#god my memory's awful hopefully i tagged most people who would want to know where i am

[flowerangels]

flowerclarkes -> flowerangels

url change!! I’m going to tag some people I interact with regularly below and I’ll probably reblog this a few times but yes I’ve moved URLs but its still bridget fear not

@cyrenid @bellarkes-hope @starrydilemma @aspeckof-stardust @vulcanblake @willowdeandickson @frecklessbellamy @clarkegriffintitties @sebsluckycoin

[idratherdreamofjune]

@sunheart wrote in her tags on another post:

Genuinely hate being alive ... I completely understand on so many levels why you would hate being a woman. Its horrible. And then as a Christian there's this whole really ugly dynamic- that i know is probably a lie i just haven't worked out how yet- that we're the 2nd best. The afterthought. The mediocre option. Almost everything in life men are better at and it's hard to believe it's just cultural-  math logic leadership writing cooking writing physical activities on and on, and women are good at being Nice :)   Which ok i like being nice   but it's like that's my only option   I feel like any other impact i might wish to have upon the world   will be paltry in comparison to what i could do   if only i was a man.   I feel incompetent. Irrational. Emotional. Obnoxious.   I feel like I'm supposed to be a plaything for the beings that were *actually* created to be in harmony with God   like I'm not supposed to have a connection with God-  only through my husband   which what does that make me as a single childless bitch?   I can't even fulfill the main point of my existence. Jesus interacted with women but did he care about them like he did the men? David and John were named his favorites not Deborah or Hannah. And like i said i'm sure none of that's true but i don't know how and it feels awful. hate it.

   Hopefully others have shared encouragement on this already, but just in case I wanted to give some thoughts. Please know that if I sound riled at all (and I’m going to try to avoid that) I’m not upset at anyone who feels this way but am deeply upset by the enemy’s lies that so many are hurt by. As a younger believer I did struggle with some of these questions myself, and for a long time it was difficult to reconcile these concerns with the promises that God loves me.

   Your instincts are right - it is a lie that women are second best. And before I go any further let me also agree that yes, we are physically weaker than men and have other weaknesses too. But since when has weakness meant that someone is any way “less than” others? Men have weaknesses too, just different ones. That’s the nature of humanity: every person is a mixed bag of strengths and weaknesses. I’ve never heard before that men are better at cooking?? My dad literally struggles to cook a hotdog in the microwave and has never touched a grill in his life. And okay men may (possibly, not sure on this one either) be inherently better at math, but which gender is drastically underrepresented in the nursing field? I suspect there are fewer male teachers, too, though not as huge a disparity. Men are more prone to recklessness and violence - part of the reason married men live longer (gotta get that stable influence). Again yes men are physically stronger but have you watched ballet dancers (oooh i mean ballerinas, sorry there’re so few ballerinos that I forgot to differentiate) or female gymnasts? Nothing “less than” there! The famous Proverbs 31 woman is a good insight into Biblical support of female abilities and value: “strength and dignity are her clothing”, “she opens her mouth with wisdom, and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue.” “Let her works praise her in the gates.” (The gates were essentially the city hall or forum of ancient Israel.)

   Going back to the beginning - women were created second, true. But did God not know His own plan? He was always going to create women. And the really amazing thing that I learned in the last couple of years is that, when God says He’s going to make Adam “a helper” (Hebrew ”ezer”), that’s the same word that is used to describe God’s actions for His people throughout the Old Testament: - Exodus 18:4 “The God of my father was my help.” - 1 Samuel 7:12 “Ebenezer” means “rock of help” and is a memorial of Yaweh’s help. - Psalm 30:10 “Hear, O Lord, and be merciful to me! O Lord, be my helper!” - Psalm 115:11 “You who fear the Lord, trust in the Lord, He is their help and their shield” - Psalm 121:2 “My help comes from the Lord” - Hosea 13:9 “‘You are against Me, against your helper.’“

It is a common word for “help” used in other settings, yes, but the fact that it’s used of God illustrates that this is no poor or second-rate role. Helping - aiding - supporting - incredibly important! In fact this article I just found puts it this way:

In two cases it refers to the first woman, Eve, in Genesis 2. Three times it refers to powerful nations Israel called on for help when besieged. In the sixteen remaining cases the word refers to God as our help. He is the one who comes alongside us in our helplessness. That's the meaning of ezer. Because God is not subordinate to his creatures, any idea that an ezer-helper is inferior is untenable. In his book Man and Woman: One in Christ, Philip Payne puts it this way: "The noun used here [ezer] throughout the Old Testament does not suggest 'helper' as in 'servant,' but help, savior, rescuer, protector.'

   Moving on to the New Testament, and the topic of John, who is known as “the disciple whom Jesus loved”. John is the one who wrote the book which tells us that (under the direction of the Holy Spirit, yes) and he only uses that wording as a title, in place of his name. Nowhere does it say he was the favorite disciple, or even most loved, just that he was loved. To me it seems more as if John is saying “Jesus loved me! Can you believe it?!” It has a feeling of awe and thankfulness as opposed to superiority.

  Getting into marriage specifically, I do believe that a wife should be under the headship of her husband ...mainly in the sense of letting him have the last word on decisions and plans. This is in part due to differing areas of strength, and in part because in some situations it’s better to have a family leader - most groups of humans need a leader, and following an assigned (or picked) leader does not make one inferior. All that being said, a wife should be able to provide input, advice, and feedback to her husband, who should take into strong consideration his wife’s needs, insights, and concerns (Ephesians 5:25-29).

   The lie that women cannot be connected to God outside of their husband is refuted not only by all the vibrantly faithful single or windowed Christian ladies of history (Amy Carmichael, Gladys Aylward, Mary Slessor, and Elisabeth Elliot are some of my favorites) but also Scripture itself. When Christ spoke with the divorced Samaritan woman the disciples were shocked not because she was a Samaritan but because she was a woman (John 4:27; she was shocked on both counts - John 4:9) - I hope they got used to it because Jesus spoke with women a lot. Despite the culture of the time, Jesus clearly had very warm and caring direct relationships with Martha and Mary, Mary Magdalene, and other women. Anna the Prophetess in the temple had been widowed for decades and was serving God alone “night and day” (Luke 2:37). Incredibly, in a culture where women were looked down upon, the Lord chose women to be the first to discover the empty tomb, and Mary Magdalene to be the first to see the risen Christ! I love that passage so much (John 20:11-18).

   Another example is when Jesus stopped on His way to heal Jairus’ daughter (i.e. He put aside a powerful man’s urgent request) to lovingly interact with the woman who’d suffered bleeding for years - a terribly personal and female problem (Mark 5:21-35).

   To try to wrap up, I’ll return to David in the OT, who was a “man after God’s own heart”. But again, it doesn’t say that he was actually a favorite - it does say David was chosen by God though, to lead Israel and establish the family from which Jesus would ultimately come. You know who else was chosen? Esther - “for such a time as this”. Once she realizes the task she must complete, she tells Mordecai how it’s going to go, and “Mordecai then went away and did everything Esther had ordered him.” Esther gets a book named after her and is remembered in the holiday of Purim to this day. Also note that Esther was married to an unbeliever. Likewise Ruth was chosen, as a young foreign widow, to be part of the Messiah’s kingly line. As an aside, my favorite thing about Ruth’s story (besides all the faith and beauty of it) is the simultaneous deep respect and protectiveness Boaz shows towards her (okay enough mush). Anyhow what it comes down to is that God chooses and loves both men and women, and both have a place (singly and married) in His plans and kingdom. See also Galatians 3:28 “ There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is no male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.”

   This post has all over the place, and I probably forgot a bunch of things I wanted to add (if anything else comes to mind I’ll add it later), but I hope it’s been encouraging. Yes I’ve struggled with some aspects of how women are portrayed in the Bible, but what I shared above, plus the love and blessings I’ve known as a single woman are more than enough evidence that we are known and loved. If anything is unclear or anyone has any questions please speak out/send an ask! Anon asks are on too. Also if anyone wants to add or amend anything do so without hesitation!!

[fbfh]

Light Up the Dark - Leo x reader [I]

genre: romance + action + enemies to lovers kinda

word count: 1.1k

au: none 

pairing: Leo x gothy!child of eros!fem reader

requested: nah

warnings: a relationship is crumbling, catcalling/flirting, mild swearing (if you count “pissed”), brief mentions of decapitation and anthrax (will update chapter by chapter)

summary: Calypso ditches Jason and Leo when they’re sent to pick up a powerful demigod. Turns out the hot goth girl Leo spilled coffee all over is who they need to bring back to camp 

listen to: hard times - paramore

a/n: They kind of have a Beck and Jade thing going on thanks netflix also don’t quote me on this but hopefully I’ll be able to upload this fic once a week <3

characters (specifically Leo and any other potential love interests) are aged up to 18+ since eros is the god of love and sex

"...Hypnos recently woke her up, so we must send an extraction team immediately." Chiron looked at Leo sitting across from him, "I've heard good things of the demigod tracking device you've been working on. Would you like a chance to try it out?

Leo grinned excitedly.

“When do we leave? 

Chiron smiled.

“When can you be ready?” 

A few minutes later, Leo was filling Jason in.

“Child of Eros, apparently; really strong. Hypnos forgot about her and only just woke her up today, so I’m gonna need a driver. What do you say, man? You up for a mini quest?”

“I’m going too,” came a familiar voice behind him, “I’ve been dying to get out! Where are we going?” Calypso stood behind him, holding the diverse magazines she’d been inhaling since they got back. Travel, gossip rags, home improvement… you name it, she probably had at least one issue. 

“Portland, Maine,” Leo replied, “maybe while we’re there we can do something fun…” he trailed off, knowing not to get his hopes up.

“Absolutely,” she said, starting to flip through a travel issue about New England, “I want to see all the sights. If it’s open, I’m doing it.” 

Leo bit back a joke he knew she would get mad about, and tried not to feel disappointed. All he wanted was a concrete answer. Does she want to be his girlfriend or not? It’s been this way since they got back to camp and he- you know what? Not the time. 

“Anyway, I knew you had to man the getaway vehicle since you’re such a ‘responsible driver’ and don’t ‘hit mailboxes' like 'some people’” he laughed, referencing what Chiron had said the last time he’d broken (and fixed!) one of the camp vans. Jason smiled and agreed, asking when they’d leave.  

“Uh, how does 20 minutes sound?”   

You wake up disoriented and angry. You cringe as you try to stretch your stiff muscles. You’re bleary eyed. You reach for your phone to find out what time it is. Dead. Of course. You stand up, and pull on the denim jacket tossed next to the mattress on the floor you’d just woken up from. You brush some dust off the words “babes against bullshit” on the back. How long were you out? You shake the thought away. What you need now is caffeine. You pick up your purse, the one with the white studs, and start walking to the coffee shop a few blocks away. 

“God,” you shiver as the chilly, Maine May wind hits you. You’re glad you brought the jacket. You quickly realize your outfit isn’t suitable for the weather at all. You tug at the black cropped tank top, and smooth out the wrinkles from your skirt, reattaching one of the few polaroid pictures pinned to it. Your shoes may be heels, but at least they're not flip flops or something. As you make your way toward the coffee shop, you realize you don't have a lot of memories. You try to grab something from your past, but nothing’s coming. You feel the familiar headache of frustration build up and decide to worry about that later. You catch your reflection in the glass door and don’t recognize yourself for a few seconds. You still don’t, but you figure this must be you since no one else is around. Your hair has grown out long and unmanaged, the bottom part a faded shade of the color you’d most recently dyed it. You figured it could be pulled off as dip dye for now, but something had to be done. Your cheeks and lips are rosy from the long sleep, and makeup is smudged around your eyes. You rub a little of it off, trying to give it a somewhat intentional shape. You get your eyebrows back in order - they weren’t too bad, thank god - and push open the door. 

‘At least all that sleep cleared up my skin,’ you figure, finally entering. It’s pretty much empty besides a few guys staring at you from near the front counter. 

“Hey baby, you like hockey players?” one of the guys calls. 

“Not your baby.” you snap. 

“How bout I buy you a drink and we can change that?” 

You finally pass their table, pick up his drink, and drop it into the trash.

“What the-”

“You wanted to buy a new one, right?” 

You walk up to the barista to place your order. She’s wearing a shell necklace and a lot of bronzer, her hair has highlights a little too light, and she’s already glaring at you. 

Hockey Creep is her boyfriend, you realize, so now she’s blaming me instead of dumping him. Fun. You place your order, give her your name, and sit far away from Hockey Creep. A few minutes later, you hear her call, “Goth girl at table seven, your drink is ready!” with a passive aggressive little smile. You sigh and walk up to the counter. She hands you a solid black drink. You look back up at her. “Does this look like a latte to you?”

“Oh, I figured you’d want your coffee cold, dark, and bitter to match the rest of you,” she scrunches her nose, thinking it’s endearing (it’s not) and you glance at her name tag.

“You know, I see where you get your name, Mads. If my boyfriend would rather be with any rando over me, I’d be pissed.” She hesitates, then starts to sputter an attempt at a comeback. You cock an eyebrow and stare at her, unwavering. She cracks, grabbing the drink and muttering that she’ll fix that right away. 

You keep staring.

A minute later, you’re presented with the correct order. Her voice wavers as she wishes you a good day, and come back soon. 

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you say decisively without looking back. You’re pretty sure you hear her squeak. You enjoy the brief moment of satisfaction as you make your way to the door. You catch your reflection again, and all your problems flood back. You sigh in irritation. If one more thing goes wrong today, someone is getting decapitated, and it sure isn’t going to be you. You push open the door. Before you can look up, someone barrels into you, spilling your coffee all over you. You draw in a breath, dragging your eyes up to see who had slammed into you. Latino, dark messy hair, red hoodie, staring at you in awe. He's cute or whatever, but you're way too furious to consider getting his number. You wait a second for him to say something, do something, but he just kept staring. 

"I WILL MAKE YOU SNORT ANTHRAX!" You yell. Still nothing. You crush the cup and shove it down his shirt and scream in frustration as you storm off. 

Seriously, could this day get any worse?  

[foryourimaginationonly]

Mission Impossible

“Good Morning, Y/N.”  

A face appeared over your morning coffee as you grunted a not so affectionate morning greeting back at your coworker.

“Long night?” He asked.

“Not long enough.” You sighed. “How does she expect me to get her an entire book written in 24 hours?”

Your coworker shrugged. “I don’t know, but she’s coming around the corner now so I'll catch you later.”

He hurried off to his desk on the other side of the room. Thankfully, your desk was far away from your managers which meant she wouldn’t speak to you first thing in the morning. Taking out your laptop, you stared at the three pages you had written last night.

A book on pirates? Was she mad? How were you supposed to get her a story line before noon with no idea what it should be. Fearing that it might copy a certain famous movie franchise, you spent hours the night before scouring the internet for any sign of hope. Finally realizing that you had to start somewhere, you wrote whatever came to mind. Three pages later, you hit a blank wall and decided to call it a night.

Now you were regretting every bit of it. After re-reading what you had written, you realized how awful it all sounded and hit the delete button as fast as your fingers could go.

“Y/N, hope that synopsis is coming along nicely.” Your manager called from the other side of the room.

You smiled at her as she walked into her office, feeling a slight bit of hatred for her.

The morning sun was shining through the window next to your desk and you thanked the high heavens for it. It had rained all last week and it really put a damper on your mood.

Hoping to get some inspiration from the sun, you turned your chair towards the window with your laptop in your lap and began to write what would hopefully be a top seller one day.

After about two hours of working, you decided to take a break, setting the computer back on your desk. A quick look outside made you freeze. Three black SUV’s had pulled up outside and there were men dressed in suits getting out.

“Shit shit shit.” You said as you quickly grabbed your laptop and bag.  

You raced to the elevators only to stop and think of a different pathway. The stairs? You were on the 10th floor. Could you make it down 10 flights of stairs in heels?  

Only you didn’t have long to debate as you watched the elevator go down to the first floor.

Stairs it was. You kicked off your shoes and quickly made your way to the stairwell, hoping to god they didn’t decide to also take the stairs as well.

About halfway down you heard what sounded like a stampede coming up the stairs, which ultimately made you turn right back around and go up.

“I am not going down without a fight.” you whispered under your breath.

Running back up to the 10th floor, you decided to try to blend in with the many people that came in and out of the office, hoping that the men in suits had already came up by now. You peeked out of the stairwell and saw them walking around the office. The elevators were clear of them and so you threw back on your heels and quickly joined a few people standing in line waiting.  

Avoiding eye contact was hard, but running straight into one of the men in suits as he got off the elevator was even harder.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t our little chameleon.” He said, grabbing your arm.

You rolled your eyes and struggled to pull your arm from him. “What do you want Haz?”  

He smiled. “It’s not what I want. It’s what the boss wants.”  

Now, you could feel all eyes on you. Your manager walked out of her office, complaining. You groaned as she spotted you and made a beeline for you and Haz.

“Y/N, what in the hell is going on here?” She asked rather loudly.

“Y/N here has been on the run since her last assignment and it took us years to track her to here. We are taking her back as she has unfinished business. Excuse us.” He said, pulling you closer to the elevators and pressing the button.

“Last I checked, I had finished my assignment and was free to do as I pleased.” You said, shrugging.

Haz looked at you. “Yes, you were free to do what you pleased. In the area in which we gave you. Not go off the charts and disappear. You are still under contract.”  

You huffed. “I just want to live a normal civilian life. Is that too much to ask for?”  

He pulled you onto the elevator with the rest of his men following suit.

“You want to live like this? And not work for the most prestigious agency in the world? Interesting.” He smiled.

It took three car changes, a three hour flight, and another four car changes to finally reach headquarters only 15 hours later. By the time your feet hit the ground, you felt the fatigue of traveling hit you hard.

“All those years of training and you can’t stand up straight. Pathetic.” Haz said.  

You turned and punched him hard in the stomach, making him double over.

“I might not be running errands for the big man, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been training like I have.” You said, walking away from him.  

It only took you a second to realize that you no longer had the access code for the base so you had to wait for Haz to finish his bitching and punch in the code.

After walking down the familiar corridors, you finally came face to face with the man you made you who you are.

“Hello, Father.”  

“My sweet Y/N. Five years and no phone call, no text. Not even a birthday card. I have to send Haz to come find you and bring you back to me. Why?” Your father was a tall man, with piercing eyes and hair that had started to gray. His skin was (Your skin tone) with scars from his many years of fighting.

“I don’t need your dog, nor do I need you. I never wanted this. I just wanted to live a normal life.” You said, frustrated. “I had all of that too. A nice apartment, a job I loved, a place I called home.”

He looked at you, un-moving. “But my sweet pea, this is your home. How would your mother feel about those words?”

You scoffed. “I wouldn’t know how she felt since she died when I was just a child. You forced me to be something I didn’t want to be. I finished my assignment all those years ago with the promise of a normal life.”

“Yes, a normal life. One of which was to be lived out here in the compound working with me to be my next in line.” He said, giving a slight sigh.

“You have a dog you can train for that. I do not want it. I’m sure he is more than eager to do so.” You looked at Haz who was not so happy about being called a dog.  

A heavy sigh emanated from your father, his head hung low and he shook it as if he didn’t know what to say.

“I have another mission that only you can complete.” He said.

Your shook your head defiantly. “No, I refuse to do any more missions. Haz has every skill that I learned. He can do it.”  

Your father shook his head again. “Unfortunately, this mission is technically an ongoing from your last.”

This made you freeze. “My last mission?”  

Memories came flooding back. There was so much bloodshed. So much betrayal. You didn’t know who to trust anymore or what was right or wrong.

“It can’t be.” You murmured. “I put a stop to it all.”

“Yes, so we thought.” Your father stood walking over to you. You had taken the chair in front of his desk, staring at the floor.

“We have satellite images of him entering the country a week ago.” Haz said. An image popped up on the side screen. “it's undeniably him.”  

You looked up, gasping. It couldn’t be true. You had watched him perish in the fire. You saw the explosion with your own eyes. He couldn’t have escaped it.  

Yet there he was. His dark brown shaggy hair. His big brown eyes. His foolish smile. A tear fell down your cheek.  

“Tom.”  

Part Two

A/N: OH MAN DOES IT FEEL GOOD TO BE BACK!  I am so happy to be writing again. Even if it’s for a bit. I had this story line in my head for the longest but I didn’t know how to write it. I chose Tom because I didn’t like where to Mob!Tom was going so I wrote him in as a bad guy, Or is he? Hope you guys really like this one. I have a long story line for this one. So hold onto your horses. :D

I AM ACCEPTING TAGS FOR THIS~~~~

[pinkykitten]

What if?

