#check the website for local groups

[katbuchm]

Shut Up and Write was an absolute lifesaver for me. The format is fantastic for getting your writing in, no matter how the rest of your week looks. I wrote two of my three books basically at SUW meetups, and at our local one we have other authors, a storytelling Youtuber, a circling cast of phd students, journallers, people who just need to get their emails done for the week, DMs writing their next adventures, you name it.

I genuinely cannot recommend Shut Up and Write highly enough. It is a fantastic model for getting stuff done.

NaNo Alternatives

Okay, real post time (but keep those boops booping) - You want to do NaNoWriMo tomorrow, but you don't want to go anywhere near the main organization and their website. Here's a list of alternatives you can try:

Rogue Writers - International group launched to provide an alternative for writers. Their website has challenges, free tools, and more.

myWriteClub - Word tracking tool.

Novlr - A writing app designed to help you meet your writing goals.

WriteTrack - Word tracking tool.

Shut Up and Write - Find in-person or online groups to write together with!

NoQuWriCo - A November writing challenge with tools, tips, and encouragement to make it through the month!

Writing Month - Write. A Month. Do It.

Your local library - If you did NaNo events through your library, chances are they're still doing it this year. Make sure you check in with all the resources you've used in the past, as they're likely still around.

Whatever you decide to do tomorrow, good luck! And remember, if you want to still use the NaNo website but don't like their AI policies and the rest of it, just don't give them money! Laugh to yourself, evilly, as you update your word count. It's very validating.

(Now back to booping.)

[5-htagonist]

i love art, im very grateful for adderall for gifting me with the executive function, ease of prioritization, and clearness of thought <3

[inkskinned]

i got rickrolled today but it didn't work because i have adblocker installed, so youtube just told me i violated the terms of service. yesterday i was trying to edit a picture as a joke for my girlfriend, and google made me check a box to prove i'm human because i wasn't "searching normally".

it isn't just that capitalism is killing fun and whimsy, it is that any element of entertainment or joy is being fed upon by this mosquito body, one that will suck you dry at any vulnerability.

do you want to meet new friends in your city? download this app, visit our website, sign up for our email list. pay for this class on making a terrarium, on candlemaking, on cooking. it will be 90 dollars a session. you can go to group fitness, but only under our specific gym membership. solve the puzzle, sign up for our puzzle-of-the-month-club. what is a club if not just a paid opportunity - you are all paying for the same thing, which makes you a community.

but you're like me, i know it - you're careful, you try the library meetings and the stuff at the local school and all of that. the problem is that you kind of want really specific opportunities that used to exist. you are so grateful for libraries and the publicly-funded things: they are, however, an exception - and everything they have, they've fought tooth-and-nail to protect. you read a headline about how in many other states, libraries have virtually nothing left.

do you want to meet up with your friends afterwards? gift your friends the discord app. you can choose to go to a cafe (buy a coffee, at least), a bar (money, alcohol) or you can all stay in and catch a movie (streaming) or you can all stay in bed (rent. don't get me started) and scream (noise complaint. ticket at least).

you want to read a new book, but the book has to have 124 buzzwords from tiktok readers that are, like, weirdly horny. you can purchase this audiobook on audible! your podcast isn't on spotify, it's on its own server, pay for a different site. fuck, at least you're supporting artists you like. the art museum just raised their ticket price. once, they had a temporary exhibit that acknowledged that ~85% of their permanent art galleries were from cis white men, and that they had thousands of works by women (even famous women, like frida! georgia o'keefe!) just rotting in their basement. that exhibit lasted for 3 months and then they put everything away again.

walmart proudly supports this strip of land by the street! here are some flowers with wilting leaves. its employees have to pay out-of-pocket for their uniforms. my friend once got fined by the city because she organized a community pick-up of the riverfront, which was technically private property.

no, you cannot afford to take that dance class, neither can i. by the way - i'm a teacher. i'm absolutely not saying "educators shouldn't be paid fairly." i'm saying that when i taught classes, renting a studio went from 20 bucks an hour to 180 in the span of 6 months. no significant changes to the studio were made, except they now list the place as updated and friendly. the heat still doesn't work in the building. i have literally never seen the landlord who ignores my emails. recently they've been renting it out at night as an "unusual nightclub; a once-in-a-lifetime close-knit party." they spent some of those 180 dollars on LEDs and called it renovating. the high heels they invite in have been ruining the marley.

do you want to experience the old internet? do you want to play flash games or get back the temporary joy of club penguin? you can, you just need to pay for it. i have a weird, neurodivergent obsession with occasionally checking in to watch the downfall and NFT-ification of neopets. if i'm honest with you all - i never got into webkins, my family didn't have the money to buy me a pointless elephant. people forget that "being poor" can mean literally "if i buy you that toy, i can't afford rent."

you and i don't have time to make good food, and we don't have the budget for it. we are not gonna be able to host dinner parties, we're not made of money, kid. do you want some kind of 3rd space? a space that isn't home or work or school? you could try being online, but - what places actually exist for you? tiktok counts as social media because you see other people on it, not because they actually talk to you.

there was a local winter tradition of sledding down the hill at my school. kids would use pizza boxes and jackets and whatever worked, howling and laughing. back in september, they made a big announcement that this time, rules were changing, and everyone must pay 10 dollars to participate. when im not scared shitless, i kind of appreciate the environmental irony - it hasn't gone below 40. so much for snow & joyriding.

i saw a bulletin for a local dogwalking group and, nervous about making a good first impression, showed up early. the first guy there grimaced at me. "sorry," he said. "there's a 30-dollar buy-in fee." i thought he was joking. wait. for what? the group doesn't offer anything except friendship and people with whom to walk around the city.

he didn't know the answer. just shrugged at me. "you know," he said. "these days, everything costs money."

[withbroombefore]

I saw a poll earlier about participation in regular in-person activities, with numbers that make me wonder if a lot of people don't know what the options are or how to find them. Here are some that I have always found welcoming to new people; for me, these are ways to leave my apartment and get some human interaction without having to make much conversation (there is a reasonable amount of that if you want it, but since it's understood that you are there to do an activity, the thing you are doing is the point rather than pure socializing). A search for "[activity] [location]" should tell you what's available in your area.

Contra dancing: This goes at the top and gets explanation because it's my favorite. I grew up doing this and love it very very much; I always look for local dances when I move somewhere new. Most dances are very beginner-friendly (though there are some exceptions), and zero dance experience is required to participate. Many will include a lesson for beginners in the half-hour before the main event starts, and there are always instructions throughout the evening. You truly do not need to know anything going in. The convention is to switch partners throughout the night, and it's completely okay to attend alone and ask people you don't know to dance. Try Contra Dancing has a search tool by zip code. Typically $8-15.

Community theatre tech: Acting is an option if that's your thing, but in my experience, tech is easier if you're looking for an activity because there's not usually competition--you often can just volunteer without needing to worry about auditions or casting. Roles like run crew (where you move set between scenes and such) don't require any prior knowledge, and plenty of the other tasks can be learned with a little training. If you turn up reliably, the word will spread--good techies are invaluable. Free to participate.

Community band or chorus: Prior experience in playing an instrument is necessary for the band; for singing, it depends on the type of chorus. Some are auditioned, others are just thrilled by any participation. May require dues.

Shapenote singing: A more niche one and another of my personal favorites (I ignore the religious lyrics and treat them as poetry). This can take some time to pick up, but many places have a small monthly sing that is very welcoming to new people. fasola.org has lots of information about the tradition and where to sing. Free, optional donations accepted.

Library events: Find your local public library's website and look for a calendar or events page to see if anything appeals. Typically free.

Crafting groups: Yarn stores and other craft supply places often have regular open gatherings (typically free) and/or classes (may cost money for teaching and supplies).

Games: If you have a local game store, check their website for events. Or search "[location] [chess club]" or whatever is your thing. Usually free.

Dance: Depends on what is available in your area. A studio where I am has a monthly swing dance, with beginner lessons before, for $10.

Sports: I don't really do these but they presumably exist and can be found like the other things.

The important thing is to just go do the thing. It will probably feel awkward the first time--that's normal! These are all spaces where the point is for people to show up and participate. They want you to be there, and they want you to come back! Otherwise they can't keep existing. Several of these (contra dancing, shapenote, a lot of crafting groups) are especially excited about new people and younger participants and will be thrilled to teach you how to do the thing. And the only way to make it feel comfortable is to plow through the first awkwardness and go back until you decide if you actually enjoy it or not. When you find a thing you like, keep going, and after a little while you end up with a community of people to see regularly who share your interests. This is what humans are supposed to do.

