#i just think they're neat and get along like a house on fire

[littledead-ridinghood]

Jason and Steph going as the other for Halloween but as the other's robin, not as spoiler and red hood. Their current outfits already share the half mask motif, that'd be too easy and boring, and luckily, they're equally dramatic and committed to the bit

Steph: who let you out of the house to fight crime in these tiny panties as a kid? And why is your cape so big yet so bright? At least My big, purple cape let me hide in the shadows

Jason: Did you ever high kick in this dress? Or is this a fashion or function thing? Because if so, I get it: my legs and waist look great.

Steph: that's what the leggings were for

Jay: oh? not to keep you warm? silly me

Steph: need I remind you who had their entire legs out?

Jay: If you think about it, the cape acted as a jacket and also like a safety vest

Steph: right, so the cars didn't hit you while you were grappling roof to roof, but the bullets could--i get it.

Jay: Hey, I didn't design it: Look at the man who did and the other man who signed off on it!

[evilminji]

I got distracted, BUT I REMEMBERED!

The Dr.'s Fenton? Would ABSOLUTELY fight a child.

Specifically, Hatsume Mei. Future CEO of Hatsume Industries! And ENGINEERING RIVAL of their's! They may be new to this whole "support industy" business, but they are SEASONED weaponry makers! And that brilliant little upstart is good! Audacious! A THREAT!!!

COME GET SOME!!! D:<

See, they needed to Move. Things were getting a bit... spicy. They may have made so unfortunate choices, back before they knew the truth about their Son and Ghosts in general.

Ignorance, bigotry, and academic bias are curses in their house for a REASON, after all. They never thought... after all the DECADES of facing it themselves...

Well...

Needless to say, they were, are, and will always BE horrified by how they acted. There may have be a whole host of reasons behind WHY they acted that way. But those WHYs aren't good enough. They should have been better. Done better. They don't offer any excuses, but but they can give an explanation, if it's wanted.

And, together, as a family, they got through Maddie n Jack's horrifying mistakes.

God they don't deserve those kids. Love them to pieces. The things they don't warn ya about parenthood, you know? The mistakes you might make. You think you're ready. Think everything's alright. Then your life's work KILLS your son and brings him back.

And you don't notice.

......what sort of parents DONT NOTICE?

They still have nightmares. Feel sick. God, if they were working in ANY other field. With ANY other materials! If it wasn't SPECIFICALLY ectoplasm? He... he wouldn't have come back. Oh god.

........

So.... so, yeah.

They're working on some things! As a family! Seeing a therapist from the Zone. Lovely... Them? They're a tree person. Neither Jack or Maddie is quite certain what gender pronouns, if ANY, they are supposed to use. They've been defaulting to They/Them just to be safe. Still! Alien therapist! Neat!

But, of COURSE. The BABIES in White throw a FIT. "Wah, wah, wah you've been compromised blah blah blah" oh PLEASE! Just because they've had a little personal growth! And stopped shooting at Phantom in public! And in general! You shoot ONE little Goverment agent for trying to shoot your baby and suddenly YOUR the bad guy!

He didn't even die!

So, yeah, BIT spicy.

Honestly? Feels like a long time coming. They were never very popular. This ultimately just feels like the ends of a road that began in college. Them, the two "crazies" with their backs to the wall, as the government closes in, trying to tear them down for knowing the TRUTH and refusing to shut up about it. Their reputations so deep in the mud, they're tasting bedrock.

At least they are together.

And thank god they've had years to plan for the inevitable.

So? They have the kids grab their go bags and head off too stay with Danny's new celebrity friend from another dimension, Mr Wayne. Nice man, little dim, but since he's willing to open his home to the kids in case of emergency? Perfect. And frankly, as long as Mr. Pennyworth is there, everything will be fine.

Besides! Lil Damian is a very respectful and responsible young man. Tim and Danny may get up to mischief, but they can trust the youngest to put his foot down.

THEM on the other hand?

Not so lucky. THEY have to stay with the house. It's not exactky like they can move the portal after all, it's built in. And this is where the kids grew up! Where Jack and her scrimped and saved, lived out of cars and off nickle noodles, to afford! This is their HOME! And no jack booted THUG is going to take that.

So the kids go first. They go to the command center. Jack takes pot shots while she fires up... THAT machine. The one they wired into the house itself, right along with the Ectoplasmic Shielding. It was all theoretical, once. But not anymore.

Now they have The Zone.

It's been collecting energy runoff from the open gate ever since it opened. Siphoning them into the sub-basment mega batteries. Enough to run two-thirds the planet for the next half a millennia. If only the damn patent office would LET THEM PATENT THEIR WORK-!

But that doesn't matter anymore. No, what matters is checking how full the battery banks are. Decently. It HAS been a while since they've done a controlled drain. Good, that means they have more then enough.

So, with no kids to witness things getting nasty? She pulls out her keys and unlocks the parental commands, flips the the shields to "strobe-kill". Let's see you crowd us NOW fuckers. With Jack freed up to help aim the house? They set to work.

It's... not EXACTLY an exact science, as much as they'd prefer it to be. More of a controlled jump. Set preferences, power jump, hop sideways an unknown distance. Land. Look around.

Is it what you want?

Habitable?

A zombie apocalypse?

Jump again. And again. And again. Until the battery runs out. Then sit... or float...or drift, there, until the batteries refill. You have to be mindful, of course, that you don't lose Shield coverage. Because it keeps the House air tight and together. If you jump and immediately lose power to the shields because you misjudged the energy left in the batteries?

Better HOPE you land somewhere with a breathable atmosphere and no zombies!

And Fentons don't rely on HOPE! They rely on good ol firepower and hutzpa!

Also advanced ectoplasmic scientific engineering! But that was a given.

It... takes a while. They run out of canned peaches. Have to stop TWICE to help cure a zombie plague, since they are the only ones with a still working lab. They were actually sort of joking with the kids about the zombies. Oof. Good thing Ectoplasm eats EVERYTHING. One specialized ecto shot and that disease is TOAST.

Granted, the surviors are all limnal now. But they don't seem to care in the slightest.

Then there was the whole "oop! Planet's gone." Couple of worlds. The one with the crabs. The ocean one. The ice age. The robots. The cartoon horses. The inappropriately dressed high-schoolers with weapons fighting God. The boring one. The one with ninjas...

I mean, they are just NOT having any LUCK!

Okay, next moderately stable world, they are doing a groceries run! A Man can not live off freeze dried meals forever! Well, you CAN. But it's making Jack sad, and frankly that's a war crime. Plus she's run out of tea! AND coffee! A life of no caffeine? She can't endure that.

She's started to eye her son's God awful energy abominations in a can, for God sake! Desperate time's and all that...

Zyeyooom!

Thunk!

Which? Is how? The ENTIRE class of 1-H? Turns to stare in ABSOLUTE HORROR at the cackling, head thrown back, hands clawed, mad scientist "it's alive! It's aliiiiiiive" type insanity that is Hatsume Mei and her "this green goo I found from some guys Quirk" powered teleport anchor.

It MADE A HOUSE.

On SCHOOL FUCKING GROUNDS. An ENTIRE house! Is... is that a blimp? That's English right? What's it say?! What the FUCK is that sh- OH MY GOD ARE THOSE PEOPLE!? MEI!!!!!

So begins... the Fentons Beef With A Child™.

Because! Mei will forever more claim! That SHE brought them to this universe with HER magnificent machine! But Maddie and Jack? At first, trying to be nice about it, helpfully point out, actually? No. THEIR house can and does reality jump. THEY brought themselves.

Mei ignores them.

Crows about her magnificent machine. Scoffs about them thinks they haspd anything to do with it.

Oh... oh it is ON, you tiny pink haired little shit!

Does the Japanese Government want to take control of the situation? Of course they do. They want these scientists and they want that house. Local Nedzu's say? "It's nice to want things" :) *sips tea mockingly*

They landed on HIS school's grounds. Finders keepers!

You may say "threat to national security" but HE says "free support gear for the students and security for the school"! Not to MENTION all this delightful FREE clean energy! They are a delightful couple. With a portal to the fabric between realities in their basement!

