#i guess my expectations were too high i don't feel like i've learned anything that useful this far

[hunsa-jars]

Dread be dreading

[purplekissinger]

I am the pretty thing that lives in the castle

And I pray one prayer - I repeat it till my tongue stiffens - Catherine Earnshaw, may you not rest as long as I am living; you said I killed you - haunt me, then!  Emily Bronte, ‘Wuthering Heights’.

Y/N became a ghost instead of Myrtle. She couldn't care less about Tom. He wishes he could say the same. Wordcount: 3k.

At their first meeting, Tom even shrieked a little (as he later justified, solely because Y/N took him by surprise). He crept towards the sinks that bathed in the bluish light of the moon, and did not at all expect that someone would jump at him from the ceiling with a  “Boo!”

“Boo,” Y/N said reluctantly and passed through him like a light bluish cloud. Tom closed his eyes, but didn’t feel anything.

“Good evening to you too,” he said, looking at her cautiously. Y/N floated up to the ceiling and was now studying the stucco, running her ghostly finger absentmindedly over the frozen gargoyle masks. “What's new?”

“As you may guess, absolutely nothing,” Y/N responded, “but I like that you’re trying to be polite. It's nice.”

“Do you feel ‘nice’?”

“Not really. I'm using words that I learned in life, but they don't quite describe my experience because I've never experienced anything like this before. I'd rather you be polite than rude, and that's my new “nice.”

Tom looked at her, a luminous spot against the black wall, which trembled slightly, like the wings of a strange butterfly. Y/N died wearing a thin shirt, but there was no longer any way she could be cold or get sick.

“If I didn’t know you were a Ravenclaw, I would have guessed by now,” he said.

“I was different when I was alive,” Y/N said judiciously. “More lively”

“You sure were”.

“No, I mean it. I can't explain it enough for you to understand, but this experience is...changing. Everything becomes so transparent, unreal. If I were the same, I would have already cried barrels of tears and flooded the toilet”.

“There is someone who is eager to do that for you,” Tom said gloomily. “Myrtle has been whining all day long, telling everyone what a wonderful friend you were.”

“Me?”  Y/N sounded surprised. “I can’t remember that we were friends. However, I did stand up for her a couple of times…”

Tom kept silent a little longer, angrily tapping his fingers on the broken edge of the sink. When falling, already dead, Y/N hit her head here. They didn't fix the sink, instead, they put a lock on the toilet door, but Tom sneaked in almost every evening.

“Is that why you’re not angry at me for killing you?” he finally asked.

“Well, technically you didn’t kill me. You just released a basilisk, which also didn't do anything against its nature, so it's kind of like an accident. Although I can understand why you didn’t tell anyone about it all,” Y/N said. “No, that’s not the reason why”.

“You are very understanding,” said Tom. “Is it okay if I stay here a little longer? I need to prepare an essay on the history of magic, and tomorrow is the final match between the badgers and Slytherin. All of Hogwarts is shaking”.

“Make yourself at home,” Y/N said indifferently.

She went down to the Chamber of Secrets with him when the time came to seal it. Hovering silently two steps behind him, she looked at the tunnels and rusty gratings that were many, many centuries old, and for the first time something like curiosity was reflected on her transparent face. For some reason this made Tom feel almost happy. Y/N’s curiosity became almost human when, rustling its scales, a huge snake slowly crawled out of the black hole in the wall and surrounded them with a ring, and put its terrible head so as to get a better look at the guests, and hissed in greeting.

“I've read that those who speak Parseltongue can look a basilisk in the eyes and survive,” said Tom, looking down, “but I don’t want to test that.”

Y/N  looked fearlessly with her dead eyes straight into the face of the creature.

“Yes, the cost of a mistake would be very high,” she said. “What is your pet's name?”

“Susie,” Tom said quietly. “It's a girl”.

Y/N smiled weakly.

“Hello, Susie,” she said. Susie let out a squeal that sounded more like a laugh. “Nice to meet you. Unfortunately, this is not for long, because we have come to seal the Chamber of Secrets forever.”

“For a while,” Tom corrected her. “Susie, I'll be back, I promise. I don't know when, but I'll be back”.

He closed his eyes and stretched his hands forward. The basilisk poked its terrible mouth into his chest, and Tom hugged her. 

***

When Tom returned to school the next year, no one noticed anything, and he even began to think that the ritual did not work, but as soon as he crossed the threshold of the toilet on the third floor, a quiet exclamation was heard from under the ceiling:

“Oh! Tom, what happened to you?”

Like a feather or a petal, Y/N slowly descended towards him. Tom looked at her and thought that flying suited her well.

“Is it that noticeable?” he asked suspiciously.

“You have become very small,” Y/N said, flying around him. “Like this,” and made a small circle with her hands. “Where did half of you go?”.

This is how he learned that ghosts see the effects of Horcruxes.

“I won’t tell anyone,” she promised. “Who was it?”

And Tom told her. About everything, about how he found out who the Gaunts were, about how he found his uncle, about the Riddles, about how scary it was to look at his father’s corpse, because he was so very alike him, about how he made a Horcrux right there while the bodies were still warm. It was easy for him, he wanted to talk, to free himself from every detail, take it out of his head, let Y/N look, discuss, judge.

She was in no hurry to judge. She just said:

“This could backfire on you.”

“How?” Tom suddenly felt offended. He just now realized that he would like her to admire what a cool magician he is, and maybe even clap her hands.

“I know more than you,” she said vaguely. “Not everything, perhaps, but more. Yes, I’m still on the threshold, but from where I’m standing, it’s clear that you acted very rashly.”

“What do you mean by ‘still’?"

She didn't answer.

All autumn, winter and summer he went to visit Y/N, even leaving textbooks in a niche by the window. It was quiet and somehow very cozy there, the light from the window was so gentle, and on sunny days the stained glass windows seemed to light up with colored lights. Y/N was silent for the most part, but seeing her figure out of the corner of his eye and hearing her thoughtful humming under her breath was... nice. This was his new “nice”, because something inside of him began to change inexplicably, irreversibly and horribly.

In winter, he asked her to come to the Yule Ball, and she agreed, and she blew out all the candles and ruined the chandelier. Oh, the chaos!.. And in the spring they celebrated Y/N’s first Deathday Party. For this occasion Tom stole a lemon pie from the kitchen, but Y/N politely thanked him and said that she couldn’t eat that. She fluttered back and forth, he chewed on the pie, they argued about the technique of using Fiendfyre, and it was a nice evening.

“I won’t come back here in the fall,” Tom said suddenly, because in fact that’s all he’s been thinking about for the last few days.

“I know,” Y/N said. “You are in seventh year. I can count to seven”.

“But I’ll come back someday,” he said stubbornly. “I just don’t know when”.

“I think I’ve already heard this once”.

“I’ll come back for Susie too, don’t you worry.”

“And what will we do then, riddle me this?”

“Seize the Ministry of Magic,” he blurted out. “Y/N, I'll miss you. Will you miss me?”

“I would like to tell you something nice in response, but I’ll tell the truth. Maybe I won't be here soon.”

He suddenly felt very hot. Then terribly cold.

“What do you mean you won’t be here? Where are you going to go?” Tom asked in an unnaturally high voice. “Aren’t you here forever?”

“Not really,” Y/N answered evasively. “You see, when I died, I was not at all ready for this”.

“Can anyone possibly be ready for this?”

“You must be ready, Tom. Now I know that. I was confused and made... the wrong choice. Stuck on the threshold. Didn't go any further. But I can step forward at any moment, I just need to think it over carefully and make a decision”.

“Can’t you step back?” Tom asked. He did not put hope into these words, but it sounded nevertheless.

“No,” Y/N answered simply. “I died, Tom”.

He rested his hand on his cheek and watched her spin, arms outstretched, right up to the ceiling, the invisible wind blowing her hair. He said:

“I regret that I didn’t know you when you were alive. I think we could become friends.”

“We could,” Y/N agreed. “But for this to happen you shouldn’t have killed me”.

Tom jumped up sharply and, his burning face hid in his hands, quickly walked out of the room. The door slammed so loudly that the noise echoed throughout the entire corridor.

***

Tom did not soon cross this threshold again.

He walked from Dumbledore's office after the first unsuccessful job interview in his life, he wanted to get out of the castle as quickly as possible so as not to endure this humiliation anymore, but his feet themselves led him to the third floor.

“You have become even smaller,” said a familiar voice, which he had only dreamed about in the morning. Loud, distant, but somehow comforting. “You're barely visible”.

Tom was silent. He looked and still did not believe that he was seeing her again. Finally he grinned and stepped forward.

“But you’re still the same,” he said.

“The same, but not quite,” Y/N objected, going down to meet him. “I thought a lot and almost decided to take a step further”.

“But not yet?”

“Not yet. This is a complex process, and it doesn't get any easier now that I have all the time in the world”.

“What exactly are you doing?” Tom asked, leaning against the wall. A forgotten feeling of comfort covered him in a cool wave. He felt like he wanted to stay.

“I’m thinking,” Y/N said. “A lot”.

“Don’t you need to, I don’t know, take revenge on your murderer?” he asked and realized that it sounded like a request. Lord Voldemort had a lot of requests that day.

“No, thanks,” said Y/N. She looked him up and down with a curious look and added: “It seems to me that there’s not much left of him anyway.”

Tom tiredly sank to the floor and tucked his legs under him. He wanted to talk to her again and again, so that she would answer sharply, but always to the point. He wanted her to scream at him, to rush to claw his eyes out, he wanted her to thirst for revenge.

“I sometimes saw you in my dreams,” he said. “Like we’re friends or something.”

“I have nothing to do with this,” Y/N said. “Have you made any living friends over the years?”

“Wait for me,” Lord Voldemort said without listening to her. He wanted it to sound like an order, but it turned out to be the third request.  “Y/N, I figured out how to defeat death.”

“Sure you did”.

“I am not lying. I really fought it all this time and almost won”.

“I wish you would know how stupid you look now.”

“Are you going to listen or not?! I tell you, wait, I will bring you back, I will fix everything, you will be alive again, I will get you out…”

“Promise?”

“Yes, yes!”

“Lord Voldemort's promise?”

She smiled. Unable to look at her, Tom stormed out.

***

The third time he returned to the castle was on May 2, 1998. He walked along the empty corridors of the third floor, and his steps echoed loudly. He was going to congratulate Y/N on her yet another Deathday. In his hands was not a lemon pie, but an Elder Wand.

The door to the girls' toilet was blown off its hinges by the explosion. He crossed the threshold and saw that the stained glass windows were broken, and golden dawn rays were pouring into the room. For a second it seemed to him that the place was empty, that he was late.

“Oh, Merlin!” a familiar laugh rang out. “What's happened to you, Tom? You have become so very small, smaller than a mouse!”

She came down from the ceiling as before, but for the first time he saw her in the pink rays of the sun, and she seemed almost alive. For the first time he saw her almost alive.

“Come with me, Y/N”, he said softly. His hand trembled a little, grasping his wand. “I will bring you back to life. I will give you back everything and  even more. Soon I will have the Resurrection Stone, and you will live again”.

She laughed even louder, twirled as if in a dance, and he felt uneasy.

“Stupid, stupid Tom,” Y/N said. “Still don’t get this, do you? Everyone gets smarter over the years, but you seem to only get dumber”.

And no Avada Kedavra could shut her up.

“But I'm glad you came. Really, I am. I wanted to say goodbye to you, Tom. I'm finally making that step”.

“No,” Lord Voldemort said in a changed voice. “Don’t. Don’t you dare”.

“Or else what?”

“Don't do this”, when was the last time he begged for something, pleaded? Was it with her?! “Stay. Stay, Y/N. I told you, I'll bring you back!”

“You forgot the magic word”. Y/N giggled. She sank to the floor and looked at him cheerfully and seriously at the same time. “I feel sorry for you, Tom”.

He had heard it once before, but coming from her it sounded and felt like “Crucio.”

“I have to go, really. There's no time to chat. I’ll tell you one more thing. Soon you will be offered a choice one last time, so please, please, don’t be stubborn. Can you do this for me?”

Tom looked at her desperately, afraid to blink, and still missed the moment when Y/N melted into the air.

***

The empty platform shines white, as if it were covered with snow. There are no trains here. No people, too. The bench blackens on the platform like a wound. A faint whimper came from under the bench.

A girl is walking along the platform.

She is wearing a thin shirt, but there is no way that she could be cold. The blue tie is fluttering in the invisible wind. She hurries to the bench, bends down, carefully takes out the bundle of robes from there, and opens it, and smiles a little and carefully presses it to her chest.