[themonkeylikecreature]

how to get shit done politically

Find a group for people in your area who agree with you on issue (check discord, reddit, local college groups, religious centers, your friend group, and annoyingly facebook is very good for this)

Keep track of laws being voted on or passed in your local state/city (this also works to sway your representative for national laws)

Find a law you would like to be passed or not be passed that is being voted on

Post in group found above that said law is being voted on, a link to the reps website and phone number, and optionally a script as to what to say

Hopefully convince a 1-20 people to contact them

Because so few people participate in local politics, that is probably enough people to get them to do the thing you want (number needed depends on population)

Enjoy the changes to transportation / police / homelessness/ education policy/ local laws/ air quality/ environmental issues/ so many other things

(Bonus step, follow your state/city in tumblr tags, and post to tumblr as well, and maybe we can turn this website into a place you can get actual actionable steps)

[disappearintothegrey]

kitten // noah sebastian

Summary - A little trip to a local cat cafe ends with more than you bargained for. But, you'd do anything for Noah.

warnings - none. tooth-rotting fluff.

first one-shot in my random Noah Sebastian one-shot series. i am working on two requests, and my requests are currently open. you can also find this cross-posted on ao3 within the series. thanks for reading ♥

~~~~~

It all started as a light-hearted plan. Seriously. 

The guys had just gotten back from a small tour run, taking one day to rest at their shared home. Folio and Jolly were busy playing some game on Folio’s XBOX, which Noah and I watched on boredly. Jolly had just killed Folio in-game, a competitive war about to erupt before Nicholas busted into the living room, pure glee on his tan face. 

“Guys, guys!” Nicholas was vibrating with excitement, and I moved my eyes to him questioningly. I could hear Noah snicker under his breath beside me, watching on in amusement.

“What’s up?” Noah inquires, “You literally look like you’re going to explode at any moment,” He jokes. 

“Guess what just opened down the street?!” Nicholas exclaims, his phone screen thrust in their faces, “We have to go!” 

Despite Nicholas’ shaky hands, I was able to make out the words “CAT CAFE GRAND OPENING” on his screen, and my eyes lit up, “You guys have a cat cafe!” I cheered, and Nicholas dropped beside me on the couch to let me go through the cafe’s website, and I squealed, “They have kitties!” 

“It is called a cat cafe, babe,” Noah teases, dodging the slap that came towards his shoulder.

“We have to go,” Nicholas begs, and I can see the desperation on his face.

“It sounds fun, we should go tomorrow,” I chime in, smirking at the disdain on the other three's faces. But it was nothing compared to the giddy smile that was all over Nicholas’ features, “Pleaseeeeeee?” I whine, hitting Noah with pleading eyes. 

Noah’s eyes narrow, almost glaring at me, “Don’t use that face against me,” He warns, but I don’t let up, “Sage,” He groans, pleading with his eyes.

“Fine, stop looking at me like that,” Noah concedes, falling back against the couch in defeat. I squeal, and Nicholas cheers as he schedules us a time-frame for tomorrow. 

Folio and Jolly exchange amused glances, returning to their game once Nicholas disappears back to his room. Noah is glaring at me, and I know I’m in for it later. I smile, leaning in to give him a quick kiss, muttering a thanks against his lips before I get to my feet and head to our bathroom. I can feel his fond eyes on my back, hearing him return to bickering with Folio and Jolly on the game. 

—

“Oh my god look at them!” I coo, spotting all the little kitties playing with each other and other patrons as we walk into the cafe, Nicholas visibly freaking out beside me, “I have to play with them all,” 

The guys are all talking amongst themselves as Nicholas checks us in, all of us being given a bag of treats and stickers that read our appointment end time. With all the house rules said to us, the front-desk employee lets us in and Nicholas immediately heads for this pair of black kittens napping on a small tree. 

I can feel Noah’s hand on my lower back, and he gives me a gentle push, making me look up at him to find him already looking down at me with a grin, “Go on, go play. I’ll get us coffees,” He offers, and I squeal, kissing him quickly before departing from the other guys. 

Nicholas is busying himself petting the awakening kittens, one of them crawling into his lap and curling up in a little ball. Folio found himself an adult ginger kitty–well actually, the orange boy found him first–, sitting criss-cross on the tile floor and letting the cat climb his legs and nuzzle his nose into his chin. Jolly and Noah were ordering the group lattes, talking amongst themselves as they wait for the beverages to be made. 

I look around the cafe, seeing cats and kittens of all sizes and colors playing and sleeping. Other patrons are happily using the toys to lure the cats in, but my eyes were drawn to a small tabby kitten, nestled inside a pumpkin house, sleeping soundly in the corner of the room. I smile to myself, walking up slowly to the house and sitting down in front of it, peering inside to see two olive eyes sleepily looking back at me.

“Hi there, baby,” I whisper, “You are so beautiful,” I say soothingly, the kittens fur long and luscious, black, brown, and grey in tone. The hair peaks on her ears are long and pointed, and her large paws tell me she’s a Maine Coon. 

With a stretch, the kitten stumbles out of the house, meowing up at me as she sits down in front of me, cleaning the sleep out of her eyes with her paws. I snap a few pictures on my phone, extending my hand to let her sniff my skin curiously. Her wet nose touches my knuckles, before her head pushes into my palm, demanding head scratches. I oblige, scratching her temple and behind her ears before petting down her spine, the soft fur under my fingers feeling like a cloud. 

“Aren’t you just the sweetest?” I ask, and the kitten follows it up by crawling up my crossed legs, settling in the crook of my thighs. I audibly awe, immediately letting her curl into a ball and stroke her fur. 

“Looks like you found a friend,” I heard above me, and I glance up to see Noah peering at us fondly, his eyes sparkling with affection, “Got you a pumpkin spice,” He announces, setting down the iced latte on the little table beside us, dropping down to sit criss-cross beside me. 

“Thanks,” I kiss his cheek, smirking at the pink that comes over his cheeks, “Look at her,” 

Noah glances down at the sleeping kitten, and I notice immediately how his eyes soften and he’s reaching out to pet her head. She lets out a content meow, and he literally coos, making my heart melt. That warm, sweet boy I fell for is coming out, no longer hidden by his “hard” outer shell. I feel the kitten stirring, Noah’s fingers gently caressing her fur, and her purring is so loud I can hear it. 

“She likes you,” I whisper, and he just smiles at me, going to take his hand back. 

“She’s just tired,” He replies, sipping from his latte. 

I shook my head, and the kitten took notice that she was no longer being pet, her eyes peeking open and a disgruntled meow escaping her tiny throat. I chuckle, scratching underneath her chin, her eyes slipping closed at the sensation as she purrs against my fingertips. Noah’s hand sneaks over to pat at her head, and he grabs at the small collar wrapped around her neck, looking at the ID tag curiously. 

“Hello there, Clementine,” He says softly, and her ears perk up at the sound of her name, tiny eyes glancing at Noah from my lap, “What a pretty name for a pretty girl,” He coos, and she meows in response, getting to her feet and climbing over to his arms. 

I see him visibly melt the moment she makes herself comfortable in his arms, nuzzling up to his chest. Noah’s brown eyes are filled with affection, tattooed fingers gently stroking her fur. With her little head perched on his forearm, she drifts off into a nap while he gives her pets. He’s too enthralled with her to notice I got up, snapping sneaky photos of them before going to sit with Nicholas, who was still playing with the pair of black kittens. 

He gives me a smile, his eyes searching for Noah, but his grin grows even wider when he sees his best friend huddled up with Clementine in the corner of the room, “Looks like he found someone special,” Nicholas comments, “This is Oreo and Twix,” He introduces the kittens, who meow at their name. 

I give the kittens a scratch, my eyes never wavering from Noah, “He’s gonna fall in love with her,” I comment, a little sad, “Too bad we can’t take one home,” 

Nicholas gives me a mischievous glance, “Who says we can’t?” 

I met his gaze, confused, “We can?” 

“Like any of us are gonna say no to a cat. Plus, Harper would love the company,” He replies. 

I nod, glancing back to Noah, who’s now leaned against the wall with Clementine curled into his neck, his eyes closed as he cuddles with her. I can’t wipe the dopey grin off my face, and it’s then when I decide to start plotting. 

—

“Time to go, baby,” I say quietly, approaching Noah as he’s looking sadly at Clementine. 

Noah sighs, kissing the kitten’s head softly, placing her back in her pumpkin house, but she cries out in protest, reaching out for him. He looks heartbroken, the look of disdain on his face undeniable, “I’m sorry sweet one, we have to go. I’ll come see you again,” He promises, “If you’re here next time,” And I would be lying if I said my heart didn’t break at the sound of his voice. 

Clementine continues crying as we walk out, her little face appearing in the windows of the cafe, Noah forcing himself to look away from her as he grabs my hand and presses forward. My heart couldn’t take it anymore, so I suddenly stopped and pretended to gasp. 

“I think I left my phone in there, I’ll be back!” I announce, turning to walk away, “Go ahead and get in the car,” 

Noah just nods, following the guys to their car as I run inside the shop, greeting the same front-desk employee, “Please tell me I can adopt Clementine,” I ask hurriedly, glancing behind me, “My boyfriend fell in love with her and I really wanna surprise him with her,” 