Hunger Games

Haymitch Abernathy x female! reader

Warning: curse words, haymitch kinda being a lil horn dog

Specifics: comedy, romance, angst, one-shot, prompts, pics, race neutral reader 

People: haymitch abernathy, president snow

Words: 1,427

Requested: By anon Hello, could you please write something about Haymitch x reader (Hunger Games) ? They're both former winners for their respective districts, longtime friends and they’ve feelings for each other but have never dared to confess anything to the other, with prompt #1: “how much did you drink?”, prompt #11: "you owe me a kiss." and prompt #21: "you’re not very intimidating." Thank you !

Prompts:

1 -  “how much did you drink?”

11 -  “you owe me a kiss.”

21 -  “you’re not very intimidating.”

Authors Note: ooooooooh i love how this one turned out! usually i hate my crappy writing but idk maybe i was overly inspired and i feel this came out actually pretty good imnotgonnalie!!! anywho i feel tho that this love story aint that rlly finished...i might IF YA GIRL GOT TIME i might write a second part to this idk i just IDK I REALLY FRICKIN LOVE THIS!!! i hope u guys do and thnx anon for request and if u guys ever want me to tag u...u know where to find me

You gathered your things, checking your attire as you stepped in front of a mirror. 

“I hate these things,” you muttered to yourself as you added the finishing touches to your makeup. You were on your way to a gathering, a party, where it was for the new tributes to the Hunger Games. 

Did you want to be there? No.

Did you have to be there? Yes.

You were a fierce mentor for your district. You had to show up, it was needed for the place you were in. People had to see that your district was trying. 

As you went over there you saw the invitation. Written in beautiful writing but smelling of a terrible, pungent odor you recognized it as President Snow’s scent. 

“Awful smell,” you covered your nose, throwing your invitation in your purse you stared longingly at the window. This will be another time where you would have to be face to face with Haymitch. You two started off as rivals but then eventually turned into longtime good friends. A point in time when you were maturing you two fell out of communication until recently you and Haymitch got back together as if there were never a space between you two. As if there never was a time when you two didn't see each other, it was like old times. Upon seeing him again however sparked something within that didn’t spark when you used to see him when you were younger. He age like fine wine. Becoming more gruff and tough than his youthful days, always leaning towards alcohol. 

Why did you have to see him again? You were fine all those years but now you yearned for something stronger. You yearned to see him daily, to express your feelings to him finally, you just wanted him to know the truth before it was too late. You were for once in your life terrified. You’ve been through the Hunger games, yet love scared you more than death. 

You arrived and stepped into the building. There were some old faces and some new but most of the people there were all fake. They wore a mask, a facade to agree with the Capital. You were not about that lifestyle. You believed everyone was entitled to their own opinion, they deserved a voice, a say. 

You were alone admiring the decor, noticing a few things here and there, like the way the glitter sparkled when the light hit it, or how the light blonde hair flew by like a feather against the bedazzled, sparkly background. 

“Wait blonde hair?”

As you looked to see who it was the person knocked into you almost sending you flying back into the bar but you caught the other and yourself just in time. “Hey what the he*l?”

“Don’t use that tone with me...young....lady,” Haymitch sorta slurred as he stood up straight, holding the glass cup to his lips. He was about to take a swig of his drink but he paused and squinted at you. “My you’re beautiful...who are you again?” 

You rolled your eyes. Of course Haymitch was drunk, when was he never. You placed your hands on your hip, you were almost like a parent to him sometimes. However, the feelings that rested within you did not leave or escape instead they made a home in your heart, rooting its way within your very veins. This was going to be impossible. 

“Hello to you to Haymitch. I’m your worst nightmare.” 

“Nooooooooooo,” Haymitch patted his lips with his finger as if thinking, “thats not it. You’re someone special, god I feel like I know you.”

“Are you serious Haymitch? Thats because you do know me! I’m y/n l/n! Remember?”

Haymitch was calm for a few seconds but then his eyes widened and a smile took onto his face. “See now I remember you, just took me a few minutes but I still got it. When you were younger you used to make me pins to wear every time we met, got any for me this time?”

You chuckled, unbelieving to you that he still thought about those minuscule gifts that you gave him so many years ago. “No not this time.”

Haymitch tried walking forward but he almost fell onto a group of people. He was swaying back and forth. “These parties are a pain in the as*.

“Tell me about it.”

Haymitch cackled as he tried taking another drink from his alcohol. You grabbed onto his arm to stop him. “Let go of me y/n.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“NO!”

“YES!”

“NO! Give me that,” you took the cup away from him and he tried grabbing it from you but you chugged the rest down. 

Haymitch glared at you,  “you b*tch.”

“B.I.T.C.H Beautiful Intelligent Talented Charming and Hot yeah i know. Now lets go get you sitting down so you don’t hurt yourself.” You guided Haymitch into a quiet room as you tried sitting him down. He moved out of the way and instead started to dance a little. His eyebrows wiggled as he bit his lip, “is this where you have fun with me and we moan so loud the rest of the bastar*s can hear us?”

“How much did you drink?”

“Enough to make me even forget why I’m here.”

“I can see that, wow.” You sat on the edge of the bed and Haymitch plopped himself beside you. You smiled up at him. His face made you reminisce, made you think about memories. Back then he was such an important person in your life. 

“Do you ever wish you could go back in time? Go back to when we were wild teenagers?”

You shrugged, “sometimes I do and then sometimes I don’t. My life is full of responsibilities now and so is yours. We are mentors now, its our job and duty to make sure these kids succeed.”

“You always were the serious type,” he scoffed.

“I was always the calm and reliable one, while you were off lying down with every girl and drinking every drink.”

Haymitch smiled as he thought about the past, “do you remember that one time me and you went to the lake and swam all night? The water was just perfect and the moon was so god dam* big I thought it was about to fall on us. Do you remember when our bodies met and touched? All wet, your lips perfect, our hearts beating fast as we got closer and closer to each other almost meeting. We almost but then...you stopped. You owe me a kiss.”

Trying to get his words out of your mind you pushed him back so he could lay down. “I think you are way too drunk.” You were bashful. 

Haymitch caught your arm and stared directly into your orbs, the windows to your soul. “Y/n, why did you stop?”

You clenched your hands into fists as you fought to stay in eye contact. “I was scared. We were young and I didn’t know if I would ever see you again. Then we just drifted apart. We’re grown up. Its time to forget about the past.”

Haymitch sat up so his forehead rested against yours, “how can I forget about the past when you were there? How can I not look forward to the future when you are here in the present?”

His collar shriveled up as you gripped onto it with all your might. “Haymitch you’re making this too difficult for me.” You inched closer and closer, wanting his lips. Wanting to finally connect. 

“Then how about I make it easy for you and shut you up already.” He crept closer and closer until you rested your head against his shoulder, “I should probably go.”

Haymitch heaved a heavy sigh. He thought he was finally getting to you. He thought the pain of not being together was over. All he wanted was you and that kiss. 

“It was nice seeing you Haymitch, hopefully we can stay in touch. Now you stay here for a while, get better.” You grabbed all your things and were about to leave the room when Haymitch says, “next time. Next time, I’ll get ya. Just you watch. I’ll make sure I’ll kiss you and I know for a fact you will end up kissing me.”

You raised your brow, “You’re not very intimidating.”

“I’m not?” 

You opened the door and taking a final glance of your past and present lover you thought of the what if. What if you did kiss? What would have happened?

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[rufousnmacska]

Hi can I request for another modern manorian fic?

This is unforgivably late so I apologize anon! There is more to come, hopefully in the next week.

Museum Day

Part 1

Dorian cringed and covered his ears as shrieking kids ran up the steps to the museum. They moved by him like water flowing around a rock and he wondered again why he’d agreed to be a field trip chaperone.

When he caught sight of his little brother laughing with his friends, his doubts vanished.

Hollin was still struggling with their father’s death. And with their newly arrived uncle who’d stepped in to take over as CEO. Having grown the family business to a sprawling, multi-national company, their father had become a greedy bastard. Dorian supposed it was necessary to reach that level of success. Still, the man had treated his sons relatively well. If withholding affection and attention was treating your children well.

Uncle Perrington made Dorian Sr. look like father of the year material. Hollin was certainly no angel, but no kid deserved the verbal lashings Perrington dealt out.

Dorian had one more semester of school and then he’d take Hollin and leave. In the meantime, chaperoning his brother’s class trip to the museum was the least he could do.

A teacher started to form the kids into groups and Dorian peered through the revolving door to the main entrance. The building housed both a natural history museum and an art museum. As a fifth-year architecture student, he’d spent some time in the art wings, but had never ventured into the other side. All those bones and stuffed animals never appealed to him. The kids’ excitement was infectious though, and he found himself eager to get started.

Once within the towering entry hall, Dorian took his group aside to wait for a tour guide and then buried his head in a map of the building. When Hollin and his friends became suddenly and uncharacteristically quiet, he looked up to see what had caused it.

His eyes met those of the guide, and as one, their jaws dropped in awkward recognition.

*****

“Why can’t I buy you a beer?”

The dark-haired princeling seemed to have a problem with her getting her own drink. Even if Manon hadn’t known he was a Havilliard – probably a lesser known cousin or something – his clothes pegged him for a rich boy. Gray pants and a blazer - who the hell wore a blazer to go out on a Saturday night? - and short curls that looked too messy to be anything but carefully arranged. Some spoiled brat out with his friend, looking for cheap booze and easy hook-ups in the bad part of town.

She glanced over to where Asterin was holding his friend against the wall, kissing him while his hands groped her ass. With an annoyed sigh, she had to admit their plan seemed to be going well for one of them. Turning back, she found he’d moved his bar stool an inch or two closer to her.

People hitting on her was common, and something she usually dismissed with a look that was scary enough to send them running. Being hit on here though… It didn’t happen. Ever. Most of the bar’s customers were family or people she’d known half of her life, making them family all the same. That was probably why Asterin had practically launched herself at that guy. He was fresh blood.

Just like the princeling, Manon caught herself thinking.

The moment the two had walked in, his blue eyes were locked on her. Manon had turned away, not interested. But a little later she’d turned to see him smiling at some joke his friend had made. Which lead to her getting caught staring. Which lead to Asterin abandoning her for the tall blonde and opening the door for this discussion over who was buying the drinks.

“Because I said so.” His grin widened at the growl in her voice and Manon had to look away before she got thoroughly trapped in it. “Besides,” she returned the grin, adding a knife sharp edge all her own. “I’m not drinking tonight.” She surprised herself by almost telling him she had to work early the next day. But he didn’t need to know that.

“As it happens”, he said, reaching back to get his glass of soda, “neither am I. So let me amend my offer.” He made a show of looking her up and down. But not in a creepy way. It was thoughtful and a little exaggerated and she had to bite back a smile. “You look like a Shirley Temple kind of girl…”

“Oh my god,” Manon groaned, unable to keep from laughing. And before she could stop him, he was ordering one for her.

*****

It was her. The white-haired witch from that bar he’d never been able to find again.

Chaol had called her a witch after hearing about that night. How else to explain Dorian’s obsession to find her. Or Gavriel never shutting up about the blonde he’d hooked up with.

“You’re both idiots,” Chaol had said. Only to be smacked on the arm by his girlfriend.

“They’re bewitched,” Yrene said. “Not idiots. I think it’s romantic!”

Chaol just shook his head. “So those women were witches. That doesn’t mean these two,” he pointed at his roommates, “aren’t idiots.”

Dorian had tried to retrace their steps. He remembered the parking garage they’d parked in, but from there, he’d had no luck. Gavriel, too drunk that night to recall getting there, was useless in the search. But he helped, being just as eager as Dorian to find it and the blonde again.

And now, here she was. About to lead him and a bunch of kids on a tour of the museum.

“Manon.” When he looked up from her name tag and found her still staring at him, eyes blazing gold, he allowed himself one self-satisfied smirk. She’d insisted on no names that night. “I’m Dorian,” he said, enjoying the sight of her reddening cheeks. But then her eyes flashed wide for a second in understanding and he wished no one had ever heard of his family.

“Can we see the T-Rex or are we just gonna stare at each other all day?” one of the students yelled, causing the group to break out into laughs and a cheer of agreement.

Smoothing out her oversized museum shirt, Manon cleared her throat and began calling out rules for the tour. Dorian listened dutifully, trying to ignore the memories of that night playing through his mind.

*****

Alcohol would be the perfect excuse. But unfortunately, there was no excuse for the dancing. Manon was not someone who danced. Especially here, in her father’s bar.

Well, that wasn’t exactly true. When they were teenagers, she and her gang of cousins and friends would sing and dance to whatever cheesy 80’s songs were still working on the old jukebox in the corner. But that wasn’t really dancing.

She’d never slow danced with someone before.

After an hour or two of flirting and laughing, and another god awful Shirley Temple, the princeling had convinced her to dance with him. What was she supposed to do when Asterin changed the song midway through? She couldn’t just walk away when the music slowed. That would be rude.

So here she was, dancing in the arms of a Havilliard while another slow song began, trying not to think about how good he smelled. Or felt. Or might taste.

Asterin and her blonde were dancing too, but not seriously. They were swirling each other around, paying no attention to the music. She always admired that ability of Asterin’s to just not give a fuck and have fun.

They’d both had a similarly shitty upbringing, so Manon often wondered why she was incapable of letting go like that. Then she’d remember how much more Asterin had suffered, remembered that it was as much a defense mechanism as anything. She of course had her own defenses as a result of growing up with their grandmother. Once they’d escaped, and she’d found her father, Manon had thought she’d let those walls down a bit.

Having her first slow dance at the age of 26 might be a sign that she hadn’t.

When the song ended, she looked up into gemstone eyes and decided she wanted to have some fun of her own.

“You want to get out of here?”

 *****

This was a nightmare. Truly awful. She didn’t know how her day could get any worse. This was why she never did anything fun. This was how her luck worked. Of course the one guy she has anonymous sex with would show up at work for a goddamn tour with a bunch of kids.

And, I’m wearing the ugliest damn clothes I own, she thought miserably, leading the group up to the second floor.

The kids seemed to be enjoying themselves at least.

Manon was not overly fond of children. Usually they were fine. But more often than not, they had a way of seeing right through you and blurting out whatever secret they’d uncovered. Leading school groups was a price she was willing to pay for the experience and connections she was gaining at the museum. And she’d learned that if she kept talking, kept asking questions, kept them entertained… The next thing she knew, it was over.

This group was doing well, answering her questions, asking a lot of their own. It would have been perfect. If not for the princeling - basically a true prince she knew now - whose eyes followed her everywhere and saw every blush that crossed her cheeks and every glance she stole in his direction.

Directing them all into a room, she ignored Dorian as he passed her. After everyone was inside she began to talk about the displays of rocks and minerals lining the dark walls. This exhibit was one of her favorites because of the reactions it got. With the T-rex and triceratops skeletons just downstairs, people gasping at a bunch of rocks was always a highlight of giving a tour. The second she flipped off the main lights and hit a switch to activate the UV lights, the kids oohed and aahed at the brilliant reds and greens and blues of the fluorescent minerals. The UV moved from rock to rock, spotlighting each one in turn. Manon was supposed to name them as they were featured, but she usually didn’t, letting them just enjoy the show.

It was mostly dark, so she risked a glance towards Dorian. He was standing with a boy she assumed was his brother, even though they looked nothing alike. The smile he wore was reminiscent of the one that had ensnared her that night. A smile that seemed to come so easily, so often. A smile she didn’t think herself capable of. When he turned in her direction, she brought the lights back up and lead them to the next exhibit.

*****

Being Gavriel’s designated driver was never fun. It didn’t happen often since he rarely drank. But that was the problem. He was a lightweight when it came to alcohol, and a heavyweight when it came to lugging his ass home. Chaol had once thrown out his back trying to help the guy up the stairs to their apartment.

So when they’d started the night with Chaol bowing out, and Gavriel needing to unwind from exams, Dorian was expecting an evening of babysitting and boredom. Even Gavriel’s insistence that they find bars in sections of the city they’d never been to before wasn’t enough to rouse his interest.

Until they’d found this place. Until he’d seen her. Standing at the bar in jeans and a sweater, her silvery white hair falling down her back in a messy braid. Blood red lips and black nails. The exact opposite of what most women he knew wore on a night out. And she was the most gorgeous woman he’d ever laid eyes on. The thought had made him laugh. It was such a cliche. But even cliches could be true sometimes.

And now she was pulling him out a back door and down an alley.

Dorian was stone cold sober. So why did he feel like he was floating? Why was his brain buzzing and his heart pounding? She glanced back at him and smiled as she led him onto another street.

Oh, he thought, grinning back. That’s why.

There was nothing in his system except her.

They stopped at a door and before he could try to figure out where they were, she had it unlocked and pulled him inside. And before he could say anything, she was kissing him.

It took every ounce of self control he possessed, but he needed to ask. So breaking apart from the softest lips he’d ever kissed, he said, “Wait. What’s your name?“

With a smirk that set him on fire, she said, “No names. Just fun.” Then, more seriously, she asked, “Do you have a condom?”

He pulled a couple out of his pocket to show her and she rolled her eyes, still smiling. But then he hesitated. As much as he wanted to know her name, Dorian realized that if she told him, he’d have to give his. He could lie, but he didn’t want to do that with her. And if this one night was all she was willing to give him, he’d take it. On her terms.

“I’m at your command,” he said, losing his breath at the heat that overtook her at his words.

“I’ll try to be gentle,” she teased as she took his lower lip between her teeth. Dorian groaned and lifted her up so she could wrap her legs around his waist. “Down the hall. First door on the left,” she said, sounding out of breath too.

As he carried her to the bedroom, Dorian uttered a brief, silent thank you to Gavriel for dragging him out tonight.

*****

“Have dinner with me?”

Manon’s eyes slid over to him as the kids ran off into the gift shop, where the tours always ended. They were left alone. No distractions, no excuses.

Dorian knew he was probably crossing a line. He’d done his best to pay attention as she’d led them through the various halls and galleries, but there were a few times when she’d caught him watching her and not the exhibits. She’d been flustered once or twice by him though. Which was why he decided to throw his luck to the wind and just ask.

“What was your favorite exhibit?” she asked, watching the kids as the other groups from their school joined them.

“Excuse me?” That was not the answer he’d been expecting.

“Was there a certain dinosaur you liked? Or one of the dioramas? Maybe something in the Hall of Minerals?” Manon finally turned to look at him, her face expressionless. “What was your favorite part?” She repeated the question a little more slowly, enunciating each word.

He hesitated, sensing a trap. The answer forming on the tip of his tongue - You, of course - would undoubtedly spring it and send him limping home with his pride in ruins.

“Uh…” He fumbled through his brain for something, anything, as he realized he’d been silent for too long. “The dinosaurs. I liked the giant winged ones.” It wasn’t a lie, they were his favorites. And not just because her voice seemed to grow more excited while talking about them. For some reason, they seemed more unbelievable than the other fossil skeletons, more fantastical and amazing. But under the pressure of her piercing stare, there was no way he’d remember any of their names.

Giving nothing away to signify if he’d given a good reply, she simply asked, “The raptors?”

Dorian tried not to sound relieved. “Yeah, the raptors. They were cool. Frightening as hell, but cool.” Manon made a disappointed sigh and he knew instantly that he’d fucked up.

“Raptors are birds of prey. Or small carnivorous dinosaurs. Like Jurassic Park.” She curved a finger that sported an exceptionally sharp nail. “The giant flying ones are pterosaurs. Which are reptiles. If you’d been paying attention, maybe you would have known that.” Stepping closer to him, her voice soft and lethal, she said, “Perhaps if you could answer my question properly, my answer wouldn’t be no.”

Before he could say anything to defend himself, Hollin rushed over and grabbed his hand. As his brother pulled him towards baskets of fake fossils for sale, Dorian glanced back at Manon. She was basking in the satisfaction of tricking him. But there was something else there besides the smooth as cream smile. Her eyes were blazing with a challenge.

He was pulled away again and when he looked back, she was gone. As Hollin picked out his souvenirs, Dorian decided the two of them should start coming to the museum more often. His brother enjoyed it, and there was the extra benefit of getting Hollin out of their toxic home. And he clearly needed to bone upon his dinosaur names.

