strength into it, as if the fabric was the only think that kept you from drowning in black water.

You felt the shadow of warmth, as Dean turned his head to press a featherlight kiss into your hair.

“I regret having to leave you.” He murmured next to your ear. “But what I do not regret is keeping you safe. Even if that meant leaving you.”

You sniffled, and pulled away from him. Dean’s own face wasn’t full of fresh tear stains, but still you could see the sincerity and something like sadness on his features.

You wiped your cheeks to clean them off the drying liquids.

“I’m older now,” You said, and Dean scoffed, already knowing where this was headed. “No, please, listen to me! I’m older, I can make my own choices, take my own risks. You saw how great I was a few days ago!”

“Yes, but that was one monster!” Dean countered. “Out there, there are hundreds of those things. We don’t get enough sleep, no nice food, not even nice beds! Trust me, Y/N, compared to this-“ he gestured around your room, “what we do has nothing on it.”

You shook your head. “But you’re together when you do it. You and Sam. And I just want that, I want to be with you.”

Dean sighed and took a step back.

“Please, Dean, I’m begging you!” You urged. “You said you never wanted to come back here, but now you had to, I mean – don’t you think that’s some sort of … sign or something?”

“I don’t believe in signs.”

“Well, screw signs, I’m here!” You pointed to yourself. Your voice was desperate, but so were you.

“I am here, and I want you to take me with you.” And in a whisper, you repeated, “Please, Dean, this time – let me come with you.”

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then, Dean heavily sighed and pulled the chair closer to him to sit down.

--

The church bells were tolling a loud, fast tune. It was ironic, you thought, and you didn’t know if you should cry or laugh about it.

You watched as two dark caskets were lowered down into the earth, into two separate 6-feet deep holes right next to each other.

The gravestones had not yet been prepared, but you didn’t exactly need those anyway. If the huge pictures were any indicator on who was getting buried here.

This was your last time saying Goodbye. To Cass and to Roy, and, unfortunately, to the last one remaining.

Funerals weren’t for the dead, you had once read somewhere, they were for the living, for those seeking closure in their desperate times of grief.

You had thought it to be bullshit, what difference would a burial make in a journey of overcoming the loss of someone so important?

But, as you threw a full hand of dark earth onto each of the dark caskets, you somehow understood. It was one weight less.

They were still here, some part of them. Something you could always come back to, they hadn’t just vanished off the back off the earth. That thought was, indeed, comforting.

Damn life lessons that are right.

“Hey,” you suddenly heard a voice next to you, and were a bit surprised to see Finn standing there.

You had been too lost in your own thoughts to even notice him approaching. The lack of sleep probably didn’t help your attention skills much, either.

“Hey,” you answered.

“Look, I need to tell you something,” you started, just at the same time as Finn said, “I know what you wanna say.”

Both of you let out quiet laughs.

“You first,” He said.

You took a deep breath and avoided looking at him, scanning the gravestones before you as if you had known everyone buried under them personally.

“Sam and Dean,” you started, “I mean, they’ve been here for a while and honestly, I never even thought I’d see them again. So I never really thought about what would happen if they would just – show up, you know?”

Interesting, Peter Gravill only lived to be 57 years old.

“But now they’re here, and I just-“

“I get it.” Finn suddenly interrupted you. Your head whirled around so fast you were afraid you were gonna get whiplash.

At your confused look, he added, “I mean, if my parents suddenly showed up on my doorstep and gave me the option of going with them –“ he shrugged his shoulders. “-I would most definitely take it.”

Before you could even think about it, you already lunged forwards and wrapped your arms around his body, burying your face in his neck and holding him tightly.

The hot feeling of tears burned behind your eyes, but you managed to put them away. You pulled Finn even closer.

“Everything’s gonna be alright, kid.”

“You’re still younger than me.”

“I don’t care. I love you.”

“I love you too, Y/N.”

The hug lasted endless, but endless went by way too quickly. You fixed Finn’s suit jacket, apologized for the tear- and make-up stains you had gotten on the expensive material, and waved him a last Goodbye.

Down by the parking lot, a black car was already waiting for you, two adult men leaning against it. They had been watching the entire thing go down from a safe distance, not wanting to interfere in either the funeral, or the emotional Goodbyes.

Sam tried not to think about what laid ahead of them, or behind them, as his niece walked towards them, away from the graves of her best friends, and leaving the only one that was still alive, behind.

His niece. How long hadn’t he said that title, let alone thought it.

He liked the familiarity of it. The rightness.

Dean opened a creaking car door for you, as you reached them.

“You ready?” He asked.

Sam could see your shoulders tighten, as you lifted your chin, and looked his brother straight in the eye.

“Yeah.”

Dean nodded, and you got in the backseat. He slammed the car door closed behind you. With one last look at his younger brother, Dean rounded Baby and took his place as the driver, Sam claiming shotgun.

Behind them, you leaned your head against the window as the engine roared and you drove off.

The car smelt like leather and gunpowder. It made you feel comforted.

And in the backseat of an old 1967 Chevy Impala, listening to the music that was a mix of Metallica, Kansas and Billy Joel, you slept the best night’s sleep you had had in weeks.

taglist:

@psycho-magnotheric-slime , @openmindedperson2200 , @emily-roberts

[z-moves]

All my money was refunded by mistake.

‏🙏🏻🥺Hi friend, please listen to me

‏Help me by donating or sharing my campaign and reposting it

‏😥💔what happened to me is terrible

‏We had to start over with our campaign. The site was difficult to use.

‏Initially, we had a campaign that was set up incorrectly and had to be shut down and restarted. We thought this was successful, but it wasn't.

‏When we asked them to permanently close the old link, they instead refunded everything we worked so hard to raise to the new link.

‏We are sad that we have to start from scratch, but we refuse to lose hope.

‏If your donation was refunded, please consider sending it to our new link or if you are a new supporter, please help us rebuild what we lost. We apologize for any inconvenience, we are disappointed that we had to ask for this and hope you will continue to stand with us, you can read the details on my profile page.

‏https://gofund.me/7fc8a826

‏This campaign was published and verified by @el-shab-hussen

hi, Oday! i'm sorry to hear about the unprecedented refunding. i hope you will evacuate safely and i hope that more people will see and help make up for the damage.

€341 / €50,000

the fundraiser is currently very low on funds, so i encourage people to help!

like Oday said, this fundraiser is verified by @/el-shab-hussein and @/nabulsi and is listed #261 in their spreadsheet. [ link to Google Sheets ]

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[whinlatter]

think (harry/ginny) | a microfic

day 13 of @hinnymicrofic | prompt: think

He showers quick, tries to scrub the train off him. Snorts at the sight of Vernon’s large bottle of hair-thickening shampoo. Having stared at his uncle’s head all the way back from London, he reckons Vernon’s due a refund.