[yccoffeesimp]

𝑊𝒉𝑦 𝑑𝑖𝑑 𝐼 𝑠𝑎𝑦 𝑂𝑘𝑖𝑒 𝐷𝑜𝑘𝑖𝑒| ??? 𝑥 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

TW: G0r3 & C@nn¡B@lism at the very end.

You stayed up the entire weekend writing the short story. You didn't want to think too hard about what to write, so you went with the easiest option. Fantasy/ adventure. It was already time for the next club meeting when you finished.

You wanted to show the others but to whom? Choose-

-Blade

-Dan Heng

→ Jing Yuan

-Gepard

->'Best to show Jing Yuan first, after all, he is the president and the one who gave us the assignment.'

You thought. You then slowly began to walk to him with the two flat papers in hand. "Lovely to see you again, Y/n."The ivory white-haired man said, smiling at you.

→ "Nice to see you as well Jing Yuan."

"Oh before I forget, I'd just like to say. If you have any suggestions for anything regarding the club such as activities or problems, don't be afraid to inform me." He said, crossing his arms, his cat-like smile still present on his features.

→ "I'll keep that in mind but I'm going to go with the flow as I get settled in."

"We all need time to earn our footing." He slightly laughed.→

"Say you wanna read the short story I wrote?"

You ask, handing him the papers as he nods. It didn't take long for him to finish reading the two papers of the short story. When he gave the papers back, he had a light smile.

"Excellent work, Y/n, I underestimated your writing capabilities. Say Dan Heng enjoys this type of writing style, the fantasy and the way with words is extremely moving and it paints a picture in your head as if you were in it yourself." He closed his eyes as he spoke, nodding ever so slightly.

→ "You lost me."

"My apologies, I didn't mean to wander. But regardless, it's very well written, and I enjoyed reading it. It captivates the reader and that's what is most important in any form of literature."

→ "Yeah I guess so."

"Since I've read yours, would you like to read mine as well?" He offered.

→ "Sure."

"Sorry if it isn't any good, I'm not as creative as most are." He smiled awkwardly, unfolding his arms across his chest as they landed at his sides again. Reaching for the paper that he had written on, which laid on the desk beside him, before handing it to you.

You took the soft, thin paper examining the words written on it.The story was about a group that called themselves Space Rangers and one of their amazing adventures. The story was rather vivid and from what you could tell no spelling or grammar mistakes. This is to be expected from Jing Yuan after all he is the valedictorian student.

You set the paper down as you looked at Jing Yuan."Is it bad?"He then asked.

→ "Are you kidding me? This is amazing!"

You exclaimed, this caused him to smile."I'm glad you think so, I feel as if I could use more practice on wording it better and try not to go into details a lot. Just proves I have a lot more to learn."

→ "We all could. Well, I'm going to go see what the others wrote. See ya around Jing Yuan."

"If you want to chat more, I'll be here." He smiled before you walked away.

Who's next?

→Dan Heng

-Blade

-Gepard

→ "Maybe I should go see Dan Heng next. He probably has some constructive criticism for my writing. I mean he's writing his own novel so.."

You thought, before walking up to him. He was sitting near the back of the classroom, hunched over that notebook that was said to contain that novel of his. Dan Heng didn't notice you until he looked to see you approaching him.

→ "Hey Dan Heng."

"Greetings {name}, is something the matter?" He asks, setting his pencil down for a brief moment.

→ "I was wondering if you wanted to read the short story we were assigned to read."

You said, you felt your voice slowly become high pitched as to not knowing how to talk to the guy. All you knew was that he was Dan Feng's, the future owner of Vidyadhara Industries, twin brother. He paused for a moment, thinking about your words."I'd be happy to." That was all he said.

You handed your paper to him, his attention immediately went to the paper in his hands. It only took a minute before the paper was handed back to you.

→ "So how was it?"

"It was well written, I must say. The movement with the words... It's unique, it makes you feel as if you're truly there." His words carried honesty and truth, you somehow couldn't help but be flattered.

→ "Thanks."

You plainly said. "I take it that you want to read what I've written for the assignment?" He spoke. You nod as he takes a slip of folded paper out of the notebook he was previously writing in. He passed it onto you, your hands unfolding it. You lightly scanned the paper, his handwriting was neat.. Words were in clear and constructed sentences. It was a small script of the romance genre.

→ "Wow, it's really good. You wrote this by yourself?"

Dan Heng nodded. "Just a small script, a friend of mine says I need to try to write new different genres.Some authors get boresome if they write the same genre over and over.. Or at least that's what they said."

→ "I kinda agree, sometimes the plot just repeats itself a lot."

"Speaking of such.. Any suggestions?"

→ "Huh-For what?"

"For my writing attempt at romance."

→ "Oh- Well I'm not an expert. It's good by my standards. I frankly enjoyed it."

You handed the paper back to him, it was folded neatly as it was before. Dan Heng took the folded material before staring at it for a short while. "I'm glad you enjoyed it." He spoke, putting the piece of paper back into the notebook. He then opened to a page and began writing, ignoring your existence once more.

Choose-

→ Blade

-Gepard

Might as well see what Blade wrote. Maybe you could learn more about him. All you knew was that he was one of the troublemakers of the school. Easily had fights and many were sent to the nurse's office on several occasions because of him. You remember having him in your biology class once, he didn't show up except for when it was final exam season.He sat at the back next to one of the windows. His arms crossed along his chest, with his hair covering a majority of his face.

As you walked up to him, you got a closer look. He seemed to be holding a small piece of paper. You didn't realize you were staring at him before he spoke. "Is there a problem.?" He asked, his voice was laced with irritation and annoyance at your actions.

→ "Uh- Not really.. I wanted to ask if you wanted to uh- read the short story thing we were to write..."

He scoffed. "You do realize there are others here who can read the damn story, right.?"

→ "Yeah well I want you to read it."

"Hard pass. Now if you'd excuse me, I'd like to be alone."

→ "Well can I still read yours in the meantime?"

Blade didn't reply but he did look at you for a short while. He groaned, handing you the small piece of paper."If it only means you'll leave me be, take it."

♡- You received Blade's short story!

→ "Don't you want it back?"

"No." His answer was blunt and he looked not in a good mood to continue chatting... Best to leave him be and move to the next person.

But first do you want to read the short story now or later?

Choose-

-Now

→ Later

→ ' I'll read it when I get home from the meeting. I still have to read Gepard's.'

Gepard was near the podium of the classroom, he seemed to be writing something down before his eyes caught you walking towards him."Oh- Hey {name}, is there something you need?" He asked, trying to cover up the paper he was writing on.

→ "Yeah, just wondering if you wanted to read my assignment and to check up on ya."

"Oh- Well, I'm doing fine at the moment. Also, I'd be glad to read it. I heard from Jing Yuan that it was really good." The blonde smiled. You hand him the piece of paper. He gently took it in his hands before reading it. Now that you looked closer at him. He almost looked tired yet he always slept in. The eye bags he had were barely noticeable but they were still there. Your train of thought was interrupted by Gepard handing the piece of paper back. "Like I said, it's amazing."

→"H-huh?"

Did Gepard say something when you were spacing out? "{Name}? Are you alright?"

→ "I'm fine, Gepard... Just thinking and thank you for thinking it was amazing."

You smiled. A small smile followed from Gepard when you did.

→ "Can I read yours now?"

Gepard froze, looking away from you for a moment. "The thing is...-"

→ "You forgot to write one."

Gepard nodded. That was probably why when you left Jing Yuan, Gepard went up to him. Probably to inform him that he forgot to write a short story. "I haven't had time to, you know how much of a handful five-year-olds are..."

→ "Lynx really is giving you and Serval a rough time then if you didn't have enough time to write a story."

He nodded.

→ "Ah, I see. Anyways, what were you writing earlier?"

Your gaze falls on to the piece of paper on the podium. Gepard followed your gaze to the paper. "The short story.."

→ "Speed writing?"

"I have it already written but I haven't proofread it yet."

→ "I can do it for you."

Gepard smiled at you. "I don't want to bother you with it {name}, I can proofread it-"

→ "I insist. It's the least I can do for you."

Gepard thought for a moment before sighing. He gave you the now slightly wrinkled paper for you to read.Some sentences didn't make sense but then again it wasn't proofread. The short story was a historical fiction of the history of Gepard's hometown. The scenery of Belobog was different from the scenery of the Honkai Star City. Snow-covered meadows, a chilling breeze... It was a winter wonderland from what Gepard described it to be as back then before the Eternal Freeze. You took a pencil and helped Gepard rewrite some sentences.

As you helped him though, you couldn't help but feel a pair of eyes watching you as you did so. You looked up from the paper the paper briefly and saw no one was looking and the feeling vanished. But when you looked back at the paper, the feeling returned. You pushed the feeling away as you tried to focus on the story.

"Thank you,{name}, for the help," Gepard said once the proofreading was done.

→ "No need to thank me, just doing my duty as your friend."

"Still... It means a lot." He shortly smiled. He opened his mouth to say something else before a loud crash sounded. Your attention snapped to a broken teapot on the floor at the back of the classroom. Boiling water poured from the now shattered object. Dan Heng and Blade stood in front of it, a shocked expression on Dan Heng's face and a rather annoyed expression on Blade's. "Crap.." Dan Heng mumbled as he went to grab the broom from the closet at the back.

Blade simply stared at the mess before completely walking over it. "Well, that's the first.." Gepard mumbled.

→ "First of what?"

Gepard looked at you before looking back at Blade and Dan Heng. "Normally when they even interact with each other, there's always an argument that follows before Jing Yuan breaks it up. But strangely they haven't been arguing.."

→ "They argue a lot?"

The blonde nodded. "We don't know why but they really hate each other. We never really questioned it either." He shrugged as Dan Heng came back to clean the broken ceramic.

→ "Imma go help Dan Heng real quick."

You grabbed some stray papers from your bag before walking to Dan Heng to pick up the spilled water. The floor was dried and the teapot was thrown away. "Thank you for helping, {name}."

→ "It's no problem. Just helping a fellow club member."

Dan Heng gave a short nod, but you could've sworn he smiled too.

-×-

Jing Yuan clapped his hands together. "I'm happy to say this concludes our second meeting with our new member." He started, his cat-like smile on his features. "After sharing our short stories, how does everyone feel?" He turned to look at Gepard first.

"It was nice," Gepard answered.

Then he looked at Dan Heng.

"It was quite helpful." He replied.

Then at Blade.

"It was... eventful." He scoffed.

And then lastly at you.

→"It was interesting."

Jing Yuan nodded, his arms crossing in front of his chest. "I'm glad to hear we all have at least positive outlooks on today's activity. Perhaps we can do the same tomorrow but as for now, the club meeting is over." And with that, you began to walk home. The sun was already setting with the moon peeking its head out ready to take its shift in the sky.

-♡Blade's Short Story: ......The blood sprayed over the walls. Agonizing screams echoed throughout the halls, a blade dragging across the skin of the captive. A maniacal laugh follows, their eyes looking longing at the beating heart in their hand. Blood oozing from the organ as its former owner's limbs became limp. "Finally mine... all, all mine..."

A voice said. They tilled the organ upside down over their mouth. The blood poured from the heart's atriums into their mouths."Not enough, not enough.." They gasped before throwing the dead heart away. Now ripping at the throat and torso of the dead body. "I can't- Need more.." They gasped one more time before all humanity in them was lost...

~Fin~

Pins: @sarcastic-cookie

[supernaturalscribe67]

The Secrets We (Don't) Keep

Words: 7,314

POV: 1st & 3rd Person

Pairing: Dean/Sam Winchester x Brother!Reader [Platonic]

Warning(s): Language, Fluff, Mention of John Winchester, Mention of Childhood Abuse, Awkward Moments

Summary: After finding out that his brothers, Sam and Dean, read the first entry of his journal, the reader decides to take a rather creative approach to his payback.

Request:

i’d love to see you continue with that winchester brother reader! or something similar? your writing is very comfortable to read :)

@stklett

@xdark-acadamiax - (Tagged because I saw how much you loved this idea!)

A/N: I really hope you guys enjoy this next part! I can honestly admit some parts make me laugh so I hope they make you guys laugh as well! Feedback is greatly appreciated!!!

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

OCTOBER 2014

I don’t know why I thought I was going to be able to keep this journal private. I guess my expectations were too high. How dare I assume that Sam and Dean would respect my privacy? Of course, they wouldn’t. How dare I presume that hiding this thing between my mattress and boxspring would be a good idea? I mean, who in their right mind would hide something there? Everyone looks between their brother’s boxspring and mattress!