To be continued…

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@itach-i @nestasbucket @manontrashbeak @bookishwitchling @jimetg98 @mis-lil-red @chloe123love607 @sierrareads @yourfacesickens-me @awesomelena555 @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @blackhavilliard

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[alegacyofmikalsons]

The Act of Living Chp.1: Back in the Crescent City

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! I’ve been lurking on my main Tumblr @adrianadmirer in the Originals and Legacies tags for several months now since I got into these shows (I finally got Netflix and was able to watch) and I’ve been working on this story for a while as well. I’ve had a version of this first chapter on Wattpad for months and now it’s finally at a place where I’m happy with it enough to share on here as well. Please feel free to leave comments, I want to know what you think as the story progresses and if there are things I can improve on. This is my first time writing for anything TVD/Originals/Legacies and I'm relatively new to these shows so, any feedback will be much appreciated!

Rating: PG-13

Series summary: Klaus and Elijah were supposed to die, but fate in the form of new friends Serafina Hewitt and her sister Stevie intervened. A year later Stevie is dead and Sera returns to New Orleans to see her friends and investigate her suspicions about what happened. When it's confirmed that a powerful hunter group is responsible, she realizes a much bigger threat is coming, one that threatens all of New Orleans. As they race to stop it, she gets more than she bargained for, finding the truth about who she is and a growing attachment towards a certain Mikalson.  Most importantly, they all get answers to the biggest riddle of all: what the act of living really means.

Visiting New Orleans should be a good thing, the place I'm from and still consider home despite having to leave it at sixteen. It's a lively place with the warmest people where even death is celebrated with a party. But currently, it reminds me of everything I've lost. Walking through the familiar streets, I find myself consumed with guilt and sorrow from the latest person to be taken from me. 

My sister. Not by blood since our parents chose to adopt me five years before Stevie was born. But, that little detail didn't matter. It still feels lonely, a part of me gone forever.

The moment I found out, only several hours ago replays in my mind for the hundredth time.

"You need to come down here," Rebekah Mikalson exclaimed.

Stevie and I met her and the rest of her family a few years ago when I helped my sister move back there and we slowly became closer friends through the handful of trips I've made since including the last one barely a year ago where a vision of mine and my blood kept them together.

The hoarseness in her tone and the faint sniffling grabbed my attention, a cold shiver running down my spine. 

This was no ordinary phone call among long-distance friends. 

"Why? Is something wrong?"

There was a moment of silence as she struggled to compose herself. "It's Stevie. She's...she's..."

The mention of my sister sent my heart thumping hard against my chest. No, I thought. It couldn't be. As painful silence ticked by, I became irritated from impatience as a sinking, awful sensation of dread swirled inside my gut. 

"Rebekah, just say it." 

Even though I had a feeling of what was coming, I had to hear it out loud. 

"She's dead Sera!"

There they were. I had braced for them yet, they still took the air out of my lungs. 

"What?" 

"She was killed last night outside of a bar just outside the Quarter. I just found out myself."

The truth finally hit fully, shattering the numbed shock. 

Gasping, my knees gave out and I sank to the floor, letting a mix between a scream and a wail. My worst fears had come true. I thought that she'd be safe here, away from me and all the dangers and problems I carried just for merely existing. This was New Orleans, home of everything that goes bump in the night or is out of the realm of normal humanity. But, it didn't matter. The people close to me always left, one way or another. 

As the sobs subsided, I shook my head, staring out at the drizzle that constituted a typical Oregon morning. I already had a good idea of who might be responsible. The same people who took the rest of my tiny, adopted family from me. All because I had a stubborn ability to survive what others couldn't. But, I needed details to be sure. To see if they left anything behind. If my suspicions were correct, they definitely would. 

Putting the phone on speaker, I set it down on the floor next to me. "What happened? Do you know?"

"Not really," she replied. "Her body was discovered a few hours ago, just as the sun was coming up. There's some bruising from a struggle of some kind and then a f-fatal cut across her throat. They're saying it was probably a random incident but..."

"You don't think so." 

My heart lept into my throat. The description matched those of other victims I had seen both in person and in newspaper descriptions. 

"No. You know as well as I do she...she would've been able to defend herself it was. No one will believe me though, not even my siblings. They all think I'm being unrealistic, and I can't blame them."

As she continued to rant about how her brothers never took her seriously I leaned my head against the kitchen cabinet and drowned her out. I already knew they didn't. Rebekah was known for thinking with her heart and not her head. But, she was just as smart and calculating as her more well-known siblings. Something they often forgot until it came out abruptly. 

"The only thing that looks weird is this...symbol." The statement brought my attention back, picking it up with my sensitive hearing. "On the side of her neck. Maybe you know what it is?"

My breath caught. A symbol was the exact thing I was searching for. 

"Describe it to me."

"It's some circle with a...lion in the middle. And some language that I can't make out. Greek I think. Why?"

It matched the symbol of the group I had in mind perfectly. It couldn't be a coincidence. Their explicit threats against her--verbal and written, the way she was killed. They had to be responsible. And if they were in New Orleans, I doubted they would be leaving anytime soon. It was too big of a target to pass up--the biggest place they've appeared so far. If the results were anything like they've committed here, hundreds would be dead. Supernatural and regular human alike. 

"Because, it tells me exactly who killed her," I murmured.

After a moment of deliberation, I sprang to life again and rushed over to where my laptop was sitting. Suddenly, New Orleans was the place I wanted, no needed to be. I missed my old home and seeing the dysfunctional family I called friends in person. But, it was more than that. I felt a sense of obligation to protect the city. And I couldn't quite do that from a phone call or video chat. 

"Listen, I'll be on the earliest flight out I can manage," I told her, my fingers dancing on the keys. Finding one that worked, though it was a bit pricey, I became resolved in my decision to leave. Just like last time, everything screamed that this was worth it."

I heard her gasp. "You're coming here? I thought you were busy"

"I am." It was an exhaled response. "But, suddenly I have new priorities. You guys have been wanting me to visit for a while anyway. Make sure no one touches a thing on her body or tries to move it until I've had a look. I don't care what you or your siblings have to do."

"Does that mean you think I'm right?"

"Yeah, Rebekah, I do. I'll be there by late afternoon, hopefully, earlier than that." 

After an hour's drive to Portland, a cross country flight and renting an expensive taxi into the city, I've finally made it with still plenty of the day left.  Pulling out my phone, I look at the address Rebekah sent and sigh.

At least I have one thing to distract me. I briefly close my eyes and memories swirl in from the people on the street, too many for my mind to focus on one for long. Some are happy, others not so much. All contain the private thoughts and feelings I have no business experiencing. But, I can't control it, much like the other abilities I inherited from faceless people. The only thing I know about what I am comes from my blood. Closer to black than red. Able to sustain me yet kill everything else.

Demon. 

I don't know what type or how saturated it is or even what side it’s from. There are too many in the books I've read to narrow it down to one and I’ve never met my birth parents. I only know what powers it gives me and that it comes with a lot of destruction, both internal and external.

I also know that my visions--both of the past and the future--aren't normal for any kind of demon. This and other strange powers I’ve discovered mean the blood of something else flows in my veins as well. But, it's been nearly thirty years and I've yet to figure out what.

Blinking open, I resume my steps and shake my head, putting away everything I've seen. I can't forget it, or any information really but, I have ways to pretend and set them aside.

Soon, the bar I'm looking for, Rousseau's, is in front of me and I pause. I know seeing Stevie's body is going to be hard but, if I don't manage my emotions, it won't be pretty. This usually helps.

After a minute, I step around the brick building, finding Rebekah with her platinum blonde hair crouched over a covered white sheet. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I close the gap between us until she looks up. 

"You're here," she whispers, springing up to engulf me in a hug. "Thank god."

She squeezes me so tight that I struggle to catch my breath, coughing out a short reply. "I've missed you too."

Letting me go, she stands there silently, with a slightly apologetic look before her gaze drifts to the concealed figure next to us. My sister. The crying has stopped for now, but the tears are still fresh. The redness around her eyes and frown point to how she's really feeling which is anything but fine. 

I look around and quickly realize that we're alone. I expected to see at least one of her siblings with her.

"Where are...?" I ask.

"It's just me. Klaus left soon after I got here. He did chase everyone off, just like you asked."

I can't help the snicker that comes up. "I don't need to know the details about how that went."

"Actually, there was no actual blood spilled this time, just the threat of it," she comments.

I don't particularly care or judge him for his impulsive acts of violence since I've succumbed to it countless times. But, it's not the healthiest form of anger management or dealing with emotions so, I'm glad about this small piece of info. 

"So he is taking my advice then," I tell her.

She nods after a minute. "Sometimes. I doubt he could ever stop completely." Then, her smile falters, and she clears her throat. "Anyway, Elijah's been home figuring out arrangements. It looks like we’ll be able to have the funeral tonight. That is unless you want to take her back to Mirebrook. He wanted to make sure you had the final say."

I haven't even thought about that. Most of my family's ancestors are entombed here, including our grandparents. My parents are the only exception, instead of being buried in the little cemetery in Mirebrook. But, I've been planning on moving them down here too eventually. Even from the start, they promised me our move wasn't going to be permanent. New Orleans is where we truly belong. That's why Stevie decided to return when she was old enough. So, while I appreciate having the choice, it only takes a minute standing here to decide.

"No, this is fine. She's a Hewitt...not just in name like me but by blood. She belongs here."

She nods once more as we continue to stand there silently for a moment. We both know what I came here for. Answers. I need to be sure but at the same time, neither of us wants to see her like this. 

Eventually, I gesture to my sister on the ground, mustering up enough emotional strength. "Can I?"

She blankly looks at me before blinking with a start. "Oh...um, of course. Sorry, I'm a bit out of it right now."

I know exactly how she feels. She bends down once more and delicately grabs ahold of the white tarp before meeting my gaze. At my nod, she pulls it back to reveal Stevie's lifeless stare. It's a punch to the gut seeing her skin already a pale gray from decay and a gasp catches in my throat. 

"Stevie..." Reaching down, I touch her ever so slightly, the coldness another shock to the system. 

I bite down on my lip hard as I feel the energy within me stir and a sudden breeze tickles the back is my neck from it. Sometimes it gets agitated when my emotions run high. I hesitate and wait for everything inside to calm. 

Breathe deeply. Quiet. I'll be fine. 

The mantra is one I've memorized from when my mother's soft voice repeated it as a little kid to stop my destructive blowups. After a few minutes, I'm comfortable enough to continue. I have to know if they're responsible.  

I turn to Rebekah. "Where did you...see the symbol?"

Swallowing, she mumbles, "Right side of her neck. By her ear."

Brushing her hair back I quickly find it. A circular symbol in black ink stands out against her fair complexion, the lion's face and handwriting staring up at me. Everything seems to stop as a chill of fear and extreme anguish runs up my spine. 

"No." 

"Sera?" Rebekah asks, noticing my reaction.

I ignore her as angry tears slip down my cheeks. 

Nemean found her. In the one place I didn't want them to touch. And I know them well enough to realize they aren't leaving anytime soon. The city is a perfect location for the attacks that terrorized Mirebrook every couple of years.

"I'm sorry Stevie. This is all my fault."

They went out of their way to hunt her, just like our parents and my friends. Because they chose to raise and love me. Suddenly, the power arouses inside once more and the wind picks up around us. I'm too volatile, if I stick around, no amount of controlled breathing will matter. I grab the tarp from Rebekah and quickly covered my sister once more. 

"Sera, what's wrong?"

Standing, I simply shake my head, unable to get any words out as I fold my arms around my heaving chest. I spin around and hurry out of the alleyway. Stopping a few feet away, I close my eyes and take more deep breaths until I steady myself.

"Sera, what the hell?" Rebekah exclaims and I open my eyes to see her frowning at me.

Seeing her concerned expression, I sigh. "Sorry I just needed to get out of there."

"Does that mean you know what that symbol is?" Her brows furrow in confusion.

"You don't?" My pitch rises a couple octaves. 

Surely they would've heard of such a notorious group of hunters by now. 

But, she shakes her head adamantly. "No, I've never seen it before in my life. I did take a picture of it though. Why?"

"Because,” I reply. “It belongs to her killers. The Nemean brotherhood." 

Her eyebrows lift off her forehead. "So this was on purpose then."

"Yes, by hunters called the Nemean Brotherhood. I don't think they’re done either. In fact, I imagine they've just gotten started."

"You think something else will happen," she murmurs catching on immediately. "What exactly? More hunts?"

I hesitate, folding my arms tightly. Knowing that they could be here, maybe even watching me I can't help feeling a bit paranoid.

"Yes and no," I finally tell her. "They don't just hunt Rebekah. They massacre.” 

This only makes her more confused. “What does that even mean?” 

Sighing, I finally confess what I’ve been suspecting since the phone call this morning. “Everyone in the quarter is in danger. Maybe even the entire city."

....

[sign-from-god-complex]

why not both!!! and superheroes! cause why not!! (also this is not a drabble length, but hopefully that’s alright, hahah)

warnings: minor character death (in the recent past) and minor injuries (if I missed anything let me know!)

tag list (since this is longer): @mutechild @super-magical-wizard

Roman landed haphazardly on the concrete outside their house, stumbling his way into the living room. His vision was blurry with tears but he could vaguely make out the shapes of his roommates getting off the couch and hurrying towards him, watching him as he collapsed to the ground against the nearest wall.

“Roman?” Logan asked, worry colouring his tone, “What happened? Are you alright?”

Roman shook his head and he could feel Patton's arms wrap around him as he held back a sob.

Blinking away tears, he could see dark eyes scanning every inch of his body as Logan took his seat in front of him. Although he knew he looked like a mess—his suit was torn and his face was bruised—Roman knew he wasn't going to find anything too horrible. Not on the outside at least.

“Th-there were some- some people-” He sniffed, trying to calm his breathing even a little bit. “It was a robbery—armed—and I- I thought I- fuck!”

Roman tugged at his hair, trying to find some relief from the anguish that was rising up inside him, choking him until he could only gasp. He could feel gentle hands moving his hands down to his lap and it made him want to scream. He didn't deserve this kind treatment; not after today.

“Hey, hey, calm down.” Patton grabbed Roman's face in his hands, stroking his cheeks with his thumbs to wipe away the tears. “They can't hurt you anymore.”

Roman buried his face into Patton's chest, shaking. “That’s not the point, Patton! I should have been able to save them! I should have done something! I mean, what kind of superhero am I if I can't-”

“Roman.” Roman flicked his gaze over to Logan, his expression was kind but firm and Roman was fighting back tears again. “You cannot save everyone. Every ”superhero” knows that.”

He shook his head. “But I should've-”

“No buts,” Patton continued softly, “We need you here—the world needs you here!—and you getting yourself killed trying to save one person who couldn't be saved is the worst thing you could do. For all of us.”

Logan placed his hand on Roman's arm, drawing his attention away from Patton once again.

“Think of it this way. You tried your absolute best to save this person, correct?” Roman nodded emphatically. “Then that is all you possibly could have done. You may be considered a “superhero”, Roman, but you have limits; you cannot perform the impossible.”

Roman knew they were right, of course he did. He grew up on superhero movies, on fairytales with dashing knights and acts of bravery, they were never able to save them all—at some point, without fail, every single one of them had to lose. But god, somehow Roman had thought he was going to be different. How naive.

He sniffed, wiping at his eyes before sighing heavily.

“Yeah, I know, guys, I do. It just-” He gave a humourless chuckle. “It doesn't feel like it, you know? It feels like I should have been able to do more, even if I couldn't.”

Patton sighed, tightening his hold on Roman's shoulders and rubbing his hands up and down his arms, generating friction to fight the chill that pervaded Roman's very being.

“We know, love, we know,” he whispered.

Roman let himself be comforted for a moment, let his mind wander past the tragedy of the evening and to a place more secure. Safe. Being wrapped up in Patton's arms was one of the most calming places to be—they all knew that well.

“You're not going back out on patrol tonight, are you?” Patton's voice was incredibly concerned and in response, Roman shook his head.

“No, I texted Virge; he should be able to handle the rest of the evening.”

There was motion opposite them and Roman watched as Logan stood up, offering his hands out to Roman and Patton. “Well, then I think a movie may be in order, is that correct? Would a Disney film be acceptable to you, Roman?”

He accepted Logan's hand up, watching as Patton did the same, and the two of them heaved themselves to their feet. Roman took a moment to steady himself, feeling the way his feet were firmly planted on the ground.

“Yeah, Logan, I, uh-” He took a deep breath. “I think that would be good. I'm just... gonna get changed first.”

Logan nodded thoughtfully before heading off to the kitchen, Roman assumed to prepare the snacks.

God, he longed to get into pyjamas. His suit was comfortable—after all it was designed to be that way—but right now all it was doing was bringing back bad memories. He could feel every way the suit didn't fit quite right due to a rip or a tear; it forced into his mind the feeling of the knife so close to his skin, adrenaline pulsing through his veins and a body, dropping to the floor in front of him.

He took another breath.

No. He had a responsibility now. He knew from the beginning that things like this weren’t easy—there were always going to be days like this, days when the weight of the world felt as if it lay solely on his shoulders and he’s struggling to stay standing—but what he was doing was important. Patton was right. He was needed. There were more lives out there left to save and it wasn’t going to happen if he hid himself away now.

“Patton?” At the sound of his name, Patton snapped his head upwards from where he was staring at the ground, humming in acknowledgement. “Is there... any way you would be able to fix my suit before tomorrow evening?”

Patton gave a warm smile, eyes bright. “I think I can manage that.”

So Roman headed upstairs, stripping down to his underwear and neatly folding up his suit to place outside Patton’s door later. The pyjamas he chose were soft against his skin and Roman had to pause for a moment to remind himself that was okay. He was allowed comfort. He didn’t deserve to suffer, no matter what transpired today. And maybe he didn’t believe it, but he was getting there.

When he returned back downstairs he was greeted by the smell of popcorn in the air and the soundtrack to Mulan playing in the background. Logan was curled up in the armchair, his eyes glued to his book—though Roman couldn’t imagine it was easy to read in the dim light of the television—and Patton was snuggled up on the couch, beaming up at him.

“We figured you needed a feel-good movie,” Patton said, pulling back his blanket and patting the spot next to him, “Come sit! I need a good cuddle buddy.”

Roman slipped in next to him, feeling the warmth Patton so naturally generated sinking into his skin. Subconsciously, Roman leaned in a little closer, trying to get more of that warmth for himself. Patton must have picked up on this because he wrapped his arm around Roman’s shoulders, tugging him in closer towards him.

“Gosh! You sure are cold, huh?” Patton laughed, “Still a super great cuddler though! You might even say your cuddles are… un-brrr-lieveable!”

There was an audible groan from Logan and Roman covered his face with his hand to try and hide his amusement.

“Aw, come on, Lo!” Patton’s eyes were bright as they focused in on Logan. “No need to give me the cold shoulder. My puns are snow joke!”

Patton looked so absolutely delighted with every word that Roman just couldn’t hold himself back. “I’d say you heat it out of the park with that one, Pat.”

Patton’s eyes widened in surprise, his grin shining even brighter than before.

“Not you too!” Logan whined—he’d never admit it was a whine, but it definitely was—but the other two ignored him.

“Oh really, Roman?” Patton’s grin turned mischievous. “Would you say I’m… hot stuff?”

The two of them dissolved into uncontrollable giggles, Logan simply sitting there scowling at them. “Are we going to begin this movie or not?”

“Yeah, yeah, Logan, go ahead and play it,” Roman gasped through his laughter. Patton turned his head into Roman’s shoulder with a snort before reaching over and picking up the popcorn bowl from the table in front.

The intro to Mulan sounded around the room and Roman felt okay for the first time that evening.

[mittensmorgul]

Hiya: If there's been conversation about Nick/Lucifer I've missed it, sorry. I can't figure out where they're going with him - there's a reason he's still around, surely, but so far his story seems to be rudderless. Sarah's little monologue suggests that Nick's Lucifer experience is significant going forward. What are your thoughts?

Hello! And sorry it took so long for me to reply to this, but I wanted to approach it from several directions and cover this as completely as possible, so I’m now fortified with cookies and caffeine, and will hopefully do as thorough a job as possible while also demonstrating that I am prepared to fend off any and all wank with this here big stick *waves large stick in the air*. :P

I don’t normally like to use the production side of things to justify the narrative, but in this particular case, I think it’s CRUCIAL to keep in mind when considering anything having to do with Nick. Here’s a few “production specific” bullet points to bear in mind:

Eugenie really enjoys writing this specific character, for whatever twisted reason.

therefore I personally like to imagine the rest of the production staff roll their eyes and let her have him to play with over in a corner, which interestingly enough keeps her from mucking about with the characters we all actually care about

J2 specifically asked to have more time off. That’s why we have a 20 episode season this year (and I think we would’ve had an even shorter season if wayward had been picked up, but their compromise to sign on for even 20 episodes was explicitly to get more time off to spend with their families). Have you wondered also why there’s been a lot more scenes that ONLY had Sam or Dean in them? Why they’ve been separated for a lot of the season? Because one of them has been having nice days off with their family while the other has been filming. In order to have episodes where they’re together, the compromise is that some of the focus go to other characters so they can both have time off still... and sadly, Nick fits the bill for “available for scenes alone.”