There's some lurid deodorant of Dudley's - hair gel, too, looks cheap and shit. He feels a stab of pity for whichever poor girl his cousin’s trying to scrub up for these days. Dudley trying to pull, he thinks with a laugh, Christ. But thoughts of pulling lead to thoughts of girls, which lead, inevitably, to thoughts of Ginny.

He shoves the hair gel back on the shelf. Adds Dudley pulling to the don’t think about it list he’d started making on the train, somewhere around the Cumbrian border, when Ron had offered him a Caramel Kappa, Ginny’s favourite, and he’d wanted to throw up all over the chess board.

The Dursleys had waited all of two seconds after he’d slammed the car boot shut before speeding off to dinner at some miserable gastropub off the M3. Suits him fine, wants to be alone. He stabs a fork through the plastic film of his ready-meal, makes sure to puncture the yellow reduced sticker Petunia's left on for his benefit, and watches the bright white of the mashed potato atop the shepherd’s pie whirling around in the microwave. 

You know, it’s made from real shepherd, he’d said to Ginny once. That’s such a dad joke, she’d said, and he’d said I wouldn’t know and she’d said Potter you get one dead dad joke a day and you already used today’s up at breakfast. Shepherd’s pie is on the don’t think about it list, then, he thinks, just before he burns his fingers sliding the ready meal onto a tray. Probably best add cottage pie, too, same idea. Maybe all savoury pies, play it safe.

He flops down on the sofa, feet up on the coffee table, eats straight from the hot plastic as he flicks through channels. The nine o'clock news is all budget this, Hong Kong that, Tim Henman out at Wimbledon. The nine o’clock news is not Dumbledore's dead, Snape murdered him, there’s a war on, Harry Potter's dropped out of school to go hunt bits of Voldemort's dismembered soul. 

Dropped out of school, he thinks. Scandalous, delinquent. What d'you reckon? he asks the Ginny in his head. Harry Potter, troubled dropout? Do anything for you? The Ginny in his head laughs. It’d be fun if she were here, he thinks, curled up next to him on this ugly sofa, taking the piss out of Petunia’s cushion covers and Dudley’s wrestling trophies. Imagines taking her up to his bedroom, pointing out the lamp Dobby whacked himself around the head with. But then the Ginny in his head looks at him and says I never really gave up on you and I knew this would happen in the end, and it all bursts, shatters into a hundred dusty pieces.

He chucks the rest of the meal in the bin, adds dropping out of school to the stupid list. Might as well add the budget, Hong Kong and Tim Henman, why not.

Turns off the telly, goes upstairs and lies on his bed, fully-clothed, staring up at the ceiling, because on the walk from the living room to his bedroom the list has expanded to include his trunk (train, Hogwarts, Ginny), his jumper (still smells a bit like her on the left arm, pathetic), and Hedwig (how does it feel knowing your owl prefers me, Potter?).

He stares out of the window for a while, eyes next door's new extension, which sort of works - ugly nothing suburbia - until he remembers the twins and Ron at the window in a flying Ford Anglia, zooming him off to the Burrow where a little red headed girl is blushing and sticking her elbow in the butter dish and god, this really is shit, isn't it, they weren't lying. She knew then, of course she did. He's never been good at thinking of nothing, has he, and he's thought about her as he falls asleep every day since about October, so what chance does he have now?

He's dreading the dreams the most, knows they'll be unbearable. Almost hopes he dreams of lockets and green light and dead headmasters. Can't be worse than bright brown eyes, freckles on a bottom lip (how do you even get freckles on your bottom lip, Gin? Don't be jealous of my freckles, Potter, just because your skin's so boring), the smell of her hair (what do you mean my hair smells? What is that supposed to mean? Why are you laughing?) and the sound of her laugh and her gasps and the sound of her breathing, soft, lying beside him under the cloak on the lakeshore. Looking down under the table at dinner, seeing her thigh next to his on the bench, hand on his knee, body drawn to his, magnets, magic.

When he wakes groggily the next day - crick in his neck, still in his jeans - his first thought is: he's overslept. He’s missed Ginny on her way down to breakfast, going to be late for Potions, fucked it.

But no, of course not. There’s no Ginny, no breakfast, no Potions. Might still have fucked it, though, who's to say. Don't, he tells himself, as he heads for the bathroom to scrub the night off him, just don't think about it.

now up on AO3 here | ask me anything

[evita-shelby]

They didn't know we were seeds

Chapter 21

Cw: the usual so mdni

@justrainandcoffee @emotionalcadaver @call-sign-shark @peakyswritings

The games are long, by the eighth day Eva’s tributes are both dead even after Polly Gray paid a fortune to send the boy medicine to have survive the fire and the infection from a wound he sustained in the bloodbath. And because she got the woman to spend a precious dime on a dead boy, Snow refunds Gray’s whelp with Eva on the tenth night.

The boy’s barely twenty-one, his first time here and being primed to betray Tommy because Snow knows a mother would do anything for her child.

Even betray the holy cause.

Not that Jack would blame her, if it was his kid on the line, he’d serve Plutarch’s head on a platter for Snow. Family was a weakness, but it was also their strength.

Jack’s sword could deliver the Heads of every member of Snow’s Cabinet to the elusive President of 13 if anyone even so much as breathed too hard near his wife and little boy. Campbell would die painfully, by his mother’s hand if she’s wants to beat Polly Gray to the punch.

“Wish I could just fuck off with you and come back when it’s over.” The victor admits pulling his wife onto his lap no longer caring who sees them now that the game is at a record breaking fourteenth day.

The rules have been changed to see which duo would take the other out first and face Thresh. The rules would be changed again because this would be a nice little trap to generate the drama that will keep the Capitol entertained a while longer. People don’t like the games when they last too long.

And after the alleged riots in 11 after Aveline’s kid died, Snow needs their tribute dead to keep him from joining them. So far Clove had died at the feast yesterday and Cato has been hunting Thresh for the past day and night.

The storm proves a good danger for both boys, somehow the girl from 5 evades everyone. Thresh has spotted her but gives no chase, he only wants one person, and that person is hiding in a cave faking a romance to keep them both alive.

Haymitch has no idea how right he was about her being like Eva. Sometimes he doesn’t see the girl and boy from 12 in a rainy cave, sometimes Jack sees his twin brother and Eva wandering a desert.

Enobaria can keep the night shift, he needs to be away from these screens if he wants to keep himself from seeing the 61st games repeat themselves before his eyes.

“I’ll keep you company like this every day if you like, handsome.” the witch gave him a sultry smile as she got comfortable and drank her champagne still wearing that fucking persona like a second skin.

Everything’s different, the touches, the words and all that only had the intention to seduce and make the recipient believe she was the real thing. But this was the only way they could get away with being this close in public and those false caresses held a tiny hint of the real thing to make it worth it.

“Shame we’re in public, doll,” he nuzzled her and kissed the side of her neck with one hand wandering under her short skirt. Jack had wanted to fuck her against the bathroom stall earlier, but with everyone betting on Haymitch’s girl after the sendoff she gave Aveline’s kid, there was no fucking privacy.