Silly me.

But, since I found out my brothers decided to read through my first entry (and ultimately vandalize my journal), I have done some brainstorming. Brainstorming ways that I can get back at them. I've considered the classic pranks to start with; itching powder in their underwear, hair dye in their shampoo, Nair in their body wash, or even putting laxatives in their coffee. All of these pranks have been used by all three of us multiple times. Even with some thinking, I’m still unable to come up with a prank that I feel would be good enough to teach them a lesson. 

So, I’ve come up with the next best thing. 

In this entry, I’m going to be writing down some of Sam and Dean’s embarrassing moments. 

Throughout our decades of life, all three of us have had our fair share of shameful moments, but the instances that I am thinking of are ones that I like to bring up from time to time. Each time I mention them, I get an eye roll from Dean and one of Sam’s classic bitch faces. It’s always so satisfying to get that kind of reaction from them. 

It would only be fitting to see what kind of reaction I get when they eventually read this entry. 

JUNE 1989

Everyone has their fears. Some people’s fears are more valid than others. Sam has a fear of clowns, I have a fear of needles, and Dean has a fear of planes. I can understand Sam’s fear of clowns - Plucky Pennywhistle's always made me uneasy when I was a kid - and, as far as my fear of needles, have you seen some of the needles that doctors use on patients? They’re HUGE! No thanks. 

What a lot of people don’t know about my older brother, however, is that he didn’t just suddenly have a fear of planes. He didn’t wake up one morning and discover that he didn’t like flying. Sam’s fear of clowns developed from our times at Plucky Pennywhistle’s, my fear of needles stemmed from an unprofessional doctor (who shouldn’t practice medicine anymore, in my opinion) from my second round of childhood vaccinations, and Dean’s fear of flying…well…

Dean used to be afraid of heights. 

I say ‘used’ to be because, if he still has that fear, he does a really good job at hiding it. We’ve gone to some pretty high places on our hunts, and, from what I noticed, it never seemed to bother him. He could always be masking it well enough, which is possibly the case. Then again, he could have learned to deal with the fear and forget about it completely. Lucky him. 

But, when Dean was younger, that was one thing that he was never good at doing - masking his emotions - especially when the three of us were by ourselves. When it was just us three, Dean felt like he could express how he truly felt about anything and we would keep it just between us. It was a little 'brother code' that we had going. Whatever was said between us was kept between us. Kind of like Vegas, in a way. 

What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.

I’ve always wanted to visit Vegas. 

Stay on topic, (Y/N).

For most of our young childhood, we spent half the time traveling with our father, and the other half at Bobby’s. I always loved going to Bobby’s house. It felt like a home. To me, it was always my home growing up, even if I wasn’t there all the time. Even though we stopped going there as often when we got older, it was still the place that I would technically consider my home. We had the most fun there. We felt like we could be kids for once. Like we didn’t need to worry about the things that went bump in the night anymore. 

I loved Bobby’s house. 

We were there during summer vacation, which was somewhat of a common occurrence when we were younger. Sam, Dean, and I always found things to do while we were there, and playing throughout the maze of cars in Bobby’s junkyard wasn’t unusual. Normally, we would play hide-and-seek, tag, have races, or some stupid war games that we would come up with. 

That day, however, we discovered a new stack of cars, about six cars high in total, that we had not previously known about near the far backside of the property. We would have usually stayed towards the front, but, that day, we decided to roam around. Dean had the expert idea to see who could climb the highest. Sammy went first, climbing on top of the first car with some help before he got nervous and backed down. I managed to make it up three cars before I decided that I had enough and came back down. Dean, on the other hand, took the challenge a little too seriously. He didn’t waste any time reaching the car that sat on top of the pile. He was so proud of himself. 

It all went downhill after that…

“Ha! I beat you both!” Dean exclaimed as he stood on top of the roof of the car, fists balled up and placed onto his hips in a mock Superman pose. “I’m the King of the Cars!”

(Y/N) rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. Sam pouted as he looked up at Dean, his bottom lip pushed out. 

“I wanna get up there,” he said, letting out a small whine.

“You tried to get up there, Sammy, but you said it was too high.” (Y/N) explained, looking down at him.

Sam hung his head as he kicked a pebble on the ground. Dean still stood on top of the car, waving his arms around. He let out quiet, faint shouts as if mimicking a cheering crowd. Sam pursed his lips ever so slightly.

"I wanna play hide-and-go-seek." 

"It's ‘hide-and-seek’, Sammy." (Y/N) deadpanned. 

"That's what I said." 

"Do you wanna play with just you and me?" 

"No," Sam shook his head and glanced up at his oldest brother, who was still cheering for himself. "I want De to play." 

(Y/N) gave a short nod before he turned to his older brother as well. He reached up and cupped his hands to the side of his lips. "Hey, idiot! Sammy and I wanna play hide-and-seek! Get down here so we can go play!" He called up to Dean. 

"You guys are just jealous because I could climb up to the top!" 

“No one’s jealous of you, Dean! We just want to play! Come on!” (Y/N) let out a groan as he placed his hands on his sides. 

Dean scoffed and waved him off. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.” He mumbled as he walked closer to the edge of the car. 

As Dean gazed down at the ground below, he froze. His eyes went wide and his legs and arms tensed. The confident smile that he had once had on his face was now gone, replaced by an uneasy frown. (Y/N) and Sam’s eyes were on him, watching him intently, waiting. After a minute or so of Dean standing there, not moving, (Y/N) shook his head and cupped his hands around his mouth again. 

“What are you doing?” He called out. 

(Y/N)’s voice caused Dean to jump and turn his gaze towards him. He opened his mouth, attempting to speak. 

“I-I can’t get down,” Dean said with a shaky tone. 

“What do you mean you ‘can’t get down’?” 

“I can’t get down! I-It’s too high!” 

“You were the one that wanted to get up there!” 

“I know I was, will you just shut up!” Dean’s voice came out cracked and high-pitched. 

(Y/N) closed his mouth and stood there, watching as Dean struggled to get down on his knees. As he attempted to move his leg down towards the trunk of the car, he felt the car shift. (Y/N) and Sam jumped when they heard the metal scrape against the car below. Dean let out a yelp and pulled his leg back. His fists were clenched onto nothing, knuckles a ghostly white color. His face was noticeably red and tears began to form in his eyes. 

“G-Go get Bobby!” Dean called down. 

“You can get down, Dean! You’ll be okay!” 

“No! I’m not okay!” Dean let out a sob. “It’s too high! The car’s going to fall. Go get Bobby,” Dean’s voice was as shaky as his hands were. 

(Y/N) looked down at Sam. “Go get Bobby, Sammy.” 

Sam’s eyes were wide with worry as he nodded slightly. He turned and made a mad dash towards the house. “Bobby! Bobby!” He cried out. 

(Y/N) then turned his attention back to Dean, who seemed like he was seconds away from having a breakdown.

“Dean! You’re going to be okay! Just come down the same way you went up.” 

“N-No!” Dean shook his head rapidly. 

“Quit being a baby!”

“I’m not a baby!” 

“Then why are you crying like one!?” 

“Will you shut up!?” 

(Y/N) stopped talking and let out a huff. Not even a minute later, Sam came running out towards them, Bobby quickly behind him. Bobby ran his fingers through his hair stressfully. 

“What the Hell have you idjits done?” 

It took thirty minutes of coaxing for Dean to be able to climb down two of the cars before Bobby had to make his way towards him and carry him down the rest of the way. Needless to say, Dean wasn’t in the mood to play any type of game with us after that, especially when I began to tease him mercilessly about his crying. I still tease him to this day about it, comparing him to a cat that had been stuck in a tree. Bobby was known as ‘Firefighter Bobby’ for a good month-and-a-half after that. 

We were forbidden from climbing on the cars anymore, which none of us seemed to have a problem with. As for my teasing, I had managed to get in trouble with Bobby once he caught me and was forced to help him organize the study while Sam and Dean went out to play. It wasn’t very fun, at the time, but I had learned a lot more about hunting during that punishment, so some good came out of it. 

To this day, Dean still likes to pretend as if it never happened. Or, if it did happen, then it was either Sam or me that needed to be rescued. Not him. He never needed to be rescued (according to him). Still, Sam and I can remember this vividly. It’s two against one, Dean. 

So much for ‘King of the Cars’.

OCTOBER 1989

Sam was always gullible when he was a kid. He grew out of it in his early teens and became more aware of how deceitful people could be. Before that, however, he was fun to mess with. I’m his big brother, I have a right to mess with him. 

I still do, but it’s not as easy. 

Sam was the type to believe anything that anyone wanted to tell him. Even if it was the most outlandish thing possible. I was able to convince him that unicorns were real and that everyone got one when they turned ten. When he asked Bobby what kind of unicorn he had gotten for his tenth birthday, Bobby told him the truth right then and there. He was so disappointed that he didn’t talk to me for about a week. I felt bad, at least a little bit. But the other part of me thought it was the funniest thing I had ever done to him at the time. 

That was when he was four. 

I still ask him what he wants his unicorn to look like. 

He hasn’t given me a straight answer yet. 

Around the age of six, Sam had started to let his hair grow out. Granted, everyone’s hair was growing out at that point - my father had neglected to get us any type of haircut for a little over six months - but out of all of ours, Sam’s was the longest. Dean had started calling him ‘Samantha’ at some point, which irritated Sam to no end. I decided to take a different approach, however. 

Back then, we knew about monsters. We knew about the different kinds of monsters that our father fought but didn’t know a lot about them. We knew their names, what they looked like, and common signs for each of them. One thing we didn’t know about certain monsters was how people were turned into them. 

So, with this limited knowledge in the back of my head, one dreary fall night, while our father was away on a hunt and Dean was out finding us some food, I decided to play a little…prank, if you will, on Sammy. 

Sam’s eyes were glued to the television screen. A rerun of Alf played that he was completely enamored with. Meanwhile, (Y/N)’s eyes were attached to something other than the show. He watched as Sam brushed his long locks out of his face occasionally. Sam tucked some hair behind his ear, but it didn’t stay there long before it fell in his face. His hair was down to his chin by then and (Y/N) had to admit that he was more irritated about the length than Sam was. 

When the show moved to a commercial break, Sam clenched his eyes shut and stretched his arms over his head. He glanced over at (Y/N) and furrowed his brows. 

“What’re you looking at?” 

“That hair,” (Y/N) gestured to the top of his head. 

Sam frowned. “What’s wrong with my hair?” 

“It’s long…too long,” (Y/N) narrowed his eyes suspiciously. He reached over and gently grabbed a piece of Sam’s hair before letting it go, allowing the strand to fall against Sam’s chubby cheek. 

“Dad said he was going to get it cut soon.” 

“Yeah, I know, but…it’s not like mine and Dean’s hair. It’s so much longer. It’s kind of like…” (Y/N) pursed his lips as he studied the top of his head. “Werewolf hair. Maybe you’re turning into a werewolf.”

Sam’s eyes slowly widened as he sat up straight and shifted uneasily in his seat. “I-I’m not turning into a werewolf.” 

“I don’t know, it sure seems like it.” 

Sam reached up and hesitantly ran his fingers through his hair. “How…how would I know if I’m turning into a werewolf?” 

“What? You don’t know the signs?” 

Sam shook his head. (Y/N) scoffed. 

“Come on, Sammy! You have to know the classic signs!” (Y/N) exclaimed as he leaned forward, a small smirk playing on the corner of his lips. “The long hair, the way your fingernails curve, the hair between your eyebrows, and your sharp teeth.” 

Sam brought his hands up to his face, his fingers roaming around his features. Quickly, he got off the couch and ran towards the motel bathroom, shoving the door open so hard that it bounced off the wall. (Y/N) followed after his brother. He watched as Sam studied himself in the mirror. He ran his fingers through his hair, brushed a single finger down his nose, studied the curvature of his fingernails, and bared his teeth. His eyes widened as soon as they landed on his sharp canines. Sam frowned and pushed his bottom lip out. It began to wobble as tears appeared in the corner of his eyes. He turned to (Y/N).

“I-I don’t want to be a werewolf!” He whimpered. 

(Y/N) leaned against the doorframe and shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry, Sammy. It looks like you can’t help it.” 

“B-But,” Sam turned and looked at himself in the mirror for a second before turning back to his brother. “But what if hunters come after me?” 