Enter cries of “BUT WHAT ABOUT CAS! WHAT ABOUT MARY OR THE WAYWARDS?! WHY NICK?!”

*points everyone back to that first bullet point*

So now that some of that real-world nonsense is out of the way, I really do think that they’ve been actively making the most of this objectively terrible character that most of us have utterly failed to connect to in any way, because he is just so damn terrible.

I personally LOVED Davy’s treatment of him last week, and how Nick’s own story had been paralleled to Sam’s since the beginning of the season. Not for Nick’s sake, but FOR SAM’S.

I wrote some about that here:

http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/182308756300/love-that-your-nick-tag-says-possibly-murderous

But this week’s episode goes several steps beyond that. Since 5.01, Nick’s entire deal with Lucifer had been predicated on his desire to be reunited with his murdered family. He’d been dismally living in the house where they’d been murdered, with his child’s crib still sitting there, drinking himself to sleep at night, unable to move on past their deaths. It was implied in s14 that he’d even been a suspect in their murders, but he was cleared after having the alibi that he’d been out drinking while they were killed.

And yet, when he thinks back to why he said Yes to Lucifer, he doesn’t remember the promise to be reunited with his wife and son, he remembers Lucifer telling him he was special and chosen. Which I think is really telling:

NICK: I just don’t know what kind of pain would make me allow Lucifer to possess me.CAS: It was your family.NICK: My family? Sarah and Teddy?[CAS nods.]NICK, gasping: No. [NICK flashes back to Sympathy for the Devil (5.01). We see these scenes along with current NICK as he remembers]SARAH/LUCIFER, in flashback: It’s you, Nick. You’re special. You’re chosen. Nick, I need you to say “yes”.NICK, in flashback: Then yes.NICK, now: Oh my god. Who could do that? Who could do that?

Because even his reason for saying yes was this sort of personal aggrandizement of being “special” and “chosen,” even if he’d always framed it as being this revenge quest on behalf of his murdered family. That’s what Sam had been sympathizing with, at any rate-- the fact that they’d both been manipulated into saying yes, and both had these familial/loved ones murdered to force them into participating in this awful cosmic game. But personal grandiosity had NEVER been one of Sam’s motivations for saying yes. He’d felt personally BETRAYED when Lucifer revealed the extent to which his entire life had been nudged into place by demons, you know? He HATED the fact he’d been “chosen” and felt it was more of a curse than something special.

But not Nick. He may have said he wanted justice for his wife and son, but the truth kept coming out of him throughout s14:

He beat his neighbor to death in the exact manner his family was killed, because the neighbor told police he’d seen someone at Nick’s house, and then recanted his statement.

because what he’d seen was a POLICE OFFICER entering and then leaving the house, and he was not prepared to testify against a cop

Nick kills Arty’s priest for refusing to divulge what Arte confessed to him about the man he saw, but learns about the cop from a reporter he interviewed later

Nick then tracks down the retired officer, who tells him he was possessed by the demon Abraxis and had no memory of the murders. The man had been used just as badly as Nick himself, and yet Nick killed him ANYWAY even though he’d been tormented about his part in all of this for more than a decade.

After killing the cop, Nick confesses that he said he just wanted revenge, but that it was a lie, and he liked being evil this way

He pleads with Lucifer to come back to him

He then goes on a rampage to find Abraxas, to ask him (ostensibly) who ordered him to kill his wife. He kills his way through other demons until he discovers where Abraxas is, in a puzzle box trapped by Mary Winchester.

And this is where everything falls apart for him

Once he learns that Lucifer ordered his family killed-- not because he was special, but because he was convenient-- he had one final chance to repent for what he’d done in the name of vengeance. And he failed to take it.

Instead of accepting that all of this was a horrific abuse, and that this was the most justice he or his loved ones could possibly get, and trying to make peace with himself and try to do the best he can with what he now has (including the support of the Winchesters, who are arguably the people on the planet most inclined to sympathize with what Nick has been through), he rejects ALL of that.

He prays to Lucifer, begging for answers that he technically already has. But he just cannot let go of it. It ceased being about justice for his wife and son a long, long time ago. It’s only about him, now.

He’s mad at Lucifer for hurting HIM. He’s mad at the fact his wife and son were murdered, not because it wasn’t fair to THEM, but because they were taken away from HIM. Which is all proven out in how he treats the ghost of his wife in 14.12.

He returns to his home, where he has to break in. He doesn’t have a key anymore, and still, the house is sitting empty and abandoned, where nobody else has wanted to live since. Compare that to the Winchester family house in 1.09. Despite the tragedy there, it’s still inhabited. Life goes on there, and after 1.09, when the ghosts of its past are finally laid to rest, it has a chance for a happy family to live and thrive there again. Nick’s place is just stagnant with the ghost of his dead wife trapped there, wearing a nightgown so similar to Mary Winchester’s.

I thought it was strange that this incarnation of Sarah’s actual ghost had long hair, while the vision of Sarah that Lucifer used in 5.01 to woo Nick in the first place had short hair, and I think it was intentional... making her look like the sad, dark version of Mary Winchester. This was Sarah’s big moment, her chance to finally be released from the misery of being trapped in that house as a ghost... and she failed, because Nick failed HER on every level.

Sarah: My unfinished business isn't just about how I died, Nick. It's you. I was here that night. I saw what he did to you. I... You chose Lucifer. You wanted him. You... You still do.Nick: He chose me, okay.Sarah: You didn't come here to find peace. You came here to find him in the place you became one with him.Nick: No.Sarah: Then show me I'm wrong. Reject Lucifer right now. If you do, I can leave. I can find peace. Reject him, Nick. Please. Please!Nick: I-I can't. I'm sorry.Sarah: You can't. Because you are him. You doomed me to stay in this place forever. You've doomed yourself.

Nick is flim-flam-- on a meta level, on a personal level, on every level. He’d never been seeking her, which is why he bought into Lucifer’s deal. He wanted to be special, and up to the point Lucifer came to him, he’d only felt worthless. That’s what made him useful to Lucifer. He could buy into his own lie that it was about seeing his wife again. He would go along quietly.

This was his one last chance at an easy redemption, and he refused to do it. When faced with the ONE THING he always said he wanted, he turned away, because he’d never wanted it in the first place.

Granted, all of this serves as The Darkest Possible Mirror to the Winchester family, but I think it’s still useful to keep this in mind with what the 300th will be giving us next week. Sam and Dean have been struggling with what happened to their family, and how it resulted in their entire lives lived as a revenge quest and how the entire universe has demanded their involvement in cosmic affairs ever since. And now, they’re also looking for a bit of catharsis. And we have a dark mirror set up to shine an interesting light on that now...

Granted, it makes it really difficult to engage with Nick’s storyline, considering how little interest any of us have in him as a character, compounded by the fact that the character himself is entirely devoid of anything resembling something we can have sympathy for. And honestly, we never cared about him in the first place, and it just feels like beating a dead horse to keep dragging Mark P.’s face up on screen year after year just to demonstrate how irredeemable he is, but *heavy sigh* they do seem to be making the most of these facts despite that.

Honestly, they can do better. Pick a different character for us to spend a bit more time with. I’d love to see more Cas, and more Cas interacting with Sam and Dean individually, or more Mary, or more Jody and Donna and the girls, but this is what we have. So I’ll continue to wish they’d just put him out of our misery and off him once and for all, but sadly I think we’re stuck with him for at least the rest of the season...

There’s several ways I can personally think of that he could become more useful down the line, like the crack spec I wrote last week:

http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/182454196470/solution-1-put-mike-into-nick-2-put-nick-in-the

but maybe a lil less... cracky... if they do something along those lines in canon...

Just how desperate is Nick to feel special again? To feel chosen? Would he take his second choice (Michael over Lucifer), and Dean’s sloppy seconds? How would that even work? What would they do? It may or may not be something in the future, but it’s one theory that’s giving me hope that he has some actual purpose to the narrative, since he’s proven himself absolutely irredeemable at this point. The only way he’s gonna earn redemption at this point is via self-sacrifice. Not even Lucifer could pull that one off... I don’t really have high hopes for Nick...

[wroughtbetwixtfanfic]

Stamped Into Memory, Ch 1.

Fandom: The Society.

Summary: One night is all it takes to throw Campbell's carefully maintained control into chaos. Caught in a downward spiral and once again public enemy #1, he struggles to keep those around him safe-- from a killer on the loose, and from himself.

Rating: Mature.

Tags: Major Character Death, Canon Divergence, Mental Health Issues, Family Issues, Substance Abuse, Slow Burn, Dubcon Kissing, Romantic Friendship, Mild Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort, Unhealthy Relationships, Canonical Character Death, Fix-It, implied animal death, the dog lives, Antisocial Personality Disorder, ASPD, Campbell has mild ASPD and is actively trying to not be awful

Word Count: 5436

Part Two, Ch 1 || Ch 2 || AO3

Disclaimer: This is part three of a series. Reading the first two parts is more-or-less essential.

This is a canon divergent storyline for Campbell, using (in my experience) a realistic take on conduct disorder and ASPD instead of Hollywood "psychopath" stereotypes. While people with conduct disorder can be violent and abusive, the diagnosis exists on a spectrum, and neither ASPD nor "psychopathy" should be diagnosed before the age of 18; this is one thing that rubbed me the wrong way on The Society. Campbell's power will be more in his ability to manipulate-- not "being crazy". Hopefully I can succeed in presenting a more understandable and less sensationalized vision of his behavior. Please note that while I present his relationships as unhealthy and his behavior as questionable, I don't intend to make him a violent abuser, to bring his character more in line with my experiences of how an emotionally neglected teen with moderately reduced empathy would behave, provided they were trying to be better (and seeking outside help).

AO3 updates will be on Sunday, unless otherwise noted! The entire part-- all five chapters--have already been posted to my Patreon. Thank you for reading, and leaving kudos/comments. They matter so much to me. <3

///

When a gun goes off, there are only two moments-- before, and after. Shootings were something Campbell, and others his age, had grown up with. It was an ever-present specter, where you held your breath every day you went to school and didn't let it out until you were home again. Slammed doors, dropped books, even the pop of a can of soda, caused people to flinch. But they all knew what a gunshot sounded like. They had seen the videos. They had been through the drills. They knew, if something like that ever happened in West Ham, nothing would be the same again. He knew, at 12:35, that something had changed. He knew that before he even turned the corner. Someone had a gun, and they had used it. The barking had stopped. The street was silent, empty, as Campbell turned the corner. Empty, except for Cassandra laying on the ground.