“My place tonight, Jewel invited Matty to a party and I’ll be all by my lonesome in my big and empty bed.” Eva plays the whore to perfection, discards her glass an lets her cold hand run up and down his chest with very clear intentions.

This one was genuine, with the new escort and Helvia fearing for her own job as well, they haven’t been able to be together as often as they are used to.

Last time they were at her place, Jewel had caught them red handed and couldn’t believe the rumors were true. Helvia had talked to the girl, but now Hel was fretting about blabbermouth telling Caesar any second and getting her put to pasture as well.

But whatever punishment they get will be set for next year, they got one fucking year to make it all count.

Who knows if the Girl on Fire proves to be the Victor in this game, they won’t even see the horrors of the Quarter Quell.

“'Baria can hold the fort for me, how about now?” He suggests when the blond kid in the cave morphs into his brother’s face.

The last three days of the games provide enough entertainment for the Capitol for them to pass by unseen.

Jack tries not to show it, but he clings to Eva because he knows how that romance will end. He’s woken up from night terrors calling out for his brother, begging her not to kill his brother and, even worse, begging her not to kill him.

He’s drinking more, numbing himself in hopes the end of the games won’t fuck him up even more. It’s late evening when Cato uses Jack’s fighting stances to kill Thresh in Clove’s name and Jack pretends he is confident that the kid will win.

They’re on the couch again, Eva snuggled up on his side and his arm around her shoulders as the other holds his fourth whiskey.

“If you ask me, Katniss won’t kill him, she would’ve let him die in that cave instead of saving his life.” Eva tries her best to reassure him that her story isn’t playing out before them.

She has nightmares of her time in the arena and every moment after thanks to the star-crossed lovers. Just like Jack, she dreams she must kill him to win, to go home to Laurie with his father’s blood in her hands.

It’s not always her arena, sometimes it’s his or this one they are watching.

Eva is seventeen again, Jack is sometimes the teenage heartthrob she rolled her eyes at when he checked her out after her interview, and sometimes he is the man she loves and is a menace in the kitchen.

“You know the games won’t allow two victors, Evie. She’s got a sister and a mother who depend on her to survive, Peeta’s best chance is that Cato or the ginger take him out first.” He doesn’t look at her, his eyes glued to the screen as the cameras go to the ramrod thin girl from 5. The girl could win, hiding had helped the two victors from 6 and Annie Cresta as well.

But she is not the girl on fire or else Cinna would’ve picked her.

And sure enough, Marissa from 5 dies when starvation has her forget Peeta Mellark knows little about foraging like his fake girlfriend. She gorges herself on the things she stole and hesitates with the nightlock berries before eating them all in one bite.

An accident or suicide, no one will ever know. Marissa, with her foxlike character, dies after the excess of berries cause a violent seizure after the vomiting and sweating drives her to dehydration even at the edge of the water.

When her picture is broadcasted in the fake sky, the cameras focus on the girl’s blue eyes in the wolf mutt with the collar reading:5.

Eva cannot help but wonder what sort of creatures will be unleashed on them next year.

Neither sleep that night, even the comforting sight of Eva’s farmhouse in his ceiling cannot shake away the feeling that they will see her story play out once more. It was what Snow wanted them to see, to show them all no one can bend the rules and go unpunished.

Seneca Crane’s life was in Katniss Everdeen’s hands and the girl didn’t even know it.

“You don’t have to see him die.” Eva tells him in the afternoon of the 17th games when his student stops being the hunter and becomes the hunted. The boy reaches the Cornucopia by late evening and when he goes for the easy kill, Peeta Mellark, the girl’s last arrow sends him careening down to his slow and torturous death.

“I stayed the entire day like this in your games, I had hoped you’d be killed by Aveline’s kid because I knew Laurie wouldn’t do it.” Jack admits keeping his eyes on the boy being mauled to an inch of his life as a punishment for everyone watching. “Then I saw the snake in your hand when you went to him knowing he wouldn’t suspect a thing. They cut the footage of you killing yourself here too, they made it look like you didn’t care about him and only wanted to win. Heavensbee is damn fool for thinking his symbol exists, his symbol wants to live like we all did.”

And then on the morning of the 18th Games, Katniss convinces Peeta to commit a double suicide and forces Snow to change his rules.

Jack was right, Katniss wanted to live as badly as they do. Only she will have to live chained to Peeta and their false romance until the Games are no more.

The odds won’t be in their favor.

They never are for victors.

End of Part 3: Mentor

[jawritter]

Carry On

Chapter 20

Summary: It was just a simple hunt, found on a pie festival. It was supposed to be easy. Something they’d all done one hundred and one times a million. No one could have told Y/N, Dean, and Sam that nothing from that point on would ever be the same again.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader x Sam Winchester

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Angst

Due to the graphic nature of this fic, and the fact that it will eventually contain Smut. This fic is an 18 + only fic! If you’re under 18 DO NOT read this fic!

A/N: This fic is beta’d by @kazsrm67​​​​ Thanks so much love! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is golden! I hope you all enjoy this ride with me!

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Three Weeks Later: 

“Well, how soon can you get it here?” Dean’s voice echoed through the shop office that he’d been working diligently at setting up since about a week after they’d moved into Dean’s home. Y/N had stuck close to him through the whole process of getting the shop in order, and ready for business; mostly because she was afraid, he’d overdo it again like he’d done when they’ve moved a few weeks back, but he seemed to be more aware of when it was time to stop. 

Right now, he was on the phone with someone that was supposed to be delivering some sort of lift machine that was to lift the car in the air so that oil could be changed. He’d called the name of the machine over a thousand times in the last week, but honestly, she couldn’t remember what it was called. 

It had been a bitch to get this thing delivered too. Probably the most aggravating thing they’d done this far. They kept changing the delivery and setup date. The thing is, that's what the holdup WAS this machine; it was the last piece they needed before they could open for business. He’d even hired three guys to work in the shop, so all he had to do was light work and supervise. 

“Fine, fine,” Dean growled into the phone’s receiver. “But if it’s not delivered and set up by the end of the business day tomorrow, your boss is gonna hear from me, and I will be getting a refund, and I will be using another company altogether. You guys are taking way too long, and you’re holding up my business. I’ve already had three people come in today wanting work done, and I just can’t do it efficiently without this equipment.”

Y/N hadn’t seen this side of Dean since he was hunting. He was so calculated, and focused.  He finally found something to focus on that he liked, and she was grateful to see it. He needed this. He needed to get up and get his life back and not just wallow in what happened to him. Which can be very easy to do when someone goes through something as dramatic as Dean did. 

Dean hung up the phone and tossed it down on his desk, mumbling something about ‘incompetent moron’, and Y/N tried not to smirk as he did so. It was such a ‘Dean’ move that it was comical. 