“Hey!” (Y/N) shook his head as he walked closer to Sam. He placed both of his hands on his shoulders, bending down so that he was at eye level with his little brother. “That is something you never have to worry about. Dean, Dad, and I will protect you.” 

Tears streaked down his red cheeks and he nodded. “Do you think Dad and De know?” 

(Y/N) sighed and pursed his lips, moving his hands off of Sam so that he could place them on his hips. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. They haven’t said anything about it, yet. But, I think you should tell them. That way, they will be able to protect you.” 

“I-I don’t wanna tell them.” 

“Why not?” 

“What if they don’t like me anymore because I’m a werewolf?” 

(Y/N) shook his head and gave a comforting smile. “Sammy, they’re always going to love you, werewolf or not.” 

“Really?” 

“Really.” 

Sam glanced down at the ground, his shoulders slumped. (Y/N) could see how much the news had upset his brother. He didn’t want him to be in hysterics by the time Dean got back, so he thought of the next best thing to try and cheer him up. 

“You know, a lot of people think that werewolves are the bad guys,” he began. “But you could be the first-ever werewolf hunter! You could be the one werewolf that protects humans from bad things! Kind of like a…uh…a werewolf superhero!” 

Sam looked up at him and raised his brows, cocking his head to the side. “A werewolf superhero?” 

“Yeah!” 

“Like a…a werewolf Batman?” A smile slowly appeared on Sam’s lips. 

“Just like a werewolf Batman.” 

The worry quickly left Sam’s face as he looked at himself in the mirror. He studied his face once more. “Maybe being a werewolf isn’t so bad,” he shrugged. “Thank you, (Y/N).” 

“Anytime, Sammy,” 

Sam turned and wrapped his arms tightly around (Y/N) in a bone-crushing embrace. “I love you.” 

(Y/N) couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his face. Whether it was from the sentimental words or the devious nature behind them, he wasn’t sure. He wrapped his arms around Sam as well, pulling him close. 

“I love you, too, Sammy.” 

For six months, six whole months, Sam kept the little secret quiet. He would mention it to me from time to time. Ask me questions about lycanthropy in general or question me about whether or not I thought Dean and our Dad knew about it. I would always comfort him, tell him that I didn’t think they knew anything, and we would go about our day-to-day lives. 

Eventually, it got to a point where I was hounding him to tell Dean and Dad about it. Sam was hesitant at first. He was scared about how they would react. I was able to talk him through it, though, and, one night, he sat all of us down so he could tell us. 

The look on Dean and Dad’s faces? 

Pure confusion. 

And I thought it was the funniest thing at the time. 

I had to hold back my laughter as I watched my father deal with Sam and explain that he couldn't be a werewolf if he had not been bitten by one. Sam was in hysterics at that point. He was crying and sobbing and while our father was trying his best to comfort him, I was trying my best to keep it together. At that moment, I patted myself on the back for the longest-lasting prank. 

The celebration didn’t last long. When Sam told our father that I was the one who told him about it, he was furious. I swear, I saw his eyes turn red. I won’t go into too many details about my punishment, but it was one of the worst ones that I got. Even now, I don’t think that it was what I deserved. But it happened, and I can’t necessarily change it. 

I couldn’t sit down for a week. 

The punishment didn’t stop me from teasing Sam about it, but it was quick to make me stop when Sam told me he was going to tell Dad. Now that Dad’s dead, Sam doesn’t have anyone to tattle to. I can say whatever I want. 

Cut that damn hair, Sammy. You look like a werewolf. 

JANUARY 2010

We always had some type of celebration for our birthdays. When we got older, that is. Not all of them necessarily had a cake and presents, but they were celebrations nonetheless whether we acknowledged it or not. Whenever Dean has a birthday, his favorite place to go is at any local bar that we were closest to at the time. Sam and I would switch back and forth on who would be the designated driver so that the other one could celebrate properly with Dean. On Dean’s 31st birthday, I was the designated driver. 

And, man, was I glad I was. 

We were in Colorado after just finishing a hunt. It was a smaller bar near the far northeast corner of the state. It was a little busy, given it was a Sunday, but most of the clientele seemed to consist of regulars who would come in after their nine-to-five. I honestly couldn’t tell you what the theme of the bar was. The decoration scattered on the walls was a mix of historical pieces from the town we were in, rock 'n roll memorabilia, and different pieces from various Colorado sports teams. 

Dean was plastered, and Sam wasn’t too far behind him. It had been a while since I saw the two of them get that drunk, but we were under a lot of stress at the time. I was jealous that I wasn’t the one who was able to get drunk enough to forget, but I figured I would make up for it later. 

The bar began to shut down around one in the morning. The bartender had shouted for 'last call' half an hour before. I knew that I had to get Sam and Dean back to the motel before we got kicked out. It wasn’t that hard to find Sam, he had refused to leave his seat at the table the entire night. Trying to find Dean, on the other hand, reminded me of reading those ‘Where’s Waldo?’ books in the school library when I was younger. 

Let me tell you when I did find him…

Oh boy. 

(Y/N) sighed as he ran a hand down his face. His eyes drooped and he felt as if his body weighed a thousand pounds. After scouring the entire bar to find his brother for the past thirty minutes, he concluded that he deserved a bed for himself when they got back to the motel. Sam and Dean could share a bed, or sleep on the floor. He didn’t care. He just wanted to get back and go to sleep. 

(Y/N) walked back up to the table that the three brothers had shared. Sam sat in his seat, back slouched over, his head laid on the wooden surface. His mop of hair was brushed carelessly over his face. (Y/N) placed a hand on his back, leaning close to him. 

“Sammy,” he said, his voice low. Sam visibly jumped as he looked up at him with tired, glazed eyes. “Have you seen Dean?” 

“Um…” Sam trailed, voice slurred, and pursed his lips. “Dean…Dean…” Before he could continue, Sam broke into a weak fit of laughter, his shoulders shaking. “Dean sounds a lot like ‘bean’. He looks like a bean because he’s short.”  

(Y/N) pressed his lips together and patted Sam’s back. “He sure does, buddy. Thanks for the help.” He spoke sarcastically. 

He stood up straight and turned around, his back now facing Sam. He ran his fingers through his hair as he looked around the almost empty bar. There were still a couple of regulars scattered around here and there, but most of them were clearing out. No sign of Dean, though. (Y/N) had to wonder how his brother could get lost in such a small place, but Dean had managed to do the impossible. Again. 

In front of him, (Y/N) could see the bartender from earlier. She had walked around the small U-shaped bar and was making her way towards him. Before she could get closer, (Y/N) shook his head. He held his hands up slightly. 

“I know you made 'last call' a while ago, and I’m sorry for staying, ma’am. I’m just trying to find my idiot brother.” He said with an apologetic tone. 

“Well, that was actually why I was coming over here.” She said and placed her hands on her hips. “There’s some guy in the back and I was wondering if he belonged to you.” 

(Y/N)’s shoulders slouched as he let out a sigh. “I am so sorry. I’ll pay for anything he broke or stole.” 

“No, he didn’t break or steal anything. He’s doing…something else.” 

(Y/N) furrowed his brows as an uneasy feeling began to make its way to his stomach. “What is he doing?” 

She gestured back towards the bar. “Why don’t you come see for yourself?”

Hesitantly, he gave a nod and followed the bartender. She took him around the bar and to the back. Past the saloon-style swinging doors, a couple of feet into the supply room, (Y/N) came face to face with a sight he would never be able to forget. 

Dean leaned against one of the many metal shelves. Even with something to lean on, his body swayed back and forth, indicating just how intoxicated he was. A goofy grin was present on his red face. One hand was balled into a fist and placed on his hip while the other one hung casually off of the shelf he leaned on. Beside him stood a mannequin, clad in an aged Colorado Rockies uniform paired with a baseball cap featuring the same team’s logo. (Y/N)’s jaw dropped. 

Dean was flirting with a mannequin. 

The bartender smirked. “He’s been back here for the last hour. I was going to kick him out, but I listened to how sweet he was being to Manny and I felt bad for him, so I just let him stay.” She nodded and leaned against the door, propping it open. 

“Manny?” (Y/N) questioned, not taking his eyes off of his brother. 

“Yeah. Manny the Mannequin. It’s this damn mannequin that the owner bought for twenty bucks when the local Sears closed down. He needed to put his stupid baseball outfit somewhere and he thought the best thing to do would be to put it on Manny and leave it in a bar. The regulars weren’t too nice to Manny, so we had to put him in the back here. It seems like your brother somehow snuck past me and found him.” 

“I…I am so sorry about this.” (Y/N) gestured to his brother, who had begun to fiddle with the hem of the Rockies shirt. 

The bartender snorted. “Trust me, this isn’t the worst thing a customer has done to poor Manny. Just get him out of here.” 

“Yes, ma’am. Right away,” (Y/N) mumbled. 

He stepped into the room just as the bartender turned and walked out. As he got closer, Dean began to giggle. 

“You know, you have the prettiest eyes. Has anyone ever told you that? Oh, come on, I bet a lot of people tell you that. They’re like…like, um…” Dean paused and stared down at the ground. 

(Y/N) quirked a brow and placed his hands on his hips. When he did, he felt the outline of his phone in his jeans pocket. A smirk made its way onto his face as he took out his phone. He knew that he could use this moment for entertainment purposes later. He began to record his brother as he cleared his throat. Dean jumped and turned to (Y/N), eyes wide.

“Hey, Dean. What’re you doing?” (Y/N) asked cautiously. 

A smile broke out on Dean’s face as soon as he recognized his brother’s voice. “Oh! (Y/N), I want you to meet someone,” he slurred as he wrapped an arm around Manny’s shoulders, pulling the mannequin closer to him. “This is Cozy. She’s…she’s the most beautiful woman here and we’re going to get married.” 

“Are you?” 

“Yeah! Isn’t that right, baby?” Dean giggled as he reached up and poked Manny’s nose. “She’s the love of my life.” 

“Well, I am so happy for you, Dean. She looks…beautiful.” (Y/N) was trying his hardest to keep from laughing. 

“Thank you.” Dean smiled proudly. 

“I think you’ve talked to Cozy enough for one day, though. I think we need to get back to the motel.” 

Dean frowned. “But I don’t wanna. I wanna stay with Cozy.” 

“I know, buddy,” (Y/N) walked over and placed his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “But Cozy has to go home, too. You can call her in the morning. Plus, we have pie back at the motel.” 

Dean gasped dramatically. “Pie?” 

“Yeah, pie,” (Y/N) pulled Dean away from the mannequin and wrapped an arm around his torso. 

“Pecan?” 

“Yes, Dean, pecan pie.” 

“Oh, (Y/N), you know, you’re the best brother a guy could have.” Dean leaned his head against (Y/N)’s shoulder as the two of them stumbled out of the back room and towards their table. Dean let out another gasp as soon as he saw Sam. He patted Sam sloppily on his shoulder. “Sammy! Sammy! I met a girl!” 

Sam groaned and lifted his head. He looked between (Y/N) and Dean, narrowing his eyes. “That’s not a girl! That’s your brother, stupid.” Sam grumbled. 

(Y/N) sighed and rolled his eyes. “Come on, guys. Let’s get back to the motel before you pass out on me.” 

There was no pie back at the motel. I just know that’s one of the only things that could get Dean’s attention. 

Thankfully, both of them waited until they were in the car to pass out. I had tried my hardest to wake them up, but they weren’t budging. In the end, they both slept in the backseat of the Impala while lying on top of one another. It seemed like it would be extremely uncomfortable, but I wouldn’t know. I was able to go back into the room and relax in my own bed, in a place that was peaceful and quiet. No snoring, no moving around, nothing. It was some of the best sleep I ever had. 

In the morning, when Dean and Sam woke up, they had to ruin my peaceful sleep by knocking on the door. They were a mess, both completely out of it and hungover. The smell of vomit stunk up the room so bad that I swear it’s still there if we were to go back and check. I got them painkillers, got them some water, and made sure they were nice and fed. When we were all sitting down and finally eating, I let them have it.

Oh, the teasing. 

So much teasing. 

I showed them both the video of Dean flirting with Manny. Dean grumbled and tried to get me to delete the video while Sam was trying his best not to laugh his ass off - he really couldn’t because of how bad his head probably hurt. Throughout our conversation, I swear, whenever I would look over at Dean, I could see his cheeks turn pink. I knew I had the perfect blackmail. 

I still have the video. 

You know, just in case. 