Campbell rushed over, kneeling beside her. Was she breathing? He couldn't tell, but there was blood pooling around her, and her eyes weren't opening. "Cassandra, come on," he pleaded, searching for her pulse. "Don't you fucking dare, Cassie, don't you dare." Nothing. She was dead. His throat squeezed shut. Campbell fumbled with his phone, but the blood on his hands made it impossible to grip properly. Gordie, or Allie. He had to call someone, anyone. But then he stopped, chaotic impulse shifting into cold logic. Campbell was the only one in town who had openly used a gun. His friendship with Cassandra was, aside from a few people, not widely known. Worse, Campbell had held Cassandra at gunpoint before. If anyone saw him there, he was fucked. He had to get the hell out of there before someone else came to investigate the noise. It felt wrong to walk away, but he forced his feet to keep going. There was nothing he could do. Nothing he did would bring her back. It was a finality, and she would be just as gone no matter what. Campbell wasn't sure how he got home. It was a blur, and for a moment he'd hoped it had all been some sort of weird hallucination, but then he got inside the house and turned on the lights. His hands were still covered in blood. He stared at the sticky, copper-scented mess. She was gone. Cassandra was really gone. "Campbell?" He looked up, staring at Elle as she came down the stairs in a bathrobe. She stopped halfway, her gaze locking onto his hands. Campbell tried to speak, but nothing came out. He couldn't move. He couldn't breath. All he could smell was blood, and see Cassandra's eyes staring lifelessly, and he felt like he was going to throw up. Oh, god, Cassandra. Witty, ruthless Cassandra, who had been at his side when no one else had been and had promised to always be there, and-- "She's dead," Campbell said. His voice was flat, distant, strange in his own ears. He waited for some sort of sorrow. Tears. Something. But there was nothing except the truth of it, clinical and straightforward. "The damn dog was out there barking and I went to look for them, and there was a gunshot and Cassandra's dead." Elle came down the stairs and moved towards him. "Dead? You're sure?" "I..." He gestured with his gory hands. "She didn't have a pulse." "Okay. Okay, breathe. Come on, come with me." He hadn't realized he'd been hyperventilating. Campbell forced himself to take a long, slow breath and follow Elle to the bathroom. She helped him out of his clothes, and got him into the shower. He scrubbed until his skin was red and raw; it still didn't feel like enough, but the blood was gone. When he got out, Elle was waiting with clean clothes. His phone and old clothes were gone. Campbell didn't ask questions, and got dressed. Elle was in the living room by the time he was finished, wrapping his clothes in plastic bags. "We can burn these later," she said quietly as he sat down on the sofa next to her. His phone was on the coffee table, completely wiped down. "In a few days, when it's less suspicious." "I didn't do it, Elle. You have to believe me." "I believe you, but we both know how it'll go if the rest of the town thinks you did it." Well, he could appreciate the matter-of-fact logic there. Campbell sat down and stared at his hands. He couldn't feel anything. It almost felt like his mind was racing, but not with thoughts or emotions. Just static. White noise. Like a broken down robot. Still, his heart was beating so fast, and Campbell felt like it was hard to swallow. He was shaking. It was summer, warm, but it felt like someone had drenched him in ice water. What was this? What was happening? It didn't make sense. None of it. How was this happening? How could Cassandra be dead? When she was done, Elle hid the clothes somewhere in the house, bringing a blanket back with her; they curled up on the sofa together, with Campbell tucked into Elle's lap. She stroked his hair until he fell asleep, the weird twisted and rushing feeling in his body guttering into a deep, terrible ache in his muscles. Rest was impossible. He kept startling awake, and even when he managed to drift off, his dreams were filled with Cassandra staring at him, soaked in blood and flipping a coin. The phone rang at 5am. Bean was on the other end, crying so hard Campbell could barely make out what she was saying. "Allie wants family to come to the hospital," she choked. "There's been an accident." It only took ten minutes to drive to the hospital. Campbell parked by the entrance, but when he went to get out, he just... couldn't. Elle sat in the passenger seat, silent. She didn't ask what was wrong. Thank fuck for that, because Campbell wouldn't have known what to tell her. He didn't want to go in. He didn't want to see their faces or deal with their crying. He didn't want to hear their questions. Was her body there? Would they make him see it? They would expect him to cry, too, but Campbell couldn't. He couldn't, and he didn't want to, because behind that padlocked door there was something dark and he didn't want to set it free. Not like this. Not yet. Not until they found Cassandra's killer. Elle's hand rested on his, and he realized he was breathing too fast again. Anxiety wouldn't help anyone. What would Cassandra do, in all this? She'd be strong, and try to help others. Campbell didn't give a shit about most of them, but he cared about Sam, and he knew Sam would be in there somewhere. He couldn't let Sam go through that alone. Maybe Campbell couldn't cry with them, but he could try to help them. The lobby of the hospital was eerily silent, save for the sound of people weeping. Allie was standing by the front desk and crying into Will's shoulder, while Kelly and Bean held each other. Sam was off to the side, his face in his hands. He bit back the bubble of loathing that rose in his chest when Kelly and Allie's eyes turned to glower at him. Campbell stood there for a moment, trying to decide which move to make first. He wanted to go to Sam, but if he breezed past Allie then she'd be even more of a problem than she was already. What did he really care about that, though? She should have fucking been there with Cassandra. She should have been there, but because she was a fucking whiny baby, Cassandra had died alone. Fuck her opinions. Campbell sat next to Sam, nudging Sam's shoulder with his own. "Hey," he signed when Sam looked up. "Is there anything I can do?" Sam searched Campbell's face. His eyes welled up, and at first he shook his head, but then he signed fast and messily, like he didn't want to say it at all. "I need you to be here. I need my brother." Something lanced through Campbell's stomach, fleeting but painful. This wasn't how they were supposed to fix things. This wasn't how they were supposed to come back together. Campbell put his arm around Sam's shoulders, and after a brief hesitation, Sam leaned against him; Campbell could be whatever Sam needed him to be, put on whatever mask Sam expected Campbell to wear, but Campbell wished he could cry with Sam. Show Sam that he felt it, too. That he understood. But the best he could do was hold Sam as he wept, rocking him until Sam was too exhausted to cry anymore. One by one, the people around them fell quiet, too. Now and then there'd be a sniffle, a raspy cough, or someone blowing their nose. Everyone looked listless. Worn. At some point, Becca arrived. She ground to a halt when she saw Campbell, and he noticed her expression turn icy. Whatever. Campbell didn't care. Whatever her problem with him was, it paled compared to what was happening. Luckily, Sam noticed her arrival, and pulled away to go to her; at least that would keep that conflict at bay, for now. "Does anyone need something to eat or drink?" Elle asked softly. A few people muttered an affirmative. "I don't think anyone checked the cafeteria here. There might be something." Bean dried her eyes and stood up. "That's a good idea. I'll come with you." Campbell stood and gave Elle a kiss on the cheek before she left. Bean glanced at him, but said nothing. Suspicion was already stirring, and why wouldn't it? Even knowing that, though, he wasn't quite ready for Allie's reaction once Elle was out of earshot. "You." Allie spat the word out like his mere presence was revolting. She grit her teeth, her voice accusing as her face contorted in rage. "Where were you last night? Where were you when Cassandra was killed?" Sam, who had been watching the exchange, stepped in between them ever so slightly. "Don't do this. He didn't kill Cassandra." "How do you know? Answer the fucking question, Campbell." Campbell blinked at Sam's reaction, but he shook his head. "It's fine, Sam. Look, Elle and I left prom a little early. I drove Dillon, Harry, and a couple other people home, and then we went home and stayed there all night." Allie opened her mouth, then closed it again. Anger gave way to loss as her lip quivered. "Do you know anyone who would have? Did... did anyone tell you anything? Maybe she told you about someone threatening her?" "No. I swear to you, Allie, I have no idea what did this. If I did, I'd have dragged them in here by their balls. I'm sorry." "Fine. Okay." Pressing a hand to her mouth, Allie took a step towards Campbell, but then backed away again and shook her head when her phone buzzed. "I gotta go. Gordie's doing the..." She didn't finish the sentence, but she didn't need to. Allie turned and walked off, with Will following silently behind her. Fuck. Campbell kicked a chair and sent it skittering across the floor; everyone but Sam jumped. "What happened?" Campbell asked, raising his voice to address the entire room. "How long have you all been here?" At first, there was silence, but then Kelly spoke. "Gordie was waiting for her, but she never came home. He found her laying outside the inn a little before one." Becca went over and curled her arms around Kelly as she began to cry again. "Why was she alone? Gwen was supposed to be there. Gwen should have been there with her." So, Gwen had been AWOL at the time it happened. Campbell made a mental note. Gwen had always been a heinous twat to Cassandra, and she was friends with Lexie, who wasn't much better. Elle and Bean came back with little bags of chips and boxes of juice. Everyone took something, but no one actually ate. They all just sat and stood around like ill-tempered children on the worst camping trip of their lives. And wasn't that the truth? They were still so young. They should have been worrying about graduation and dating and jobs, not murder. Helena walked through the doors, her face perfectly neutral. "Grizz and a couple other guys are working on a grave. The rest of the guard are at the scene until Gordie gets done. They'll make sure no one tampers with it." Campbell growled. "Yeah, unless one of them did it." "Are you accusing one of them of murder?" Helena demanded, crossing her arms. "Keep in mind, my boyfriend is one of them, and I know him." "Oh, I'm sure you do." Sam knocked on a chair to get their attention. "Let's not argue right now. We don't know who did this. We won't know without evidence. But the guard doesn't seem like the type." "Yeah, you're right." Campbell fixed his gaze on Helena. "Grizz is too much of a kitten, and the rest of them can't tie their fucking shoes without a how-to video, so my mistake." Helena started towards him, but Bean grabbed her arm and whispered something to her. The edge of Helena's nose twitched up in a barely suppressed sneer. Helena started to say something, but Gordie, Allie, and Will came back just then and everyone else turned their attention to Gordie. He looked ill, clutching a folder tight in his hands. "I know you all want answers. But I... I think I should take some time to look for more evidence, and talk to Allie, before I share my findings. I think you all should go home. If you hear anything, please call me or Allie right away. The funeral will be around noon." Everyone filtered out of the hospital, some starting to cry again. Elle hadn't shed a single tear, though her face was solemn as they got back to the car. When they got in, she touched his knee, her eyebrows furrowed. "I know this is such a pointless question, but are you okay? I mean, how can anyone be, but..." "I don't know." He threw the car into drive and peeled out of the parking lot, focusing on the road. "I mean, I'm not going to do anything to myself if that's what you mean, but I don't know. I have to just focus on one step at a time. I can't afford to lose it." "It's okay to lose it a little. Pretty sure you almost did on Helena." "She thinks Luke shits glitter. I just can't fucking stand that mentality. Just because you love someone doesn't mean they can't do fucked up things." "Tell me about it." "What do you mean?" Elle laughed, but it was devoid of humor. "You're not the only one with secrets, Campbell. Let's just say I know all too well that people can surprise you in the worst ways." But then they were home, and the conversation felt over. They stepped inside the home, and it just felt... different. Strange. So, this was the after in the before and after. Campbell looked at the pictures he'd left hanging on the walls. One was of him, Cassandra, Allie, and Sam when they were younger. Before. And now, now they were in the after, and he had to find some way to pretend like the word wasn't falling down around their heads. Like shit wasn't going to fall apart without her. "I need to go see Harry," Campbell said suddenly. "Now." Frowning, Elle sat down on a stool in the kitchen. "You haven't had breakfast. Why do you need to go see him?" "Because I'm ninety percent sure he knows who did it. Stay here." It was no secret that Harry disliked Cassandra. Hate was probably a strong word; they got along, sometimes, but their rivalry was the stuff of legends. Campbell knew that Harry would be the number one suspect. The fact was, though, that Harry didn't have the guts to do something like that. Harry had a big mouth and the usual rich boy complex, but he was also fragile. Not in the sense of his masculinity, but mentally. Emotionally. He was needy, hated to confront anything that was serious, and was a follower more than a leader. No. He didn't kill Cassandra, either. But he was friends with the guard, and was familiar with some other sniveling brats who had hated-- actually hated-- Cassandra. Clingy little cockroaches that hung around Harry for the drugs and booze, who thought Harry was something special and wanted to snap up little scraps of whatever shine he had left. Parasites. And because Harry craved attention, he let them hang on. One of them? One of them definitely did it. Campbell felt it in his gut. Harry's home looked like a garbage pit. Campbell walked right in, since apparently no one locked the door anymore, and stared at the sheer amount of crap laying around. Dirty dishes stacked up, clothes everywhere, clutter on every visible surface. The place smelled vaguely like garbage. No wonder Harry was freaking out. There was faint weeping coming from various corners of the house. News must have spread. Interesting, Campbell thought as he climbed the stairs, coming from people who had looked down on Cassandra and had made her a social pariah while she was alive. It would only be a matter of time before they started claiming that they had been her friends, or had admired her, or whatever drivel people said when someone they'd ignored for eighteen years suddenly died. Curled up in bed, Harry was wrapped in blankets like some sort of sentient burrito. There were a few other people there, whispering among themselves, but they scrambled out when Campbell walked in. Good. They didn't need an audience for this. "Hey. Rise and shine." Harry's voice was muffled. He didn't move. "Is it true?" "My sex tape is just a rumor. Oh, wait. Do you mean someone murdering Cassandra?" "Fuck you, Campbell." Peeling his blanket off, Harry sat up and burrowed his hand into his hands. "How the fuck can you joke at a time like this?" "Oh, Harry, it's cute that you think I'm being funny." "What--" But Harry didn't get a chance to finish whatever he was going to say. Campbell grabbed Harry by the shirt and hauled him out of bed, slamming him up against the support post in the middle of the room. Campbell pinned him, hard. "Who did it? Huh? Which one of your little groupies killed my cousin?" "I don't know! I don't know who did it, I swear!" "Bullshit, Harry! Use your goddamn brain. People don't just go shooting someone. Did anyone say something? Was someone pissed off at her?" Harry squirmed in his grip. "A lot of people were pissed off at her, Cam, including me. But no one said anything about..." Suddenly, Harry stopped struggling. His eyes widened as his body went slack. "Oh. Oh fuck." "What? What is it?" "I... Oh god, I didn't mean to." "Mean to what? Spit it the fuck out." "It was at the party I had before prom. We were all drunk already, and I just. I was mad, okay? I was mad and the guys were talking shit about Cassandra, and I just. I didn't mean it, but I said that if she were dead we'd have some peace and quiet." Fury moved through him faster than he could think, and oh he wanted to hurt Harry. His hands tightened on Harry's shoulders, and he felt that urge start to crest, but he could see the fear in Harry's eyes; it gave him just a split second of clarity. Campbell let go of Harry and turned his back to him, taking deep breaths. Back away, back away. Get out of the situation before that anger returned. "This conversation is over," he hissed between clenched teeth. "Get dressed. You're going to make a list of everyone who was there when you said that, and we're going to give that list to Gordie when we go to the funeral." Sinking onto his bed, Harry flinched as Campbell tossed him a pad of paper and a pen; he obeyed and began to scribble down names. In the meantime, Campbell began to clean up the garbage around Harry's bedroom. As pissed off as Campbell was, he knew Harry hadn't meant any harm to come to Cassandra, and Let's Clean Up Harry's Home! was a familiar way to blow off steam. If he crushed a few soda cans with his foot or threw the garbage into a bag a little harder than necessary when no one was looking, well, that was better than the alternative. He shouldn't have done what he did. Campbell knew that. Hurting Harry, scaring him, wouldn't solve anything. If something Harry said got Cassandra killed, it still hadn't been Harry's fault. Murder was a choice, just like shoving someone around was a choice. Fuck. He sighed as he took the trash outside, then came in and stood in the kitchen. His hand moved towards his phone on instinct; whenever he felt like this, like a tornado about to touch down, he would call Cassandra. For a tiny, tiny fraction of a second, he had forgotten. Cassandra had helped him learn to control his rage, and it usually worked, but now she was about to be put under a few feet of dirt. She'd never answer his calls again. Instead, he began washing the dishes. They needed to be scrubbed at that point, and it helped get rid of the remaining urge to break things. Soft footsteps came up behind him. Campbell could smell Harry's cologne, light and floral. Guilty, by Gucci. Fitting. He braced for some sort of fight, but Harry just rested his forehead against the back of Campbell's shoulder. Campbell sighed, but didn't shrug him off. What good would it do? Harry took a towel and began to dry the plates. They worked in silence, until Harry stared down at the towel in his hands and let out a heaving, rattling sigh. His eyes were red and puffy; maybe he hadn't hated Cassandra as much as he'd always pretended, after all, but it was too late for that now and they both knew it. "What do we do?" "Go to the funeral, say our goodbyes, and then wait." "Wait for what?" "To see how bad things get." "We're fucked, aren't we?" He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to think about anything. But maybe there was still a chance, if someone who knew what they were doing took control. Who? Campbell had no idea. His thoughts were running too fast to puzzle it out. He didn't want to talk anymore; he just wanted to get through the fucking day before whatever was keeping him held together fell apart. Setting the last dish down, Harry sunk down onto a kitchen chair and brought out a slip of paper from his pocket; he set it on the counter, and Campbell picked it up. Jason, Greg, Scott, Travis, Mark. A bunch of jerks, mostly. Travis was alright, and Jason seemed too much like a big doof to kill anyone, even if he was a creep. Campbell put the list in a pocket and gestured towards the door. "Come on. You're going with me." "What? No." "Yes, you are. You're gonna come over and hang with me and Elle for a while, and then we're all going to go. Being here moping isn't going to help either of us." Harry gave up in the end, like always, and followed Campbell home. Elle seemed surprised to see him, but they made a light lunch and sat around the living room doing their own things. Campbell played a video game, Elle read, Harry laid down and pretended to be a rock. Whatever. At least Campbell could keep an eye on him that way. Once it was close to noon, the three of them arrived at the church. They were almost at the door when Harry stopped, staring up at the door like a man about to be hanged. Campbell looked to Elle. "Hey, babe? Can you go inside and save us a seat?" Elle glanced between them, then nodded. He waited until she was inside before turning back to Harry. "What are you doing?" "I can't go in. Allie will be there. She'll think I did it." "She'll think that if you don't go in, too. Okay? Don't bail on me." Harry bit his bottom lip, but he didn't argue; he followed Campbell into the church without protest, keeping his head down and sticking close to Campbell. They made it a few paces in when Campbell spotted Will walking towards them, eyes narrowed and anger coming off him in waves. "You guys have a lot of balls," Will seethed. "Showing up here. We all know how you felt about Cassandra, Harry. You were super fucking clear." Campbell stepped between him and Harry, holding firm. "Will, don't do this." "You think you have any room to speak? You, you pointed a fucking gun at her. Both of you, get out. Now." "Go to hell. I'm family. I loved Cassandra, and I'm not leaving." Will's voice raised to a growling shout. "Get the fuck out!" Before Campbell could speak, Gordie zipped up and grabbed Will by the shoulder. "What the hell is going on? What are you doing, Will?" "Taking out the trash." "Isn't this bad enough already?" "Allie doesn't need to see them here." Campbell pulled the list of names from his jacket, holding it up to Gordie. "Harry and I came up with a list of guys that were shittalking Cassandra at his party the night she was killed. Brought it as a peace offering." Will opened his mouth, then stopped. He looked back and forth between them, then over to Gordie, who took the paper and read it over. Gordie gave Will a look, and Will let out a short, quick breath. "Fine. But you don't talk to Allie." That wasn't going to be a problem. Campbell put a hand on Harry's back and guided him to where Elle was sitting; she took Campbell's hand as he sat between her and Harry, and he squeezed it. Luckily, no one else spoke to any of them. Campbell didn't need the confrontation. He didn't want it. Allie walked to the front of the church and cleared her throat. Whatever small amount of talking there had been quieted down. Her eyes glittered with unshed tears, but to her credit, she managed to keep it held to together. "My sister, Cassandra, was good," she started. "She was a good person. She was captain of the debate team. You didn't want to argue with her." There were a few scattered laughs. Even Allie managed a tiny smile. But then she continued, and that smile turned into a darker expression, and her composed mask crumbled. "Who did this? Huh?" She looked around the room. Her gaze briefly stopped on Harry. "Who shot my sister? Why did you do that? We needed her!" she shouted. Allie began to cry, and Will came up to lead her off the stage. "I needed her!" Campbell bowed his head at that last wrenching, despondent wail. No one else spoke, and after a few minutes, the guard gathered at the front of the church. Cassandra's body lay there. "We thought we'd give people a few minutes to come say goodbye," Grizz said softly. "In case it'd help anyone." A few wandered up and formed a small line. Sam was one of the last; Campbell stood and walked down the aisle, ignoring the glares and whispers around him. Sam gave Campbell a grateful look as he approached and stood at his side. They went up together. Someone had pulled back the sheet Cassandra's body was wrapped in, just enough to catch a glimpse of her face. She was pale, eyes closed, clean of blood. "She looks peaceful," Sam signed. "Like she's sleeping." Campbell lifted his hands to sign back, but they just fluttered there uselessly. "She's free from pain now," he finally managed to sign. He leaned down and kissed Cassandra's forehead, his touch lingering for just one more moment before he turned and headed back to his seat without a word. If he opened his mouth again, he had no idea what would happen. The guard waited a moment, then wrapped the body back up and carried her out to the yard. She was buried next to Emily, with nothing but a crude wooden cross marking her final resting place. Cassandra would have laughed at the irony. Campbell wasn't laughing. "Eternal rest, grant her O Lord," Helena spoke, "and let perpetual light shine upon her. May her soul, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen." Some of the others echoed the amen. Biting his tongue, Campbell resisted the urge to just scream. Elle took his hand as they headed home, her eyebrows knitted together in worry as they walked in silence. When they returned home, Campbell took off his jacket and threw it onto the sofa. "Fuck, what a joke. She would have hated that shit," he said as he ran his hands through his hair. "She hated Christianity." "I think it was more for everyone else." "Must have been, because goddamn Helena didn't even ask what Cassandra believed or would have wanted." Campbell couldn't sit still. He needed to move. He needed to get the feeling in his body out of it. "You know, when she was younger and thought about dying, she talked about how she wanted her funeral to be. She wanted to be cremated and scattered at the ocean. She wanted Beatles music, and for people to dance. She..." Tears made his vision swim, and suddenly that wall that he'd been keeping up all day crumbled. He'd barely cried his entire fucking life, and now it was the second, third time since they'd arrived in their new hellscape. Weak. He was going weak, and if he did, how could he protect anyone? The one good thing about his fucked up brain had been that he could disconnect at will. And this, he couldn't make it stop. All he could do was stand there and sob, like the night he thought his disorder would push people away. Now reality set in even harder-- the people closest to him could die, and he truly would be alone, no matter how good or bad he was. It wasn't fair. It wasn't the least bit fair. Sudden pressure on his arm made Campbell yank back. "Don't fucking touch me!" he snapped, his head immediately going to when his father would grab him whenever Campbell would cry as a child. But then he stopped, remembering where he was and with who, and he felt a new wave of grief at the stunned look on Elle's face. "Elle, I'm sorry." "I didn't mean to upset you." "No, no. It's not your fault. I'm just... I need a moment." Campbell went upstairs and shut the door. He picked up his pillow and just stopped fighting it; he hit it against the wall, punched it, cursing his head off at it. He kept going until his arms and throat were sore, and he was curled up in the bed, hugging the pillow and shaking. She was dead, gone, buried, and the one person who understood and accepted him completely had been stolen from him. From her entire family. Something that happened every day, he knew, but it had never happened to him. Not in any way that had mattered. It wasn't even two o'clock, but he was already more tired than he could ever remember being in his life. He heard the door click open, and a moment later, the mattress dipped behind him. Elle nestled against his back; she didn't touch him exactly, but she was there, and her presence soothed some little part of him. "We'll find the person who did this, Campbell," she said as he dozed off. "Sooner or later, someone will slip up." "Yeah, and when we do, I'm going to make the fucker suffer." He was asleep before he could feel Elle stiffen, just a little.

[cherryjoong]

50 questions tag~

Tagged byyyy @prettyseonghwa this took so long. asdasdas but thank you it was fun!!

1: what takes up too much of your time?

This site. Video games. Daydreaming

2: what makes your day better?

Ellie! Every day no matter how awful I might be feeling, they are the light in that darkness.

3: what’s the best thing that happened to you today?

Ellie, also I woke up and there was a cat at my feet and one by my head.

4: what fictional place would you like to go?

Middle-Earth. For sure. Specifically the Shire.

5: are you good at giving advice?

I?? Try to be but sometimes it doesn’t work.

6: do you have any mental illness?

[TW! JUST MAJOR TW!] Oh lawdy here we go... PTSD from assault and secondary from a car accident. Bipolar (thanks mom), severe clinical depression, serious anxiety issues. Minor ADD.

7: have you ever experienced sleep paralysis?

No, thank fuck. 

8: what musician inspired you the most?

Chester Bennington and Linkin Park. Even still.

9: have you ever fallen in love?

Yes. Very recently too. And I fell so very hard, so very fast. And I wouldn’t change it for the world!

10: what’s your dream date

Soft, lazy cuddles. 

11: what do other people notice about you?

No idea. But I hope it’s not something bad.

12: what is the annoying habit you have?

I can’t stop picking my nails. I even do it in my sleep. Not biting, just, picking.

13: do you still talk to your first love?

No. But that’s okay.

14: how many ex’s do you have?

Oof... Gonna guess?? 10??  I was a teenager once. And not the smartest one.

15: how many songs are on your playlist?

On my ‘everything’ one? Like 3.5k. On the one I listen to the most? 488.

16: what instruments can you play?

I used to know how to play a trumpet.

17:who do you have the most pictures of?

Cats... and probably Ateez. 

18: where would you like to go before you die?

Anywhere, as long as it’s with Ellie.

19: what is your zodiac?

Leo.

20: do you relate to it?

I’m honestly not sure. Sometimes.

21: what is happiness to you?

Love.

22: are you going through anything right now?

Yes. I’m still grieving. 

23: what is the worst decision you’ve ever made?

Dropping out of high school, though I don’t feel as if I really had a choice.

24: what is your favourite store?

The internet. You can get anything here.

25: what is your opinion on abortion?

My/your body, my/your choice.

26: do you have a bucket list?

Sort of.

27: do you have a favourite album at the moment?

I Prevail - Trauma (and ATEEZ Treasure EP 2)

28: what do you want for your birthday?

Ellie.

29: what are most people’s first impression of you?

That I’m nice, I think.

30: what age do you seem according to most people?

Middle aged. Like. 30. I have an “old soul”

31: where do you keep your phone while youre sleeping?

Table next to my head.

32: what word do you say the most?

Fuck.

33: what’s the oldest age you would date?

My ex was 10 years older than me so I don’t really seem to mind much. But I’d have to go with 40. 

34: what’s the youngest age you would date?

20.

35: what job/career do most people say would suit you?

Therapist. 

36: what’s your favourite music genre?

Rock. Metal.

37: If you could live in any country in the world, where would it be?

Somewhere temperate, yet warm. Where it rains a lot.

38: what is your current favourite song?

Oh... Oh no... I CANT DECIDE. DON’T MAKE ME DECIDE. Right this second?? Probably Super Junior’s Islands. 

39: how long have you had this blog for?

According to the memories bot? 6 years.

40: what are you excited for?

Hmm... hopefully seeing Ellie sometime soon.

41: are you a better talker or listener?

Listener.

42: what is the last productive thing you do?

I dragged my ass out of bed. It’s the little things.

43: what do you want for Christmas?

Not sure.

44: what class do you get the best grades in?

Literature. Or at least that’s what it was when I gave a shit about my grades.

45: on a scale of 1-10, how are you feeling rn?

2

46: what can you see yourself doing In 10 years?

Growing a vegetable garden with 15 cats and the love of my life.

47: when did you get your first heart broken?

God, I have no idea.

48: at what age do you want to get married?

Whenever the right person asks me.

49: what career did you want to have as a child?

Paleontologist. 

50: what do you crave now?

Ellie. And also chocolate.

I’m tagging: @yeosangkang @minicovaa @yunhos-gf @softmingis @softforyunho @yooyonqha @multidino @ateezartblog @studying-mostly @sassy-kpop-glitter @gothicmingi @cutieyeosanggie and just?? anyone else. I’m half asleep and I’m probably missing some people.

[daisydezem]

Get to know me Tag

Wow this took longer then I thought it would! But thank you so much for tagging me @cruelhumanbean & @cloud-9-sims!  I’m gonna tag @deathbyhysteria, @rethasim, @shellisims and @king-mikeyy! I loved updating my simself. It has been a while but I still think she is way to pretty. I just can’t make real people. Then there are 125 questions answered in the cut down below! So it’s a long list!

1. what is your name? Daisy (Officially Dasy. My dad forgot the i -_-’)

2. what is your nickname? Dezem, Dees, Dee, Esseborre... anymore...

3. birthday? April 24 1990

4. what is your favorite book series? Harry potter... Or does Manga count? Then Skip Beat!

5. do you believe in aliens or ghosts? Aliens Yes! Ghost not really. 

6. who is your favorite author? UHM... I don’t like reading books. I’m dyslectic so the only reading I do is Manga and webcomics. For that I really like Yoshiki Nakamura. (from skip beat)

7. what is your favorite radio station? Veronica!

8. what is your favorite flavor of anything? Anything spicy!

9. what word would you use often to describe something great or wonderful? In English - Awesome and in Dutch - Super... I know it’s also a english word but it’s used a bit different 

10. what is your current favorite song The sound of Silence - Disturbed

11. what is your favorite word? Inevitable. It has a nice tongue feel... Idk... Oh and In Dutch - Schatig. It means cute but it sounds really harsh for people that don’t speak Dutch.

12. what was the last song you listened to? Freak on a leash - Korn

13. what tv show would you recommend for everybody to watch? Battle star Galactica!!  Walking Dead Lucifer                          Supernatural Game of thrones          New Girl Dexter                          Friends More?

14. what is your favorite movie to watch when you’re feeling down? Tenacious D in The Pick of Destiny it always cheers me up!

15. do you play video games? Uhmm... YES! 

16. what is your biggest fear? Being alone

17. what is your best quality, in your opinion? I know what I want and do whatever I can to get it. 