“They will get it here Dean, just be patient,” Y/N said as she watched him pinch the bridge of his nose in an attempt to force his blood pressure down to a normal level again. 

“I know, I know, I just want to strangle the mother fucker.”

Y/N snorted and shook her head just as Jacob, one of the young men Dean had hired to work in the shop, knocked on the open office door. 

“We’re done with that tire rotation boss,” he said, and Dean nodded at him with a heavy sigh. 

Jacob was young, only 19 years old, but he kinda reminded Y/N of a young Dean Winchester. Honestly, he even kinda looked like him, or at least what Y/N would have imagined Dean looked like as a teenager, she had never seen an actual picture of him when he was that young; it wasn’t like John’s top priority was taking family photos after all. 

“You guys go ahead and take off for the rest of the day,” Dean instructed him, glancing at the clock over the door frame Jacob was standing in like a puppy, waiting for someone to toss him a ball. “It’s already after five, and we really don’t need to do anything else today. They’re not gonna bring the equipment I ordered until tomorrow, so there’s no need to hang around here and wait on it.”

“Okay,” Jacob chirped, “I’ll tell the other guys, see you all tomorrow!”

Jacob waved as he scurried back towards the inner parts of the shop to tell everyone else they could leave, and Dean watched him go at a jogging pace with a thin lined mouth. That’s when Y/N knew Dean was starting to get in his head. She could always tell;he would just get this look. That’s when she knew she needed to distract him. 

“You know, it’s probably not a bad idea for us to head home too,” Y/N tried, “not like we can do much else here tonight that wont wait until tomorrow. Let’s go home and get something to eat.”

Dean didn’t move, he just continued to stare blankly out of the door that Jacob had just left from, rubbing the light beard on his chin with his palm, his mind a thousand miles away from where he was sitting. 

So, she did something she’d not done before with Dean, but it felt like an impulsive moment that needed to be taken. It was sure to distract him one way or another, she just hoped against hope that it wouldn’t backfire on her, but rather serve to get him out of his t treacherous thoughts. 

She stood from her seat across the room, and slowly walked over towards him. She then sat herself down on his lap, careful not to put too much weight and pressure on his back which was being supported by the chair he was sitting in, and wrapped her arms around her neck. To her surprise, Dean’s arms immediately circled around her, and he pulled her into him even deeper, deeper than she would have been afraid to lay against him out of fear of hurting him, but he didn’t seem to be all that much bothered by her weight against his solid chest. Instead, he seemed to rather enjoy the closeness. Which surprised her all together because she figured he would have just pulled away from her. 

“You’ve got to stop doing that you know,” she said after a long moment, and Dean sighed heavily. 

“Doing what?” 

“Getting all in your head like that. Letting thoughts take harbor where they shouldn’t. It’s not going to do you any favors whatsoever. It’s just gonna open the door for shit like worsened anxiety and depression.”

Dean hid his face in her hair, inhaling deeply as he tried to settle himself. 

“Am I that obvious?” he questioned, and Y/N chuckled to herself. 

“Just a little bit Winchester. You’re like… the king of self-loathing.”

“I resent that,” Dean laughed, “I mean, it’s true, but I’m still gonna resent it.”

Neither of them moved because neither of them wanted to honestly. She’d be a liar if she said that having him this close to her with his arms wrapped around her didn’t affect her. She’d be an absolute lying hypocrite to say that she didn’t crave him close to her the way he craved her. The affection aspect is something that had always been missing from their relationship, not without good reason, but she still missed it. Here, she felt safe, like for once everything was gonna be okay, and all the hell they had been through at least might have a light at the end of a very long,  dark, treacherous tunnel. 

True to her own luck though, she didn’t get to enjoy it long at all; because no sooner had she let herself relax enough to enjoy being this close to Dean, a knock sounded once again from the door, and she nearly jumped off of him, but he held her there, refusing to let her go completely. 

“What Jacob?” Dean asked, without even looking up. 

“Cathy just called your neighbor, she said she tried to call your cell, but you must have been on the phone and didn’t answer. She said there’s a new looking Dodge Charger parked out in front of your house, been there for a while, a man and a woman are just sitting there like they’re waiting on you or something.”

Dean did sit up there; his whole body became tense and rigid as he did. 

She should have known that her happy little bubble would get popped by some anxiety-inducing drama appearing out of nowhere; just waiting for the most opportune moment to strike. 

“Okay,” Dean said, his voice calm despite the stiffness of his body. “Tell her we’re about to head that way.”

Jacob nodded, and made his way back out of the shop, letting the door close with a loud, metal bang as he retreated back out to his car; eager to get off work, surely to go see that little blonde he’d been seeing for the past few days. She wished Dean’s relationship with herself was so simple, but it never would be. 

Still, her mind was thinking the worst. Surely their past had come back to haunt them; they could no longer run from their demons that they thought had been extinguished with Chuck’s defeat. They must have been fools to think they could carry on a normal life after the life they’d led; they couldn’t just leave it all behind. 

Dean’s hand came up to the side of her face, and had she not been careful, she probably would have screamed out of the sheer surprise of it. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Dean said, “calm down sweetheart, you’re gonna hyperventilate.”

She hadn’t even realized that her breathing was erratic, but Dean had, he’d seen it right off, concern etched deep in his handsome features as he searched her. Guess she had some scars of her own she needed to deal with after all. She’d been so focused on Dean’s recovery, she’d neglected her own inner demons. 

“Maybe we shouldn’t go home Dean, what if it’s literally Demons or some other shit that has found us here?” Y/N hissed, afraid that Jacob or some of the other guys were still hanging around the shop. 

Dean shook his head, running his thumb along her cheekbone, his pale green gaze softening even more. 

“It’s not a monster sweetheart, It’s just my brother. That life can’t touch us anymore, okay?” 

Y/N, sat there, stunned for a moment, she had so many questions, and fears. 

“And no,” Dean cut her before she could even open her mouth to ask the obvious question. “I talked to Jack while I was in the hospital; he came to see me, asked me if I wanted more time, or if I was ready to get to the ‘there’ll be peace when you’re done… part of the song’, and I told him I wanted to stay.  He promised to keep it all away from us, a gift, even though he said he wouldn’t intervene.”

“Dean… Why didn’t you tell me?” Y/N questioned, in a state of pure shock and disbelief. 

“Well,” Dean continued, his gaze faltering as if he was afraid he’d messed up by divulging that little bit of information he’d been hanging onto. “Jack said I’d live, but he didn’t tell me  what shape I’d be in when I did. He just said I’d live. I didn’t want to tether you to me if I was going to be horribly crippled. I’m sorry, I should have told you.”

Y/N just shook her head and buried her face in his throat, relieved, but exhausted from her mild panic attack earlier. She’d be mad at him later for not telling her sooner. Right now, she was just grateful that he was still here with her arms around him, and that Jack saw that Dean deserved this just as much as she did. 