Not found of the laboratory, but that's a personal issue. The ZONE however? Oooohohohohoho~☆

It? Would DRIVE THE HPSC and Japanese government BATSHIT INSANE that they can't get at the portal? That threats and stealth Heros and every other method? Just... hits a brick wall. A big ol "lol nope!" Meanwhile Nedzu and occasionally random teachers or students are popping in and out of this house they can get into?

Nedzu especially standing just on the other side of the shields going >:3 neener~ neener~ neener~ Ha ha! I could be mature about this but am CHOOSING NOT TO BE!

@legitimatesatanspawn @mutable-manifestation @hdgnj @hypewinter @babbling-babull

[imagination-overreaction]

More tf2 ships lets go

Soldier x Demoman / Boots n Bombs

Starting off with a Demoman ship cause this man does not get enough love I think. These two enable each other's stupidity to an incredible degree. They're both geniuses in the art of reckless stupidity, and with their brains and hearts combined they could be making new inventions like "ultra turbo sticky-nade launcherator" and it flings them 8 miles in the air and they die instantly (but they both cheer and think it's awesome once they're revived and they do it again. Medic doesn't care, but he's getting a bit bored of piecing together the same two bodies over and over again). These two would become masters of destruction. I also can imagine them passed out on the couch on top of each other, or Soldier waking up to do drills at 4 am and Demo telling him to fuck off (Soldier can't help it, his love language is explosives and boot camp </3). I like them a lot.

Scout x Sniper / Speeding Bullet

I will admit, I am a bit of a Scout hater when it comes to ships... Actually I'm just a Scout hater in general. However, I do think the dynamic of "annoying little shit" plus "gruff weird guy" works. Scout is the type to press his partner's buttons for the funnies (although he does this with his friends as well) but given how he was in Expiration Date as well as the Cold Day In Hell comic (if I remember right), then he would be genuinely caring and considerate toward his partner's feelings. Scout would push his buttons, but an hour later he'd be splayed out on top of Sniper and rambling about his day. Sniper is more blunt and to-the-point with affection, I think. He'd bother Scout right back, of course, and he'd just as happily sit there and nod along to whatever the hell Scout is talking about. These two would stay up until 5 am together several nights in a row.

Heavy x Pyro / Bear Grill

Since it's such a rare pair, there's some debate on what the ship name actually is. "Russian Wildfire," and "Heavy Fire" are the alternatives I've seen after scouring the tags. I'd like to toss my own suggestion in with "Firing Squad," although that could probably work for other ships too. I personally really like the hc that Pyro is (maybe aro?)ace, and I think that works well with Heavy (I also hc it/they Pyro but any pronouns work for this lil guy tbh). Heavy would support his little maniac's vested interest in fiery homicide just ignore the fact that he says he's scared of them in Meet The Pyro that's not important right now, and I think Pyro would really like watching Heavy use Sasha (the muzzle flash would be really neat in Pyro Vision). Outside of battle, I can imagine Heavy taking care of his guns while Pyro talks to him and tells a (very muffled) story. Heavy would listen to it when it talks about all the wonderful things it sees during their battles, and Heavy would maybe defend it when the other mercs start talking about how terrifying it is... Maybe. They're still very concerning.

Engineer x Heavy

There is no damn posts about this. "Heavy Metal" is a slightly popular one but "More Gun" has been suggested a lot, as well as "Mechanical Literature." I personally like More Gun(s), and I honestly really like this ship, and I feel like it works really well for the same reason that they both work well with Medic--they're both relatively calm and amicable compared to the rest of the team. I feel like Engie and Heavy would be the parents of the team, telling people to go to bed before 3 am and not to explode things in the house (it doesn't work but they can try) (and Engie probably has been the source of one or two fires but not necessarily on purpose). These two would be sickly together. Engie'd be going "good morning Misha 🥰✨" and tap Heavy's shoulder until he leans down far enough to let Engie kiss him on the cheek, and Heavy would give a quiet happy hum as Engie whistles away and they make me sick. I love them so much.

I also think that Engineer would give Heavy some absolutely monstrous artillery as a gift. They absolutely enable each other's horrific acts of bloodshed. More Gun <3

Part 1 - - Part 3

[razor0-0]

Ok so this is a really really niche audience but I have developed a need

so

First off, Solo Leveling Fans, you there?

And what about the Danny Phantom fans?

Any fans of both?

Because - okay hear me out - Danny and Jin-Woo would either get along like a house on fire or they would be on sight.

Listen I know I only got into the Danny Phantom fandom (Phandom?) literally yesterday but by god did the brainrot hit me hard.

so

Alright my reasons for these two either getting along or hating each other's guts is how similar they are. And then how incredibly polar opposite they are. It's not even funny but here I am cackling maniacally as I type. . . . that could be the coffee talking

OH WELL

so

They've both died before. I don't know about Danny (I'm only just meeting Spectra in the series atm) but Jin-Woo has died at least twice.

They're both rulers of the Dead or otherwise Un-alive or Non-living.

They're both unique and very quietly extremely traumatised

I just want to see crack and/or fluff of Jin-Woo taking one look at Danny and going 'that's my little brother now'

Danny going feral because someone hurt his friend

Jin-Woo sticking so many shadows on Danny only to absolutely lose his shit when they report back that 'hey this kid is uh . . . he's dead'

Danny having to explain that 'no, you couldn't have prevented this' while Jin-Woo tries not to hyperventilate in the corner

Please I just want to see these two goofballs interact I think it would be neat

[misty-lake101]

Live and Learn AU - Headcanons

Hey guys! I haven't updated Live and Learn for moment cause life has been so busy and now I have COVID which absolutely sucks! But I am trying to work on the next few chapters. I'm not sure how long it will be, but until then, I thought I'd give y'all some headcanons in the meantime! They mainly pertain to everyone's career choices and house habits so you'll get an idea of their dynamic.

Sonic - Major: Sports Communication

Sonic cannot cook. Period. All of his roommates agree that leaving him unsupervised in the kitchen is a fire hazard. He tends to order takeout more and microwaves leftovers. But as he got older and was forced to manage his money a little more, he did learn a few basic things at least. The fact that he’s on a meal plan with the college helps as there are some places that serve decent food. Given how athletic he is, It’s a wonder he’s managed to stay healthy this whole time.

He’s also a huge slob. His room is a disaster and he’s the type to just throw his clothes on the floor when he gets back, and then toss it in the laundry at the last minute. He's also that person who can easily find items in a messy room, but feels lost when the place is sparkling clean.

Sonic and Shadow were on rival sports teams in high school. They didn’t see each other for awhile after graduation, but then meet again when Shadow transfers to GMU and becomes their roommate.

Silver - Major: Pre-medicine

Grew up in foster care, and therefore not used to treating a place like his own home. He used to always have a mindset of ‘I'm in someone else’s house and have to follow their rules’. Moving in with Sonic changed that for the better, of course. But of all the inhabitants, he is the most flexible as far as habits go. Like Sonic, his own room can get pretty messy, but he's more conscious of others and therefore a little better at keeping common spaces clean.

He mostly relies on his college’s meal plan but over time, is trying to learn how to cook. He's pretty bad at it too, but it's more because no one taught him anything. Espio uses his restaurant job to his advantage to help him in this area.

His sleep cycle can be a mess since he works night shift for his job. Keeping days of the week and dates straight is often a challenge and he often has to be reminded that no, it's Saturday morning - not Friday night. His daily routine depends on his class/work schedule or what he feels like doing that day. Without that as some kind of structure, he can have almost no concept of time

Shadow - Forensics, but at some point, Undecided

Being in military school and having a strict guardian as well as a chronically ill and severely immunocompromised sister resulted in some extreme habits for Shadow.

He is the epitome of a neat freak. Every nook and corner of the house will be subject to a good vacuuming and mopping if he can help it. He’s an early riser and has a specific morning routine. Comically, these things end up being a source of conflict between him and Sonic when he first moves in.

Unlike Sonic and Silver, Shadow is very good at cooking and becomes the de-facto chef of the house. He's very adept at everything from basic to gourmet meals and knows how to tailor in dietary restrictions of all kinds. He also won't allow anyone but Amy to help him out in the kitchen.