APRIL 2014

Everyone who knows Dean understands just how much of a serial flirt he is. If it breathes and if he finds it attractive, he will flirt with it (the story with Manny should make that pretty obvious). I, on the contrary, know how to flirt, but I don’t do it as often as he does. Sure, I flirt with people now and then to get my fix, but it’s not something that I do every time I go out. 

Sam, on the other hand, is the complete opposite of Dean. 

Sam was always the type to be awkward around people he found attractive, even when he was a kid. The number of times I would see him in the hallways of schools trying to talk to girls was hilarious, but he carried that awkwardness into adulthood. I admit, a couple of years ago, that boy had some moves. He knew all the right things to say and do to make anyone swoon for him. I was sort of jealous of him, and I could tell that Dean was proud of him, in a way. 

However, with how much has been going on the past couple of years, I’ve noticed that Sam has gotten a little rusty when it comes to flirting. There has been more than one occasion where he received a pretty nasty glare or a drink to the face followed by some rather colorful language. At first, I felt bad for him, but then it started getting funny. As he kept trying, the conversations he would have with people would last longer and longer than the last time. It still took him a while to leave with anyone, but baby steps. Baby steps. 

There was one time earlier this year when I thought he was going to get a happy ending. It was going so well! I had to admit that I had been spying on him throughout his interaction, just out of sheer curiosity. We were celebrating after a hunt in Arizona. Nothing too big, just a basic salt and burn with a basic bar afterward. It was Saturday and the bar seemed like it was packed. We were lucky to find a table. Thankfully we did because my feet had ached that night from all the digging. 

While I rested at the table, Dean went off to try and snag his own after-hunt reward while Sam walked over to the bar to chat up some cute brunette he had seen. The entire time, I entertained myself by watching him from a distance. Everything was going so well. 

Unfortunately, for Sam, he let his awkwardness get the best of him. 

“I swear, none of the good-lookin’ ones are single,” Dean grumbled as he took his seat back at the table, a defeated look on his face. 

“Maybe you should lower your standards?” (Y/N) shrugged as he took a sip of beer, his eyes glued to his younger brother across the bar. “I mean, they have to lower their standards to sleep with you, don’t they? It’s about time you do the same.” 

“Fuck you,” Dean scoffed a sipped his beer. 

“Sorry, not interested.” 

Dean rolled his eyes before he looked at (Y/N), noticing his gaze. He furrowed his brows. “The Hell are you looking at, anyway?” 

Dean turned his head to look in the same direction as (Y/N), shifting his head to look over people as he attempted to see what had grabbed his brother’s attention. (Y/N) licked his lips and smirked. 

“Looks like Sammy might get some tonight.” He said. 

“No shit? Where?” 

“At the far end of the bar. He’s talking to the babe in the blue dress.” 

Once Dean stopped moving his head, he was able to see Sam and the woman standing at the corner of the bar. Both of them were facing one another. The woman leaned up against the bar while Sam had his hands placed awkwardly in his pockets. Both of them had smiles on their faces as they talked. 

“Damn, she’s hot,” Dean mumbled. 

“I know, right? He needs to take his hands out of his pockets, though. He looks like a fucking shy middle-schooler asking his crush out to the dance.” 

“Eh,” Dean waved him off. “He always looks like that.” 

“Yeah, I know, and have you seen him leave with anyone recently?” 

“Point taken. So, what? You’ve just been watching this whole time?” 

“I need to keep myself entertained somehow. Not in the mood for a one-night-stand, so I have to make my own fun.” 

Dean gave a short nod before he continued to watch Sam. (Y/N) and Dean sat in silence as they watched Sam talk with the woman, mumbling back and forth to one another. As the two of them talked, Sam became visibly more comfortable. His movements became more animated and he pulled one of his hands out of his pockets. Both Dean and (Y/N) were practically sitting on the edge of their seats, their drinks completely forgotten about. 

After ten agonizing minutes of watching, it was clear that Sam had become completely relaxed. They continued to talk as the lively bar moved around them. It was almost as if no one existed but the two of them. They were so engrossed in their conversation that Sam neglected to see the serving tray full of beer that was sitting down on the bar next to them. Finally, Sam took his other hand out of his pocket. He moved to lean on the bar, but his elbow never touched the polished bartop. 

Instead, his elbow leaned against the edge of the serving tray, knocking it over. The tray and glasses clattered to the ground, sending glass particles across the floor. Beer splashed on himself and the woman he had been talking to, who had a look of horror across her face. 

(Y/N)’s eyes widened as he quickly reached over and grabbed Dean’s arm. His jaw dropped and he immediately felt the laughter bubble up inside of his chest. He covered his mouth with his other hand and turned towards Dean. Dean snorted and turned his body so that he was facing (Y/N), his own eyes wide and hand covering his mouth as well. Both Dean and (Y/N) shook as they tried to contain the laughter. 

They sat there, attempting to hide their amusement as Sam walked back over to the table, a defeated look on his face. He sat down, grabbed the beer that he had once forgotten about, and took a long swig. When he saw Dean and (Y/N) practically doubled over, he raised a brow. 

“What’re you two laughing at?” He asked as a small smirk played on the corner of his lips. 

(Y/N) turned away from Dean, pressing his lips together as he placed both of his hands on his beer. His gaze averted to the table, unable to look at Sam without laughing. He shook his head. 

“Nothing…” he spoke in a broken, high-pitched voice. “Nothing, nothing. You wouldn’t get it.” He waved off and took a drink. 

Sam looked towards Dean, who took a drink as well. “Yeah, you wouldn’t get it,” he paused. “Just like you didn’t get that chick’s number.” 

(Y/N) snorted as he let out a laugh, his shoulders bouncing. Sam’s smirk vanished and was replaced with a deep frown. His cheeks turned a light shade of pink as he slammed his cup down on the table and stood. 

“Real mature, you guys,” he grumbled, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair. 

“Oh, come on, Sammy!” Dean exclaimed. “You almost had her!” 

Sam rolled his eyes as he put his arms into his jacket sleeves. “Hey, Sammy, look on the bright side!” (Y/N) began. “At least you were able to get her wet somehow.” 

(Y/N) howled and slapped his hand on the table, Dean following suit. One of (Y/N)'s arms was curled against his stomach as he leaned forward. Sam glared at him. 

“I’m going back to the motel.” He growled out before he turned sharply and walked away before Dean or (Y/N) could say anything. 

By the time (Y/N) and Dean were done laughing, tears were rolling down their faces and their cheeks were bright red. Dean used his thumb and index finger to wipe away the tears while (Y/N) used the collar of his shirt. Once they were both settled, they leaned back in their seats. Dean shook his head. 

“We really need to get that kid a hooker or something,” He finally said. 

“I second that,” (Y/N) nodded and raised his glass. 

Dean raised his glass as well before they both drank. 

Sam didn’t talk to us for the rest of the night. He didn’t talk to us for the next couple of days until we got back to the bunker. Dean and I would try to get him to talk to us about something, anything, even the nerdy shit that he’s into, but he wouldn’t budge. On the drive back, he was wearing his headphones the entire time, so that whenever Dean or I would try to talk to him, he had some type of excuse as to why he didn’t talk to us. 

Little asshole. 

Wish I had headphones that I could just pop in to ignore the two of them. 

Maybe I’ll pick some up? 

Of course, I felt bad for the kid. He looked like he was having a good time, but you should have seen the look on the woman’s face when the beer spilled all over her. It was priceless! I had wished I held it together long enough to be able to see what had happened afterward, but if the look on her face had any correlation with her reaction, it probably wasn’t a good one. 

Don’t feel too bad for the kid, though, he got laid a couple of months ago. He’s fine, basically back to normal. 

Still, Dean and I like to bring it up occasionally. Sam has stopped getting so angry about it and has just resorted to rolling his eyes and ignoring us. One of these days, he’s going to get the balls to use one of our embarrassing pick-up attempts against us to shut us up. 

God knows he probably has more instances of us than we do of him.

 

OCTOBER 2014

Jesus, my wrist hurts. Do people normally write this much in their journals? Certainly not at once, right? I have to be setting a new World Record. I wonder if there’s a world record for something like this? I’ll need to look it up later. 

Trust me, though, I have yet to scratch the surface of the embarrassing memories I have of my two brothers. These are just my favorite ones. If they decide to read this, I hope the two of you enjoyed going down memory lane! Maybe you’ll learn not to look at other people’s shit? 

Who am I kidding, of course you won’t. 

I’ll need to hide this somewhere else. Maybe my closet? Maybe in one of my bags? I can’t even think of a place where they won’t eventually find it. Whatever, I’ll hide it in the back of my closet and see where that gets me. 

The bunker door just opened. Sounds like Sam and Dean are back from the supply run. I’ll need to make this short and simple so I can help them put the groceries away before they start bitching at me. 

Until next time,

Stay safe. (That STILL sounds bad. God, I’m terrible at ending these things.)

[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

3 and 12 especially if 12 does not correspond to the list from 3

3. Rank the shows you are currently watching from least favorite to favorite.

Ok. So I just answered this one. So I guess this time I'll give some reasons for each one.

8.My Love Mix-Up! This one just started so there isn't a lot to say about it and what I got to say I kinda did when it aired. I'll be waiting to see if it improves because I like the actors. 7.Love Sea I literally just finished watching the first episode an hour ago. I'm not sold and the reason it surpasses MLMU is the ocean. I love anything a little bit more if I can watch the ocean at the same time. 6.We Are It's not breaking any new ground. But I'm enjoying the friendship moments a lot. The group is really fun and they are all very natural together. Tan/Fang are my favourites atm and I wish I had more than crumbs Chain/Pun, because I find Pun really fun to watch. 5.Knock Knock, Boys! It's really fun. I'm actually laughing in certain moments which doesn't happen all that often. I really like the house dynamics, it feels very real to me. Seng is great of course, but I like all of them. The food montage was a high moment for me. I was drooling. 4.Only Boo! They are so freakin adorable. I am in pain. That train break up was so sad. Well done but sad. I understand the reason, and it makes sense from what we know of Kang, but it was painful. And that title card '1 year later'... I hate it so much. We don't really know how much happened in that year so I don't want to preemptively criticize it, but I hope that something else changed and not only the calendar. Cause if you're gonna move past so many things, at least give me growth. 3.With You I Bloom This one is a jdrama and thanks to an amazing fansubber I can watch as it airs which is not always the case with jdramas. This is not a bl, but I don't think anyone has told the show yet. I started watching this one because there are a lot of jbl actors in it so I was curious. And I'm having so much fun. It's basically a bunch of dudes learning to fight with swords in very nice clothes. There are a bunch of couples pairs, with very different dynamics, several sad backstories, and the final theme song makes cackle every time because it's always a massive tonal shift, because it's so happy and honestly, so so gay. 2.Wandee Goodday It's a whole new level of idiots in love and I love it. Like there's idiot in love, and then there's Dee. He's going for first place and no one can even touch him. I think if Taem clearly and without reservations rejects Yak, he can accept his feelings for Dee properly. But Dee is all over the place and at this point I don't think the show is doing a good job at telling me why. He keeps going back and forth too quickly for me. I truly hope that final flashback he had when they were running was him accepting his feelings. Also I NEED to know about Cher and Oyei. I need that backstory. TODAY. 1.At 25:00 in Akasaka I love Hayama a normal amount. This last episode was a rollercoaster for me. That ending left me screaming. And then I went through a whole thing when @lurkingshan threw my glasses on the floor and I was able to see everything in a whole new way. Anyway I love this show. What they are doing with the two shows is so interesting, and the editing is so smart. And I love them both. Hayama has my whole heart though.

2. Which show do you think will have the best ending?

Honestly, I have no idea. Endings are hard. It's hard to tie all the loose ends and make everybody happy. Jbl's lately have not done a great job at them. I still trust them more than Thai bl endings and I feel like we are collectively dreading WG end because of that. So honestly. If I'm going by what I've seen so far, I'm gonna say Only Boo. Maybe because the stakes are not as high as for some of the other shows, I expect a solid ending that will leave me with a big smile and a full heart. And that's honestly more than I've been getting so I'll be happy.

Thank you so much for dropping by with questions. 💜

Currently Airing Shows Ask Game

[huntunderironskies]

So I have been working on that were-animal game I threatened to do a while back, and I'm...fairly pleased with where I'm at in at least the general concept phase. Lore feels good, I have some solid antagonist ideas, I have a gameplay loop working, all that fun stuff. Now I'm starting to get to the scary parts (having to nail down a system and figure out just how I'm going to put this thing out into the world.)