18. what is your worst quality, in your opinion? Being afraid of change. Being a control freak. Being a perfectionist

9. do you like cats or dogs better? CATS! I’m kinda afraid of dogs... pictures are cute tho:P

20. what is your favorite season? Spring I guess. Not to warm and hopefully dry. Everything get green:)

21. are you in a relationship? Yes uhm... 7 years now. And a kid of 4 (almost).

22. what is something you miss from your childhood? Believing in the good and magical things.

23. who is your best friend? Nouk! (Not her real name her nickname tho)

24. what is your eye color? Brown

25. what is your hair color? Naturally Brown... But I change it a lot!

26. who is someone you love? Hubby, Son, Mom, Dad, Stepdad, Stepmom, Siblings, Grandpa’s, Grandma’s, Nouk, And a lot more!

27. who is someone you trust? Hubby, Mom, Stepdad, Nouk.

28. who is someone you think about often? Rn? Uhm My little brother and grandpa. They are not doing so well.

29. are you currently excited about/for something? Yes! My son is about to turn 4 so after the winter/Christmas vacation he will be going to elementary school!

30. what is your biggest obsession? Tbh... Sims... haha I just think about what when how all the time:P

31. what was your favorite tv show as a child? Telekids!! It was a dutch kids gameshow between two school and in between cartoons! On Saturday morning!

32. who of the opposite gender can you tell anything to, if anyone? Well my hubby!

33. are you superstitious? Not really. I do know a lot so I pretend to be sometimes when it is convenient.  

34. do you have any unusual phobias? No!

35. do you prefer to be in front of the camera or behind it? Oh actually I like both! I like seeing pictures of the past because it brings back memories. But I do like taking pictures as well. And to be fair. I’m not good at both hahaha

36. what is your favorite hobby? Gaming!

37. what was the last book you read? The Hobbit

38. what was the last movie you watched? The new Incredibles! Is was... SUPER! 

39. what musical instruments do you play, if any? I play guitar, bass and drums. Bass best tho! I got a piano now so I’m trying to learn that if and when I have some time.

40. what is your favorite animal? Cats! 

41. what are your top 5 favorite tumblr blogs that you follow? Oh god... I always feel horrible doing this. Because it changes all the time and well I like many more as 5. But okay let just do it! @cosmic-espie @pink-chevalier @brisberries @wildlyminiaturesandwich @plumpug. Okay yeah... There are many more! 

42. what superpower do you wish you had? Reading someones mind. Easier to know if someone lied.

43. when and where do you feel most at peace? At home.

44. what makes you smile? Weird stuff my son says or does.

45. what sports do you play, if any? I used to dance! Ballet, Jazz, Modern and Hip-hop... But can’t anymore.. Classical ballet is hell for your knees!

46. what is your favorite drink? A coke! (My addiction) 

47. when was the last time you wrote a hand-written letter or note to somebody? I can’t remember!

48. are you afraid of heights? Used to be. Then I went bungee jumping with a height of 169 meters (555 ft) and now I’m not afraid anymore!! (this is the bungee jump video is not me picture is tho!)

49. what is your biggest pet peeve? When I’m at work and people start with a question instead of saying hello first or don’t look at me at all when checking their tickets!

50. have you ever been to a concert? Yeah! Greenday, Paramore, Billy talent, My chemical romance, Iron Maiden, Doe Maar and Infinite(in paris!) 

51. are you vegan/vegetarian? That’s a def no... 

52. when you were little, what did you want to be when you grew up? A teacher!

53. what fictional world would you like to live in? The Dragon ball Universe! 

54. what is something you worry about? The health of my grandpa and little brother. 

55. are you scared of the dark? No, I prefer the dark... 

56. do you like to sing? Yes! I was never allowed to sing in the band tho.. I was allowed to scream tho!

57. have you ever skipped school? Yeah.... Sssssst don’t tell my mom. She still doesn’t know. ;)

58. what is your favorite place on the planet? Home <3

59. where would you like to live? Where I live now. 

60. do you have any pets? Yes!

61. are you more of an early bird or a night owl? Night Owl!

62. do you like sunrises or sunsets better? Sunsets! If I ever see a sunrises someone will be dying... (the one that woke me up that early!)

63. do you know how to drive? Yeaaaasssss! I LOVE DRIVING! and yes also with a gearbox!!

64. do you prefer earbuds or headphones? In-ear earbuds!

65. have you ever had braces? No!

66. what is your favorite genre of music? Rock!

67. who is your hero? My mom!

68. do you read comic books? Web comics (rn the gamer and dice) and manga!

69. what makes you the most angry? People who did something wrong and then blame you.

70. do you prefer to read on an electronic device or with a real book? Electronic. Real books are to heavy to take a lot of with you.

71. what was your favorite subject in school? Math and science!

72. do you have any siblings? Yes! Sister at my Moms and a Brother and Sister at my Dads!

73. what was the last thing you bought? Food:p But uhm as of last fun thing was the cam for the facecam on streams!

74. how tall are you? 171 cm (5′7 is that right?)

75. can you cook? Somewhat... I like cooking but I usually work during dinner time so don’t do it to often.

76. what are three things that you love? My family (incl my own and my parents, siblings and grandparents) Playing games (incl sims, final fantasy, dragon quest and stardew) My roomba! (I hate vacuuming) 

77. what are three things that you hate? Liars  Cleaning Waking up early

78. do you have more female friends or more male friends? I think male...

79. what is your sexual orientation? I’m straight.

80. where do you currently live? The Netherlands (HOLLAND HOLLAND HOLLAND) ;)

81. who was the last person you texted? My hubby!

82. when was the last time you cried? Today.... hahaha I hurt my back still went to work. Got worse and at the end of my shift I could barely walk. I felt like a wuss and that made me cry. 

83. who is your favorite youtuber? MATPAT (game theorists) Jen (xurbansimsx) Mage Masher and Jacksepticeye

84. do you like to take selfies? Sometimes...

85. what is your favorite app? Webtoons

86. what is your relationship with your parent(s) like? Very good

87. what is your favorite foreign accent? German

88. what is a place that you’ve never been to, but you want to visit? Seoul and Kyoto 

89. what is your favorite number? 4

90. can you juggle? No

91. are you religious? No (Maybe the flying spaghetti monster tho)

92. do you find outer space of the deep ocean to be more interesting? OUTER SPACE! I love space! I’m a bit scared of the ocean tho

93. do you consider yourself to be a daredevil? No BUT if needed I will be. 

94. are you allergic to anything? No

95. can you curl your tongue? Yes :P

96. can you wiggle your ears? Yes that too! (Just checked btw)

97. how often do you admit that you were wrong about something? Not that often... If proven wrong I would tho.

98. do you prefer the forest or the beach? Forest

99. what is your favorite piece of advice that anyone has ever given you? It will always be darkest just before it will get lighter again. (no matter how awful things seem it will get better)

100. are you a good liar? A very good liar... 

101. what is your hogwarts house? Gryffindor

102. do you talk to yourself? All the time!

103. are you an introvert or an extrovert? Both... I guess.. But more Extrovert.

104. do you keep a journal/diary? Nooooo I can’t! And if I do it’s for 2 weeks and then I forget!

105. do you believe in second chances? Yes but not in third.

106. if you found a wallet full of money on the ground, what would you do? Give it to the police.. I can’t keep it because I would feel bad...

107. do you believe that people are capable of change? Change... Not really. However I do believe in the adaptability of people. 

108. are you ticklish? Yes... unfortunately... 

109. have you ever been on a plane? Yes to Spain, Hungary, Italy and Malta

110. do you have any piercings? Yes I had more. Did you know if you get pregnant your body can just resist them? I lost 5 piercings because of that but gained a lovely little boy so everything is good. <3

111. what fictional character do you wish was real? Oeee this is hard... there are so many. But uh let me just say Gohan. I just love him. Strong, kind and smart. (Also my first crush when I was young hahaha)

112. do you have any tattoos? Yes 3! And I want so many MORE!

113. what is the best decision that you’ve made in your life so far? Changing jobs! 

114. do you believe in karma? No... I don’t believe in anything I can’t see or can’t be proven my science. 

115. do you wear glasses or contacts? Glasses

116. do you want children? I got a kid already hahaha but Yes I would like a second child at some point.

117. who is the smartest person you know? I think it would be my sister @galaxymiep! She can do stuff I could never do. <3

118. what is your most embarrassing memory? Oh Idk... I’m not embarrassed easily. But I think I would be when my workpants had a hole in it and I didn’t notice until someone told me... 

119. have you ever pulled an all-nighter? So many times.

120. what colour are most of you clothes? Black

121. do you like adventures? Not really. I had my adventures days. I’m boring now hahaha

122. have you ever been on tv? UHmm... Yes... Local tv station about concrete blocks. Why?

123. how old are you? Old... hahaha I’m 28

124. what is your favorite movie quote? From the movie Moulin Rouge: “The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return.”

125. sweet or savory? Depends on my mood. But mostly Savory!

[darley1101]

Keeping It Real With Damien and Ava (Perfect Match)

A/N Over the last couple of days I have had requests for the OTP questionaire. I started to write them the way they are usually written: us writers answering the questions for the characters. And then I remembered how much fun I had writing Jenny's blog in my 'Birthday Surprise' one shot for #LoveHacks. The idea of treating each OTP pairing as an interview with Jenny for her blog came to me and it wouldn't go away. I am certain that someone, somewhere, has done something similar so credit for the idea goes to them. Regardless, I hope you enjoy! If not, I will revert back to the traditional manner in which these are done. XOXO -D-

Book(s) Perfect Match; #Love Hacks

Characters: Damien Nazario, Ava Park, Jenny Collins, with mention of other characters

Rating: Mature readers only as there is reference to sexual activity

Warning: This story does contain mention of sexual activity

tagging: @blackcatkita @boneandfur @josieschoices @endlessly-searching-for-you @flynnomalleys @lizeboredom @writtenbycandy @clarissafics @damienazariostan @mfackenthal @tmarie82 @flowerpowell @mrsnazario1223 @kingliamthirst @debramcg1106 @jadedpixiescribbles @penguininapinktuxedo @confessionsofabrokegirl @theroyalweisme @kinkykingliam 

Keeping It Real with Damien and Ava by Jenny Collins

On a daily basis we are bombarded with articles and interviews featuring famous couples who are trying to show the world how normal they are. Don't get me wrong, I think its great that Matt Rodriquez will go through the In and Out drive through to get his fiancee Ashton Jones a large order of french fries with extra ketchup; or that NFL quarterback Chris Powell and his wife Aria's idea of a perfect date is miniature golf. I love knowing that these larger than life people aren't so different from the rest of us; except, you know, their million dollar homes and eight figure bank accounts. Do you know what I love more? Exposing how awesome normal, every day couples can be, because lets face it the average couple isn't going to have the same issues Matt Rodriquez and Chris Powell have with their significant others. That's why I am starting my 'Keeping It Real' series. I want to show case how its not just famous couples that lead interesting lives, but regular couples as well. In the interest of being fair, I will be asking each couple the same questions.

When you know as many awesome couples as I do, figuring out who to interview first can be a bit tricky. As luck would have it, fate stepped in and made the choice form of my hubby Mark making a business trip to New York and inviting me to tag along. While in the Big Apple, I caught up with our friend Ben's sister Ava and her live in boyfriend Damien. We met at this fantastic little cafe near Central Park and over coffee, cronuts, and Damien's leeriness to invite strangers into his relationship (he's a legit private detective guys!) we delved right in to what makes Damien and Ava, the couple, tick! I hope you enjoy getting to know them as much as I did.

First, I just want to thank you guys for doing this!

Ava: Of course! There's nothing I love more than telling world how much I love this big lug! (she elbowed Damien in the side before hugging his arm and pressing a kiss to his cheek)

Damien: And there's not much I wouldn't do for Ava. (He's still a bit tense and leery at this point but willing to give it a try since Ava is so gun ho)

So, inquiring minds want to know how you met. (Its me. I'm the inquiring mind!)

Damien: (this adorable smirk comes over his face) It's kinda funny. I was out having a drink when I seen this little John Lennon wannabe hipster trying to kiss this girl who kept leaning back (he laughs at the memory) and I couldn't just stand there and do nothing.

Ava: (She starts giggling so hard its almost impossible to understand what she's saying) It was awful! My cousin Nadia set me up with him. The whole night he kept asking about how much I made because he needed a woman who could support him and his art. I had no idea how I was going to get out of kissing him when he kept coming at me with his lips like this (she purses her lips into an exaggerated fish pout and starts making kissy noises) Out of no where this guy (she jerks her head towards Damien) shows up and says 'That's my future wife you're trying to kiss!

Me: And you've been together ever since? (they look at each other and start laughing)

Ava: I wish! No, actually I just thanked him and we parted ways. It wasn't until a week later when my cousin Nadia was being stalked by some perverted cartoonist that we connected. And then it was just as friends. (She looks sad for a minute and Damien puts an arm around her)

Damien: We became such good friends that both of us were afraid to say we cared about the other as more than a friend. (He cuddles her closer and I swear my heart just about melted) It wasn't until I thought I might lose her for good that I made my move.

Ava: Excuse me! (She shot him a pointed look) I believe I was the one to make the first move!

Damien: (Laughing and throwing his hands up) Okay, okay, Ava was the one who actually made all the moves that resulted in us getting together.

You guys are too cute! I'm almost afraid to ask this though...who hogs the covers?

(They look at each other and then both answer)

Damien: Ava!

Ava: Me! (she laughs and gestures towards her body. She's super tiny, with very little body fat) I mean look at me. I literally blow away when the wind gets too strong. It's embarrassing, not to mention annoying. (She lets out a sigh and starts toying with the end of her long fishtail braid) I can never get warm enough in the winter. It's awful.

Damien: You should see her. She'll come to bed wearing this ugly thick socks, leggings, and this hideous sweatshirt that goes to her knees. (He gives her a bemused look) One of these days I'm going to burn it.

Ava: (gasps) You better not!

Damien: Don't worry, I will keep you warmer than that ratty old thing ever could. (He cuddles her again and I swear to God Mark you better be taking notes! I need cuddles like this in my life!)

I just want the record to show I don't support burning Ava's sweatshirt. (I say this while laughing) Next question. Hopefully this one doesn't result in threats: who texts or calls the most to check in throughout the day?

Damien: I think its about equal. (He seems a little hesitant while saying this)

Ava: (She raises one of her brows) Are you sure about that? (She then looks at me, smiling) He's not wrong, but it sort of depends on what's going on. If I'm working on an article and I know I have a deadline approaching, I tend to loose myself in my writing. (She smiles at me again) I'm sure you know how that is!

Me: (nodding) Absolutely!

Damien: Alright. Fine. I tend to text or call Ava more. I used to be a cop and am currently a private investiagtor, so I've seen some scary shit. (He shoots me an apologetic look) Is it okay to say that? Or is your blog one of those PG ones?

Me: (laughing) My last blog was about how to achieve orgasm while pregnant. I don't think a little curse word like shit is going to offend my readers. (The look on his face when I tell him about my last blog is priceless. His tan skin turns this adorable red color)

Damien: (he's shifting around now, like he's a little nervous.) Uh right. Well, like I said, I tend to do most of the random check in's...

Ava: But not always. Sometimes I'm the one with the free time and I blow up his phone.

Damien: Which is not cool when I'm trying to stake out a potential cheater.

Ava: (shrugs) What can I say? I'm needy. But (she grins at him and squeezes him around the waist) you know I love you!

You guys are literally the cutest! Speaking of cute...lets talk gifts! Whose the most creative when it comes to gift?

Ava: (she blushes a little) We both really suck at buying gifts.

Damien: Its true. My last gift to her was an iron because she said she was tired of paying extra at the laundry. (I can't help but wince. Guys, irons are not romantic gifts)

Ava: And my last gift to him was a years supply of notebooks and pens. (She has the decency to look at her cronut)

Boy, you guys weren't kidding when you said you both sucked at giving gifts! (The both nod at me, laughing)

(Ava enjoying her tea after we left the cafe)

We take a slight break while Damien goes to answer a phone call from a client and I take my pregnant butt to the bathroom. When I return, Ava had ordered us some boba tea and these little spinach quiches that are almost too cute to eat. She gives me a sheepish look and admits she's basically a bottomless pit and needed more to eat than the cronut she'd devoured during the first part of our interview. We decide to go ahead with a few easy questions while Damien soothes a client. She tells me about him being an early riser and her sleeping like the dead until noon. We laugh over Damien being a sap during movies about animals, especially if the animal lead dies.

Ava: He cried like a baby during A Dog's Life and Marley and Me. (She peeks over her shoulder to be sure he's still on the phone) And you should see him at the end of Old Yeller.

Things are going so well, I decided to just go for the big guns!

So...Ava...between us girls who suggests new things in bed?

Ava: (her cheeks flush a little) That's a tough one because we're both open to trying to things. If I read an article or Damien hears or sees something during a stake out. (She's really blushing at this point) Lets just say we both like keeping things interesting.

Damien: Sorry for that. (He sits down and I catch him up. He's a little embarrassed that Ava outed him for getting misty eyed during animal flicks but gets her back) Did she tell you about her handcuff kink?

Ava: (At this point she's the same color of red as the crop top she's wearing.) Damien!

Any chance you like to give her a massage or two while she's cuffed? (I'm such a bad girl! I even winked. Who wouldn't after an announcement like that!)

Damien: Not the sort we're going to talk about here. (He actually winked back at me! He's definitely lightened up and gotten into the spirit of things) Besides, Ava's the one whose good at massages. She'll surprise me at work with Gray Papaya hot dogs and a shoulder massage.

Me: That's sweet! (Note to self, I need to surprise Mark with hot dogs and shoulder massages at work. Well, maybe not the hot dogs because San Fran doesn't do a dog the way New York does)

Ava: He's always so tense! I can't help it!

Does that sweetness cross into nursing him while he's sick? Or...

Ava: (Covers her face with her hands) I'm the worse when it comes to being sick.

Damien: Let her contract a simple cold and she acts like its the Ebola virus and she's on the verge of death.

Ava: (She drops her hands and scowls at him) I'm not that bad! (He looks at me and mouths that yes, she is that bad. God, these two are cracking me up!)

Lets talk jealousy.

Ava: (She looks at Damien, an amused look on her pretty face) Yes, Damien lets talk jealousy!

Damien: (This time he's the one blushing!) It was an honest mistake!

Ava: (She looks at me, trying not to laugh.) You know my brother Ben? (I nod as Ben is a dear friend) Well he showed up unexpectedly one day and naturally I was super excited-

Damien: Come on, Ava, do we really need to tell people about this?

Ava: You tackled my brother to the ground for hugging me because you thought he was some guy trying to cop a feel! (I have to cover my mouth so Damien doesn't see me laughing)

Damien: I didn't realize he was your brother! All I seen was some schmuck with his hands on my girlfriend! (he looks at me) next question please?

Sure (I am openly laughing now) how about something fun. Like who has the most embarrassing taste in music.

Ava: (She's adopted this stoic look and keeps clearing her throat)

Damien: Five words. (He shoots Ava a sly look) New Kids On The Block. (Ava groans and buries her face in her hands as Damien starts making oh, oh oh, noises.) You got the right stuff...(he elbows Ava) baby...

Ava: Please stop.

Damien: I love the way you (he's cut off by Ava placing her hand over his mouth)

Ava: Okay, fine, so I might have a few New Kids On The Block songs on my play list but you...(she jabs Damien in the chest with her finger) you like to listen to the Pussycat Dolls!

Me: Hey, I listen to PCD! (It's true. I have at least five of their songs, plus I seen them in concert)

Damien: There. You see. Nothing wrong with a little PCD. (We fist bump at this point and I feel like I've officially made a new friend for life.)

I'm almost afraid to ask if either of you collect anything unusual.

Ava: Do robots count? (They share a laugh and a look that has me thinking there is more to this story than meets the eyes.)

Damien: Ava has trolls.

Ava: (if looks could kill, I'm pretty sure I would be performing CPR on Damien right now) You leave my trolls out of this. (She looks at me.) Yes, I have trolls. My grandma collected them and when she passed away we each got to pick our favorites. I don't collect them though. They're around for sentimental reasons.

So...real talk...who takes the longest to get ready?

Damien: Believe it or not, I do.

Ava: I can take a shower, do my hair and make up, get dressed, and he's still perfecting his hair style.

Damien: Hey, it takes work for hair to look this good! (Let the record show that Damien really does have fantastic hair!

Does that mean he's the more organized and tidy of you two?

Ava: Ha! (She bursts out laughing so loud other guests in the cafe turn to stare.) Damien's idea of organized is keeping his fast food wrapper pile to the left of his desk.

Damien: You'd think, given my job, that I would be more organized. (He frowns slightly) Okay, let me rephrase that. When it comes to cases, I'm very organized. Personal space...not so much.