Amy - Nursing, but is thinking of changing her career

At the start of the story, Amy's life was a bit of a mess before she moved in with Sonic and Silver. She lived with three girls in another house and they were generally pretty awful to her, as was her boyfriend. After thirteen months of that, she moved out early when the stress reached a boiling point.

Yet in terms of house habits, she (and to a certain extent, Silver too) is the obligatory "how am I the most normal one here???"

She generally gets along with everyone. Though she and Sonic dated briefly in school, there's no bad blood between them and they're good friends. She bonds very quickly with Silver since they're both in the medical field and can understand each other's struggles that are unique to that career. Silver also looks to her a lot for dating advice. Amy has a pretty civil relationship with Shadow and they gradually become very good friends as well.

Her house habits don't really have anything too extraordinary about them. She's pretty good with cleaning up after her self and is flexible with others. Amy's expectations aren't very high beyond, "please clean up after yourself" and "don't do the nasty in shared spaces and leave 'evidence' of it".

When Shadow first moved in, he and Sonic would bicker a lot. Amy did her best to stay out of it, but there were times she had to intervene. When this happened, she and Silver would take turns deciding who would be the one to break them up.

[devilmeows]

been thinking about my ocs' pokemon au so hi. i am making a post about it

Ryden:

last member of the Sinnoh Elite 4 - assumed the position after Bertha retired, then the order was shuffled around for him to come last after Lucian

he and Lucian get along pretty well :)

his team doesn't have a clear type majority, but he does have 3 dark-types

his team is made of Mona (F-Meowstic, starter), Noivern, Salazzle, Obstagoon, Meowscarada and Weavile (only Mona has a name so far, but the others have names as well. just havent found them yet lol)

he lives in Sunyshore with his girlfriend Anathema :) it's close to the league and it's the warmest city in Sinnoh which is important for his Salazzle

speaking of, he found his Salazzle as a Salandit as he and his friend Arwin were helping with investigating into an illegal breeder: they found out he was breeding Salandit, and by the time the breeder got arrested the Salandit were no longer fit for living in their natural habitat or in most of Sinnoh. Ryden boxes her/leaves her at home when he goes to Snowpoint

his exact origins are unknown, but he was found by Louvain in Kalos, and he lived there for a few years before the Forna family moved to Sinnoh

Anathema:

just a trainer. Doesn't really have the same ambitions as their girlfriend, and is content with where they are right now

lives in Sunyshore with their girlfriend Ryden :) works as a mechanic there

their team is made of Roxie (Honchkrow, starter), Mienshao, Glaceon, Ninetales, Hisuian Zoroark and Gastrodon (East) (like Ryden, they all have names, i just havent found them yet)

they found their H-Zoroark as a Zorua near Lake Acuity - I headcanon that after the whole Distortion World stuff from Platinum, Sinnoh has experienced space-time distortions much like those in PLA. However, the Pokémon that emerge from them usually die within a few hours if not found. This specific Zorua got lucky that Ana was passing by

originally from Kalos, and a former member of Team Flare because of their parents. They escaped after blowing up one of their most important labs and they were found severely injured by Ryden in the streets of Lumiose City

they continue to dye part of their hair orange despite this. They just think the colour looks neat, and they look different enough now that anyone who might wish them harm wouldn't recognise them

actually the "they dont have nicknames in this post, but all of their pokémon do have nicknames" applies to everyone. gonna stop adding it now

Louvain:

also just a trainer. he's actually pretty tough but he doesn't really bother fighting. he's a dad he's past his youthful days of fighting all the time

lives in Floaroma with his husband Lucius :)

originally from Kalos, where his family has lived for generations. they did, however, die in a house fire a few years after Lucius came into his life, which is partly what prompted the move to Sinnoh after little Ryden entered the picture

his team is likely incomplete for now, but is made of Lycanroc (midnight), Lycanroc (dusk), and Delphox (starter). is it obvious that he's a werewolf in canonverse

he works at the Floaroma Community Centre and has entertained the thought of opening a bar there because he has an interest in mixology. Floaroma isn't exactly the target demographic for a bar though, so he settles for making cocktails at home for fun

travels a lot because of whatever it is that his family did/some other reason that is unclear as of now

Lucius:

also also just a trainer. just like his husband, he's actually pretty tough, but he doesn't like Pokémon battles, so he avoids them as much as possible

lives in Floaroma with her husband Louvain :)

they're the one who suggested Floaroma when the Forna family moved to Sinnoh, mainly because they like gardening and they thought the generally relaxing atmosphere of the town would benefit their husband and their kid

originally from Unova, and a former member of Team Plasma. he joined it because...lore unclear for now. He/his parents worked at a shelter and Lucius saw a lot of mistreated Pokémon, which made him more enclined to listen to Team Plasma and believe in their ideals, but then he realised it was all just Ghetsis wanting power before the events of BW went down and he dipped

her team is likely incomplete for now, but is made of Altaria, Decidueye, Florges and Lycanroc (day). have not determined who the starter is yet

finds it funny that one of Ryden's coworkers is named Lucian

Arwin:

one of the Sinnoh region's top trainers. considered becoming a gym leader, but his team isn't uniform enough for that

born and raised in Pastoria. currently lives in Veilstone

avoids cities that are too close to the Coronet mountain range because they're cold as balls

his team is made of Empoleon (starter), Garchomp, Dragalge, Eelektross, Togekiss and Basculegion (female)

they obtained their Basculegion in the same way that Ana got their Zoroark: on a walk around Lake Acuity because their Empoleon wanted a swim. space-time distortion happened. they kept the funny fish

Arwin and Ryden met as kids on the beach near Pastoria: Arwin was surprised that younger-than-10 Ryden already had a Pokémon. They became friends and remained friends and set out on their Pokémon journey together many years later. They dated during that, but Arwin broke up with Ryden and shortly after he had to go home because his mother Chantelle was in an accident

the accident didn't kill Chantelle, she was fine after a few days, but it was an extremely stressful time for Arwin, and he blames Furie for it: she was there when it happened, her Staraptor was also injured, and Arwin interpreted that as her being the cause of the accident. He hates her as a result (she wasn't actually to blame)

will do everyone else: Later!

also lore is subject to change if i feel like changing it

[rollforjackass]

some of my favorite underrated fictional friendships/potential/unexplored friendships, in no particular order

joss carter & anthony marconi - person of interest

the man HATES reese and tolerates finch but anthony genuinely likes carter and probably at least suspects what it takes for her to bend her principles and help elias

meanwhile carter doesn't trust him but she gets where he's coming from, understands the kind of loyalty that binds him and the love that fuels that fire

they come from the same school of 'put your money where your mouth is' and take no shit from blowhards, but at the same time they both have a habit of being blowhards themselves when they feel the need to state their authority. i'm sad we didn't get to see them interact more, i would have loved for them to butt heads over who's the toughest tough guy

benji dunn & ilsa faust - mission impossible

going from the banter in the car > "i misjudged you" > her betrayal > them working together seamlessly in fallout > her SLAMMING her spine against a table to get free & save his life is such an up-and-down progression of events, i just think their dynamic is neat

i feel like they both have a certain element of displacement and frustration in common: benji as a fiercely loyal not-particularly-violent friend in a field where betrayal and violence are like water and bread; ilsa as someone good at what she does who's forced to do it for all the wrong reasons. both british ex-pats, both a bit awkward in non-emergent social situations, both a bit like the side of ethan hunt that the other is most impressed by/worried will get him killed one day

also benji is entirely too forgiving even while he's verbally bitching up a storm, he jumped to "ilsa? OUR ilsa?" with a quickness in fallout given that the last time they saw each other she'd had orders to kill him. i think that would fucking gut her given that she's so used to being tossed out on her own for things that aren't even her fault

danny williams & kono kalakaua - hawaii five-0

they got along like a house on fire in s1, she gave him surfing lessons, their matching tempers & equally matching loyalty, plus his blatant concern for her during her whole s2 arc and their mutual protectiveness of each other