The employee smiles at me, bending down behind her desk to hand me a clipboard, “Fill out this paperwork, and then I need a valid driver's license to file,” She starts, “And then she’ll be all yours to pick up tomorrow morning,” 

After paperwork and $65 later for her adoption fee, Clementine was officially ours. I thanked the employees and raced outside, hopping in the car, “Sorry, they had to look for it,” 

Nicholas looks at me in question, but stays quiet. Noah’s looking out the window, looking for Clementine in the cafe’s windows as Jolly flips the car into park. I slide my fingers into his, giving his hand a squeeze as he lets out a sad sigh. He leans his head on my shoulder, playing with the sleeve of my shirt as he sulks. 

Little does he know, tomorrow morning, his whole day would brighten up. 

—

The next morning, I woke up extra early, making sure Noah stayed asleep as I slipped out of bed, getting dressed and heading out the door. My first stop was Petco, buying Clementine a litterbox, food and water bowl, toys, a bed, and scratching post. I would let Noah pick out her cat tree, I decided, grabbing her food and litter as well. 

After Petco, I headed straight for the cafe, parking right up front and carrying in the carrier I just purchased, the same employee giving me a warm smile, “She’s all ready for you, follow me,” 

I follow her into the cafe, but into a different room, where little Clementine is waiting for me on a cat tree. She meows loudly at me, clearly remembering my scent as I stroke her head, the employee getting the carrier situated for her while I pet her, “You’re coming home to see your new daddy,” I tell her, getting a meow back. 

Clementine’s placed in the carrier, wrapped up on a blanket with treats and a toy, the employee giving me one last smile, “She’s all yours! Congratulations!” 

“Let’s go home baby girl,” I tell her through the carrier, leading us out the door and securing her in my car with the seatbelt. 

The drive home was short, Clementine meowing at the bumpiness of the car ride while I tried to soothe her with my voice. I parked the car as fast as I could, carrying her in and making Folio carry in her supplies as I snuck inside. Nicholas is sitting on the couch, his eyes lighting up, “No way,” 

“Ssh, I don’t want her to start yelling,” I whisper, letting Nicholas see her through the carrier’s gated door, “Gonna sneak upstairs and put her on my pillow,” 

Nicholas grins at me, giving me a supportive wave as he goes to help Folio, and I carefully descend upstairs, opening our bedroom door to find Noah still fast asleep, facing my side of the bed with the blankets pulled to his waist. Quietly, I bend down to open her carrier, scooping her out and placing her on the pillows in front of him, letting her sniff the air. She puts her wet nose against Noah’s cheek, and he flinches, his eyes fluttering open to spot the tabby kitten staring at him curiously. 

“Clementine?!” He yelps, staring at her as if she wasn’t real, before he notices me standing behind them, recording the whole thing, “No way,” He replies, sitting up and grabbing Clementine, “No way!” 

“She’s all yours, Noah,” I tell him, sitting down beside them as he strokes her fur and coos in her ear, “I just couldn’t leave her there after watching you fall in love with her. You needed each other,” I finish, and Noah’s face is lit up with gratitude and love. 

He leans in to give me a kiss, holding my cheek with his free hand, “I don’t deserve you, thank you for her,” He says, giving me another kiss before pulling away, “Ready to go explore your new home?” He asks Clementine, who just meows in response as he hops out of bed and trots out of the room. 

No, Noah, it’s me who doesn’t deserve you. But Clementine? She deserves you. 

[nanowrimo]

🎉 NaNoWriMo is here! 😱 ✍️

Here are some tips on making sure you're all set for success these first few days:

1. Make sure you've set your goal for November! 

You can do this by clicking on your main dashboard. You'll see buttons to either join with a new novel or join with an existing novel.

2. Update your word count! 

When you're knee deep in writing, you might forget to update your word count! Remember to update it when you can, since it helps you track your goals for the month. If you need help updating your word count, check out our FAQ!

3. Connect with other writers! 

Find and join your local region on the NaNoWriMo website to connect with other writers in your area. You can even join multiple regions! You can also create or join a private writing group of up to 20 people. We've shared some tips on what makes a good writing group!

4. Join a NaNoWriMo event!

We're kicking off November 1st this year with a series of Write-Together-A-Thon livestreams where published authors share writing prompts and we all write together on YouTube. Plus, you can check out other virtual events happening through the rest of the month!

5. Have fun writing!!!! 

No matter what happens during this month, just know you already have whatever it takes to bring your story to life. You got this!! 💖

[genderkoolaid]

tw suicide, s/a

hi i wanted to submit something for the antitransmasculine violence archive. unsure if it counts but basil brown was a genderqueer disability activist recently who killed themself after being raped on campus. the school is covering it up, they're being misgendered everywhere, and it hurts. I knew them.

https://www.kadn.com/news/local/an-unspeakable-loss-ul-releases-statement-after-student-suicide-on-campus/article_4b6797c2-f5c1-11ee-bfc4-9326f10eb630.html

https://twitter.com/Georgeroyde/status/1777602502298345748?t=-7gb5o5HL3lE3UQziTG5yg&s=19

same anon that sent about basil. just found out libs of tiktok posted about them. sick to my stomach

Yes, this absolutely counts. Thank you for sending me this.

From their Instagram I can see that they were on T at some point and used to identify as trans man; if anyone can find out if they were still comfortable being grouped under the "transmasculine" umbrella by the end of their life, it would be much appreciated. I am going to put them on the list for the sake of visibility, but I want to make sure their full genderqueer identity isn't being ignored.

Basil wrote this Instagram post, apparently in reference to a trans boy who died (according to this, also by suicide) and was misgendered by the Louisiana School for Math, Science and Arts, now unfortunately too relevant in their own death:

Honor Max. Use his name, use his pronouns. Be brave enough to handle the consequences, and stand up for him. It is equal parts heartbreaking and blood boiling for you to make the choice to disrespect him, even in death. Protect trans kids.

They link a neocities website in their Instagram bio, which appears to be a product of their own creation. Its very interesting and full of art, so if you want to check it out to honor their memory, go to ocimum.neocities.org

Their name was, and is, Basil Brown.

UPDATE: According to a friend, Basil used he/they pronouns at the time of his death.

Additionally, I want to point out that one of the people Basil accused of raping them is a professor at the university they were attending. The university has only put out the vaguest nothingburger of a response (linked above) to a student's on-campus suicide & accusation of rape.

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Hell House | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, unwanted sexual advances toward reader (nothing crazy, just uncomfortable flirtation)

Word Count: 6125

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

After leaving John and the Daevas behind, you and the boys began heading to Texas to investigate a potential case.

Sam slept in the front seat of the car as Dean cruised down Interstate 35. He looked at you suspiciously, smirking in the rearview mirror.

“What?” you whispered.

“Watch this,” Dean told you, grabbing a plastic spoon from the backseat next to you and put it in Sam’s mouth. Snickering, he took a picture with his phone before turning the music up loud. You rolled your eyes and laughed as Sam jerked up waving his arms and trying to spit the spoon out.

“Ha ha, very funny,” the younger Winchester said un-amusedly.

Dean gave what you could only describe as a giggle. You thought it was adorable. “Sorry, not a lot of scenery here in East Texas; kinda gotta make your own.”

“Man, we're not kids anymore, Dean. We're not going to start that crap up again,” Sam stated.

“Start what up?” you asked.

“Prank stuff. It's stupid, and it always escalates,” Sam explained to you.

Dean mocked, “Aw, what's the matter Sammy, scared you're going to get a little Nair in your shampoo again, huh?” replied Dean.

“Alright, just remember you started it.”

“Ah ha, bring it on baldy.”

“Guys, I am not going to mediate or participate in a prank war,” you jumped in.

“Nobody asked you to, sweetheart,” Dean flippantly responded. “But don’t be surprised if you get caught in the crossfire.”

“Dean—!”

“Where are we anyway?” Sam cut you off.

“A few hours outside of Richardson. Gimme the lowdown again?” Dean asked.

“About a month or two ago, this group of kids goes poking around in this local haunted house.”

“Haunted by what?” you asked.

“Apparently, a pretty misogynistic spirit,” he answered.

“Oh, great,” you grumbled.

Sam laughed. “Legend goes, it takes girls and strings them up in the rafters. Anyway, this group of kids see this dead girl hanging in the cellar.”

You scoffed. “Oh, even better.”

“Anybody ID the corpse?” asked Dean.

“Well, that's the thing. By the time the cops got there the body was gone. So cops are saying the kids were just yanking chains.”

“Maybe the cops are right,” the older brother suggested.

“Maybe, but I read a couple of the kids' firsthand accounts. They seemed pretty sincere,” Sam shrugged.

“Where’d you find those?” you asked.

The brunet hesitated, seeming a little embarrassed. “Well, I knew we were going to be passing through Texas. So, um, last night, I surfed some local… paranormal websites. And I found one.”

“And what's it called?” Dean prompted.

“HellHoundsLair.com.”

“Lemme guess, streaming live out of Mom's basement.”

Sam grinned. “Yeah, probably."

“Yeah. Most of those websites wouldn't know a ghost if it bit 'em in the persqueeter,” Dean quipped.

“Look, we let Dad take off. Which was a mistake, by the way. And now we don't know where the hell he is, so in the meantime, we gotta find ourselves something to hunt. There's no harm checking this thing out.”