With the 4th of July having just passed, I need to ask: whose the most excited about holidays?

Ava: Neither of us? (She shrugs) Don't get me wrong, we love Christmas and Thanksgiving as much as the next person but we don't really go all out. I think that's mostly because my cousin Nadia never does anything halfway and we sort of just know she's going to go all out...so we just enjoy her efforts.

Damien: Yeah. I would have to agree with that.

Aw that's kind of a bummer. (But it explains why Ben doesn't really do much during the holidays other than show up for dinner) Cheer me up. You guys are clearly very cuddly with each other. (They're cuddled up again and I'm telling you Mark, they've built up expectations that you must live up to!) Whose the big spoon and whose the little spoon?

Ava: We do enjoy our cuddles. (She lays her head on his shoulder, their fingers twining together. I'm seriously jelly right now) During the summer, I'm the big spoon. Damien doesn't like to be hot, so he tends to throw off the covers, which leaves me freezing, so I have to cling to his back in an effort to stay warm.

Damien: So she claims. (He chuckles, his eyes twinkling) What about all those nights I've kept you warm by wrapping you up in my arms, huh?

Ava: You interrupted me before I could get to that! (She looks at me and rolls her eyes.) Men! I swear. (She rolls her eyes again) Before the big baby has a melt down...he's the big spoon in the winter. My own personal space heater. (She presses a quick kiss to his lips) There. Happy now?

Damien: I'm getting there....

You guys are both very competitive aren't you?

Ava: I'm really not. If I play a game a game, I play for fun. To me, its not about winning, it's about fun. It's why I was never any good at spots.

Me: What about you Damien? Are you in it to win it or just having fun?

Damien: I hate losing, that's all I'm going to say.

Does that carry over into arguments? (They both stare at me in surprise before laughing)

Ava: Not really. We bicker a lot. Sort of like we've done here, today, but we don't really have arguments.

Damien: More like disagreements that get heated...and occasionally the police show up.

Ava: One time! (she looks mortified that he brought up the police being called. Meanwhile. I'm thrilled that he's comfortable enough to do so) And I know it was your neighbor Mrs. Godowlski. (She looks at me) He made mad so I dropped a water balloon on his head from the window and the old biddy called the police saying I was throwing things at him.

Yikes! Sounds like your neighbor is a real winner there Damien. (He shrugs but there's a smirk on his lips) Anyways, Ben was telling me  you guys have the cutest little dog. Whose idea was it to get a pet?

(Tell me that Buddy is not the cutest dog ever?!)

Ava: I don't think we really decided to get a pet so much as Buddy happened and it was love at first sight.

Damien: He was this little stray who hid under the bench outside my office building. One night Ava, was able to get him to come to her and he's been with us ever since.

That is awesome. Rescues make the best pets.

(They both agree with me and take another break. This time so Ava can respond to the twenty texts her cousin Nadia has sent. Hm. That could be a good blog, right? How many texts is too many texts...and how to stop yourself from sending them.) Damien and I briefly chat off the record about why I'm doing this and he even goes so far as to say he thinks its a cool idea. Thanks, Damien, I think its a cool idea too. I ask him how he keeps things romantic and he melts my heart by saying every night he stops by a local flower cart and picks up a single sunflower. “Some days my job is really dark. I spend a lot of time breaking up marriages...” I have to stop him here and remind him that he doesn't break up the marriages, the actions of the cheating partners do. “Okay, you're right. My point is, Ava's smile can take the worse day and make it better. Sunflowers make her smile.” He just gives this little shrug, as though he has not clue how freaking sweet that is.

(I managed to talk Damien into one silly picture)

Ava: And I'm back. (She drops into her seat next to Damien and grins apologetically) Sorry, if I hadn't answered she would have started calling and none of us want that!

Its cool. (I consult my notes to see where we had left off) So...what traditions do you have?

Ava: You mean like couple traditions? (I told her that yes, that was exactly what I mean) Well, Damien likes to bring me sunflowers every day...does that count?

Me: Most definitely!

Damien: We have a joint Pinterest and once a week, I will pin a meal I want her to cook.

Me: Ava's a good cook?

Damien: Oh yeah. (Ava blushes but doesn't refute what he's saying. I kind of want to invite myself over for dinner right now) I burn water.

Any tv shows you guys like to watch while eating those Pinterest inspired meals?

Ava: Oh! Yes! (She squirms around, all excited) We both love watching this show called The Social Season. Its kind of like a telenovela. (She squirms again, her cheeks flushed) Its about this girl named Eliza and....oh gosh Jenny you just have to watch it! (She squeals when I tell her that I do watch it. How could I not? It's just that good!)

Damien: It is pretty good. (He looks embarrassed to admit that he watches a trashy romance series but I tell him he has nothing to be ashamed of. I tell him that Mark likes this drama known as Consequences of Secrets, which seems to put him at ease.)

Are these meals and shows watched alone or do you invite over other couples?

Damien: We spent a lot of time with Ava's cousin Nadia and her...boyfriend...Steve, as well as our friends Sloane and Hayden.

Ava: Yeah, we try to get together at least once every two weeks for dinner and games.

Damien: Drinking games

Ava: Not always! Sometimes we play monopoly.

Damien: While drinking.

We spend a few more minutes chatting and make plans for dinner later that evening. They want to introduce Mark and I to Ava's co-worker Lucy and her soon to be husband Flynn, as well as Flynn's sister Kate and her boyfriend Grant. Of course I jump at the opportunity. Who knows...maybe my next blog will be about one of them!

A/N Do you guys enjoy this method of answering the OTP or do you want me to go back to regular style? Let me know in a comment or reblog! Want to know more about Ava and Damien's favorite “shows” check out the fics: The Social Season and The Consequences of Secrets. Also, I  currentl have requests for Flynn x Lucy, Jamison x Adam (AME) and Becca x Zig but anyone would like to see other couples ‘interviewed’ like this let me know!

[femslashy]

2018 fic year in review

thank you so much for tagging me @homosociallyyours !! this was really fun (and also a bit hard haha) to do ^__^

1. number of stories (including drabbles) posted to ao3: 19 (6 100 word seasonal drabbles, and out of the rest 4 are under 1k and 2 are chaptered but one of those is still a WIP)

2. word count posted for the year: 142,383 which is def more than i’ve written in previous years but my initial goal for this year was 200k and then i lowered it to 150k and then decided i should focus less on word count and more on actually finishing the fics lmaooo

3. list of works posted this year in order of posting:

the tesco fic (although i didn’t make the tumblr post until recently)

three spring drabbles (100 words each)

begin again [timestamp] (my only snowbaz fic in 2018)

we’re swimming with the sharks until we drown

SPHERICAL

got me an appetite, now i can taste it

Take a Chance on Me

Getting Naked on Camera (NOT CLICKBAIT)

my favourite colour is you

louis tomlinson’s completely 100% foolproof guide to snagging the fit bloke next door (3 100 word drabbles)

no better place than right by your side

days gone by (WIP)

love the cronch

zero to sixty

where the love light gleams

4. fandoms i wrote for: mostly one direction and by that i mean i posted a timestamp for a carry on fic from 2017 and the rest was one direction lol

5. pairings: harry/louis, simon/baz (ONCE)

6. story with the most hits: Take a Chance on Me with 10975 hits :o

7. story with the most kudos: Take a Chance on Me with 426 kudos

8. story with the most comments: Take a Chance on Me with 52 comments threads

9. work i’m most proud of and why: well Take a Chance on Me was both my first time doing a big bang as well as the longest thing i’ve ever written (twice the length of the previous longest!) and i’m still completely in love with the art for it courtesy of @vulpixlou and i def don’t go back to stare at it ever nope 👀👀

10. work i’m least proud of and why: i mean i could nitpick the hell out of my stuff and i know there are certain bits i would write differently now but at the same time i created something with my brain that didn’t exist before and that’s just too cool not to be proud of ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

11. a favorite excerpt of your writing:

this is from Take a Chance on Me (shocker) and i was having trouble thinking of my fave but then i was skimming through all of my fics and ngl i had forgotten about this bit but y’all i’ve been trying to work a Dramatic Airport Reunion into a fic FOR FUCKING EVER and i finally did it and i actually don’t hate it? (spoiler for the ending of Take a Chance on Me)

“See…” Louis starts. “See, there’s this guy. And, oh god, he’s an absolute twat. Wanna know what he did to me?” Harry nods faintly, and Louis, emboldened now, goes on. “So, I already knew who he was, right? I knew him, because he’d been in this god-awful boy band for years, and even if me bloody sisters hadn’t been so bloody in love with him, I’d still have known him, because he was just that famous.”

“I wasn’t that famous.”

“Don’t interrupt,” Louis chastises, and Harry mimics zipping his lips. “So this guy, I knew him, but he didn’t know me, but, fucking hell, I think someone forgot to tell him that, because there I was, minding my own business, when this kid just…” Louis giggles then, because the memory is just so ridiculous, “he just starts fucking singing to me, can you believe it?”

Harry shakes his head. “What a weirdo.”

“Right? The weirdest.”

“What happened next?”

“I fell in love with him.”

“What? That soon?”

“Of course not, Jesus, Harold. I’m not that pathetic. I waited the appropriate amount of time to fall in love, thank you very much.”

“Is that why you’re here, then?” Harry whispers. “Is it because you love him?”

“That’s part of it, yeah. I love him, and I love the way we just fit, and I adore his daughter, and our pets are friends now, and I think our sisters are best friends now, so they didn’t actually give me a choice, but do you want to know the biggest, most important reason?”

Harry nods quickly, so hard his chin bumps his chest, and Louis’ so fucking in love with him at that moment that these are the easiest words he’s ever said.

“I’m here,” he tells Harry, “because I was lying in my own bed, in my own house, surrounded by all my things, and all I wanted to do was go home.”

He’s yanked forward then, Harry’s fingers digging into his shoulders, and he barely feels the pain because it’s Harry, and everything’s good when it’s Harry. He’s babbling into Louis’ neck, and the only words he can make out are his name and “love you” and he shivers with the feeling.

Harry’s hair has grown out enough since the night Louis snuck in to see him that he can tangle his fingers in the strands. So he does, pulling Harry’s face away from his neck and pressing their lips together. Every kiss feels like an apology. Every kiss feels like home.

12. share or describe a favorite review you recieved: so this miiiiight be cheating but i received two comments on a fic i wrote in 2015 and it was kind of a surprise that something that old still held up and people still enjoy it? def made me feel better about my current writing and also anyone who quotes my fics back to me has earned my undying love and affection

13. a time when writing was really, really hard: i have adhd so p much always ahahaha

14. a scene or character you wrote that most surprised you: the entirety of “we’re swimming with the sharks until we drown” ngl because i struggled with the like… morally gray criminal-y elements? and portraying the two of them in such a different way while still staying in character which i like to think i nailed? hopefully lol

15. how did you grow as a writer this year? i don’t feel like a i have? but i’m also bias and hypercritical so maybe i did and just didn’t realize ahaha

16. how do you hope to grow next (this?) year: i want to enjoy writing again and i want to finish more fics and not let them rot in my docs because of self-doubt

who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer: okay so first @amandaisnotwriting is the real MVP as she bears the brunt of my whining/complaining/drama queen moments as well as the fact that she listens (some would argue is forced to :p) and reads over fic for a pairing she doesn’t ship for a fandom she doesn’t care about 😂😂😂

@rainbowbaz always makes time to look over my fics even when she’s crazy busy and is honestly amazing and saves my fics from americanisms ahahaha

and FINALLY we met p late in the year but but @livingatthelairport ‘s comment on “the tesco fic” helped me out of a writing slump and now she’s become my cheerleader (and friend 💜) and that’s make a huge difference in my attitude towards writing! it’s also easier to write a fic for a specific person than worry about the opinion of a crowd which is def something i’ve been missing in this fandom rip

also to everyone else who has read my fics, listened to me rant about them or just helped the process along in any way at all this is a GIANT thank you!!

18. anything from your real life show up in your writing this year? i mean i can’t think of anything off the top of my head but a lot of my inspo comes from the world around me so probably lol

19. any wisdom you can share with other writers: there’s nothing wrong with feeling jealous of other writers because i’m not a fan of hiding feelings just because they’re ugly as long as you don’t let it fester and turn into resentment or make you bitter. there are a lot of factors that go into a fic becoming “big” in a fandom but honestly most of it is just random chance so don’t beat yourself up because someone else’s success is not your failure and it’s nice to get recognition for your hard work but if you’re writing solely for the feedback then you’re writing for the wrong reason and that will lead to the resentment and bitterness mentioned earlier

also if you compliment someone you say you like their outfit but if you complement someone then you complete them

20. any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

I’M GLAD YOU ASKED

these are all the things i didn’t start and/or finish in 2018 that WILL be completed this year

the cat fic

the doctor fic

the final three chapters of days gone by

penpal AU

Space. Florist.

teenage fanboys who are also best friends

baking blog fic

a short follow up to tacom

twitter drama fic

80’s/’high school’/secret admirer!AU

something based on yawning grave by lord huron

part three of the alien harry series

chocolate orange holiday fic

LA fic (wtwm)

70’s fic

monkey fic

i’m also planning to do the @larryabroad challenge again because i had so much fun with it last time :D

21. tag some writers whose answers you’d like to read:

p sure everyone has done this but if you haven’t then do it now! and also tagging @cosyblack k bc you’ve had a really good year even if i have beta bias 😂

this took waaay longer than i thought it would omg but it was nice to take a look back!!

[heartbreakcity]

87.5 RanDoM QuEstiOnS

okayyy, i’ve always wanted to do one of these !! hopefully you all know me a lil better afterwards

tagged by: the lovely @inspiredbynewt

tagging: @gilinswilkwhore & @maximoff-pan

♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛

0.5) Name and age? Megan and i’m 16

1. Where do you live? Oxford, England. yes it rains, yes it’s cold.

2. One cool item you own? my record player, and i have my dads old band on vinyl (Faze Action - they’re the bomb.com) and my huge collection of photos clipped to fairy lights is cute

3. Moon or stars? moon

4. Places you’d like to travel to? E V E R Y W H E R E A N D A N Y W H E R E

5. Favourite song? a) A Sky Full Of Stars by Coldplay b) Isombard by Declan McKenna c) December 1963 (Oh What A Night) by Frankie Valley and The Four Seasons

6. Do you have any fears? Yup, it’s called Ostraconaphobia...and yes it’s ridiculous it’s the fear of...shellfish THEY TERRIFY ME I CAND DEal WITH IT

7. Do you feel different than you did last year? i’m so much happier, honestly i’m loving life

8. What is your race? White British

9. Pet peeves? loud and obnoxious people but that’s it.

10. Any siblings? a brother

11. Are you a gamer? depends on the game

12. Sexual orientation? straight

13. Does a broken mirror mean bad luck? oh hell yes

14. What do you feel is your mental age? ranges from a 3 year old to 50 year old

15. How old were you when you started dating? my first proper relationship where i was in love was at the age 15. some say it was too young but this guy was my everything and i saw my whole future with him. pity he said “you’re not good enough”, eh

16. Where do you do most of your online shopping? amazon or asos

17. Favourite animal? penguinsss

18. What’s one film from the 2000s that you like? hands down “13 going on 30” and the classic “Angus, Thongs and Perfect Snogging”

19. What’s your favourite scary movie? hate them with a passion but probs Incidious

20. Fun fact about yourself? i am probably the most musical person you will ever meet - i play trombone, bass guitar, flute, clarinet, piano, keyboard, saxophone, trumpet, baritone, cornet, drums, guitar and i sing.

21. Shoe size? 6

22. Which fictional character(s) do you relate to the most? Betty Cooper, she’s basically my spirit animal and Blair Waldorf

23. Where do you see yourself living in ten years? in america

24. Ever wore clothes that were just wayyy too tight? yes and i still have the scars lmao

25. What’s on your mind? ironic, but i’m thinking about the ex bf who said “you’re not good enough for me” bc hell i miss him

26. Are you religious? yes

27. How tall are you? 5’7”

28. Favourite band? 5sos, The Killers, The Hunna, Jackson 5

29. Do you remember 2009? no i barely remember 3 days ago

30. Cats or dogs? cat person here

31. Fruit or vegetables? veggies

32. Do you want to get married? 100% yes

33. Do you want children? yep, 2

34. Flamingos or peacocks? flamingos they’re so pretty

35. What superpower do you wish you had? mind reading or being able to change minds

36. Are you a germ freak? god yes

37. Did swearing baby, ghost car, or ghost caught on tape scare you as a kid? HELL TO THE YESSSS i had an awful friend who showed all of the above to me

38. Do you prefer sweet or salty? salt. tons of salt pls

39. Tea or coffee? dislike both but coffee cause i like Mochas

40. Are you superstitious? yup. i hold my breath when i pass lorries on the roads, i carry a luck stone with me and wear 2 rings every day in case of bad luck

41. Do you like stripes? i guess?

42. Favourite shows as a kid? teletubbies or the tweenies

43. Favourite shows growing up? victorious, icarly, wizards of waverley place, kickin’ it were the bomb

44. Favourite musical? Kinky Boots, Les Mis, RENT, Jersey boys, FOOTLOOSE HELL YEA

45. Favourite movie? shit there’s a list: Guardians of the galaxy, footloose, the breakfast club, star wars episode VI, the maze runner trilogy, ferris bulers day off, 10 things i hate about you

46. Birthday? 17 december (i’m 16)

47. Are you a grammar Nazi? absolutely. i’m so pedantic

48. Ever gotten drunk? yeah

49. Do you have a carrier bag? huh?

50. What would you do if you were the opposite gender for a day? tell a girl what makes her special

51. If you were the opposite gender what would you change your name to? i’ve looked at this question for 5 mins, idk i love Ashton (yes irwin)

52. What song is stuck in your head? “rent” from rent...

53. Celebrity crush? always = luke hemmings but rn = shia lebouf

54. If you could live in a non-English speaking country, where would it be? spain

55. Are you a good dancer? i like to think i am but really i look awful

56. Have any allergies? to nasty people

57. Any bad habits? i think things over at least 2784 times and then realise, maybe it really was nothing

58. Ever broke a bone? left elbow

59. Are you a city or country person? city, totally

60. Do you like your home country? love it

61. Sunflowers or daisies? daises. have so many memories involving daises

62. Tulips or roses? roses

63. Oak or maple? oak

64. Disney or Nickelodeon? refuse to answer

65. WYR be obese or anorexic? anorexic

66. WYR be over 6 feet or under 5 feet? under 5 ft

67. Rubies or sapphires? sapphires

68. Are you stubborn? look up stubborn in the dictionary you’ll see “Megan”

69. Have you been in scouts/Girl Scouts? yeah, in england you call it “Rainbows” then “Brownies” then “Guides”

70. What type of music do you listen to? EVERYTHING and i mean everything EXCEPT rap/hip hop/dubstep

71. Favourite vine? thomas sanders “narrating people’s lives” with the one about the guy stepping on a snake

72. Beaches or castles? beaches

73. Pick the closest book to you, and write the line for page 36, line 16 -“ - meant adding our own to the pile” it’s from Library Of Souls by Ranson Riggs

74. Anyone in the same room as you right now? nope i’m in bed

75. Which is worse; throwing up or diharreah? throwing up

76. Butterflies or lady bugs? butterflies!!

77. Do you say “K” when you’re not mad? i hate the letter so no

78. How do you react when purposely scare you? i’ll scream. i’ll always scream

79. Most overrated celebrity? the whole kardashian clan #sorrynotsorry

80. Do you have a globe in your room? i wish

81. Do you have a dream catcher in your room? nah

82. What do you see when you look out your window? my allotment, a play park, a graveyard, and fields and barns for miles

83. Have you been on an airplane? yes and i hate it

84. Do you believe in aliens? honestly i believe we can’t be the only ones in the whole entire universe

85. Do you believe in ghosts? in a scary way - no. in a comforting way/family/friends passed way - yes.

86. Do you believe in God? yes

87. Do you believe in yourself? i believe i can do whatever i put my mind to. so yes. i have confidence in myself

[hannahindie]

Dean vs. The Mothman

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader, The Mothman Word Count: 4,531 (Whoopsy doodles!) Warnings: Canon violence, language, sassy reader, and a date gone horribly wrong. A/N: I wrote this for two separate challenges. The first is for @waywardmoeyy and Moeyy’s Awkward Moments Birthday Challenge. My prompt is bolded in the fic below! The second was for @uniquewerewolfsuit’s Mythical Creatures Challenge. I had a blast writing it, and my words got slightly carried away. I really hope you all enjoy it as much I enjoyed writing it. However, I couldn’t have done it without my wonderful betas...