they both have such a big 'family' chip on their shoulder, what with danny being raised in a big loving family only to become a divorced single dad struggling to make ends meet for his daughter, and kono likewise being raised in a big tight-knit family that's all about duty and honor, only to watch them turn their backs on chin without a second glance when he's accused by IA without even wondering why someone also raised on duty and honor would forsake either

and as a result, they're both so defensive of who and what they care about, both quick and sharp with their words but also both careful to check in and make sure they're not doing real damage when they don't mean to

i can easily see them completing each other's sentences trying to get out of trouble for something they absolutely did and that's an A+ in my book

they're such sweet friends and they get so overshadowed by whatever homoerotic shit danny & steve have going on

alana bloom & will graham - nbc's hannibal

yes they were attracted to each other, yes it went sour when they expressed those feelings, but my GOD she is not the villainous seductress i keep seeing people characterize her as in their will/hannibal fics. it is possible for an mlm relationship to form in coexistence with a perceivably heteronormative relationship/overture without needing to be repulsed by the latter's presence, especially when the m/f characters both go on to be in explicitly and implicitly queer relationships. some people heard 'kissing alana bloom was a clutch for balance' and went 'she's a predator seeking to lure will away from hannibal' in what frankly feels like an EXTREMELY lesbophobic and biphobic manner

anyway as someone who is autistic, the presence of a character who was always willing to dictate what would usually be between-the-lines, openly telegraphed when she was considering dancing around a subject so that will could choose if he wanted to hear socially acceptable vaguery or direct communication at risk of offending, and refused to let a miscommunication sit any longer than she needed to be able to address it, was a breath of fresh fucking air and i loved that she was willing to adapt to will's preferred methods of communication instead of expecting him to adapt to hers

even in season 3, after everything has changed between them, after pushing each other away continuously, they're still able to sit on a couch and just chat about each other's families like nothing ever went wrong. by the end of the show, alana is still the only person who never tried to manipulate will into changing who he was, and she is still the only person will is ever completely honest with about how he's feeling (even in s2 when he's plotting murder in prison/honeytrapping hannibal & faking freddie's death, when it comes to how he's feeling, he never lies to her)

there's a definite power in a relationship founded on clarity in a show defined by the lies we tell, to ourselves and to others, in order to keep our person suits well-tailored

dr. mccoy & literally everybody in star trek tos

WE GET IT HE AND SPOCK ARGUE ALL THE TIME!!!! it's a wonderfully complex dynamic but there's so much else going on with him!!!!! he's always boiled down to the grumpy guy who has beef with spock (SIDE-EYE JJ ABRAMS SIDE FUCKING EYE) but his number 1 character trait is that he cares so goddamn much about everyone and everything that he can't dial it down At All, it's both his strength and his achilles heel

he and christine chapel are so precious to me, he's so kind and supportive of her crush on spock while also warning her to be realistic, they tease each other mercilessly, and there are no two people you want Less to be caught in a game of chicken with than them. there's an episode where they literally get into a screaming match bc mccoy is refusing to tell anybody that he's gravely ill & chapel refuses to leave him alone until kirk arrives & he can't back out any longer, and even then their fight ends with mccoy very softly reassuring her that he will do the right thing

mccoy and uhura have this playful chivalry routine going on where one of them turns on the charm and the other ups the ante and it is endlessly entertaining to me. also in the tholian web when they think kirk's dead & uhura freaks out after seeing his 'spirit' in her quarters and runs right into mccoy in the hallway, he catches her so carefully, tries to reassure her, and keeps her from running off in a panic, and then later in sickbay he helps her out of the bed and is so kind to her

mccoy and scotty being drinking buddies!!! the two most loud-mouthed combinations of curmudgeonly and boisterous alive just reveling in each other's casual company!!! and the way mccoy starts yelling at a literal killing machine after it hurts scotty & dismisses the fact, how rattled he looks when he thinks scotty is dead, ugh dude

we don't see a Whole lot of him with sulu and chekov, but the parts we do are darling. he and sulu are so tongue-in-cheek with each other, sulu demonstrates a complete trust in mccoy any time he's in sickbay, and i can't remember if we actually hear mccoy tease sulu about his plants, but i feel it in my bones that it happened and we run on vibes in this house. then there's him bantering with chekov about his 'russia invented everything' stories & teasing him when he clearly has a crush on an ensign in the apple, everything about spectre of the gun, mccoy adopted that boy the second he opened his mouth

all i'm saying is the Entire Crew banded together to save him and get him help in search for spock, sacrificing their jobs and cushy lives in the process, and they had good goddamn reasons for it!!! he's friends with literally everyone i need to see more of those dynamics at all times

[alienducky]

I am once again over thinking things and getting ramble-y about them, and this time it's the Fire Emblem Three Houses Academy Gronder fight, and also a little on traveling

We see in the cut scene that we have more or less a small army of generic NPC's for each house. Which is fine, makes sense, we are recreating an actual war. The students are learning how to be army officers and effectively direct others, we need them to have people to boss about. Besides their personal battalions

There's also Rhea and Seteth and a bunch of random Seiros guards standing at the top of a cliff watching the battle...

Actually I'm going to get sidetracked a moment, because wtf is up with that cliff they stand on? Pretty sure Bergliez territory, aka the bread basket of Fodlan, is "a fertile area near the Airmid River that is well-suited for agriculture". Giant fucking cliffs are not generally conducive to plant farming. Sheep or goat farming, sure. But not crops like wheat. And watching the scene again, there's pretty steep cliffs to the north as well, and I just... Sigh. I know Bergliez is a big territory and probably has multiple terrain types in it, but given what we see in the Houses scene, it's difficult to imagine the majority is nice and flat and plough-able and this is the only cliffy bit. I think I almost prefer the Hopes version of the map...? Actually that's pretty hilly too, though I don't immediately remember background cliffs. Do remember someone saying the Alliance are nice for not torching fields as they left, so maybe this fight area is the one odd spot surrounded by fields? Eh. The game has dragons. Guess I can live with fucked up geography.

Anyway. Back to my original points.

First part is the three colour armies. Who are they? Does each country send some of their own soldiers to help with the mock battle, temporarily lowering their own defenses? Or are they all Serios knights getting to play dress up for the day, meaning a huge chunk of the church army is here? Or are they even the other house students, since we see hundreds of those wandering around, and in Hopes we meet people who say they were in our class/year at the academy (which leads me down a tangent of how I think the academy works, but I can talk about that if anyone's interested). And how long have the houses had to get to know these people, to learn quirks and go over orders and strategies and sneaky plans? Or is it a "You won't always know who you're commanding in a war, tell these people you've never met before what to do in the next five minutes"?

Secondly, there really is a fair few people here for the fight. I'd say at least 100 per colour. At least. And they all had to somehow get there. And we know the students and Seiros lot at least had to come from the Monastery, and the route they take goes through the Alliance and across the bridge at Myrddin. And I could work out the specifics of how long that would take thanks to the amazing sevarix-blogs doing some pretty neat maths, but I'm going to generalise and say several days to get there, and then several days to get back. Because that's definitely not a "there and back in a day" trip. And you lose time setting up and breaking down camps when you travel, especially for that many people.