“Agreed. But not on the mistake part— I’m not getting involved in that argument,” you said.

“Good call,” Dean responded. “So where do we find these kids?”

“Same place you always find kids in a town like this,” Sam said. He directed his brother to a fast food outlet called “Rodeo Drive.”

You interviewed all of the kids who had been involved in the incident, and the only detail they could agree on in their story was that a teen named Craig had been the one to introduce them to the house.

***

The next day, you went to the record stop Craig worked at and posed as interviewers trying to get his side of the story on a paranormal feature you were writing. Sam had asked him about the house he’d taken his friends to. 

“You mean the Hell House?” the teen answered.

“That’s the one,” answered Dean.

“I didn't think there was anything to the story,” Craig shrugged.

“Why don't you tell us the story,” Sam told him.

Craig quieted his voice and looked around for eavesdroppers. “Well, supposedly back in the '30s this farmer, Mordechai Murdoch, used to live in this house with his six daughters. It was during the Depression, his crops were failing, he didn't have enough money to feed his own children. So I guess that's when he went off the deep end.”

“How?” you questioned.

“Well, he figured it was best if his girls died quick, rather than starve to death. So he attacked them. They screamed, begged for him to stop but he just strung 'em up, one after the other. And when he was all finished, he just turned around and hung himself. Now they say that his spirit is trapped in the house forever, stringing up any other girl that goes inside.”

‘Oh, that’s just great.’

“Where'd you hear all this?” Dean questioned.

“My cousin Dana told me. I don't know where she heard it from. Ya gotta realize, I— I didn't believe this for a second.”

“But now you do,” the younger brother finished for him.

“I don't know what the hell to think, man. You guys, I— I'll tell you exactly what I told the police, ok? That girl was real. And she was dead. This was not a prank. I swear to God, I don't wanna go anywhere near that house ever again, okay?”

***

You and the boys headed to the Hell House. It was more like a dilapidated shack at this point; it looked like it had been made with wooden boards that were probably rotting and hollowed out by termites. The path up to the house was muddy, and the house itself was in the middle of nowhere surrounded by woods. Add “woods” on top of “misogynistic ghost,” and you were thoroughly worried about this hunt.

“Can't say I blame the kid,” Sam commented, taking in the appearance of the house.

“Yeah, so much for curb appeal,” quipped Dean. “You gonna be okay, sweetheart? You look like you’re gonna hurl.”

You looked up at Dean. “Well, misogynistic ghosts that kill any girl who goes inside don’t exactly tickle my fancy.”

Dean’s tone became a little more sincere, but still filled with his typical sarcastic charm. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m fine. I’m a big girl; I can handle myself. Just uneasy, that’s all.”

“Hey, (Y/N)?” Sam asked. “I realized something back in Chicago.”

“What’s that?” you asked while you ducked under the police tape blocking the door. 

“You never told us where you’re from. You know we’re from Lawrence, so, what’s your story?”

“Honestly, Sammy, I have no idea,” you responded. “My parents never told me. I don’t have a copy of my birth certificate either. If it weren’t for my mom using my middle name when she was mad at me, I wouldn’t even know what it was. Don’t know my social security number, either. I’m not even confident the government has record of my existence.”

“Huh,” replied Sam. “How’d your mom even have time for a kid if she’s been hunting since you were born?”

You took out your flashlight and continued looking around while you talked to Sam. “That’s the thing, she didn’t. My mom was never really a mom to me, and she certainly wasn’t to my little brother. Even though he was only two years younger than me, I kind of had to fill the role of ‘mom’,” you explained.

Sam looked at you sadly. “I’m sorry.”

“Meh, it’s whatever,” you shrugged. “You got something?”

Dean was looking around with his EMF meter. It was beeping, but not making sounds indicative of a usual reading. “Ye-ah,” he sounded unsure. “The EMF’s no good.”

“Why?” Sam questioned.

Dean looked at the power lines just outside the house. “I think that thing's still got a little juice in it. It's screwing with all the readings.”

“Yeah that'd do it,” Sam sighed.

“Looks like old man Murdock was a bit of a tagger here in his time, though,” Dean stated, looking at the symbols covering the walls.

“And after his time too. That reverse cross has been used by Satanists for centuries, but this sigil of sulfur didn't show up in San Francisco until the '60s,” Sam informed.

You and Dean stared at Sam for a moment before the older brother quipped, “That is exactly why you never get laid.”

You patted Sam’s shoulder. “I think it’s cool,” you assured him. 

He returned your smile. “Thanks, (Y/N).”

Dean moved to another wall with a cross with a dot in the middle. The bottom piece of the cross looked almost like a fishhook. “Hey, what about this one? You guys seen this one before?”

Sam shook his head, but you felt a sense of vague recognition, too. “Somewhere, I think.”

“Yeah, me too,” Dean said.

Sam rubbed the symbol. “It's paint. Seems pretty fresh too.”

Dean sighed. “I don't know, Sam. You know I hate to agree with authority figures of any kind, but... the cops may be right about this one.”

A sudden noise had you on high alert. You and Dean flanked one side of the door, guns drawn, and Sam took the other. Dean nodded, and the three of you burst through only to be met with blinding lights in your eyes.

“Oh, cut. It's just a coupla humans,” a nasally male voice said. 

The two men before you both donned backpacks and baggy cargo pants. They were around your height and seemed like complete involuntarily-celibate nerds to you.

“What are you guys doing here?” the same guy asked. He held an electrical device in one hand while the other man held a video camera.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Dean’s gruff reply came.

“Uh, we belong here; we're professionals?” the man said matter-of-factly.

You scoffed. “Professional what?”

The man eyed you up and down before answering, and you fought the cringe crawling up your spine. “Paranormal Investigators.” He handed you a business card. “There you go, take a look at that, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that,” you gritted through your teeth.

Dean took the card from you, saying, “Easy, tiger.” He read it and muttered, “Oh, you gotta be kidding me.”

“Ed Zeddmore and Harry Spengler? Hellhoundslair.com. You guys run that website,” Sam noted.

The man who had been looking you up and down who’d identified himself as Ed nodded proudly.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, we're huge fans,” Dean grinned.

“And ahh, we know who you guys are too,” Ed said confidently.

You shot a sideways glance to Dean. “Oh yeah?”

“Amateurs.”

You and Dean immediately lost interest.

Ed continued, “Looking for ghosts and cheap thrills.”

“Yep. So if you guys don't mind, we're trying to conduct a serious scientific investigation here,” Harry finished.

“Really? What have you got so far?” you asked.

“Harry, why dontcha tell 'em about EMF?”

Sam played dumb, too. “EMF?” You could tell he was fighting a smile.

“Electromagnetic field? Spectral entities can cause energy fluctuations that can be read with an EMF detector. Like this bad boy right here.” Harry gestured to the machine Ed was holding, who turned it on.

“Whoa. Whoa. It's 2.8mg,” Harry noted.

“2.8. It's hot in here,” Ed grinned.

Dean whistled in mock admiration. “So you guys ever really seen a ghost before, or…?”

“Once. We were, uh— We were investigating this old house and we saw a vase fall right off the table—” 

“By itself,” Harry finished.

“Well, we, we we we didn't actually see it, we heard it. And something like that… it, uh… it changes you,” Ed said solemnly.

“Yeah. I think I get the picture. We should go, let them get back to work,” Dean broke their stupor. “C’mon, (Y/N).”

He led you and his brother out of the room with the two guys in it. Dean stood behind you protectively.

“What?” you asked him as he led you out of the house.

“Didn’t like how he was looking at you,” he grumbled before seeming to realize what he had just admitted. “And… uh, misogynistic ghosts, and all.”

A smile spread across your face. “Thanks.”

***

You and the boys headed to a diner for some cheap burgers and beer before you decided to hit the road. You couldn’t find any missing persons matching the description of the Jane Doe that had been in the house, nor could Sam find anything on a Mordechai Murdoch. The real man had existed under a different name. You ruled the case a bust, and just wanted to relax a little before leaving town. 

“How’s that thing on your leg healing?” Dean asked you, referencing the deep gashes you’d received in Chicago.

“Meh, it’s okay,” you shrugged, taking a sip of your beer. “It’s way better than it was a few days ago.”

“Good,” he nodded before clearing his throat. “So? Sammy, you got anything?” 

His brother was scrolling the internet in search of a new case when something caught his attention. “Dude.”

“What?” you and Dean asked in unison.

“The Hell House.”

***

Emergency vehicles and officials hurried about, interviewing witnesses and wheeling out a stretcher with a body bag on it. The sinking feeling you got from the Hell House returned to your stomach as you and the boys approached it.

“What happened?” Dean asked a bystander.

“A couple of cops say a girl hung herself in the house,” explained the bystander. “She was a straight A student with a full ride to UT, too. It just don't make sense.” He walked away from the two of you.

“I don’t understand,” you started. “How could we’ve missed something?”

“I don’t know,” Sam shook his head. 

“Back to the drawing board, I guess,” Dean sighed.

You waited for the emergency vehicles to clear out and allow you and the boys the ability to get another look at the house. Two cops remained guarding it, though, to which Sam commented, “I guess the cops don't want anyone else screwing around in there.”