This got weirdly self-reflective about my history with gaming instead of mostly talking about the actual mechanics so I'm gonna put it under a cut. :U

The tl;dr if you just want to know what I'm (probably) doing:

High-ish power system

Medium crunch (I'm aiming about for the level of Exalted Essence)

(This means a pretty good amount of powers and shapeshifted forms provide bonuses to keep track of)

Trying to avoid specific point-related bookkeeping so there won't be a fuel stat in the way that Chronicles of Darkness or Exalted has it where there are pips that rise and fall

Milestone "leveling" most likely (no actual level traditional leveling system, just skill/attribute pools, powers, and a character rank system similarish to a power stat)

Dice pool

(Yes, I did really like ExEss, don't judge me)

I am...attempting to come up with something more than a binary pass-fail system but I would rather not steal PBTA's iteration on it

Social combat (sorry, I know a lot of people are bearish on it but I like it :c It's the one thing I don't want to toss)

x/y-splats real

I have never tried to work within a system that's 100% of my own making. I think I'm a little gun-shy of it because one of the GMs I used to play with (who I stopped playing with because she's a horrible person in addition to being a horrible GM, incredibly long story, send me booze money to get drunk if you want to hear it because I don't want to be sober when thinking too hard about her) was really insistent on trying to make her own system and her game design sense was...well, not great. Didn't have a good head for dice odds and went for the most simple solutions possible (d6 with small dice pool, 1s are fails, boxcars are crits) without thinking about actual gamefeel, expected players to handle most of creation of character abilities and powers (as in, doing most of the design lifting for her outside of the basic dice systems) but also was incredibly thin-skinned about feedback. She had the desire to be famous and make this big idea but was not willing to do the hard work to make it happen.

And like, I'm somewhat sensitive (I would not call myself the most confident person) so I'm used to feeling a bit hurt by negative feedback, but, you know, you have to listen to players to see how they're reacting to the game especially since you need to get out of your own head when designing mechanics. Critique is how you get better, as much as it hurts. Unfortunately she also hated learning other peoples' systems even if you wrote her cheat sheets so...I never really got to play anything for more than five sessions or so for quite some time.

(Upside: the drive that gave me to search for actual active RP groups led to me meeting some of my favorite people in the world.)

Anyways. I think that's led to me kind of psyching myself out. I've kind of gone from the mentality of "yeah I have a great head for mechanics" to "oh no I'm just a savant with one singular system." I...might have to start with brand-X-ing a system I'm familiar with (ft. minor changes) (guess which one) and then start tweaking from there until it doesn't feel like The Werewolf the Forsaken We Have at Home.

I think it both helps and hurts that a lot of my design philosophy is somewhat similar. I'm trying to do a higher power level, at least in the same way that Chronicles of Darkness has the "if your PCs throw enough resources at something, they will get what they want, it's just a matter of what it will cost them and if it was something they should have wanted in the first place." I also have an extremely strong preference for dice pool systems, I just think the dice odds feel so much better than single-roll systems.

I've also always liked being able to downgrade a failed roll to a dramatic failure since it's led to some really fun situations, but I think the inverse could be fun as well, i.e. if you REALLY feel like you need a roll to succeed you can upgrade it to a single success at a cost that could potentially bite you in the ass later. It's another way to potentially cause drama and give players more meta-options to control how the game can proceed.

On the subject of meta-options I'd really like to give social systems some mechanical weight since I honestly enjoy social combat. I know that's kind of a controversial opinion but I just feel like it gives more tension to negotiations and the like and it gives me a lot more design space to work with when designing what would traditionally fall under "utility powers" as an umbrella.

So that's sorta what I'm working with right now. The scary part is I will need to playtest this at some point and that means recruiting people and that also means starting up what will likely be a community server to keep in touch with people instead of just vomiting out whatever thoughts pop into my head on tumblr. One Fear.

[momocicerone]

has tumblr ruined me for discord?

so i am not very active here, but ... i'm not awfully active on discord either? and i've found it very hard to find new social circles on discord over the years. i've tried everything under the sun: fandom servers, friends servers, anime servers, gaming servers, girls only servers, support servers, chilling servers... nothing sticks.

fandom servers, they are usually big and .. um. no. just no. controversy and gatekeeping hub is not my place. friends servers: ppl get lives, and the chat dies, that simple. anime servers is fandom server on steroids, plus always a 15 year old creep trying to get in your pants (sometimes the 15 year old is 25. sometimes he's 35. it matters not, nor it makes any difference). gaming servers are, um first of all there is 1% game talk, 45% who wants to join for a game rn?? and 54% feet gifs and waifu sexy art.. i did not sing up for -- this is not what i,, . girls only servers are very good, very mindful very demure but also no vent rule and i'm sorry i'm a bitter bitch who needs to moan about my work sometimes. chilling servers are way too chill like hello anyone active??

there's an (imo) obscure type of server which is adult servers (hold up NOT adult as in XXX or anything like that but like, grown up people servers who chat about their jobs, hobbies, cats and spouses or lackthereof ）and i've joined a handful of them but i can tell you right now that 90% of them feel like high school. and i didn't even have that kind of high school experience growing up so it's kinda ironic witnessing these popularity contests and gossip happen in real time. I think i'm used to fandom hierarchy and BNFs and i understand the logic of people with talents who give for a community being popular so the whole... using pretty privilege to build up relationships is absolutely bizarre in my eyes. I am an adult, i do not understand other adults.

Needless to say I feel like 98% of the new relationships i managed to forge in the past years, since i joined discord in 2017, are desingenuine. Granted, almost every single one of them has fallen apart as expected.

I review my friendships and I realize the longest and most meaningful started here on tumblr and some of them on the fanfiction community, even when we have long lost our shared interests, the friendships remain intact, if no stronger.

perhaps what im trying to say is that through tumblr and writing we were able to accidentally find more alike people than by entering social settings which intended purpose is to make friends. is it because blogging to the void is infinitedly more personal and lets us show ourselves more? i've gotten in so much trouble because of my tumblr humor getting misunderstood in discord chats, i stopped making self deprecating jokes altogher. I am also kind of morbid, ngl, which i guess doesn't help my case.

am i just a weirdo in denial lmao?

i don't feel lonely, per se. I could catch up with a handful of people if i wasn't the lazy mf that i am. but i am bored. i am bored to death. to oblivion. and i refuse to engage in conversations with people with clearly disengenuine intentions, even if it's to entertain a joke.

will i ever meet another one who matches my energy, or learn to break that energy apart into moderate pieces that i can hand out of my friends?

[drdemonprince]

History anon here with appreciation and a couple clarifications:

The worst thing *I* could be was a trans man, not the worst thing *anyone in the world* could be. I realize I didn't write this super clearly, so that's on me, but I was talking about the worst felt sense of identity I specifically could have. Like, being a murderer would be worse, but you don't come to be a murderer by keeping yourself up at night, wondering whether it best describes who you are. I thought I could force myself to hold a different identity, one that wouldn't be betraying the feminist values I was surrounded by and looked up to.

I didn't say anything about how my experience compares to trans women, though for the record, they were also treated terribly in the spaces that hated me, and I also stood up for and worked with them. Most of my academic scholarship has been focused on trans men because that's the area where I'm most passionate and qualified, but that's my personal work right now, not some sideways way of putting others down.

I didn't know you'd been hanging out in trans masc spaces in the early 2000s. High five for guys who survived those days.

I don't use Tumblr, so I don't have an @ to give you. This account I'm posting from? It's technically a work account I set up for a job almost a decade ago that decided it didn't want the page after all, so it's still linked to my email. There's no other way for me to reliably contact you that I know of, but if you think of something, I'm totally open.

Hey there, thanks for the clarifications, and sorry to have mischaracterized what you were aiming to convey in your first message. You have a lot of experiences and knowledge that I'd love to learn from more to the extent you are fine with sharing.

I have a friend who grew up in the SF Bay area in the early 2000s and was a trans guy then, and from them I've gathered little threads here and there regarding how trans men were seen and treated at the time (all the trans guys were expected to be bottoms, not just for the reasons that's such a Thing today, but also because in feminist spaces it was seen as the appropriate position for a trans guy to be relative to a cis woman, within the community hierarchy)... there are certainly big elements of the scene and regional differences that I know next to nothing about, when it comes to trans guys experiences at the time. I think the Midwest queer/feminist scene was probably very different in a lot of ways. It certainly was very sex negative. I'd be curious to hear a lot more about the ambassador program pushing for trans male inclusion at the bathhouses that you mentioned, and more about where you're from in general.

For all that I challenge contemporary complaining about "trans male invisibility," it really is true that gay trans men were completely excluded from the communities I was around back then, and I didn't really feel that we could exist (though I had known some bi trans guys at that time). That certainly kept me from transitioning for far longer than I otherwise would have. And I feel like I have witnessed the canonization of Lou Sullivan happening in real time here on Tumblr... even more recently than much of the advocacy that you shared about. He just was not on my radar or someone that anyone in my circles was talking about until a few years ago. But I guess it's not surprising that radfems who considered gay men to be privileged perverts weren't speaking about him. Man Columbus Ohio sucked dick

I'm not sure how best for us to get in touch, then. My twitter DMs are open too. I keep most of the rest of mine shut for lots of reasons. Funny that your account is a brand account on here...are you the Dennys tumblr account

[johaerys-writes]

For the writer asks! 🌈💝💥🤲

[Writing Asks]

🌈is there a fic that you worked *really fucking hard on* that no one would ever know? maybe a scene/theme you struggled with?

There have been chapters in High-Flying Birds that I struggled with, and it is a fic I continue to struggle with sometimes haha. Mainly because there is so much I want to write, many little moments that are hard to arrange in a coherent chapter or arc, and there are also many things I feel like I have to write (or stay 100% faithful to canon) and that if I don’t readers might be disappointed or *I* will be disappointed with the end product looking back lol. It’s also a fic that I've done a lot of research for, so there were chapters or arcs that were a long time in the making (and one of the reasons why I'm so slow to update it lol...... it just all needs to marinate in my brain). One of the chapters that I struggled with in particular was The Sacrifice, because trying to condense Euripides' 'Iphigenia at Aulis' in a couple of chapters and also make it engaging and coherent was really hard.

Another fic I've struggled A LOT with, and I mean A LOT sometimes, is my DA longfic A World With You. Maybe it was because of my inexperience while writing certain bits, maybe it's the DA lore itself that is sometimes confusing but there were certain arcs that gave me such a hard time. I felt like I kept writing myself into corners and had to delete and rewrite a lot, and it was just pure agony lol. I do feel like I learned a lot through these struggles though so I don't begrudge them too much 😅

💝what is a fic that got a different response than you were expecting?

Ooh good question. I feel like you're a walking disaster and yet- is a fic that I did not expect many people to read-- I expected max 2 or 3 people to follow it but I've been pleasantly surprised by how invested people have become in this story. It warms my heart to see readers care so deeply about these boys; not to get overly personal LOL but I've poured a lot of my heart in it, it almost feels like cheating sometimes because several scenes or exchanges in it are things I or people close to me have experienced, and it's also sort of me appreciating but also heavily criticising the culture I've grown up in (something I hope comes across lol.) It’s so rare for me to be able to write something so close to my own reality that it feels like a niche in and of itself, and I'm so grateful for everyone who has been tagging along.

💥find your least kudos'd fic - say something wonderful about it.

Okay so I'm going to cheat for this one because my least kudosed fic is something I wrote ages ago for an exchange and I don’t have much to say about it, BUT my second least kudosed fic As It Was is one of my favourites because I wrote it for @mogwaei who is one of my favourite people, featuring Solas and their OC Maordrid from their fic Ouroboros, which is one of my favourite pieces of literature! Like ever!! And has had a profound impact on me and I love it and all the characters in it to bits!!! I still go back to this fic I wrote from time to time and drown myself in Mao/Solas feels 🫶 I feel like I captured something that is important to both of these characters, a small part of the connection they share and some of the things that draw them to one another. I'm quite proud of it ngl.

🤲what do YOU get out of writing?

Oh boy that's a good question haha. Like what does one get out of doing anything creative? It's definitely a great pastime. I spend many hours daydreaming/writing/editing/posting, time that I could use to do literally anything else but I just love the feeling of getting immersed in a different world, another person's mind. So escapism is a big part of it too I guess-- focusing on a fictional character's life and problems is so much better than focusing on my own LOL. I can tell you that my anxiety has been so much better ever since I started writing consistently, and it's why it's so important to me to set aside time every day to write.