Which means they're going to clog up the roads. Like. A lot. There's several hundred people all plodding along with their mounts, plus probably supply wagons and healers and other assorted people not involved in actual fighting. This whole thing has got to be so annoying for anyone who lives along the route and needs to use the road while they're on it. Because the procession of people and mounts and vehicles is gonna be long and bulky and noisy, and generally speaking Fodlan roads dont look that great. I can easily imagine any merchant caravans going the opposite way being "encouraged" to move off the road so they can all get past so Rhea isn't inconvenienced

(Though I admit, that's just my take on the Church people. I think Rhea would probably be pretty cool about it, and not want others inconvenienced on her behalf. Her cultfollowers though? Icky)

OR

Or is long distance large group warping a thing that Rhea allows for this yearly event, and possibly the weekend missions where we go to bloody Sreng (which is a whole other thing, because when we go kill bandits do we go through Faerghus, or up to Derdriu and hop on a boat? I have so many questions), but conveniently isn't available post time skip when we need to move our army around? Or maybe it is, since there's no other logical reason to come back to Garreg Mach each month when we'd just need to immediately turn around and leave again

[screamingatmyfandom]

these are the facts

every doctor who fan, the cast and crew of doctor who, my friends who have never even looked at a doctor who episode, the population of earth, the nyc subway rats, colin baker himself: we know, six is your favourite doctor, you love six, he's underrated, you've already told us-

me:

[natjennie]

i just think the te aro werewolves and the vampire flatmates being friends is really cuuutteeeeee 🥺🥺🥺🥺 like.. stu is such a solid guy, everyone loves him he holds the whole crew together. anton and viago would get along because viago is really particular and neat and organized and to be an alpha of a pack? you've gotta be so in control and on top of everything like they are The Same. viago IS the alpha of the flatmates basically. and nick is young enough to really get along with the younger werewolves and how fun would it be for them to introduce deacon and vlad and viago to like, modern frat bro friend things. just imagine if you will deacon and nathan m and nathan g playing smash together. they have board game nights. the pack is anton's family, they're all like brothers. deacon knits matching sweaters for them. vlad introduces them to nonviolent ways of getting out aggression he's been picking up. they spar and wrestle and bro out together. and viago does his little arts and crafts and dion or clifton or whoever needs a break from life for a moment comes and throws some clay around and gets to bring home a neat little plate to their wife or w/e. anton knows how to sew 100% so he fixes up some of viago's cravats and scarves that are falling apart with hundreds of years of use. the vampires do recon around the forest on full moons and make sure no innocent people venture too close. they work together to track hate groups in the area, racists and homophobes, and help each other hunt. anton notices all of the safety issues in the house immediately and him and the boys renovate over the weekend, installing fire alarms and making sure there's proper ventilation, offering tips to secure potential sunlight weak spots. they teach the vamps all their sayings and calming techniques so they can help each other relax if anyone gets fired up. i just think they're sweet and should be friends okay!!!!!

[uncouth-the-fifth]

Pythia - A Supernatural Rewrite. Dead In The Water, p1.

read it on ao3. masterlist.

words: 11,982

notes: this could technically be considered part .5, since we don't get into anything episode related until next chap - but i thought it was important to give u more bg on Reader!! same goes for the dean-centered parts of this episode, since for this one i'm giving you some HEAVY sam time. enjoy your cutesy but sad motorcycle not-pining.

i referenced some spn neat spn fics for this one. though you don't have to read them to understand this ep, i highly recommend it since they're so damn good: Stop Hitting Yourself by Rokhal, Fire of Unknown Origin by britomart, And Rage Is Mingled With His Grief by StillWaters1. yeehaw!

i also wanted to clarify that i don't like when people give reader inserts last names + premade parents, but our psychic reader has both for the sake of the plot!! you'll love Beth and Ray trust me ;)

enjoy <3 next part: dead in the water, p.2

EAU CLAIRE, WISCONSIN - NOV. 14th, midday.

The first snow would be hitting soon. After a childhood raised off the river here, you’d learned to feel it in the air. Fall was not the powerful, crowned buck it’d been in October; the roads of your hometown were foggy, the buildings seemed flatter, and the grass was packed down into dry gray-blonde sheets. Sometime in the weeks you’d been gone, the buck had suffered an arrow wound and was waiting for the cold to set in.

You propped your head on the chilled window of the backseat, watching the industrial brickwork and buckling sidewalks whisk by. Little avenues of rain runoff emptied into street grates. Kids spilled out of your old high school, rushing onto the sidewalk to start the trek home. Your brain instantly associated these sights with the end of a hunt—more specifically, Dean dropping you off at your apartment to go off on his own. Wistfulness dragged in your gut. For the first time in more than two years, you and the boys were going home together.

Instead of taking a left for your apartment, Dean pulled into the right turn lane and turned up the rock station. He always claimed that your hometown was the only city he’d been in with decent radio. The guys at your Dad’s old autoshop job loved Dean, so he always borrowed their garage when he was in town. You had vivid, amber memories of Dean working on the Impala there, and between asking you to hand him wrenches, he’d hum soulfully and cheesily along with what was on. So many of your quiet moments were filled with that sound, like an instrumental break in the soundtrack of your life.

“Shouldn’t we call ahead?” Sam asked, closing the book he’d been reading. How he could process letters, never mind a whole book, while Dean and Dean’s music were on full blast, you had no clue. He tilted to look back at you. “Your mom won’t be upset if we just drop in, will she?”

“Are you kidding?” Dean answered for you. “Sammy, think who you’re askin’ about…” He shot a superstitious look to the building as he pulled in, smiling. “Lady probably already knows we’re here.”

Dean parked in the slim alley behind the store, like always. The house had been in your family for a couple generations, and from the back, it definitely showed. If you squinted at the brownstone long enough it seemed to have this tilt to it, like an old man putting his weight on his cane. You’d always thought of the Proctor house as a hyper-vigilant, eerily silent butler—it had all the unease of a haunted house combined with the stateliness of a gentleman. The windows had elaborate iron frames. The roof was lined with ornate, detailed trim (with all sorts of hidden sigils you’d been trained to recognize). Your mother claimed the brick they’d made the house with had been mixed with salt, but you weren’t sure that made it possible for the place to still be standing. Knowing the house you’d grown up in, it’d probably find a way to tough through it anyway.

The gate to your mother’s back garden was locked, so you took the side alley around to the front. The face of the Proctor house was far more unassuming; the entire first floor had been gutted and renovated into your family’s business, Lucky You Antiques and Collectibles. A wall of faded glass advertised the furniture your mom had repolished, the upcoming Thanksgiving deals, yadda yadda—nothing explicitly psychic, except for the grand eye decal on the front door. At this time of day it cast an arching shadow all the way to the register. You tried not to shiver at the sight of it.

“Shit,” you said, patting down your jacket, “I left my keys in the trunk.”

“I’ll run back,” Sam was saying, but Dean had already shimmied past you, circled through his keyring and slid his own copy into the lock. “I got it,” he said, innocently, and gestured you inside.

Lucky You was closed for the day, so Dean opened the door to an empty front room gleaming with glass figurines, books, and antique furniture. Everything was sprucey and dark, with an ever-hovering cloud of faded cigar smoke. Tightly-spaced aisles juxtaposed circles of armchairs and coffee tables for sale. Even day to day it never really looked the same way, but something about it as a whole hadn’t changed a bit since you were little. There were still identical notches carved into the bookshelves where you’d knocked them over roughhousing with Dean. Your mom had never replaced the lightbulb in the back corner, since that was Sam’s job and she just never found the time to do it herself.

The centerpiece of it all was a huge, threadbare carpet the length of two Impalas. It used to be a product, but it’d sat there for so long that eventually it was absorbed by the store. Dean used to joke that it was the mother of all dust bunnies, since every time, without fail, Sam would choke out into coughs when he crossed it. Dean watched Sam enter first with a strange look, like he was waiting for the past to recreate itself.

You found yourself doing the same. The last time Sam had been here, he’d been half as tall and half as filled out in the shoulders. You’d noticed when you’d reunited with him (especially when you’d hugged him), but the change was even sharper in a familiar place, where you could overlay the image of gangly past Sam with his current self.

But Sam didn’t cough once crossing the rug. Instead, he scratched at his neck in the anxious way he’d been doing since Jess died, completely unaware of you and Dean, and said idly, “Your mom needs to check the devil’s trap underneath this thing—all the walking’s probably rubbed it right off.”

“I’d almost forgotten about that,” you said, sliding in after him. You wondered what made him think of that. “I’ll remind her—or Dean can put it on his list.”

Sam turned on his heel, hands in his pockets, and cocked an eyebrow at Dean. He enunciated, “Your list?”

“Yeah,” Dean shrugged one shoulder, and twisted around to lock the door behind the three of you. “Sometimes the girls are too lazy to do stuff, and I gotta earn my keep, between Beth’s food and ____’s—” he gave you a dry look, “blessed company. So I do favors.”

“Chores,” you corrected, slyly. “And shut up, dick, you love my company!”