You and the brothers were crouched in the bushes, trying to plan how to get in the house. You then heard whispers that caught your attention, and turned to see Ed and Harry clunkily approaching with cumbersome backpacks and gadgets covering them from head to toe.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Dean grumbled. “I got an idea.” 

You shot him a confused look while he stood a little taller and cupped a hand to his mouth. “Who ya gonna call!”

You almost burst out in giggles at his stupid reference. 

“Hey, you!” one of the cops called and took off running in the direction of Ed and Harry. The two guys turned and sprinted away. Well, sprinted as much as they could with their heavy packs.

You and the boys rushed into the abandoned house, passing each other weapons from the duffel bag. Dean was transfixed by the symbol on the wall. “Where have I seen that symbol before? It's killing me!”

“Yeah, me too, but we don’t have much time,” you urged him, slapping a shotgun in his hand and pulling him further into the home. You headed down to the basement and took in your dust-covered surroundings. You could feel your allergy beginning to get aggravated while you looked around.

“Hey, Sam. I dare you to take a swig of this,” Dean grinned, holding up a jar he found on one of the shelves.

“What the hell would I do that for?” scoffed the younger brother.

“...I double dare you.”

Sam just shook his head and continued walking.

You flinched and grabbed Dean’s arm at a sound coming from within a cabinet. Dean looked to you and back at the cabinet before the two of you took either side of the cabinet’s doors. At Dean’s nod, you threw the door open. Rats inside it squeaked and scurried away from the light of Sam’s flashlight. 

“Arghh!” Dean yelped. “I hate rats.”

Sam scoffed. “You'd rather it was a ghost?”

Dean considered, but nodded. “Yes!” Dean suddenly looked up at something above your head, and you shrieked at the sight of an ax nearly hitting you squarely on your forehead. Dean yanked you away just in time and shielded you with his body protectively. He shot at the ghost of the tall farmer wearing a colorless straw hat that wasn’t at all deterred by the rocksalt. He shot once more, but it was still there. And then the final time, Mordechai disappeared.

“What the hell kind of spirit is immune to rock salt?” Sam questioned frantically.

“I don’t know! Come on, come on!” Dean urged you and his brother. 

You ran toward the stairs, and Mordechai smashed his ax down through the shelves right next to your head. You raised your gun at him and shot multiple times, praying it would work. Nothing worked, and you narrowly missed another swing of the ghost’s ax before you fled.

“(Y/N), let’s go!” Sam called, running ahead of you. You and the boys sprinted out of the door of the house, only to be met with flashlights and a camera in your face.

“Get that damn thing outta my face,” Dean commanded before hurrying away again. You and the boys left the Hell House in the dust. 

“You okay?” Dean asked you when you returned to the car.

You tried to catch your breath, slumping into the backseat. “Holy shit,” you muttered. “I think so. You?”

He nodded. “Fine.”

“But Dean.”

“Hm.”

“You’re sweet, but I don’t need you to protect me. I can hold my own,” you told him.

Dean scoffed. “It’s a misogynistic ghost, (Y/N). I’m obviously gonna be a little concerned.”

You smiled fondly, but held your position. “I know. Just… I can handle it. You don’t have to worry about me.”

He just grunted in response.

***

The next day, you and the boys were hanging out in their motel room. You and Sam were at your laptops researching while Dean sat on his bed scribbling in a notepad.

“What the hell is this symbol? It's buggin' the hell outta me. This whole damn job's buggin' me. What was with those slit wrists? I thought the legend says he hung himself.”

“That’s what you’ve been scribbling all this time?” You looked up from your laptop. “That symbol?”

“Yeah,” Dean answered. “But seriously, what the hell is going on here?”

Sam jumped in, saying, “And the ax too. I mean, ghosts are usually pretty strict, right? Following the same patterns over and over?”

“But this mook keeps changing,” Dean added.

“Exactly. I'm telling ya, the way the story goes... wait a minute.”

“What?”

“Someone added a new post to the Hell Hound site. Listen to this. 'They say Mordechai Murdock was really a Satanist who chopped up his victims with an ax before slitting his own wrists. Now he's imprisoned in the house for eternity.”

“What the fuck?” you questioned, sliding Sam’s laptop over to yourself. “How the hell is he changing?”

“I don't know,” Dean broke in, “but I think I might have just figured out where it all started.”

***

Your next stop was the music store Craig worked at.

“Hey Craig? Remember us?” Dean asked the teen who was organizing records.

“Guys, look I'm really not in the mood to answer any of your questions ok?” Craig answered.

“Oh, don't worry. We're just here to buy an album, that's all.” Dean flipped through a stack of records, and you looked over his shoulder. You suddenly realized where he was going with this. He picked up a Blue Oyster Cult album, and you nodded in acknowledgment as you put together the symbol had been the logo for the band.

“You know, I couldn't figure out what that symbol was, and then, I realized that it doesn't mean anything. It's the logo for the Blue Oyster Cult,” Dean said, putting the album on the counter across from Craig. “Tell me Craig, you, uh, you into BOC? Or just scaring the hell outta people? Now why 'n't you tell us about that house. Without lying through your ass this time.”

Craig sighed. “Alright, um. My cousin Dana was on break from TCU. Ah, I guess we were just bored, looking for something to do. So I showed her this abandoned dump I found. We thought it would be funny if we made it look like it was haunted. So we painted symbols on the walls; some from some albums, some from some of Dana's theology textbooks. Then, we found out this guy Murdock used to live there so we— we made up some story to go along with that. So they told people, who told other people. And then these two guys put it on their stupid website. Everything just took on a life of its own. I mean I, I thought it was funny at first but... now that girl's dead! It was just a joke, you know. I mean, none of it was real, we made the whole thing up. I swear!”

You knew he hadn’t meant any harm. “Okay. Thank you.”

You and the boys left an emotional Craig standing at the counter. 

“If none of it was real how the hell do you explain Mordechai?” Dean asked.

“I have no idea,” you responded.

***

The next morning, you and the boys headed out to get some breakfast and coffee. Sam was shifting uncomfortably every few seconds in his seat. “What’s your deal, dude?” you asked.

His response was a grimace before he explained he thought Mordechai might be a Tulpa. “Okay, so there was this incident in Tibet in 1915. Group of monks visualized a golem in their head. They meditated on it so hard they brought the thing to life. Outta thin air.”

“So?” Dean said.

“That was twenty monks. Imagine what ten thousand web surfers could do. I mean, Craig starts the story about Mordechai, then it spreads, goes online. Now there are countless people all believing in the bastard,” Sam replied.

“Now wait a second. Are you trying to tell me that just because people believe in Mordechai, he's real?”

Sam shifted again. “I don’t know, maybe.”

“People believe in Santa Claus— how come I'm not getting hooked up every Christmas?” Dean remarked.

“ ‘Cause we’re bad people,” you remarked. Dean seemed convinced by your answer.

“And because of this.” Sam turned his phone to you and Dean to show you a photo of a symbol on one of the walls of the Hell House. “That's a Tibetan spirit sigil. On the wall of the house. Craig said they were painting symbols from a theology textbook. I bet they painted this; not even knowing what it was. Now, that sigil has been used for centuries, concentrating meditative thoughts like a magnifying glass. So people are on the HellHounds website, staring at the symbol, thinking about Mordechai… I mean I don't know, but it might be enough to bring a Tulpa to life.”

You shrugged. “That would explain why the bastard keeps changing.”

“Right, as the legend changes, people think different things, so Mordechai himself changes. Like a game of telephone. That would also explain why the rock salt didn't work.” Sam shifted at least five separate times in his chair as he spoke. 

“Yeah, because he's not a traditional spirit,” the older brother continued. “Okay. So why don't we just, uh, get this spirit sigil thingie off the wall and off the website?”

“Well, it's not that simple. You see, once Tulpas are created they take on a life of their own,” Sam explained.

“Great. So if he really is a thought form, how the hell are we supposed to kill an idea?”

“Well, it's not gonna be easy with these guys helping us. Check out their homepage.”

Sam showed you and Dean footage from two days ago. “Since they've posted the video, their number of hits have quadrupled in the last day alone.”

“Great,” you muttered. “But I have an idea. C’mon.” You got up from the table and began heading away.

“Where we going?” Dean questioned.

“To find a copy store.”

Sam got up and began to follow you. “Man, I think I'm allergic to our soap or something.”

Dean laughed and walked after you.

“You did this?!” Sam called.

The only response he got was a laugh from his brother. 

“You're a friggin jerk!”

“Oh yeah!” Dean pumped a fist in the air.

***

After you hit the copy store to carry out your idea, you and the boys found Ed and Harry’s trailer park residence and rapped against the door loudly.

“Who is it?” Harry’s voice called.

“Come on out here guys, we hear you in there,” Dean called back. When the door opened, Dean looked over the two men’s shoulders. “Ah, would you look at that! Action figures in their original packaging— what a shock.”

You snickered,but nudged him. “Be polite.”

“Guys, we need to talk,” Sam said. 

“Yeah, um, sorry guys. We're ahhh, a little bit busy right now,” Ed responded. “But pretty lady, if you’d like to stay—”

Dean cut him off, gruffly saying, “Okay, well, we'll make it quick. We need you to shut down your website.”

Ed laughed. “Man, you know, these guys got us busted the other night, spent the night in a holding cell—”