“But… how do you know for sure it’s Sam?” she questioned as the pair stood to make their way to where Baby was parked out back of the shop; closer to his office than the front doors were.

“Because, I’ve seen Sam drive stuff like that before, trust me it’s his style. The boy never did know how to appreciate the classics,” Dean revealed with an annoyed tone. 

That’s when a new set of anxiety hit her all together. If Sam had come here to pick a fight with his brother for starting his life over in Lawrence; well that was something she wouldn’t stand for. Dean deserved this chance, even Jack saw that; and she wouldn’t sit idly by and let Sam ruin it. She refused to.

Forever:

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Jensen and Dean’s Babes

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[granulesofsand]

No Refunds

🗝️🏷️ RAMCOA, forced perpetration, continued perpetration

I get mildly offended when I say we’re dangerous and people laugh. It’s the denial of my internal experience, usually based on a lie or assumption.

We purposefully lead people to see us as innocent. We’ve put in effort at this point to actually be a little bit of the singletsona we portray — we’re trying to be ‘wholesome’ and ‘soft’ through healing, but it’s still more fawning to be normal than a genuine look inside us.

I’m thinking of Bel. They’ve spoken about this before, though I couldn’t tell you where, so I’m attaching their name with their permission. Bel does the squirrel voice with strangers, cools down a bit with friends, and mostly pretends to have the traits they want to embody. People know him as explorative and bettering himself.

I’ve seen that man kill. I’ve been afraid to draw his attention in the innerworld, and he has had a perpetrator role among alters, but he’s also caused some very real external harm. Bel is one of our poisons, and behind him is the highest ranked alter in that group. Bel themself has ended lives. The Bel behind him has earned that power, and the Bel in front is the more mild and safe of the two.

The Bel I’m talking about has done a lot of healing. The Bel behind them has made some progress after getting pulled in. But both are dangerous. That knowledge didn’t disappear, even if they use it infrequently enough for it to fade. Both of them have had to address that piece of their histories.

I was a hunter dog. I was there for strategy, not strength, but I trained in both. Though I don’t run fast, my speed has little to do with my capacity for violence. I don’t benefit from constant perpetration, and I maintain my skill for when it does suit me. That may change, but a single stair is no less of a step than the rest of the climb.

We were programmed to perpetrate. We have less experience hunting others down or abusing in daily life contexts, but we were made for ritual. Magick, Crowley style, requires suffering — if not for the specific ceremony, then to gather the wisdom required to perform it. We were meant to be cruel and hide it.

I don’t find that appropriate information to share in most contexts, but it is true. We are dangerous. We aspire to be dangerous by our own will, and to have capacity for safety, but what we are came with a high cost, and that cannot be unpaid. Let us rediscover our pride in what we may now choose.

[eadanga]

The Graduate Part 7

Summary: A year after graduating Chris and Laura begin planning their wedding what new challenges await them as the wedding draws near?

Laura exits out the car and waves to her friends “Thank girls for the amazing night” She shuts the door as they drive away and heads inside “Woo what a night”

Chris steps out from the bedroom he smiles when he sees her “Hey there you” He kisses her cheek “Have a good time?”

“Yes I did” Laura takes off her heels “Right now I’m exhausted”

Chris grins “I know the best thing for exhaustion” He lifts her up in his arms

Laura giggles “Chris what are you doing?” He carries her to the bedroom and sets her on the bed gently he heads to the drawers tossing her pajamas “Change into this I’ll be right back” He heads out the door then pokes his head back in grinning “Don’t move from there”

Laura smiles as she changes into her pajamas then lays on the bed. As she scrolls through her phone the smell of chocolate begins to fill the room What is Chris up to?

Chris returns with two mugs of hot chocolate he hands one to her “For you madam”

Laura smiles as she takes it and sips “Mmmm this is good Chris”

“I’m glad you love it it’s my mom’s recipe has some spices in there so you’re not hungover tomorrow”

“Thanks Chris you’re the best”

“So are you and you can unlock more fiancé features like massages and cuddling”

Laura sighs as she rests her head on his chest “I’ll take the cuddling”

Chris smiles as he wraps his arms around her “I agree” He kisses her forehead

“I’m sure you wanna know what happened with Nicole”

Chris sighs as he pinches the bridges of his nose “Please tell me she didn’t say anything that upset you if she got into your head I will hunt her down”

“No Chris she regretted what happened between you two I think her attempt to get back with you was her trying to make things right”

Chris rolled his eyes “Well a little late for that I have nothing to say to her in fact I don’t ever want her name coming up again” He pulls her closer “I hope you don’t talk to her again I don’t trust her and I don’t want her near you”

“Oh don’t worry Chris I won’t”

“Good she’s my past you’re my future”

“Forever and always”

Chris kisses her softly “I love you”

“I love you too” She yawns

Chris chuckles “Now rest your pretty little eyes babe”

Laura moves closer and Chris tightens his arms around her and they fall asleep in each other’s arms

****

Chris wakes up to the sound of Laura’s phone buzzing Who could be calling her this early in the morning? Chris grabs her phone then slips out the room without waking Laura up “Hello?”

“Ms. Day there was an incident at the dress shop and your dress…”

“Hold on what happened to my fiancé’s dress?”

“Oh are you Chris?”

“Yeah tell me what happened?”

There’s a sigh then she speaks “Well there was a fire we had a wiring problem and it sparked not all the dress is burned but”

Chris’s eyes go wide “Ok listen to me she can not find out about this she’ll be really devastated I’m gonna come down there and see”

“Ok I’ll see you”

Chris immediately gets dressed then grabs his keys and dashes out the door” He arrives at the dress shop he sees firefighters outside accessing the damage

One lady approaches him “Are you her fiancé?”

“Yeah I am can you show me what happened?”

The sales lady ushers him inside and shows him the burned dress on the hanger “If only the fire department got here sooner”

Chris runs his fingers through his hair as he paces “Oh my God this is gonna kill her”

“I know I can refund your money”

“Who cares about the money? Look at it” Chris points at he dress “She can’t wear that there’s nothing left of it”

“I’m so sorry”

“It’s not your fault” Chris sighs as he pulls out his phone “I gotta call in a favor”

Chris dials Becca and she answers on the third ring “Chris it’s so early what?”

“Becca tell me you know someone who can deliver a wedding dress quickly”

“What happened?”

“Well let’s say Laura’s dress is a little…crispy”

“What?! What’s the name of that place?! We’re gonna sue the hell out of it!”

“We can do that later right now we need solutions”

Becca pauses for a moment speaks in a way that Chris can almost hear her grin on the phone “I’ve got this she’s gonna love what I got planned”

Tags: @indiacater @choicesgodfanatic @the-soot-sprite @darley1101 @jared2612

[xerxeswitch]

Update #2 on Bear Spirit: Readers' Reactions and What He is.

... I did more proper channeling with F the bear, and I finally got a confirmation on what he is, as well as his history. Some of the information will of course be confidential since well...it's personal.