Dean flicked your ear as he passed, and sauntered down the cramped employee hall that lead upstairs. Again, he unlocked the door and held it open for you, blighting out the sun with a glowing, mischievous smile just for you. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, darlin’.”

Opening the door to the stairwell was like passing through a portal. On the first stair, you were met by the crescendo of Elvis dancing down from the second floor. The familiar sound of your mother’s records coupled with the smell of lunch launched you back into high school, kindergarten, and all the memories in between. You remembered Sam standing guard here with a shotgun on his lap after you’d been attacked. You remembered tip-toeing down these steps to go drink with Dean. You remembered talking to the portraits of the seers before you, who followed you with their eyes even now.

Needless to say, you kept your focus on your footing.

The second floor of the house was a stark contrast to the gloomy back-garden and commercial front. All the polished paneling in the walls, the harsh brickwork, and the dramatic, smoky lighting had been replaced and overlaid with your mother’s retrofuturist decorating. Your grandmother had left behind a ton of 50s’ stuff that your mom loved too much to throw out. Ever since you were little, she’d been utilizing it. You, Sam, and Dean passed the wall of the front hallway pasted from floor-to-ceiling with vintage diner signs, most of them rosy-cheeked women selling Coca Cola or hot dogs. The three of you kicked off your shoes.

“Ma!” You shouted over the swaying music. “We’re home!”

No one emerged. Behind you, Dean was the first out of his boots and was already clearing his way to the kitchen archway. He scuttled across the checkered linoleum and landed happily in the mock-diner booth, the one your mother had repaired a thousand times, and cackled like a maniac. Laid out on the kitchen table was lunch—your favorite, Dean’s favorite, and Sam’s favorite, each on its own plate.

In one hand, Dean scooped up the huge bacon burger your mom had pan-grilled for him and uttered ravenously, “Beth, I would kill for you!”

“She must be busy upstairs,” you chuckled, and turned to Sam, “I think she made you—”

Sam had lingered behind to remove his jacket. It looked like something had caught his eye on the corner turning into the living room, something low to the ground and carefully preserved. He was running over it with delicate fingers, and hearing your voice, he looked away, embarrassed. Or maybe it was closer to shame.

You shuffled closer to get a look. At about the height of your hip, there was a soft pink line that had faded with time. ____, age four. It cascaded up a little bit, then was joined by a red marker, Sam, age three, and above that in green, Dean, age six. The lines mingled. They lapped each other, especially in Sam’s case, or clung in pairs until certain ages. You could plot out the fierce height competition you’d had with Dean in middle school. It was clear on the chart that the last time you’d been taller than both of them was at ten, just before Dean had hit puberty. Sam was a late bloomer. He wasn’t even close to becoming his behemoth self until 1998; Sam, age 15.

Sam stared at his most recent mark on the wall, letting his hand fall back to his side. He didn’t say anything—just looked and looked, like Sam, age 19, could take him back in time if he brooded on it hard enough. By then, he’d beat you out, had already started doing pre-law online, and was level in height with Dean. That had been four years ago.

You glanced at the hall behind you, where your mother had yet to appear, then at Dean, completely absorbed in his burger. “Hold on a second,” you told Sam, and started hunting around the kitchen junk drawer.

“You don’t gotta…” Sam cleared his throat, but you were already pushing him gently into the wall with a hand on his chest. He clarified, “I’m not your brother. You don’t have to…”

“No, but you’re my family,” you said, without pause. “What kind of best friend would I be if I left you out of a family tradition?”

He didn’t care that much about resisting after that, because soon he pushed his heels into the wall and straightened his back. You had to stretch a little, but without any fuss you were able to set a warm palm on his hair and draw a new line well above the others. Sam, you wrote, age 23. The other marks had all been written in your mother’s loopy handwriting. ____, age 19, and Dean, 21, matched all the others, so your addition at the top seemed out of place. You choose instead to think of it as the crowning jewel of your childhood, of all those lines. Look, it seemed to say, we’re still together after all this time.

You thunked the marker down in a nearby pen cup, then brushed the smeared ink on your jeans as you admired your handiwork. “Hm,” you preened, “Finished. Only took… what? Twenty years?”

Sam looked demure. He dipped his head, and asked no one in particular, “Have we really known each other that long?”

“Feels longer,” you remarked. Dean was loudly enjoying his burger in the other room, and you rolled your eyes at him to avoid confronting how soft Sam’s voice sounded. You thunked him on the back, grinning, “I guess we can officially say we’re never getting rid of each other, huh?”

Sam opened his mouth to speak, eyes swimming with enough honesty and emotion to make your chest cave in, only to drop it all at once. You followed his gaze over your shoulder.

“There you are,” your mother greeted, her voice rendered quiet and disbelieving. She was smirking to suppress a well of emotion, and twisting constantly at a used, dusty rag she’d been using to clean. “I was just getting your room ready, ____…”

You were a spitting image of Beth Proctor, in ways so surreal and specific that you’d always figured it was a part of the family genes; each and every psychic Proctor wore the face of a long-dead ancestor. An ancestor who you thought was beautiful in a severe, Mona Lisa sort of way. At least in terms of your mother. A secret loomed permanently in her eyes, which at this moment were flush with building tears. There was a graceful, haunting air to her, which only made it easier to imagine her peering into a crystal ball or divulging everything about a person with just a look. Beth was a real seer.

She sniffed. “Are all three of you…?”

On command, Dean appeared in the kitchen archway and Sam stepped into the natural light of the open living room, each on either side of you. “Present and accounted for,” you beamed, and Dean wiggled his fingers in a wave over your shoulder, “Hi, Ma.”

Your mother’s eyes drifted across you and the boys, her thoughts a hundred years away. She propped her fists on her hips, swelled up as sternly as she could, and shook her head. Dean started inching further behind you, just in case you were kids again and Ma was about to deliver the scolding of a lifetime—for sneaking out or being reckless or worrying her sick. Instead, Beth scrubbed her tears across her wrist.

“Damn you,” she cursed, “I promised myself I wouldn’t cry. Sammy, baby, c’mere.”

It took Sam two steps to close the gap between them and hug her just as hard as she hugged him. He was easily two heads taller than her, but the way she scooped him close made Sam look eleven again, when he knew about the hunt but was too young to do anything about it. What he’d said barrelled right into you as they embraced: Have we really known each other that long?

John Winchester had only a few places he could leave his boys when he went off hunting, and the safest and easiest place was the Proctor House. The building itself was warded. Your mom knew the truth—about him, about the world—and knew how to take care of kids. Looking back, you imagined it had started small. John had nowhere else to take infant Sam and toddler Dean. He’d probably insisted it would only be a one-time thing, but then it’d happened again and again and your mom had cared less and less.

You’d been a real lonely baby, she’d told you once, sewing with the window open. The evening light had layered over her face like stained glass. I was so worried about you… You hardly cried. You barely made any noise at all, and you didn’t really like to play with toys. All you wanted was to hear me and your dad talk to you.

It occurred to you, as your mom hugged a man who wasn’t her blood, that the boys were here because of you. Things would be different otherwise. If you’d been a happy baby, if she’d put you in normal daycare to make normal friends, if you’d even breathed a word about being scared of John or not liking his sons, none of this would have happened. But you’d been alone and quiet until two other lonely and quiet kids walked into your life, so it didn’t matter if Sam wasn’t your mom’s blood.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, honey,” she was murmuring to him, but Sam was saying the exact same thing to her. They separated and Beth cupped one side of Sam’s face, the eye of her right palm pressed flat to his cheek. “I went to the apartment,” she told him, somber, “I couldn’t sense much, but I did get your car—it’s down in the garage, if you ever need it.”

Sam sunk into his shoe-soles. “Thank you,” was all he said, and a blue shadow passed over your mother’s face.

It went unsaid that she knew everything that had happened. You never were sure how much she knew exactly, even in comparison to what your own gift showed you, but for a brief second all of it seemed to flash across her face. She drew her palm away from Sam’s cheekbone, and on instinct you pressed your nails into the flesh of your right hand.