“I had to pee in that cell urinal. In front of people. And I get stage fright,” the other goon chimed in.

“Why should we trust you guys?”

“Look, guys. We all know what we saw that night; what's in the house. But now, thanks to your website, there are thousands of people hearing about Mordechai,” the brunet explained.

“That's right. Which means people are gonna keep showing up at the Hell House, running into him in person, somebody could get hurt,” Dean continued.

“Ed, maybe he's got a point, maybe—”

Ed cut his friend off. “Nope.”

“No,” Harry said despite his position moments earlier.

“We have an obligation to our fans, to the truth,” Ed stated.

“Well I have an obligation to kick both your little asses right now—” Dean’s face hardened, and you could see Ed and Harry nearly shit themselves.

You pulled his arm back. “Just forget about it,” you told him. “You could bitch slap ‘em both, I could tell them that thing about Mordechai, but they’re still not gonna listen. Let’s just go.” You turned away.

“Whoa! Whoa!” the guys called after you. “What’d you say about...?”

“Hang on a second here,” Harry said. “What thing about Mordechai, you guys?”

“Don’t tell ‘em, (Y/N),” Sam said.

“But if they agree to shut the website down, Sam—”

“They're not going to do it, you said so yourself,” Dean chimed in.

“No wait. Wait. Don't listen to him ok? We'll do it. We'll do it,” Ed said, stepping closer to you.

You sighed. “Look, it is a really big deal, alright. And it wasn't easy to dig up. So only if we have your word that you'll shut everything down.”

“Totally,” Ed nodded.

Dean handed over some paperwork you’d doctored at the copy shop reluctantly. “It's a death certificate. From the '30s. We got it at the library. Now according to the coroner, the actual cause of death was a self-inflicted gunshot wound.”

“That's right, he didn't hang or cut himself,” added Dean.

Ed’s eyebrows shot up. “He shot himself?”

“Yep. With a .45 pistol. To this day, they say he's terrified of them,” you said.

Dean continued explaining. “Matter of fact, they say if you shoot him with a .45, loaded with these special wrought-iron rounds, it'll kill the son of a bitch.”

Ed and Harry snickered gleefully. Harry spun around and bolted back to the trailer. Ed followed more slowly. 

Once they were out of earshot, you held up crossed fingers to the boys. “Here’s hoping.”

***

You and the boys were waiting for Ed and Harry to put out the bogus story you’d given them at a diner later that evening. You sat in the booth between Sam and the wall, and looked over at his laptop while he reloaded the page repeatedly. Dean sat across from you and his brother, pulling the cord of a plaque on the wall of a fisherman holding a big fish. The fisherman’s mouth moved up and down when Dean pulled the cord. 

You pulled it again to stop it. “If you pull that damn cord one more time, I’ll kill you.”

Dean sent you a challenging look and pulled the cord again. You pulled it again in response.

“Come on, sweetheart, you need more laughter in your life. You know, you're way too tense.”

“What! I do laugh!” you pouted.

“Not as much as this guy.” He pulled the cord again.

You pulled it to stop it for a final time. “Don’t try me.”

Dean sighed. “They post it yet?”

Sam turned the laptop around to Dean. “We've learned from reputable sources that Mordechai Murdock has a fatal fear of firearms. Alright. How long do we wait?”

“Long enough for the new story to spread,” replied Sam, “and the legend to change. I figure by nightfall, iron rounds will work on the sucker.” Sam lifted his beer and you and Dean lifted yours as well. The three of you tapped them together.

“Sweet,” Dean said. He took a long swig of his beer and Sam grinned. The older of the two tried to put his beer down, but it was stuck to his beer.

Sam cracked up, as did you, and Dean stared at his brother incredulous. “You didn't.”

Sam continued to laugh and held up his tube of super glue. “Oh, I did!”

Dean shook his hand trying to get the beer off and turned his aggravation to you. “You knew about this?”

You felt guilty, but said, “Hey, I told you, I’m Switzerland in this prank war.”

“Oh, it’s on, sweetheart.”

“Dean! I didn’t even do anything! I’m Switzerland! Look, I’ll even help you get it off your hand, okay? Stop pouting.”

Dean grunted, “Fine.”

***

Dean bought the laughing fisherman from the diner and brought it to the woods beyond the Hell House later that night. You wrapped the cord around a rock to weigh the pulley mechanism down to lure the cops away from the house.

You entered the house on alert with your gun drawn, Dean trailing just behind you. “I barely have any skin left on my palm,” he said snarkily.

“So you think Mordechai's home?” you asked as you entered another room.

“I don't know,” Sam answered.

“Me either,” a voice said from behind you.

You wheeled around and pointed your gun at the source of the sound. 

“Whoa! Whoa!” Ed said.

“What are you trying to do, get yourself killed?” you yelled.

“We're just trying to get a book and movie deal, ok?” Harry said.

“Motherfucker—” You were cut off by the sound of knives being sharpened coming from the basement. Your guard immediately went back up. 

“Oh crap,” Ed said. “Don’t worry (Y/N), I’ll protect you.”

“Oh, get off me, dickhead.” You shrugged his hand off your shoulders. 

He crowded way too closely behind you and followed you and the brothers to the basement door. 

“Ah guys, you wanna— you wanna open that door for us?” Ed grinned uncomfortably.

“Why don't you?” Dean turned to him, shooting daggers at him.

Mordechai burst through the door at that moment, holding an ax and screaming. You and the boys began emptying your gun chambers into his stomach, but the guns had no effect on him. You then swept the other rooms in search of Ed and Harry.

“What the fuck, didn’t you guys post that bullshit story we gave you?” you asked them when you found them.

“Of course we did,” Ed scoffed.

Sam and Dean appeared behind you.

“But then our server crashed,” Harry explained.

“So it didn't take?” Dean asked rhetorically.

The two men exchanged looks and murmured to themselves.

“So these, these guns don't work.” Dean laughed coldly and raked a hand through his hair. “Great. Sam, any ideas?”

“We are getting outta here,” Harry said. “Come on, Ed.”

Harry and Ed ran past you and Dean to the other room. You noticed Mordechai’s apparition following them before you heard two girlish screeches coming from their direction.

“Hey! Come and get it, you ugly son of a bitch,” you told the ghost.

“Gladly,” Ed said, not realizing you were talking to Mordechai.

You grabbed the hilt of the ax as he tried to take a swing at you, pushing against him with all your might. You were then pinned against the wall, the ax across your throat and constricting your airway, 

“Get out of here, now!” you told Ed and Harry. They sprinted out of the door as you struggled against Mordechai, who lifted you up in the air by the ax.

“Guys! Help!” you screamed.

Moments later, Dean appeared. He held up a spray bottle and lit it, making a plume of fire appear.

“Get out of here, now!” Dean told you. You ran past him. You met Sam in another room, clutching your throat.

“You okay?” Sam asked you. He stooped to get eye-level with you.

“Yeah,” you choked out. “Peachy.”

Dean sped into the room next to you. “Mordechai can't leave the house, we can't kill him— We improvise,” he said. He held up his lighter, flicked it, and threw it back into the room behind you. It burst into flames, and you ran after the boys outside.

“That's your solution? Burn the whole damn place to the ground?” Sam asked incredulously.

“Well, nobody will go in anymore. I mean, look, Mordechai can't haunt a house if there's no house to haunt. It's fast and dirty, but it works,” Dean replied simply.

“Well, add arsonists to our rap sheet,” you said. 

“What if the legend changes again and Mordechai is allowed to leave the house?” questioned Sam.

“Then we'll just have to come back,” Dean shrugged. 

You turned back to the house and watched it burn.

“Kinda makes you wonder. Of all the things we hunted, how many existed just cuz people believed in them,” said Sam. You looked back to him, amazed at how he could be profound in the midst of your situation.

***

You and the boys made one last pit stop by Harry and Ed’s trailer park before you were planning to head out of town. The two guys in question came over to your picnic table carrying grocery bags.

“I was thinking that Mordechai has a really super high attack bonus,” Ed said. “Man, I got the munchies right now.” He turned to the boys. “Gentlemen. And m’lady.”

You cringed. 

“Should we tell 'em.” Harry could barely contain his gloating.

“Hey, might as well, you know, they're going to read about it in the trades,” Ed smirked.

“So this morning we got a phone call from a very important Hollywood producer.”

“Oh yeah, wrong number?” Dean snorted.

“No, smart-ass. He read all about the Hell House on our website and wants to option the motion picture rights. Maybe even have us write it.”

They put grocery bags into their completely overloaded car. 

“And create the RPG,” Harry added.

“The what?” Dean asked.

“Role playing game,” came Ed’s simple reply. “A little lingo for you. Anyhoo, ah, excuse us, we're off to la-la land.”

“Well, congratulations guys. That sounds really great,” Sam nodded.

“Yeah. That's awesome, best of luck to you,” you said.

“Oh yeah, luck. That has nothing to do with it. It's about talent. Sheer unabashed talent,” Ed grinned. “And you…” he sauntered up to you. “...Call me. You could have a bright future in film.”

You forced a smile at him.

“Later, baby,” he grinned. He got in the car next to his buddy and sped away.

“I have a confession to make,” Sam said as the three of you watched them drive off.

“What's that,” prompted Dean.

“I, uh… I was the one that called them and told them I was a producer.”

You and Dean laughed. “Yeah, well, I'm the one who put the dead fish in their back seat,” the latter snickered.

“And I may have been the one to put the cops on ‘em about the Murdoch house fire. And the fact that they don’t have a license plate on that car. Or on their camper.”

Dean and Sam burst out laughing at you. You joined in with them.

“Truce?” The brunet turned to his brother.