@trexrambling: “I was just hit with the memory of me making a lake of BBQ sauce on my plate and now I'm just sitting here giggling to myself hahaha” (I had to include this because this very incident is the reason I thought to put it in this fic. My ode to my sweet waterbear and her giant lake of barbecue sauce)

@pinknerdpanda: “Eek!!! Anxiety extreme” (Also, you can thank her for the song choice, because it fit perfectly and I love it. She’s my twin.)

As always, tags are at the bottom. If you’d like to be added, please send an ask or an IM. :)

The first thing you need to know is that grenade launchers are freaking awesome. The second thing you need to know is that they are also very loud, and a little more...explode-y than you would expect. The reason I say this is because I'm currently sitting on my ass, choking on concrete dust, and hoping to God I didn't just kill the two random dudes that had, for some reason, appeared in the middle of the bunker I had set my sights on. My eyes are on the slowly settling dust cloud, grenade launcher across my lap, and I breathe a sigh of relief when I see two shadowy figures emerge from the rubble.

“Oh shit, I thought I killed you.” I stand up and take a better look at the two men brushing debris off their shoulders and out of their hair. The shorter of the two squints through the dust, and the initial glare turns into a look of awe when he realizes what I'm holding.

“Is that...is that a grenade launcher?”

His voice is deep and gravelly, and it does things to me. I remind myself to keep that in mind for later, when I'm not trying to save a town from utter destruction.

The giant next to him rolls his eyes, “Don't even think about it.”

The shorter one grins, and even from here I can see the sparkle in his eyes. I like this one. “I’m both jealous and a little turned on right now.”

“Dean!” Sasquatch hisses, and I can't help but notice the dimples that form even when he's frowning. Good Lord, where did these men come from? Whatever they put in their water, they should probably keep drinking it.

“Well, you're a man after my own heart. I've been wanting to use this thing for a long time, but I was hoping it would be a little more successful. Sorry I almost blew you up.” I'm pretty sure I just shouted that. Am I shouting? I told you, grenade launchers are loud.

They walk closer to me, and the shorter one holds out his hand. I realize that the ‘shorter one’ is...not so short. Seriously, where are they from? “The name’s Dean. This is my brother Sam.”

I look from one to the other, and I can tell my mouth is hanging wide open. They can't possibly be who I think they are. “Winchester? Sam and Dean Winchester?” They look at each other in confusion, but I can't understand why. Surely they know that they're legends? Right?

“Yea...how do you know?” Dean asks, and he truly doesn't seem to know. They have no idea. Oh, bless ‘em.

“You guys are legendary. I mean, I figured ya’ll were real and not just some sort of fish tale, but to see you in person...holy shit.” I sling the grenade launcher over my shoulder and rest my free hand on my hip. “I'm glad I didn't blow you up. Although, knowing who you are, I'm guessing it wouldn't stick, huh?”

Sam laughs, “Hopefully not. So, I'm guessing you're a hunter too, then?”

I nod, “I try to be. I do okay… Luckily, this is the first time I've nearly blown someone up, so I guess I'm doing something right.”

Dean looks back over his shoulder at what's left of the old bunker I just demolished, “What are those, anyway? I've never seen anything like it. They're everywhere.”

I grin. These boys have no idea what they're up against, do they?

“Ya’ll ever heard of Mothman?”

“What did you think you were hunting when you got here? Surely you noticed what this town is famous for?” I say around the mouthful of burger I just took. Dean's watching me with this look that's a combination of awe and appreciation. It's like he's never seen a girl put away a burger.

“Well, yea, but there's no lore, and no indication that he's back. You've got a festival honoring him! Nobody seems to mind it, and the disappearances don't really match up with what happened before.” Sam looks flustered, and I start to feel bad for picking at him. This is a weird situation, after all.

Dean stops staring at me long enough to look at Sam, “What are you going on about?”

I grab a handful of fries and carefully begin to dip them one by one into the pool of barbecue sauce on my plate, “He’s talking about the Mothman’s M.O. It's not really his thing to take people. He's more of a...well, a death omen. Or a warning of impending disaster.” Dean looks confused, and I raise an eyebrow at Sam, “Didn't you tell him anything about it?”

Sam frowns, “Yea, I did. He just didn't listen.”

“Yes, I did! There's this giant moth-”

“Dean, it's not a giant moth! It's a Mothman-”

“What's the difference, Sam? It's a giant thing with wings, and it's taking people-”

“There's a huge difference-”

I slam my hands on the table, and the suddenness of it interrupts their bickering. Out of all the stories I've heard about the Winchesters, their sibling squabbles had been left out. It’s cute, but we have work to do.

“We don't have time to argue about who's right. Dean, since you weren't listening to your brother, here's the rundown.”

Dean grins at Sam, “I like her.” Sam just rolls his eyes, and I sigh.

“Great. Keep it in your pants, Winchester. We’ll talk about our feelings later. Anyway, in November of 1966 there's a report that several men digging a grave in Clendenin, West Virginia, saw a man-like figure flying overhead. It's sometimes considered the first sighting of Mothman, but the one you hear about the most, the official first sighting, happened in the TNT area a few days later by young couples that went parking.”

“TNT area...that's where we were earlier. Wasn't that a munitions plant during World War Two?” Sam had apparently done some research.

“Yea. If you look close enough, you can see that those bunkers are spread out in a very specific pattern. They were built like that in case one of them exploded; it would keep the others from going up. They're mostly empty now, although I think the Reserves use them for storage on occasion.”

Dean reaches for a fry on my plate, and I smack his hand. He frowns, “So where's this giant moth fit in?”

“According to the two couples, they saw a ‘large flying man with ten foot wings’, and when their headlights hit him, his eyes glowed red. So Mothman, not just a moth. He was seen by a few other people in the area. There were a couple of volunteer firefighters that described it as a large bird with red eyes. Someone else described its eyes as looking like bicycle reflectors, and another man blamed the strange noises coming from his television and the disappearance of his dog on this Mothman. The sheriff and a wildlife biologist claimed that it was a type of local heron or crane that can grow to be almost the size of a man.”

Dean sits back and crosses his arms, his eyes occasionally drifting back to the fries I've got left. “So...that's it? I thought you said it was a death omen, or a harbinger of impending disaster. So far, he's just scared some kids necking where they weren't supposed to.”

“That's where the Silver Bridge comes in. In December of 1967, the Mothman was spotted near the bridge and, shortly after, the bridge collapsed. Forty-six people were killed when they went into the water. The Mothman wasn’t seen again, and the locals began connecting his appearance with the bridge collapse.” After grabbing a couple more fries from the plate, I shove the rest at Dean and he smiles happily.

“So, what do you think? Is it really the Mothman?” Sam asks, frowning at Dean as he shoves a handful of fries into his mouth.

“Initially, no. Honestly, I just thought it was a giant owl and that some kids afraid of getting in trouble just made something up. I've made fun of it for years...until I saw it a couple weeks ago. I just happened to be going through town when I saw it on the top of the old Historic State theater. A few days later, the first couple disappeared. A hiker found them in the wildlife area...or what you'd know as the TNT area.”

“How do you know it was the Mothman and not someone or something else?” Dean asks as he polishes off the rest of the fries faster than I've ever seen anyone eat before; it's my turn to look impressed. He winks at me, and I feel my cheeks flush. His charm was something I had been warned about.

“Because the couple was found twenty feet up a tree, with talon marks as big as a damn pterodactyl. It's the Mothman,” I grumble.

Dean wipes his hands off on a napkin and tosses it on the now empty plate, then leans back in the booth, “So what was your plan earlier? Was a grenade launcher really the best option?”

I roll my eyes, “Listen, it wasn't my first choice, despite my overwhelming need to blow something up. I'm the only hunter that stays in this general area most of the time, I had to improvise. But since that plan didn't work, we’re on to plan B.”

Dean cocks an eyebrow, “And what would that be, sweetheart?”

I wiggle my eyebrows, “It's time for us to go on a date.”

Sam's standing outside of my car, his arms crossed and a look I can only describe as a mixture of amusement, jealousy, and irritation on his face. I'll give it to him; his facial expressions are what dreams are made of.

“Y/N, are you sure about this? Being bait isn't exactly the best plan…” He trails off, and I think he might actually be concerned.

I smile, “Sam, this isn't my first rodeo, and I'm usually on my own. And if it's Dean you're worried about, I think I can handle him.” I wink at him as Dean opens the driver's side door and climbs in.

“What are you two talking about?” he asks cautiously, his eyes moving between the two of us.

“Nothing. Let's get this show on the road. The faster we get this done, the faster I can get Norma’s famous apple pie.”

Dean looks at me with wide eyes, “There's pie?” I nod, and a wide smile crosses his face, “What are we waiting for then?” He turns the key, and Sam takes a step back. “You know the drill, Sammy. Stay close, but don't scare it off. This should be a piece of cake.” Sam nods and then walks to where the Impala is parked, gives a quick look over his shoulder, then disappears into the driver's seat.

“Is he always this anxious?” I ask as I fiddle with my seatbelt.

Dean scoffs, “Only when there's a pretty girl involved.” He glances at me from the corner of his eye and clears his throat, “You look nice. Pretty convincing date attire.” He pulls out into the main road, and I smooth down the edge of the dress I'd picked out earlier. I'm glad it's dark, or he'd be able to see how red my cheeks are.

“Thanks. I'm not really sure how observant a Mothman can be, but I figured we shouldn't chance it. I don't know how many more opportunities we’ll have, since I already blew one of his lairs to hell.”

Dean laughs, “Good point.” We drive in silence for a moment, and I guess it's too much for Dean because he turns on the radio.

Say you, say me say it for always That's the way it should be

Well, this is awkward. Nothing like Lionel Richie on a fake date, especially one that I'm beginning to think I'd like to be real. I clear my throat, “Turn here.”

Say you, say me say it together Naturally

Aside from the music, we travel the next few minutes in silence. I sneak a glance at Dean and his knuckles are white on the steering wheel. Surely he's not that worried about this hunt? I suppose he doesn't know me well enough to assume I'll be useful, but still.

“You can park here.”

He stops the car, but leaves it running. Lionel Richie is still going, Lord help me.

As we go down life's lonesome highway Seems the hardest thing to do is to find a friend or two That helping hand “So I guess we just wait?” I ask quietly, unsure of what to do now that we’re here.

Dean turns to face me as well as he can in the cramped front seat. Maybe we should have brought his car. “Well, we should probably sell it. You know, make it believable.”

“Mmhmm. That's...that's a good plan.” I'm stuttering because as I'm talking, he's moving closer to me. Dean Winchester is an inch away from my face, and never in a million years did I think this would ever be an option, fake or not.

Someone who understands That when you feel you've lost your way You've got someone there to say I'll show you

His hand gently cups my cheek, and it's rough and warm; a hunter’s hand. I can guess where the callouses and scars are from because I have my own. I close my eyes and drink it in for a moment. I've had my fair share of one night stands and meaningless romps in the backseat of this car, but it's been awhile, and something about Dean feels different. Ruse or not, I'm going to savor it.

Say you, say me say it for always That's the way it should be

Before I can open my eyes, his lips are on mine and boy are they a contrast to his rough hands. They're soft, and they fit against my lips like they were made to be there. His hand moves to my hair and his fingers are tangled and it takes everything I have to not moan when he gives it a gentle tug. If this is acting, what in the hell is this like for real? If I ever have the opportunity to find out, I might just die.

Say you, say me say it together Naturally

He smiles against me, and I pull back for air as I look at him questioningly, “What?”

“You're a good actress. For a second there, I thought you might be enjoying it.”

I shrug, “Well, it's all part of the gig. Sometimes you have to make some sacrifices.” I say it with a wink, and for the first time in my life I actually pull it off smoothly. ‘Atta girl.

Dean looks around, then squints through the window, “I don't see anything, do you? I don't hear anything, either.”

I look through the windshield, “No, but Lionel’s dulcet tones could be covering up any sound. Seems pretty quiet, though.”

Dean's eyebrows furrow in concentration, then he suddenly brightens as he looks at me with a grin, “I think we need to up the ante a little bit. Get in the backseat.”

I can feel my jaw drop, “Excuse me?”

Dean is already scrambling between the seats to get in the back, “We've gotta sell it, Y/N, or we’ll never catch the Mothman. Come on, hurry up.” I stare at him, suddenly recalling the stories that I'd heard that weren't so great. Sam and Dean were heroes but, by all accounts, also very dangerous. I've always ignored those bits but now, sitting in the dark with Dean after only knowing him for a few hours, I was beginning to wonder if I'd made a bad call.

He leans forward, and though the only light coming into the car is from the full moon, his moss green eyes shimmer. “Do you trust me?”

The answer should probably be no, but there's something different about Dean, something more than any other hunter I’ve met.

So you think you know the answers, Oh no Well the whole world has got you dancing That's right, I'm telling you It's time to start believing oh yes Believing who you are You are a shining star

“Yea, I trust you.”

He smiles, “Then come on!” He holds his hands out and I start to climb over the back seat. My feet get tangled and I can feel myself start to fall.

“Dean!” I shriek as I feel gravity take over and I start to fall awkwardly into the backseat. This is exactly why I never wear dresses. I feel arms wrap around my waist, and I squeal as I fall into Dean’s lap, “That was ladylike.”

Dean laughs, one arm draped across my lap and the other wrapped around my back. He wets his lips as his eyes search mine, “I thought it was adorable.” He somehow manages to flip us around so that my back is flush with the seat and he's hovering above me.

“That was smooth. You know, you could take a lady out to dinner first.”

He leans in, his lips ghosting over the shell of my ear, and I shiver. “Technically, I did pay for dinner...so…” He trails off and kisses me again. I wrap my arms around his neck, my fingers running through the short hairs at his nape, and sigh into him. Fake or not, this isn't something I'll be forgetting any time soon.

Say you, say me say it for always Oh that's the way it should be Say you, say me say it together Naturally Say it together, naturally

Just as the song fades out, I hear a snap of a twig. I pull away from Dean and put a finger to his lips to quiet him. I nod my head towards the sound and raise my eyebrows. He frowns as he cocks his head and tries to pinpoint where it came from. There's another snap, this time from a different direction, and Dean pushes himself away from me. Just as he begins to sit up, the door flies open, and he's jerked through the opening and into the darkness.

“Dean!”

I scramble to get out of the car, and all I can hear is thrashing and grunts as Dean tries to get away from whatever grabbed him. It occurs to me that the shotgun I have hidden for this very scenario is in the front seat and not the back, so I fumble with the door handle and dive into the front.

“Y/N! Run! It's not-” Dean’s frantic cries are interrupted by what sounds like an incredibly hard punch.

“I’m coming! Hold on!” I grab the shotgun but drop the handful of shells I'd grabbed from the glove compartment. “Shit!”

“Y/N, run! It's not Mothman, it's just a person! It's a person!”

I freeze. A person? All of the disappearances and Mothman sightings...and it's a person? Dean runs back out of the tree line and is waving towards the car, “Get in the car, go! Get Sam!”

I look back towards the car, then shake my head, “No. A monster is a monster, Dean! We can't let him hurt anyone else!”

Before Dean can answer, a huge man bursts through the brush and tackles Dean to the ground. Dean’s head hits the ground hard, and he goes limp. The man stands up and sneers at me. Shit. I aim the shotgun and pull the trigger, but it doesn't slow him down. He crosses the space between us in three huge strides, and I'm quickly trapped between him and the car. He backhands me hard across the mouth, and the force of it causes me to drop the shotgun.

“You're pretty. I like you...I might just keep you alive.” He's holding a knife, and I can feel the cool metal trace along my jaw and down to my throat. I try to pull away, but he’s twisted his hand into my hair and any move I make makes it feel like my scalp is on fire.

“You can take me, just leave him alone. Don't hurt him anymore.” There's a tightness in my throat, and it occurs to me that I'm willing to sacrifice myself for a man I barely know...but it's also a man that's lost almost everything to save the rest of us.

The man holding me laughs, “You obviously don't know how this works.” He leans in, and I cringe as he sniffs my hair. “I can't leave someone alive. I'd get caught. The difference with you is that you're not going to get away, alive or not. I think that's worth the exception.”

I take a deep breath, “I see…” I pull my leg back as far as I can with the car behind me and kick him in the balls as hard as I can. Whatever protected him from the shotgun blast I sent his way didn't cover that part of his body, and he releases me with a whining groan as he falls to his knees. I bring my knee up hard into his chin, and it gives with a sickening crack. I think I just broke his jaw. He falls over, and I run over to Dean, sliding to a stop next to him.

“Dean! Hey, handsome, c’mon. Wake up...please wake up. We've gotta go, I think I broke him.” Dean groans and rolls his head towards the sound of my voice, but his eyes stay closed. “Dammit, Dean, get up!” I look up, and instead of the collapsed giant I expected to see, the grass is empty. “Shit! Dean, come on-” I'm cut short when something grabs me by the hair from behind, “Shit!” I scream, the pain the worst I've ever felt. The monstrous man drags me by the hair back to the car, and I can feel every stick and stone on the ground digging into my flesh. I'm crying, I can't help it. I try to call for Sam, but the only sound I can make is a strangled sob.

The man remains quiet, and when I look up I see that his jaw is at an awkward angle. How he's functioning enough to continue his attack, I have no idea, but I do know that nothing I can do at this point will stop him. Short of Sam showing up, Dean and I are screwed.

The man twists my arm behind me, hard, and shoves me into the ground. I can feel the bone aching to give, and one more twist will probably do it. I squeeze my eyes shut and wait, but the moment never comes. Instead, a strong gust of wind blows over us, and the man releases his grip on my arm. I scramble away and cower against the car as I look up and see the impossible. After everything I've killed, every monster I've fought that by all accounts shouldn't have existed, the very one I grew up listening to stories about is above my head, it's giant wings sending waves of dusty air in my face.

The Mothman swoops down and hits the man with a giant claw, tearing a gash across the man’s face. The only thing he can do is scream as he hits the ground. He throws his arms up in front of him, as if that's going to stop whatever the huge creature is going to do next. It drops down and wraps both talons around him, one close to his throat and one around his waist, and flies up into the air.

“Y/N!” I jerk my head around and see Sam running across the clearing, his eyes wide as he slides to a stop next to me. “Are you okay? What the hell is going on?”

“It wasn't the Mothman...it was just a person, Sam. A person did all of it.” I look up into the sky to see the large creature disappear into the trees, deep in the TNT area. The serial killer that had been wreaking havoc in Point Pleasant was just a dot in its huge feet. “I think...I think the Mothman just saved us.”

Sam helps me stand up, and I cradle my arm gently against my chest. I hear a groan and look over to see Dean slowly sitting up, a hand to his head. He looks over and sees me and Sam standing dumbfounded.

“What the hell happened?” he mumbles.

I look back up at the lightening sky and shake my head, “You're never gonna believe it.”

The Impala is warm against my back as I lean against it, my bones aching with a combination of exhaustion and the wringer they'd been put through earlier. I close my eyes and let the sun soak into my bruised skin. The last twenty four hours have been a whirlwind, and I am looking forward to curling up in bed and sleeping for the next week. I hear someone walk up to me, accompanied by the familiar hiss of a beer bottle being opened. I open my eyes and raise an eyebrow.

“A little early for that, isn't it?”

Dean pops open another one and hands it to me, “Nah. We've not been to sleep yet, doesn't count.”

I take it and sigh contentedly as I wrap my fingers around the cool glass, “Fair enough.” I take a long drag and relish the earthy bitterness of the beer as it slides down my throat. “So. Mothman is actually trying to help people. Like, that's a legit thing that's happening.”

Dean shrugs, “Weirder things have happened.” He raises his beer to his lips, and I can't help but wish our little show hadn't been interrupted. Not really something I should think about right now, but you make out with Dean Winchester and see if you can think of anything else.

“I can't think of any, but sure.” We watch the sky for a moment, and I feel him shift a little closer to me. “How long are you guys staying?”

“I figure we’ll take at least a day or so. We don't have anything lined up and…” his hand drops down to where mine is, and his fingers intertwine with mine, “I know someone that I owe an actual date. One that involves Norma’s famous apple pie.”

“Oh, yea?”

He smiles, and it's enough to stop the world. “Yea. A serial killer interrupted us, kinda put a damper on things.”

“Hmm...I didn't know that was a real date. I just thought you were a really good actor.” I grin at him, and he shakes his head.

Dean grabs the beer from my hand and sits both of them down, then grabs me by the waist and pulls me into him, “Oh, you'd know if I was acting. That was the real deal, sweetheart. I guess I'll just have to show you again.”

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