“You make Dean look like a shrimp,” Beth chuckled, and Dean grumbled in offense. She hooked an arm under his back and the other around your shoulder, and like you, bloomed under the relief that the three of you were with each other again. “Hello, sweetpea,” she smirked at you, then at Dean, “And oh, hush, you big baby. You jealous ‘cause you want a hug too?”

“No,” Dean scoffed, snapping his arms down to his sides. “I, uhm, just don’t want all this nice food to go to waste. Seein’ as you made it all special, n’ everythin’...”

Your mother shared a conspiratory, amused look with you in the corner of her eye, inviting you into her secret for just a moment. Even as an adult you felt she didn’t do that with you much, but sharing the Gift gave you both a strange understanding. As much as you hated her covering for John… Like her, you’d seen the future, and there were some parts of it that just couldn’t be shared or spoken. She’d been at this a lot longer than you might ever be; and she was your mom, so you wanted to trust her.

“You’ve got that case, up in Manitowoc,” she said, (a statement of fact), “I figured you’d be stopping by, and I figured I should give you something better than road food. Get on in there and sit down. Dean, you want a beer?”

The four of you migrated into the kitchen, Dean at the lead in order to reunite with his burger. “Sure,” he said, and Beth jut up her eyebrows until he added, “—please?”

You slid into the booth where your plate was, and noticed, conveniently, that your mom had put you in the corner with Sam. The booth wasn’t the grand dining hall you remembered it being as a kid, so Sam had to fold his legs and shove into your space a little to fit. Maybe it was a little too obvious that it didn’t bother you, because you caught Dean squinting at you over his lunch. Just to remind him who he was messing with, you tapped your teeth and stuck your tongue out at him—Dean found the lettuce you were pointing to and pouted as he worked it out of his incisor.

“Can I have a beer too, if that’s okay?” Sam asked. He picked up his fork and turned over the salad Ma had made for him, warmed with gratitude. It really had been a while since he’d eaten anything homemade. “This looks amazing. I don’t know how you have all the time to put this all together, Beth.”

Ma squinted at him, then relaxed with realization. “Of course. Sorry… For a second there, I forgot you’re old enough to drink,” she chuckled and disappeared into the retro, rounded-off fridge to one side of the kitchen.

When Sam’s head was turned, she hung in place and devoured the three of you with her eyes. You could feel her basking in it, memorizing the sight of each of you, but you didn’t acknowledge it. Both of you had been captured by deja vu today. The world was right when Dean was chowing down across from you and you were fighting Sam’s legs for territory under the table, like always.

Ma cleared her throat. “And I enjoy cooking, you know that, Sam. I’m just happy to have somebody to cook for. Sometimes the neighbors or our regulars will come up for dinner, but it’s not every day I get to treat my biggest eaters.”

The smell of your favorite lunch wafting up from your plate held all the power of a comfort potion, and after the first bite you felt the tension wound in your joints dissolve. It tasted like summer wind, when your mom would pack a picnic and take the three of you to the park…

Once, a group of little kids your age had begged the boys to join their baseball game in the field there, probably imagining their tough, jaded faces made them amazing players. Sam had just left soccer behind and was eager to play a sport. Dean was all for schooling some punk middle schoolers. You remembered him, maybe thirteen or fourteen, helping you off the grass, assuming without question that you were invited too—because they’d asked Dean, and you followed him around like a third arm. But the kids wouldn’t bite. All that dumb playground shit about girls and sports and cooties. It hadn’t felt great, but Dean used to throw that same kind of stuff at you because he was a bit of a stupid kid, so you were used to it. Sam had insisted that he wouldn’t play without you, sporting a mean grin that looked a little strange on his shy face. You’re losing your best hitter.

Still, the kids had shoved you off. Both the boys had really wanted to join—they didn’t get the opportunity to play without getting in trouble for not “lying low”, so you figured they’d give up and go play without you. It was fine. Sam was lying; you were an awful shot. You were the girl, so you were used to it.

That’s when your mother had emerged from the trees, glowing in the high noon sun, the shadow of the baseball she was tossing and catching in one hand bouncing across her face. You still remembered the white sundress she’d worn. She’d known, she always knew, so she’d packed a ball and a bat too. Let’s play our own game, she’d suggested, and her little army of three had merrily lined up after her. With Dean as pitcher and Sam in the outfield, she’d taught you to hit. You insisted to this day that the wooden bat she’d brought with her was flimsy, but Sam and Dean swore that it was solid all the way through—that your eleven-year-old self had really splintered it in two hitting a home. They’d gone wild, Sam waving the ball around, Dean picking you up and running in circles, the two of them chanting: Mean Swing! Mean Swing! Mean Swing!

You wondered now if your mom had orchestrated it somehow, but that would be impossible. As afraid as you were to go home, to this old ass house with its older portraits, there were other, better things to come back to.

Beth pulled a chair up to the edge of the table, resting her elbows across the back. She laid two beers down in front of the boys, the kitchen windows throwing soft blue-gray light across her figure, and watched fondly as Dean opened his. He took one sip, and the moment he put it down you captured it and stole one of your own.

“You hear anything from our Dad?” Dean asked, putting every ounce of his focus into the napkin under his plate.

“No,” your mom was careful to reply, “but you don’t have ta’ worry, he disappears like this often. I’ve learned not to be too stressed about him, but for your sake I did put word out. I’ll keep looking, but you know your dad—his list of hunting buddies is as short as my patience. I’m not going to hear much.” Her eyes slid away from her hands to you, and you got the impression she wasn’t telling the whole truth. “____? You’ve been real quiet.”

It wasn’t a malicious probe. She was just curious, and by the soft fondness in her face you felt like she was fascinated by your inner world. You talked plenty about Sam being the only one to be genuine about understanding your Gift, but your mother was right there beside him, not just understanding but appreciating, too. Sometimes she looked at you like she knew she’d given you a terrible burden. Neither of you like the Gift. Other times, there was relief and pride there, where it looked to her as if you were doing everything she wished she could do. Run away from your last name. Run away from the parlor, and the eye brand you shared.

(But still. She’d always read with the palm of her hand, eye forward, and you hid behind your knuckles instead).

For a moment you considered pushing back on the John thing, but if your mom was choosing to cover for him, she’d go to grave about it. After all, you wouldn’t hesitate to do the same for Sam or Dean. The future could give each of you all sorts of reasons to protect them.

“Just remembering things.” You answered her, thumbing your carnelian ring, “How long has it been since we’ve had a movie night?”

“I think it’s too cold to put up the projector in the garden,” Ma said, tapping her lip, “but we can always use the TV in the living room—thing’s busted to shit, but it’s not awful.”

Dean threw an arm over the back of his bench. “S’ not giving you trouble again, is it?”

“No, it’s useable,” Ma lifted her head, “but actually, Dean honey, now that you’re finished, the bathroom sink’s all broken again. Do you think you could…?”

Dean was already up, dish in hand. “You got it,” he said, and jabbed a finger between you and Sam, “Just don’t pick anything stupid, capiche? No girly shit, or nerdy shit, or whatever you girly nerds like to watch in your free time.”

As soon as Dean had dragged the toolbox out from under a cabinet and disappeared with it, you knocked your arm against Sam’s and conspired, “So… Legally Blonde?”

Sam broke out into a hesitant, closed-lip smile. He seemed a little caught off guard by the joke, but he was your minion before anything else, and indulged most of your evil plans. “Nerdy. Girly. Sounds like a plan to me.”

“You’re my favorite,” you elbowed him, maybe fishing a little too hard for something to cheer him up. If it was possible, in any sense of the word, to cheer someone up after losing someone like Jess.

It seemed to have an effect, even if it was a minor one. Sam’s lip quirked, “I know.”

“Thank you, Han and Leia,” your mother said, dryly, and mirrored Sam by folding her neat hands on the tabletop. “Now… tell me about, your, um…”

She was going to bring up Stanford, then realized what a terrible idea that was. You filled in, “...Our last hunts?”