Another more personal reason writing is important to me is because as an autistic person, writing about people and their feelings and how they interact with the world really helps me understand and process my own feelings and experiences in a way, since that is something I struggle with on a daily basis. And having this routine of writing also helps me gauge my mood/ emotions/energy levels, like I don’t always realise when I feel like shit or why I feel like this or what to do about it, but when I'm too tired or out of it to write I know it’s perhaps time to take a break and maybe reflect on some stuff lmao. And!! Of course!! Writing is great when it comes to processing traumatic or painful stuff. Like when my dad passed away last year I found myself writing a lot about grief and loneliness and losing people/situations that are important to you and not really knowing what to do about it, and I did that without even really realising it so I'm grateful for having this creative outlet that lets me process stuff in a somewhat healthy way lol.

This got unnecessarily long SORRY haha, but thank you so much for your asks 💙💙

[shuttershocky]

There's a strange "privilege" I think about sometimes: getting to be a hater.

I cannot stress enough how much being a creative for a living, not just making things but needing to make things to eat, blunts your ability to hate on the internet.

If you showed me now to the me of ten years ago, the past me would find the current me unrecognizable. I was picky as hell with what I liked and notoriously difficult to please, and because I liked to write a lot, I learned how to state my vitriol in words and say exactly why and how I thought something was shit.

I got good enough at it that I got paid to write reviews about video games while in college, and while I attempted to make my criticism more constructive and state my opinions as opinions rather than fact, I wasn't about to go lowering my standards just because someone was an indie working on their first game.

At the same time though, I ended up writing FOR local projects, and that's when it really landed with me that this shit is fucking hard.

Making anything at all involves baring a piece of your soul to the world, but all I had ever made before were short stories that made no sense and would get laughed out of literature club and embarrassing video game fanfiction I was too ashamed to upload to my account on fanfiction.net. I hadn't made things that people were actually supposed to read and play before, and seeing people at cons reading my words on a screen (on a project that sadly went unreleased due to other reasons) was an excruciatingly humbling experience no writing tips or advice ever really prepared me for.

I felt the effect almost immediately. Lots of little annoyances in a game I'd play or in a movie I'd see that I would have given it shit for in the past would just... Get accepted. Some mistakes or even whole creative choices that used to be dealbreakers for me were just regular old minuses. Things I would have found merely passable before became likable in my eyes. I started to find the roughness charming, imagining what sort of bullshit must the creators have gone through to even release this thing at all.

The thing is, I don't think my critical eye has weakened at all. I can still pick out and name parts of a work I would have torn to shreds when I was a teenager. I can still go ham on something I find particularly egregious if I really want to. I just... Don't really want to nowadays. Not anymore.

I don't have the energy for it. I think about what it must have been like to work on something and my tone immediately dials it back several notches because I was once hired to write for a game while in a very dark period of my life and that memory haunts me still.

Now when I don't like something half the time I just don't mention it. When I like something even a little I talk up what I find so enjoyable in it, and I don't even LIKE being positive and restrained, it's just what comes easier to me now. I kinda miss being a hater, but I'm slowly coming to accept that those days are done.

This is just something I think about every once in a while, because now and then someone still remembers how I used to be and assumes I've still got these impossibly high standards. I've had a friend tell me "So and so said that if [Shutters] likes it, it must mean it's really good", and I kind of just have to give a half-hearted "Oh well you know it's got its flaws, I just had a lot of fun" because people regarding my approval as some kind of seal of quality feels sinfully good for my ego, but I don't like getting people to expect a masterpiece off of something that only promises a fun ride. That wouldn't be fair to both them and the work.

I guess I'm still adjusting to my changing standards. There is one nice side effect though: it's a lot easier to enjoy your guilty pleasures when they become just pleasures instead.

[riddlerosehearts]

decided i'm going to start posting my thoughts on baldur's gate 3 every so often as i make my way through the game, because it'd be nice to have some of this stuff about first playthrough written down somewhere! my tav is a half-high elf bard named elenion (he/they) who's neutral good-aligned, and despite being a bard he's very reserved and is always feigning self-confidence. also, he's a college of lore bard who honestly would've fit the sage background pretty well but i went ahead and gave him entertainer instead lol. i guess that actually gives me the opportunity to see more of the inspiration goals by not having the same background as gale! anyway though, here's a few thoughts about what i've done while still being very early in act 1:

at the point i'm at in the story right now, i was supposed to go look for halsin, but instead i decided to finally find karlach. i feel like i probably should've gotten her sooner, but once i got to the grove i didn't wanna venture too far from the main objectives--and the grove is where you recruit wyll and learn about karlach in the first place.

however, halsin sounds very wise and capable so i guess he can handle himself while he waits, and the mindflayer tadpole symptoms aren't progressing like they're supposed to, so why not just go off and act like we've got all the time in the world! maybe elenion is just easily distracted. they did waste quite a bit of time earlier when they found alfira and felt compelled to help her finish her song. and speaking of, i was not expecting such a beautiful cutscene for that?! or for the squirrels we talked to using speak with animals to be so mean and hate her song 😭 but i hope we get to see alfira again and that nothing bad happens to her, and i hope i don't eventually regret saying that!

also, wyll did say karlach is a danger to the entire sword coast, which makes hunting her down sound pretty important... and elenion has an interest in history so they recognized the phrase "advocatus diaboli" and were able to mention the blood war when wyll first talked about her. so maybe they're also interested in seeing if they can get a devil who fought in the blood war and is now wandering the material plane to answer a few questions before taking her down. anyway, point is we're leaving the druids and our quest for a cure hanging to go hunt a devil.

took me a bit to find her despite wyll's quest leading you to her, though. i have a horrible sense of direction, which i guess is okay because my horrible sense of direction did lead me to accidentally find scratch and now we have a dog!

eventually i did get to karlach, and elenion's mind connected to hers and gave him a much closer look at who karlach is and what she's doing here than he expected. naturally he convinced wyll to stand down because karlach does not seem evil. and then he tried to ask karlach some of the questions he had in mind back at camp, but she won't reveal anything until we hunt down the paladins that are still hunting her. understandable, i guess. i like her though! i should try and make sure to get her earlier on my next playthrough.

encountered mizora for the first time when i rested at camp, and i'm very intrigued by what's going on with wyll and i actually have been since way before i played the game and found out he was a fabled hero who was also a warlock. which is why i also think it's a huge shame that from what i've heard at least, he was given a lot less content for his quest and his romance than the other companions were.

wandered around the world a bit more and ended up freeing a poor guy who was being spun around on a windmill by goblins. then i got the scene with gale where he teaches you how to channel the weave, and it not only had bard-specific dialogue options but also had an option that specifically reflected my character's proficiency in history, which was all really neat to see. god, there must be an insane amount of different dialogue branches in this game. love that there was also an option to be like "yeah that was neat, but i could've done it myself lol" since a bard is already a spellcaster.

the range of these particular dialogue options is killing me LMAO

i had high enough approval with gale to trigger a very obviously romantic scene and then the game is literally like "okay, so do you want to kiss him or do you want his severed head on a spike" 😭 like wtf do you THINK?! i can't even imagine how i'd roleplay a character who would be cruel enough to get this far and lead gale on so much before picking to project an image of his head on a spike directly into his mind. and yet i am so curious about what happens if you do--but not curious enough to reload and try to find out. mostly because i cannot bring myself to be mean to gale.

anyway, i picked the romantic walk option. i thought elenion would consider the kiss thing to be a bit too forward. but that was such a sweet scene and i love flustered gale gets when he realizes how you feel about him. going into this game i really thought i'd wanna try for astarion or shadowheart's romances first, and i do like them a lot and want to keep learning more about both of them, but gale surprised me with how much i already liked him from his introduction. he's just really charming and funny and also fits well with the character i made, so i will definitely keep progressing his romance.

aaand i've been progressing a bit slowly because of irl stuff but everything about this game is so good that i wish i'd picked it up sooner! i've been spoiled on quite a bit of things about the story already, but there's also a lot that i haven't been spoiled on and i can't wait to experience all of it anyway.

[bumofthewild]

omg your ffxiv journey is so sweet ;____; it's so touching to see other haurchefant fans waaaaah everything in ishgard is so crazy. do you have any thoughts? on his family, ysayle, estinien? aymeric?

awwww ty i feel like all i've really done is tweet "i love haurchefant" or complain abt fantasy racism but i'm happy you think so...! and yess infinite love for haurchefant forever i was not expecting to fall for him like that at all. he is literally perfect.......!!!

im actually obsessed w ishgard im hoping you understand that asking for my thoughts on anything is opening a floodgate but i will try to reel it in! ok! here we go!

ok i love ishgard.... i love its extremely insular and severe and almost monastic atmosphere. i am a hugeee fan of secluded locations as the setting of a story so when i realised hvw was going to be largely about ishgard i was so excited. i also really love plots where characters are in hiding/have to take refuge in a hidden and secretive place??? and then the fact that the place you have to take refuge in is haurchefants family home??? i started writing fanfic immediately i literally felt like i was being spoiled like they wrangled that from my brain i genuinely couldn't believe i could experience so much luxury all at once. of course that's been ruined after doing the vault which i have been genuinely handing terribly but. moving on!

emmanellain is so funny and i think the contrast between him and artoirel (silliness/overconfidence vs seriousness/insecurity) is really interesting, down to where you go with them on their separate missions. really fun way of exploring more of ishgard. i like their dad too he's genuinely sweet which i thought was a nice surprise. it really stuck out to me this one moment where the war worsens and he says you can't stay anymore bc its become so dangerous, bc i just automatically assumed everyone would beg you to stay and help. that really touched me. i feel like hvw somehow passed my convoluted eq test

also learning haurchefant was an illegitimate son in the way you do w artoirel just telling you really stood out to me o__o not bc that kind of thing is an issue but bc of how you learn it idk backstory on the characters kind of throws me off in a good way bc of how linear the game is. idk i cant formulate thoughts on haurchefant rn itd need its own post. some other time..

i don't believe in things like nobility as an actual moral concept, obviously, and fantasy games let alone ishgard really test my patience with it, but i do love it aesthetically. same w christianity. i really like idk arthurian medieval aesthetics. the high houses + their motifs really got me like i specifically love unicorns and roses if hvw was trying to appeal to me directly it knew exactly how. ishgard's politics too i thought that shit was so interesting i'd love to learn more about the rocky relationships btwn the houses. and we loveeeee toppling the church thank you heavensward

there were a lot of times though where i was really frustrated with the dragonsong war and this is my issue with ffxiv in general but the way it treats beast races is extremely disturbing. i pretend i cant read whenever a character on the "good" side talks about "civility" or "reason/sense". and the ishgard lore being ppl directed by their god to inhabit a land only to find that land inhabited by "savages" (the dragons) that they have to kill now bc as "reasonable" beings they have a religious claim to that land...is an insane thing to write about!!! jrpgs are crazy!!!!!! like i genuinely need it to stop but i guess they at least (???) kind of turned things around with hresvelgr and ysayle offering the perspective of the other side and i think they made it an interesting issue enough for the game but lord it is disconcerting. that being said the foundation of ishgard being a total lie (and being described constantly as a sin) is still a lot of fun to me like thank god. and the quirky somewhat found family journey w ysayle, estinien and alphinaud to unearth the truth was one of the best parts of hvw imo. i loved seeing estinien act almost like an older brother to alphinaud, and for estinien and ysayle to constantly be at odds and alphinaud trying to keep things together. i am so fond of that section of the game.. just felt like you were climbing higher and higher into figurative heaven (i love the title heavensward im glad they used it in such fun ways) and seeing stubborn bastards like estinien question what he knew. he was so funny by the way i was not expecting that even though i knew an estinien was a popular char in the game for a while. i also like ysayle a lot like her passion was very compelling, and when she finally talks to hresvelgr the way her goals would be tinged w a sort of self-serving personal feeling at times i found really interesting. all of it was so interesting whenever the plot strayed from ishgard id be like take me back PLEASEEE. idk i like chars who behave like tools (estinien) or become tools by accident (ysayle). i think those two should hang out and bicker and begrudgingly accept each other forever

also i love aymeric like i already loved aymeric from post-arr idk if you play w another dub but his english voice has this softness to it that i find so cute. idk he's kind of delicate to me maybe not what they were going for but i'm into it. the fact that post-arr to me is just watching aymeric and haurchefant be in a wol-loving contest MAKES ME SICK TO MY STOMACHGHH i love the ishgardians how much they like wol in a place that's notorious for being so cold is so great. i think love is real on earth. and not in the self-insert "i need every char in this game to want me" way i just mean that i like love a lot, and they are not shy about the fact that they love you. its great. also when they revealed aymeric was actually an idealist and that getting jailed as a heretic meant little to him if it could bring about a new ishgard--literal nail in my coffin. i love idealism!! i was really pleasantly surprised that the nobles you come to know decided to care more about bringing in a new age for the region rather than being noble. whether or not that change comes is to be seen ofc.. but considering the brume is a location that exists well. what is with this game and the fantasy cops always being really bad...? like is ffxiv actually down for the cause...? (joke)

ik ishgard has its whole classism thing going on but that seems more like fray's department now which i have yet to dance with.. i mean literally just dissolve the class system...but this post is already very unorganised so. no more. i would pay an infinite amount of money to bring haurchefant back. each time i think about him i slip up and think about his gravestone instead and feel nauseous. great game!