“Yeah, truce,” he answered. “At least for the next hundred miles.”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @davina-clairee @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @stephshaww @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @here-for-the-extravaganza @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @rei0812 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @more-espresso-less-depresso-og @mysticmyth

a lot of my tags are broken which makes me very sad. if you see that i've misspelled your tag, please let me know! and make sure you have my post notifs on so a broken tag doesn't stop you from seeing the next chapter!!

[mogai-sunflowers]

🇵🇸 Free Palestine- A guide for getting involved (Somewhat USA-focused)! 🇵🇸

This post is going to get very long, so I'm trying my best to break it up into manageable sections! Some parts of this post are applicable to people outside America, but at this time, I'm only knowledgeable enough about the movement in America to make a post about it!

Find Out About Local Organizations To Get Involved With

The best place to start is to find out what's already happening locally! If you live in a large/larger town/city, chances are something's already happening nearby!

For Americans: Look here to find out about the closest PSL (Party for Socialism and Liberation) chapter to where you live! They are involved in direct activism all across the US!

Find out if there's a PYM (Palestinian Youth Movement) chapter near you! They are extremely active

For college students in the US: Find out if there's an SJP (Students for Justice in Palestine) chapter on your campus! If there isn't, try founding your own! Look at their website here to learn more!

Also for college students in the US: Find out if there's a YDSA (Young Democratic Socialists of America) chapter on your campus!

Participate in BDS (Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions)

Find out how to get involved here

Hold Local News Outlets Accountable

Find out about the local news outlets in your area

Keep up-to-date with their publications

If it's a digital source, search it for any and all publications related to Palestine and Israel- if this search yields results, are the articles supportive of Palestine and its supporters?

If you encounter an article/multiple articles that lean towards or outright try to justify Israel's actions or spread propaganda, then you can do a few things-

1) If the article is digital, make a public comment correcting any misinformation in the article. Try to keep your comment straight to the point and factual.

2) Find out who wrote the article and reach out to them personally to discuss said article and the issues you have with it. Share your point of view and discuss misinformation and harmful language contained within the article.

3) Find out the editor of the article, and write a 'letter to the editor'. Such letters may have a word limit varying between different news outlets, so keep your letter brief yet powerful and deconstruct your issues with the article

4) Reach out to the owner of said publication and ask if you can try your hand at writing an opinion piece for them. Sometimes, it can take awhile to get one of your opinion pieces accepted, but if it's something you're passionate about, keep trying!

If a particular news outlet has a repeated pattern of dehumanizing and villifying the Palestinian freedom cause in their publications, try getting in touch with local activist groups! They can help- from organizing letter campaigns to actual protests outside the news headquarters!

Urge Your Town/City to Pass A Ceasefire Resolution-

First, check and see if there's already an organized movement in your town or city to pass a ceasefire resolution (via pressuring your local town/city council)- NOTE: If you live in a very small town, the chances are smaller that there is already an organized movement- but that doesn't mean you can't help to start one

If there is already a movement, find out when the public comment sessions for your town's/city's council are, and find out how you can sign up to speak- if you do so, you can also try and connect with the organizers of your local movement for advice on writing a statement in support of a ceasefire resolution

An addendum to the previous point: if you sign up to speak, find out if you can also provide a visual presentation for your statement- these are often especially powerful

If there isn't an organized movement yet, that doesn't at all mean that one can't be started. I recommend reaching out to the nearest town/city you know of that has an organized movement for a ceasefire resolution

Send emails and letters, and call, to all your town/city council members to consistently urge them to pass a ceasefire resolution

Pressure Your Representatives to Vote against Aid to Israel-

This is not US-specific- if you have representatives of your local area on the national level, you can pressure them through calls, emails, letters, setting up meetings, and direct action, to not sign off on aid proposals for Israel

Setting up meetings is particularly impactful- you have a chance to speak with them or their reps one-on-one with your point of view

Call/email EVERY DAY! Pressure only works if it is consistent, and ask your friends and family members to join you in contacting them to build even more pressure

Donate To-

These fundraisers to help various families leave Gaza

Your local/closest Palestinian Children's Relief Fund's chapter

1 or more of the Global Rahmah Foundation's projects for Gaza

ANERA

HEAL Palestine

Local drives for the World Food Pantry and other local fundraisers are also super important!

This is not an all-inclusive list of ways to support Palestine, it's just intended to be a guide for getting involved for people who want to get involved but aren't sure where to start. Please suggest or correct anything for this post, and please spread it around! @fairuzfan @palipunk @tamarrud @el-shab-hussein @apollos-olives @metalheadsforblacklivesmatter @bfpnola

[tearsofastraeax]

THE FIRST TIME - prologue

🎀 stalker!könig x cam girl!reader tags: 18+ (no explicit smut in this one, but there's mention of tits and dicks so be warned), voyeurism, (online) stalking, reader is a cam girl & könig is insane :)

The first time König saw you he felt like the world stopped turning. Like every single person around him just stopped moving altogether. He never believed in love at first sight, never liked any of that romantic crap, never cared for anyone that way. 

But then he saw you. You looked so beautiful, just standing there, browsing through the indie section at the run-down vinyl store in the city. He barely ever went there, but he picked up cigarettes from the kiosk across the street and had some more time on his hands, so he trailed inside the small store. 

He immediately pressed his body into a corner of the store, absentmindedly letting his fingers skim through vinyls he couldn’t give less of a shit about. Instead, he stole glances at you. He noted the way your beautiful hair was swept over one shoulder and fanned out over your back. The way your dazzling eyes never left the rows and rows of old and dusty vinyls. The way a broad smile stretched across your lips when you found what you were looking for all this time and an excited little laugh left your pouty mouth. 

He could have melted on the spot right then and there. It only took one look, and he knew he could never forget about you, never want another. 

When you left the store, he waited before following you. Even though his tall statue was a sight to behold, his military training allowed him to blend in, to know how to follow someone without arousing suspicion. 

He needed to know more about you - something, anything. So, eventually, he ended up at your house, staring at you through the window. He tried to take in as much as he could, any crumbs of information to know more about you. 

That evening, when he arrived at his place, he immediately began to work behind his laptop. He scoured local Facebook groups, looked through social media profiles, and even retraced your address in hopes of finding you. And so he did, after painstaking research your name was right there. A satisfied smile grew on his lips as he finally skimmed through your social media accounts. He took his research very seriously, finding old pictures, friends, and family in the process.  

Till he found an account with your face under an obviously fake name. 

He couldn’t believe his eyes, there you were, your sweet face, with those beautiful eyes and those sinful lips. You stared back at him, a smile on your face, your hands gently wrapped around your barely covered tits. You were wearing a stunning bra, just straps of leather that could barely cover your nipples. 

It felt like he was gaping at his laptop screen for hours, his growing cock straining painfully against his pants. And then he got into motion, the next half an hour spent discovering your cute little alter ego, the social media and OnlyFans accounts to promote yourself online and the star of the show, your account on a sleazy cam girl website. 

He was so incredibly excited, so needy, and desperate to see you. A message in all caps on your profile read ‘online every day at 8 pm’. His heart hammered in his chest, 1 more hour and he would see you. See how you would undress for him and touch yourself for him.  

He tightened his hands into fists, hunger racing through his veins. He could barely fucking think straight, his cock aching with desire. But he couldn’t do it, he wanted to save himself for you. He wanted to cum only when he could see you, you deserved it - his full commitment, because you were the only thing that mattered now.

check out the stalker!könig masterlist for more

[historical-fashion-polls]

hello lovely curator! i would love to know how you find your images? google has been abysmal for finding historical clothing these days

hi dear anon! 💕

thank you so much for this question! ☺️☺️ I'll begin my answer by saying that currently the blog is mostly running on submitted images, which come from lovely folks who have generously sent in images to be used as polls, so I won't be able to speak to those specific sources, but when I source my own images for the blog, here are some resources I use:

the Met has a great collection of digitized fashion plates! however, the search function is not great and they've grouped things into categories that aren't always accurate. so I guess the content is really good but I've found that browsing the collection isn't always super user friendly