I hadn't turned off pure skeptic mode, which hindered a lot of the psychic messages I was suppose to get. My mistake was going to several readers over the course of time when I knew I was fully capable of doing my own readings. My goal was to see different perspectives and see how much things are consistent or lining up. What's unexpected were some of the readers' reaction to him. A good majority of them said they felt uneasy from his energy to the point of refusing to tap into it for readings. One flat out gave me a refund after taking one look, saying she felt in danger if she tried to read him. "The feeling of feeling like a prey animal to this apex predator" as some told me. Even friends and acquaintances who were intuitive people actually expressed some trepidation, which is strange since the majority of my Family members are of the realm of being on the "darker/intense side." I felt very concerned, especially for the fact that I didn't feel any of this negative energy with him, but other people had told me they felt something very threatening. I decided to just stop going into pure skeptic mode and just...channel. --- I won't give all of the details, but he has problems when it comes to his appearance with others. Which, is why he used a fake fictional form as a paper bag over his head as a remedy. I saw visions of his supposed past. Villagers were tracking down to his home and destroying it in their efforts before to hunt him. He flew into a rage and well...went after the village and destroyed it. More channeling on him: -He is a recluse, but tire of that lifestyle. -He only walks on two legs -He is preferably nocturnal -He is a really big bear compared to the bears we know of here -He has oni looking teeth and a different shaped head -Has a negative history with "villages and their villagers." -"Yokai" ... I didn't understand how it all ties together, until I just ended up searching, "Oni yokai bear." I got a match and it made the hairs on my head stand a little. I found out he's an Onikuma.

And it pinged for me as the right answer.

According to the description, Onikumas are bear yokai that lives...honestly like any bear does in real life but... Onikumas from description: -Live as a recluse -Only walks on two legs -Mostly seen as nocturnal -Freakishly big compared to other bears -Yokai ... Now, if that wasn't enough, the description also pinpoints to them being so infamous that villagers would hunt them down. That's why I was hearing "villagers" and I was seeing a village so much, it was a very real worry for him back then! As it was for apparently the onikumas... It also made me understand why readers felt hesitation in wanting to read him -- according to the information given, they aren't very friendly with humans because of their situation, and they are known to react very violently. Which now only adds a new question: I'm human, so why is he really friendly with me? I already actually found the answer but...I won't go into depth because of personal information. ... But, at least to me, he is a sweet spirit so far despite the information. More to be uncovered later I suppose, but I'm just really happy that I could finally put a "name" to what he supposedly is, until further notice. And to top it off, I need to give my own intuition and psychic sense some credit to get my own answers... (and I've noticed some readers would just give me the whole, "spirit guide" and "ancestors" answer a lot, when a spirit/entity isn't always either or.) ---

Here's the given description, as well as a good site to show different types of yokai known if you're interested! https://yokai.com/onikuma/

[bunnyb34r]

So I was thinking ab the TW at the start of Blink Twice (which apparently only US theaters got and it wasn't everywhere... wild)

And while I think it was good to have, so people could bounce and hopefully get a full refund... I think there was probably a better way to do it. Like NONE of the trailers indicate it's gonna have sexual violence in it. There was like no indication that this psychological thriller contains that, the implication (that I got) was that it was gonna be a murder movie. Like murder mystery type shit.

Idk I just feel like the TW spoiled the main twist (which I will not describe to not spoil). Like it was still fucking shocking as hell, it felt like it would have been more horrific (like horror movie horrific) if viewers went in blind. Idk maybe a rating flash at the top of the screen like [Rated R: graphic violence and sexual violence] and then start the movie instead of a long 30 second paragraph? Idk. Again I think SOME warning was warranted bc I can definitely see people who have trauma related to SA being overwhelmed and triggered by the twist. But still... idk

I'm gonna put below what I thought the TW was gonna be for so that if someone hasn't seen the movie and wants to doesn't get spoiled

So the twist is that the women were brought to the island to be brutally raped/gang raped by the men that brought them there. Rich powerful white men abusing women (and like most are woc). And it's explicitly said in the movie that they can't just go to the police bc they (at that point) don't know what was happening, and wouldn't be believed.

The women don't remember the rapes bc they are given a perfume that (unknowingly to them, but not the men (except the one twink lmao)) makes them forget and that they won't remember the trauma bc of how brutal it is. They only remember after ingesting in some form the venom of a native snake.

So I thought the tw was gonna be like the MC can't remember that Slater (the man who brought her/owns the island) had sex with her and that at some point in the process she said no and he kept going. That she for some reason just blocked it out.

OR that Slater had secretly raped her friend Jess who had come along with them. That Jess was hiding it, and that that would be a plot point but not The Twist.

I thought the twist would be like the men are hunting the girls down and killing them, or there was something on the island that was hunting them. BOY WAS I WRONG

The gore was both not as bad as I expected but also... gross lmao. But it was cathartic to see the women kill their abusers or try to, even if it killed them in the process.

Anyway my point is that I think it was the right thing to have some warning, but like it should have been less... explicit? Like it should have been like in that rating system (idr what its called) and not a full out message.

Idk I just wish I wasn't spoiled I guess but I do get why it happened. The twist was still very shocking and graphic, but I think it could have been more impactful had it not been announced.

[zaptap]

i kind of remember going back to ttyd in 2012 (after i started using zaptap as my url) and doing some stuff, but i primarily only remembered going into the pit of 100 trials for the first time (mostly so i could get zap tap and do the two related troubles, which were the only ones i hadn't done)

seems i also reached level 30, fought atomic boo, made a few zess dynamites, and just barely started losing glitz pit fights to try to rank down (i opened the game to find mario at 5hp and my partner fainted and it took a while to notice that i was missing NINETEEN tattles from the glitz pit. i remember using peekaboo, so maybe i forgot to tattle during that part of the game? both times i ranked up? anyway apparently i didnt know i could run from those battles to lose faster. so last night i got all the way down to the bottom so i could tattle kp koopas and many others and now i have all of those)

i had 70hp/30fp/39bp. why did i upgrade hp so much....... maybe i was thinking of my second file when i thought i upgraded them all evenly. i'm gonna have to pay chet rippo SO much money to set up danger mario (507 coins). at least power rushes are 102 coins each instead of 300, so i suppose overall it'll be cheaper than it was in the remake

badges are in a good position though. the only ones i'm missing are money money, refund, bump attack, lucky day, and return postage--so it's just pianta parlor and pit of 100 trials ones. (also i have like. 3 close calls for some reason?). i also already got all of the shine sprites

after the glitz pit stuff i started wandering around and using ms mowz to look for the 20 missing star pieces. found over half of them already

i suppose the next thing to do is save up and get money money and then start getting coins using that (idk how many copies of money money it's worth it to have so i might get a second one before i start putting money into anything else). maybe start converting some of my hp to bp. could also try hunting amazy dayzees a bit to get more level ups (i made sure to take a note of what badges i used when i did it in the remake since i knew i'd probably end up doing it again in the original)

[40yr-agedcheese]

Wow…you won’t believe what happened to me today 😂

I woke up at 3AM and couldn’t get back to sleep until 7AM. My friend was supposed to pick me up by 9AM so that we can beat the heat while hiking (Today’s weather: 100F)

I fell asleep around 6AM and slept through my alarm!! I felt sooooo bad!!