[claudiajcregg]

Orchid, cactus, and camellia

Thank you so much, Mariana! And apologies for taking so damn long to answer. Could have sworn I had 😳 But good thing I had saved a copy just in case. (These are terrible answers to great questions, though. I'm sorry.)

orchid ⇢ what’s a song you consider to be perfect?

God, so many (whether it's coming from a more objective POV or an emotional one). First one that popped into my head was Bohemian Rhapsody, and I honestly could name a few Queen songs too (Somebody to Love is a forever fave). Others that I thought of: God Only Knows, Landslide, Hotel California, Life on Mars, Hallelujah, Yesterday. Throw some ABBA in there! And you could probably make an argument for several other songs by these artists… But I could also make an argument for more recent ones that just hit me right in the feels, too!

cactus ⇢ something you’re currently learning (about)?

I don't know if there's anything specific. I guess specific radio telescopes-related (software-related) stuff for work. I learned a little about Budapest's history, particularly during WW2, while on vacation there. And because of a story I've been writing, I've trying to read up on pregnancy and its different milestones.

And this is the literal take. In a more practical sense, I've been trying to learn to not care so much when it's clear someone you care(d) about doesn't really care as much about you. Doesn't mean they don't, but it's about managing that expectation.

camellia ⇢ what were you like when you were younger? do you think you’ve changed a lot?

I don't remember. Is it too corny to say that I am a work in progress? My essence has likely remained the same, even if I've evolved (and regressed?) in other areas. Confidence, anxiety, and other stuff has ebbed and flowed, imo, but has probably never been particularly high.

Copout answer, I know. I do always wish I had started to be able to process my trauma better years ago (preferably before college) because god, things would have been so different and maybe, I would have enjoyed things better. But part of the human experience is just making the choice you think it's best and hope it works out, right? (Which is a long-winded way of saying that I think I have changed in the last few years.)

(questions here!)

[fizzingwizard]

One of those days where I'm feeling chatty for no reason.

I don't have anything new to say about this, but on the other hand, I don't suppose this sort of thing can be talked about too often.

Recently a coworker started wearing foundation after not wearing it for a while, because people said her face "looked really red." Well, it did - because her natural complexion is ruddy, and we had never seen it before because she always wore foundation. But the truth is her natural complexion is adorable. If she chooses to wear foundation because she likes it, I'd support her choice. But the vibe is very much that she became anxious due to coworkers bringing attention to her red cheeks. Those coworkers honestly didn't mean anything by it - they were just noticing something had changed. But it's a shame that it led to her feeling like she needs to hide her face.

And there's so much pressure for people to look perfect these days. I suppose there always has been, but anyway, what I decided to rant about now in sum is just this: expecting perfect all the time is stupid and lazy and we should be constantly, constantly calling it out as such.

Make-up is art, but it isn't treated as if that's what is. The vast majority of the time it's an expectation, especially of women, but increasingly of men as well. Once the choice to do something disappears, the art of it disappears as well.

I don't wear make-up because I dislike how it feels on my skin, and it's expensive and time-consuming. Also I love flipping to the mental finger to employers who think people shouldn't expect to be treated well unless they look a certain way or at least participate in the performance of it.

I love variety in books, food, and travel. I love variety in faces as well. Read an interview once with some woman who's name I've forgotten who talked about when she stopped dyeing her hair. Showing her gray hair gave her freedom she never felt before, she said. Giving up the constant anxiety over her appearance let her do things as she wanted. Just imagine - going out whenever I want, not having to stop and think first "do I have time to do my hair and make up and shave and put together an outfit?" I really envy that. I don't wear make-up, but I still dye my hair and shave, and I have turned down things I really wanted to do because my body wasn't "ready."

(Shaving is my personal demon because my skin just doesn't like any lotion or razor I use on it. So if I want to go to the beach, I gotta really plan my shaving schedule. More than once I have thought to myself, "Adulthood is just being itchy all the time," lol)

I saw a picture today of a middle-aged woman with a long face and long hair. She looked fun and bohemian. In the next photo she had a short bob. The shorter cut suited the shape of her head a bit better, but either way, she still looked fun and bohemian.

Saw a picture of a high school friend who's since gone full-on dad bod. Guess what, comparing him to himself at 16 is fucking stupid. We're all programmed to compare ourselves and everyone else. Not doing it is something we have to put effort in to learn.

This is the truth: If you don't bother comparing people, voila, you stop caring. And start appreciating. I don't need to tell you what people say about women with long faces or men with dad bods etc etc and so forth - everyone already knows. It's all stupid. We should be making just as much noise about how stupid it is as some people make about other people not looking beautiful enough for them.

There's nothing wrong with make-up, there's nothing wrong with pretty, or hot, or whatever - but there is when you start creating benchmarks and keeping points and acting like people who look like people are in fact aliens. I wish every time someone makes a dumbass comment about someone else's looks, their friends would put on fake antennae and chant "TAKE ME TO YOUR LEADER." Because only an alien would look at normal humans and be disgusted that we don't all look like instagram stars.

It's like how you go to the store and all the fruit look identical to each other, when in reality, so-called "misshapen" fruit is thrown out despite being perfectly edible and not at all misshapen - we've just decided a strawberry should look like this and a banana should look like that. Humanity needs to wake up to the fact that we can't control nature and all attempts to do so are only hurting us.

The only way to do that is for the people who are hurt by it to de-program. It's so hard right now with social media and perfect girls absolutely everywhere, with gobs and gobs of make-up and false eyelashes and fake nails and contoured cheeks - because, again, none of that is bad by itself. If people want to use their face and body as a canvas that should be completely up to them. But more often than not it results in punishment for everyone who can't or chooses not to look like that.

In this way make-up transforms from body art to performance art - a performance none of even knew we were auditioning for simply by being born. And art that creates discrimination and self-loathing is the opposite of what art should be.

Saying all people are beautiful isn't radical or a lie. It means you've successfully deprogrammed and wised up to how much of what we consider "pretty" - or even "sexy" - is taught to us and not innate at all. Even things that do seem to be - for example, the preference we have for symmetry in faces - are far from insurmountable. You might not like a song the first time you hear it, but after you hear it a few more times you suddenly realize you like it after all. Just because attraction isn't instantaneous doesn't mean it's inferior.

There are endless genres of music and painting styles and ways to tell a story. It should be the same with people. Deciding off the bat that because someone doesn't fit preconceived notions of "good-looking" they must therefore be "bad-looking" is sheer laziness and nothing more.

[imaginarybestie]

Burning Questions for Other Friends

Dear P,

It is not just D that I'd write burning questions to. But also C, perhaps, since she is someone who gets the real me, more. Maybe K, sometmies, too, since she also might get the real me, in some ways, if not all ways. Maybe other friends too. Sometimes T, with all her deep wisdom and life insight and intelligence, creativity, high ideals, compassion, and the empathy, that I all attribute to her. Also maybe other writers who I love. Maybe other people from the online community that D and I frequent.

Maybe other family members, even though we are mostly pretty distant and don't seem to see eye-to-eye or really see the same world at all, in so many ways. Yet they might know me better and have certain things in common with me that might let them see certain answers, maybe better than I'd expect. They surprise me sometimes with some of their strengths, intelligence, wisdom, kindness, goodness, gentleness, sensitivity, subtlety.

So often, it feels to me like the world is just so very cold and delusional in so many ways, but then my family will do some little things sometimes that makes me feel they're different, and they give me some hope for humanity, for love, kindness, the chance of closeness and relating. Even though it's usually a very short-lived little ray of hope. And others besides my family also give me hope like that, sometimes, but I guess it's different with family because we have more in common in a few ways, and they're this stable presence in my life, unlike all the others who give me hope, but I don't know them well enough or have enough in common with them to really be attached to them that much.

And then there are family members who have passed away now, my grandparents and maybe others. They have a special kind of meaning and memories for me, and maybe I would ask them some questions, if I could ask their souls or the ideal imaginary friend version of them. Other saints, perhaps. Other famous people online whose writings or youtube videos I love, maybe? Hmm.

And best friends I had in high school, too, maybe. When I get in the right state of mine and emotion, I can really feel a sense of connection to them the way we used to be. Maybr they're not really the same anymore, and maybe I am not either, and yet, maybe there's still some kind of commonality between us, our personalities, values, interests. Or even if not, then once there was. And who they were then inspires me to connect with an imaginary friend based on that past them. Maybe sometimes an imaginary friend of how I wish they would have changed and grown over the years, so that we could have stayed close, instead of what really happened where we changed so much that we didn't have much in common anymore, it felt, and things fell apart.

Maybe even my husband, who I have a bad relationship with, to say the least, and do not feel very close to at all and don't trust. Some imaginary friend version of him that's based on the good things that still exist in him, and the good things that existed in the past but are no longer there anymore, too. And maybe the ideal him that I thought he was but he maybe never really was, because I thought he was better than he really was. I thought he'd also improve and grow over time and we'd grow closer, while what happened was just the opposite, in so many ways.

Now I see he is a narcissist, but it's mostly latent and I've learned to deal with it and be ok, most of the time. I need to depend on him for a lot of things, at this point, and I'm better off with him than alone, due to physical and mental health issues that make me unable to support myself or to get the help I need from supposed governmental aid or anything such as that. So anyway, those are a few ideas of friends I migth write. Also characters from books who I really love and who really come to life or teach me important lessons. Maybe I'll think of others later. But that's a start for now.

Love,

C

[thecagedbirdsingsoffreedom]

In an unsurprising turn of events, it's finally happened.

We both knew it was coming too. It was bound to happen, I'm a little upset we were almost in the clear too. Two months. Wonderful.

Now we're here, trying to navigate this.

Our personalities are not helping this situation. He feels terrible, and I'm not quite sure how to feel exactly.

So I have to write it out.

And I don't even know how to start.

I just know that doing shit makes me do shit. Pretty obvious. Perfectly sound logic.

We do it anyway.

I'm not sure if we do them for the same reasons though.

I think maybe he had a hard time with his dad. I've noticed the hits are stronger those days.

That also probably explains the recklessness on his part too.

I guess he finally needed the release, too.

It's difficult now though.

We're in a sort of relationship now?

We're in something that's for sure.

I thought if I avoided him for a bit it'd go away but I should have known better.

Mario doesn't avoid this shit. He likes to get in my face about it.

And the problem is that I want to pretend it didn't happen. Ever.

Mainly because I don't think anything can come of it.

I don't expect anything to come of it.

Because I don't want anything.

All I wanted was a moment of release and reprieve.

Just some time to feel good. A moment of pleasure.

And he's so... perfect for that. He's attractive, and he incites me. He's lovely to look at. He's tall. He's built beautifully.

There's no reason why I wouldn't be physically attracted to him.

I wasn't expecting him to be so commanding, though. Didn't picture him as such. Or maybe I just bring that out of him? I'm trying to wrack my brain for any clues or hints but I can't recall anything of that kind.

God I miss you. I miss you.

I wonder if he was more conscious than he led on.

I don't know what I'd have done if he'd been gentle with me. I feel like something would have happened to me.

I don't know.

I just know that I'm not sure how to act now. It's strange.

I feel weird.

On the one hand, I'm upset that I'm used among my friend group.

On the other though, I have to remind myself not to give a fuck. I can only be with certain people. And i hate myself but I have been using him in other ways for months.

This literally was just the pinnacle.

Everything literally led to this.

I knew damn well what was happening but I was more concerned with the momentary high.

Probably shouldn't even be talking about this now. I love putting myself in these situations so none of this is really new.

It's just that in the aftermath, all I could think of was you. Us. Together for the first time.

Why it happened. The events and moments leading up to it. Not even the actual act itself. It's more the conversation, the comfort. And God I miss you.

I miss you so much.

I'm sorry I keep making mistakes.

I never learn.

And now I need to get over this because I can't lose him to myself too.