the costumes from the 1890s that I've been posting a bit lately are all from the V&A's digitized collection of costume designs for pantomimes! the V&A is another great collection that I personally find easier to browse, although the search function still isn't great

so I guess I'll make this bullet point "museum collections in general" since there are also a bunch of other museums and library collections that have digitized fashion plate images. if you have a favorite museum or even a local one, I'd definitely recommend checking out their website to see if they might have anything!

wikimedia commons also has a pretty substantial collection of mostly 19th century fashion plates. they have a category titled "fashion plates by decade" that is really fun to browse! the one downside here though is that there's not always good provenance info, so if you wanted more details about the plate, they're not always as easy to get as they might be on a museum website

lastly (and a bit unfortunately), is pinterest. this is really not my favorite site to use since it really is a free-for-all out there and there is no verifiable provenance or even dating info, so it's extremely hit or miss. however, I do often have to trek into the wilds of pinterest for mid to late 20th century stuff, since most of that isn't old enough to be in museum collections. the nice thing about pinterest is that it will sometimes link out to other sites that actually are reputable and have good info, but it's still worth treading with caution there lol

I hope this was helpful! ☺️💕 the vast majority of my images come from these sources, so I hope these are useful for you as well! ☺️☺️ additionally, if anyone has other places they like to search for historical fashion images, feel free to drop them in the comments/notes! 💖💖

thank you again for this lovely question, and I hope you're able to find some cool new sites to browse through some fun historical fashion! 🥰🥰

[smellslikebot]

"how do I keep my art from being scraped for AI from now on?"

if you post images online, there's no 100% guaranteed way to prevent this, and you can probably assume that there's no need to remove/edit existing content. you might contest this as a matter of data privacy and workers' rights, but you might also be looking for smaller, more immediate actions to take.

...so I made this list! I can't vouch for the effectiveness of all of these, but I wanted to compile as many options as possible so you can decide what's best for you.

Discouraging data scraping and "opting out"

robots.txt - This is a file placed in a website's home directory to "ask" web crawlers not to access certain parts of a site. If you have your own website, you can edit this yourself, or you can check which crawlers a site disallows by adding /robots.txt at the end of the URL. This article has instructions for blocking some bots that scrape data for AI.

HTML metadata - DeviantArt (i know) has proposed the "noai" and "noimageai" meta tags for opting images out of machine learning datasets, while Mojeek proposed "noml". To use all three, you'd put the following in your webpages' headers:

<meta name="robots" content="noai, noimageai, noml">

Have I Been Trained? - A tool by Spawning to search for images in the LAION-5B and LAION-400M datasets and opt your images and web domain out of future model training. Spawning claims that Stability AI and Hugging Face have agreed to respect these opt-outs. Try searching for usernames!

Kudurru - A tool by Spawning (currently a Wordpress plugin) in closed beta that purportedly blocks/redirects AI scrapers from your website. I don't know much about how this one works.

ai.txt - Similar to robots.txt. A new type of permissions file for AI training proposed by Spawning.

ArtShield Watermarker - Web-based tool to add Stable Diffusion's "invisible watermark" to images, which may cause an image to be recognized as AI-generated and excluded from data scraping and/or model training. Source available on GitHub. Doesn't seem to have updated/posted on social media since last year.

Image processing... things

these are popular now, but there seems to be some confusion regarding the goal of these tools; these aren't meant to "kill" AI art, and they won't affect existing models. they won't magically guarantee full protection, so you probably shouldn't loudly announce that you're using them to try to bait AI users into responding

Glaze - UChicago's tool to add "adversarial noise" to art to disrupt style mimicry. Devs recommend glazing pictures last. Runs on Windows and Mac (Nvidia GPU required)

WebGlaze - Free browser-based Glaze service for those who can't run Glaze locally. Request an invite by following their instructions.

Mist - Another adversarial noise tool, by Psyker Group. Runs on Windows and Linux (Nvidia GPU required) or on web with a Google Colab Notebook.

Nightshade - UChicago's tool to distort AI's recognition of features and "poison" datasets, with the goal of making it inconvenient to use images scraped without consent. The guide recommends that you do not disclose whether your art is nightshaded. Nightshade chooses a tag that's relevant to your image. You should use this word in the image's caption/alt text when you post the image online. This means the alt text will accurately describe what's in the image-- there is no reason to ever write false/mismatched alt text!!! Runs on Windows and Mac (Nvidia GPU required)

Sanative AI - Web-based "anti-AI watermark"-- maybe comparable to Glaze and Mist. I can't find much about this one except that they won a "Responsible AI Challenge" hosted by Mozilla last year.

Just Add A Regular Watermark - It doesn't take a lot of processing power to add a watermark, so why not? Try adding complexities like warping, changes in color/opacity, and blurring to make it more annoying for an AI (or human) to remove. You could even try testing your watermark against an AI watermark remover. (the privacy policy claims that they don't keep or otherwise use your images, but use your own judgment)

given that energy consumption was the focus of some AI art criticism, I'm not sure if the benefits of these GPU-intensive tools outweigh the cost, and I'd like to know more about that. in any case, I thought that people writing alt text/image descriptions more often would've been a neat side effect of Nightshade being used, so I hope to see more of that in the future, at least!

[vaspider]

Sorry about last time I asked a question like this I forgot to check your intro, but this time I did! I'm not sure if you answered this before but how do you recommend finding a jewish temple that supports and accepts trans (and other queer) people?

I'm not sure that I did answer this before, but I would recommend doing a careful reading of their website, looking for statements about their policies, and then if you have local Jewish Facebook groups, especially local queer Jewish FB groups (I know, but Facebook genuinely can be one of the best places to connect with people on a local basis before you have good in-person connections) I would ask there.

And then, like, when you go to visit the one that looks best to you, I'd wear some subtle (or not so subtle, idk your life) items that would make it clear that you're queer to people who know what to look for, and then see if you find any of us wandering around -- it's been my experience that we quickly find each other in pretty much any space, but especially Jewish spaces -- and ask them. If you don't see anybody or aren't sure about the answers you get, well.

Ask the rabbi. Be up front. Don't waste your time on a place that isn't going to make it possible for you to bring all of yourself to shul.

(That was my big realization about my old shul. I loved it for so many reasons, but I often felt like I was not able to bring my Whole Self to events there, because who I really was... was just too blue-collar/poor and too queer for an upper-middle-class Philadelphia suburban shul, you know? I needed to find a place where I could bring my entire, fully Jewish, fully queer self without apology or constraint. G-d made me who I am, & if people can't appreciate that, then, well. That's their loss.)

[ralfmaximus]

In late August and September, the Microsoft Threat Analysis Center observed two separate Russian groups pushing videos designed to discredit Vice President Kamala Harris in places like a fake San Francisco news website and on the social media platform X.  The phony videos claimed Harris was involved in a fabricated hit-and-run accident, depicted an attack by alleged Harris supporters on a purported Trump rally attendee and showed a fake New York City billboard making false claims about Harris’ policies.

Russian interference in the 2024 election is a real thing, and credible organizations are reporting specific psyops.

If you see something alarming about Harris/Walz, note the source... if it's x.com, facebook, or some local news site you've never seen before, try checking elsewhere for confirmation.

cnn.com and apnews.com are two such credible sites.

[magpiepills]

I saw your post about Breonna Taylor. If you don't mind I like to ask some questions about her. Most of what I know about her is from watching documentaries and YouTube videos talking about her. Do you know any websites or news articles that talks about her? How accurate are the documentaries about her? Especially ones like ABC 20/20?

Hi there! I have not personally watched any documentaries about Breonna Taylor’s murder. I can’t say how accurate they are. What I know about what transpired I learned from reputable local news reports-mainly the Louisville NPR affiliate, the Courier Journal, posts in private groups, as well as person to person reporting at protests and from live streams of the protests. I’m not an expert on this, I can’t posit myself as someone who is an authority on the matter. But I have followed it very closely because it incenses me that this crime has gone unpunished, that a victim has been dragged through the mud, her loved ones traumatized by killer cops. It’s unconscionable.

Here are a couple links that I feel are trustworthy. If after reading all this you are angry and feel powerless, please check to make sure you are registered to vote and then VOTE. Pick candidates who are committed to police reform. Take your friends. Tell them about Breonna.