I got ready so quick and forgot to bring my dog’s collar & leash and we were already half way there lol…

(I thought taking my dog to the nature might give him some healing since he hasn't been doing well..)

We decided to make a stop at the nearest Safeway (grocery store) to pick up collar & leash.

We were on our journey to find the hiking trail because my dad gave me this direction off his memory and he just wrote down quick directions for us to follow lol

It was like treasure hunting. We were lost for about 30-60mins and had to detour number of times.

By the time we found the hiking trail, it was already noon and the heat was too high and dangerous for my dog to walk around in it.

We decided to just go home and….return the collar & leash at Safeway on the way.

- I walked in but the receipt was missing - I walk back to the parking lot to grab the receipt - The cashier says I need to bring my card in order for them to process my refund - I walk back to grab my card

I had to stop by FedEx to return my shoes.

I forgot to bring the packaging box so when I asked the employee if they can still take my return shipment ...

She gave me this ridiculous look and said “we can’t ship anything with the shoebox, IT HAS TO BE PACKAGED” .........oh

.... I finally got home and thought hm…since I still got some time left maybe….I should go to Lucky (grocery store) to grab some cold beer and serrano peppers for my salmon sashimi :P

I go to Lucky and found out that I lost my license...

searched for it EVERYWHERE, couldn't find it.... .....there goes my license fee + no beeeeerrrrr..

Hey, since I am at Lucky, I might as well redeem these scratchers! Which were laying around in my car since Janauary.

Okay, I’ll get these redeemed today!

I asked an associate “hey, can you help me redeem my scratchers?”

Associate: Sure

Associate & Me: (Walking towards to the guest service)

Associate: OH, I am so sorry but….I won’t be able to help you today…

Me: ? Huh? Why not?

Associate: Our lotto system is down today, I am so sorry

Me: ? Really? For reals??

Associate: Yes….I am very sorry

Me: ……wow...this is SO interesting....! LOL

Associate: I am sorry about that =(

Me: No…it’s not your fault! today is...is....just interesting...HAHAHA

Associate: Well…to make you feel better…I think your sunglasses are really bomb and swaggy! They look goooood on you!

Me: OH lol! Thank you for the compliment!

I was like “OKAY…maybe I need to just stay home safe today"

Kbye DEACTIVATE

[15-lizards]

More southern ASOIAF headcanons for my mental health

Robb: star football player who gets drafted for a D1 college. He is absolutely the sweetheart of the SEC world. Definitely the next Joe Burrow. Has a million followers on insta and all of his posts are professionally edited. On the outside there’s nothing wrong with him but he actually has a dark secret (he’s just dating theon). Margaery is absolutely his sorority girl gf before they both realize they’re gay.

Arya: absolutely insane. Begs Ned to go along on hunting trips and can shoot a rifle like a grown man. She’s one of those kids that eats the heart of the first deer they kill. Runs around barefoot in the backwoods and the gravel roads. Sustains herself on bug juice from the gas station and honeysuckle plants that grow outside the house. Just true southern trash I love her.

Dany: Weird horse girl to the MAX turned highschool overachiever. Still rides horses but had a breakdown and a personality 180 after middle school and is now class president bc she wanted to make friends. Is in like three thousand clubs and is somehow the head of all of them. She has such a nice speaking voice but her accent only slips out when she’s angry. Ridiculously active in the local community. We all know that girl. We all know she needs Xanax and we love her.

Catelyn: Facebook mom. Keeps their suburban front lawn looking SPOTLESS. Always cheering Robb on at his games, makes the rest of the Starks dress in the school colors and take family pictures. Doesn’t like to gossip unless that person deserves it but when she does she absolutely tears them apart. Always hosts the neighborhood block parties. Ends up feeding half the neighborhood children when her kids bring them home after they were out playing when the streetlights come on.

Theon: Drug dealer who lives in the backwoods I’m sorry. He barely graduated highschool and likes to chew dip so thick you can’t understand what he’s saying. Actually kind of smart but didn’t care enough about school. Always showed up in his stupid lifted truck. Always smells like either cigarette smoke or weed. Just gives off dirty vibes but he was always pretty chill to hang around with surprisingly. Always had weird respect for the smart kids or the ones who didn’t want to do drugs. Somehow this is all appealing to Robb

Cersei: Evil Facebook mom. Passive aggressive to your face like she isn’t even going to be fake nice. Everyone’s always kissing her ass in her comments section as she humble brags about Myrcella being on the honor roll or Joffrey making the baseball team (the Lannisters have the stadium named after them). She knows if you don’t show up to church and makes sure all of her friends (who she hates) know about it too when they have brunch afterwards. But she is so fine. True southern milf. All of Joff’s classmates never shut up about his mean hot mom.

Davos: Your nicest old man neighbor ever. He’s Theon’s closest neighbor (two miles down the road) and is always trying to set him on the right path. Will def lend you money if you need it. No one’s really sure what he does for a living but he’s probably good at it. Always letting the nearby kids run around in his yard while he keeps an eye on them from the porch. He woodworks in his spare time. Everyone nearby has a swing set or a crib or a table he carved for them. Also gives the wisest, most sage advice ever uttered by anyone ever. He dropped out so he can’t read very well but Shireen always walks down the road after school to teach him :,)

Lysa: god she is just. Batshit crazy. Slightly normal until you walk into her ugly suburban mansion (that her old ass husband paid for) and she starts talking about Qanon. Such a conspiracy theorist and Robin is most definitely not vaxxed because those give you autism duh. Tries to return clothes she got like three years ago to Target and gets mad when they won’t refund her. Gives fast food workers a hard time. Or any service workers really.

Dolorous Edd: That man is a Waffle House employee. Trains Jon how to cook while taking an order while smoking a cigarette all at once. Cleans up questionable needles in the bathroom and needs to take a smoke break outside afterwards. You have never seen a man look so jaded yet make you the most fire fucking hashbrowns you have ever eaten in your life. No one knows what he does off the clock he’s a mystery. He just comes in, complains, makes waffles, leaves. Has thrown hands with a customer. Multiple times. Never loses.

[stankycowboy]

❝ all those modifications and your stamina is still shit. i would get a refund , seems like a waste of both money and hardware. ❞ sitting on the trunk of his car she hooks her legs around his waist , reeling him in like the catch of the day , closing what little distance there was between them. she hates everything about night city , the climate , the people , the politics -- it was a prison made of steel and concrete. a nightmare for her yet the perfect hunting ground for those with appetites that could never be sated. monsters of all varieties hiding in plain sight. even the outskirts ( more wasteland than anything else ) felt suffocating , but she endures it for him.

“It ain’t my stamina”, he says, although his breath is coming hard, chest heaving as the bloodied scratches upon it close over. He would worry about the exposure to the setting sun, but the cocktail of drugs boosting his natural regeneration have been pumping for hours, directly into his spine. It has allowed him a resistance to the burning, fading daylight that may otherwise have incinerated him. Lira may have a distaste for bodily modification, but this in the least he thinks they can agree on is a welcome addition.

“It’s you”, his panting slows, normalizes as he runs his hands up her naked thighs, clasping around her backside and enjoying the firm roundness. Perfectly pointed titanium teeth dig into his bottom lip drawing pinpricks of blood that course down his face. In no time at all he is ready again. Stamina be damned, his recovery is still more than adequate. Here at the outer edges of Westbrook, high up on the hill with nothing but open sky and luxury villas around, them they are as close to alone as one might be in Night City. It was smart to steal the Aerondight, it’s curved chassis fits them comfortably, the angle even aiding their repetitious fucking. The only distraction pulling away from this perfect moment is the corpse of the driver starting to stink. He had consumed most of the unfortunate, but was distracted by the beauty of his lover coated in crimson. As always, her partaking in his own viscous feeding habits had driven his lust for her. To watch her enjoy (or at least participate in) the consumption of human meat awoke a bestial need locked away for no other than her. The very reimagining has him near ready to burst It really is her fault. It may have served him well to more adequately learn that pleasure was able to be drawn out, luxuriated in. Severen races to every precipice, climbs every summit only seeking the next peak.

Watching the orange rays of dying light dance off her luminous hair, highlight her pallid skin in a sunset glow, he can hardly contain his desire. Least of all when he knows for certain she is not yet worn out herself. The desperate man leans up to brace his teeth upon her nipple, lapping his tongue against the sensitive tip. If there is anything he takes his time doing, it is worshiping her body, her form, though his devotion goes much deeper. Her scent, indescribably worldly, of the earth, the very core of nature itself. Wild forests, green and vibrant, decaying leaves, fragrant at the end of their life. Her eyes reflecting the greenery from which she was birthed, golden hue perhaps stolen from the moon itself. Otherworldly, yet more apart of it than those that populate it so profusely; one of the few still worthy to tread upon its scarred surface. How one such as her has come to love him he cannot fathom, and does not dare to question.

Palms that are one of the few untouched elements of his awkwardly cybernetic body roam over her stomach, flattened now, though within once grew their child. A creature who now roams the skies freely. They course around to her back, pulling her even closer to shut out any gap that may exist between them, that is, beside the one thing that stiffly presses upon them both. He kisses and nips at the underside of her chin admiring the way the fading light reflects off the scar and down the long neck whose ivory skin had only just faded away the previous bruises of his affections. He reaffirms his claim, biting in to taste of her invigorating ichor, so much grander than the swill he had sated himself with hours earlier. She is life (and death) to him, and it fortifies him in a way that no amount of metal can. Body more than rejuvenated, strengthen not just in the flesh but something akin to the spirit itself. She can give this all to him, a strength beyond the measure of his own supernatural ability. Despite the natural boon it grants, he is reticent to be without the addition of his modifications now. Enhancements that were once a fantasy are achievable, make him more the monster he became trapped in the dark world. Now he is free from the confines of shadow, a prowler amongst the sheep at any time of day. They even celebrate his heinous prowess. The denizens of the city feeding off the experience of his destruction of them, fueling both his appetite and his ego. Praising his savagery and delighting in the abhorrence of his nature. He was made for such things. But not she. She remains a pure force of nature, even amongst the dredges of filth. Unspoiled by their tyranny of the land, though she takes equal pleasure in doling out punishment for their blasphemy. Lira’s temptations do not lie where his do, her flesh is not limited as his own is. This is evident after his mouth is awash in the refreshment that he craves more than anything else, cleansing his palette from the pollution that chokes the life from the world. Severen pulls at her hips, hoping to bury his twitching erection within her, just another greedy creature looking to reap from the earth’s bountiful treasures. But unlike most he does earnestly love her.

A worshipful affection that is the last true piece of him left. Through all he might manipulate and change, all the evolution that may occur, what is constant is this. Severen loves Lira with a human heart that is full of only her. All encompassing, inexorably committed for eternity to her side. His patience depletes just as quickly as any other time, touching her in all her favored places, snaking his hands through her wild curls, burying his face into her fragrant tresses. He grows desperate to have her, fiendish to have again what he can never seem to have enough of. An appetite just as insatiable as the one he has for blood. “Spark”, he moans into her bare chest, clasping at her waist, doing his damndest to last.

She stills him with a growl, denting him into the metal as she pushes him back. She forcefully slows him to a stop, then takes control of all motion. Binding him down with only her hands. Severen smiles in delight, an ecstasy at watching her roll her hips atop him. He groans loudly, clearing his mind to focus only on her. The sound of her breath, the feel of her warmth, inside and out. He must have been doing something right because he can hear her begin to hitch, grinding down harder to press her clit into his pelvis as he fills her. Lira’s nails tear at him as she finds her orgasm, taking it first before he might shift or ruin her moment. Severen would not dare to spoil this moment for her, he has been trained well. If for nothing else, for the pleasure it gives to him in return. By the time she comes to a stop he is ready to finish. Clutching at her hips once more he thrusts up into her only managing a handful of times before a dark precipice clouds his mind. A series a deep snarls claw out of his throat as he reaches a climax of release. Although he was an unnatural being, he had limitations himself. “I th-think I’m spent” he groans as she dismount from him, finding only her own wetness and what he had left inside her previously. She has truly drained him dry. Their activities have left him hungry again, and near exhausted; despite his instance that the chrome implanted in him provided substantial gains. Lira seems unimpressed, perhaps for show, or truly just enjoying proving his efforts to “modernize” useless in comparison to her. He would already have admitted such. He can’t help but find her natural god-like abilities alluring. Attracted to her ineffable power as much as her physical beauty. She lies back languorously as darkness covers the land. It is almost possible to pick out a few stars in the light blurred sky. If Severen were to admit any fault of this new world it would be its obfuscation of the night. He does miss real dark. As they gaze at the heavens he reaches out to clasp her hand, no intention to crowd his heart's spark, even though he is ever eager to be close to her. They move close.Folding into one another, trying to find comfort on the rigid body of metal. It grows too cumbersome, and they decide to go elsewhere. Severen says he knows of a nice place up the hill. It even has a pool. Lira looks none too impressed to be inside a human domicile. But it is further away from the ever lively city of night. Tossing the previous owner out of the vehicle they climb in and they take the short trip up to the cabana of a rich and famous dweller. Ready for a change in scenery in which to recuperate.