“No,” your mother laughed, recoiling a little in her disapproval. Seamlessly, she rolled into another subject, and you were forced to fight a little with your own awkwardness. Ma said, “Oh, I remember. These last weeks I’ve had this brother and sister coming in for readings…”

She descended into the story, keeping you and Sam entertained while dodging the subject of Stanford, where you’d been for the last month, and why you’d been gone in the first place. There was no need to talk about it. Ma already knew, and watching Sam act less and less like himself just hurt all three of you. Sometimes she’d reach across the table to squeeze his closed fists or push your plate a little closer to you, but beyond that she only observed Sam for a reaction. This was not just the kid she’d half-raised walking back into her life, but a porcelain vase scrambling to patch the cracks as they came.

Sam spent most of the time chewing slow and unwinding slower. Of course, him being the way he was, he was just thankful she hadn’t scorned him for getting out while he could. He knew he hadn’t just left John, Dean, and you behind, but Beth and Bobby too.

“That reminds me,” Ma hummed halfway through one of her stories, “That cousin hunter duo, the two girls from Arkansas, they came in last week and asked to see you. I told them that I could help them if they’d like, but they insisted on only seeing you! As confused as I was, I gotta admit, I was a little proud—they’re your first regulars, baby!” She bustled over to the sink, her palm winking at you as she walked, “I got my first customers like that a little earlier than you, when I was nineteen. But I guess you beat me out, what with the boys getting fortunes from you when you were little n’ all.”

Since her back was turned toward the sink, you were allowed to physically deflate. “Oh… I don’t remember them.”

“I gave em’ your number,” your mother brightened, and started to arrange the dishes for washing. “Honestly, I’m surprised your address book isn’t full! You’ve always been better than me at the personable part of it.”

Pathetically, you glanced at Sam like it was even possible for him to help you, and played with your carnelian ring. “The visions come easier to you.”

“Oh, but that doesn’t matter if you can’t talk to them. It’s more important to care about the people you’re giving visions to, if you really want to help them.” Ma glanced at you over her shoulder, crow’s feet wrinkling with her sigh. “I’ve been at this so long that I suppose I’m a little desensitized—but you, you always give a little piece of yourself away when you give your readings. I always wished I could be that giving.”

Sam cleared his throat, and with it you felt a bit of your composure gouged out of you. “Let me help with that,” he said, and filled her other side to assist with drying the plates.

Ma snorted, “Sam—”

Before she could get anything out about him sitting back down, Sam’s voice bowled right through her. The timbre of it was calm but forceful, and just the hint of memory in it knocked the breath out of you. It was the tone that started every argument he had with John—the voice swearing that he knew better, the voice that in another, luckier version of this life, would make him a damn good lawyer. Your fists snapped shut beneath the table.

“She is really giving,” he agreed, with just enough heat to make your gut drop. “Every day, she’s out there straining her Gift, n’ working it to the bone for people she hasn’t even met. I never really got to see her doing both until now, being a hunter and a Proctor.” He snapped a cabinet shut, and punctuated, “But she can do both.”

Your mother sharply dropped a bowl into the filled sink. Biting your tongue, you watched her raise her all-seeing gaze to Sam’s, a reply stirring in her throat. But she cared about the two of you too much to press him or you or his grief. This argument had been stirred between the two of you for years now. It came back into circulation every few months, so there wasn’t even a little anger in her face. She just tilted her head at him, curious, and sorted through what he’d said. It’d been two years since Sam had stood up for you at the smallest threat, and something about that had made your mother emotional.

(Sam had never cared about hunting. He despised what it meant to be a good hunter, and that left you wondering what he meant by that. That you could do both).

“I suppose I haven’t seen her do both, then,” she said.

And she let it go.

_

You were dreaming, but a part of you was bracing for a vision.

Usually the distinction between the two was obvious. Your own dreams sat in the cloud of your mind, the edges of each image or moment fizzing with your consciousness. Visions on the other hand totally subtracted your presence, simply dropping the feelings and pictures on top of you. It was the difference between a touch from your own hand versus the touch of a stranger’s. Ironically, it was safer to get visions of someone you didn’t know. Seeing the boys or your mother always hurt more.

That’s why you weren't certain this was just a dream. The fog of your own mind blurred the corners of every frame, but it hurt, buzzing in your beehive skull. It had to be a combination of both or something else, the clear future blended and muddled by your more human dreams.

You were dreaming as Sam: standing barefoot in the mud, watching a hunting cabin burn even in the rain. The drops were hissing against the choking, smoking blaze, not strong enough to make a difference but persisting anyway. A part of you, the Sam part, knew that even a hurricane couldn’t cleanse the fire. Your fingers and lips were blue with cold. But something inside you, living in your blood, was singeing you from the inside out. It was so hot that you ripped off your jacket and your pajama pants and itched, because your limbs were frosting over but you’d started the fire. Dean was hauling you up, and you were driving, and driving, and Dad was pissed and terrified. I forgot to blow the candles out, you—Sam—sobbed, but he knew he was lying. He didn’t sleep and he didn’t touch wood or candles or go near the fireplace at Bobby’s, because through the walls he’d heard Dean ask: Was it the thing that killed Mom? And Dad had said, I’m going to find out.

Had he?

Sam—you—were on your stomach, sinking into your mattress. Something hot dropped onto your neck. A second time. Both tears of molten iron slid down your skin and into your collar, and you knew without looking that there was an altar on your ceiling—knew without looking that Jess was being sacrificed there, even if the dream forced you to look. You saw her. She was crying, and mouthing Sam’s name. The room dissolved into skin-bubbling cabin flames.

You, or Sam, were standing on the side of the road—and then you were sure it was Sam, because he could feel you behind him, desperately trying to coax him back towards the Impala. A dog had been clipped by a truck and left in the grassy ditch. At a distance, it didn’t look like a dog. Just the vague outline of roadkill. All Sam could see was the waves of bloody blonde hair in the grass and all he could feel was the air puttering out of him, hitching and heaving. Your hand was cupping his back, then his neck, and Sam flinched. The blood had burned into his skin.

Then Sam was somewhere else, anywhere else. A motel or a house, it didn’t matter. He was in bed on his stomach again, hand clamped against the cresting sobs searing out of him. He knew what came next. It always happened, no matter how hard he fought or prayed before he went to sleep. Sam was pushed onto his back. Some nights it was Dean or Jess or Mom, and he always knew when it’d be Mom because, paradoxically, hers were always the most vivid. But this time it was you; and you were trembling with terror but you were also braving it, like you always had for him, and a seeping wound smiled its way across the belly of your nightgown. You didn’t scream. You just wept, staring at him. You didn’t say Sam’s name or cry out for him. All you said was, it’s okay, and that terrified him more than anything.

The molten blood dripped. Sam was too pinned to even squirm, to twist away, so the blood splattered onto his cheek and slid neatly into the closed line of his mouth. He could smell the iron. It tasted… It tasted…

You woke up, heart roaring in the ringing silence.

The memories of the dream sludged together, poorly translating in the transition from sleep logic to waking logic. You ran your tongue over your lip, feeling the dry, cracked skin there, and jolted up in bed.

The third story of the Proctor House was technically the attic, and on nights like these, it felt like it. Your childhood bedroom was shrouded in blue darkness, the kind that could take a limb if you dared to put your arm inside it. The room was made darker in contrast by the long square of silver moonlight carpeting the old floorboards. Your curtains fluttered on their own, shifting even when the wind wasn’t murmuring through the cracks in the panes. The entire house seemed to breathe, a dying man on a respirator, his death groaning through the walls and door frames in the old house. What sat between the cresting whispers of the wind was easily worse: long, disturbing silences that watched you sleep.

You stopped. There was a gentle crackling noise, like something was putting its hands flat to the windows and pressing. Sleep was still muddling your brain a little, so it took a bit for clarity to melt back into you, and for you to remember:

The rest of the day had been spent in your mother’s living room, you crammed in between the boys on the couch and your mom lounging in her wingback. Dean stopped suffering through Legally Blonde about twelve minutes in and started to enjoy it, the stress melting out of him through contact with your shoulder. Squished between him and Sam, you lent one ear to the movie and another to Sam and Ma talking avidly about the book he was reading. That had dissolved into another movie, and after that Ma had called it a night. Being on the road so long had killed the three of you, so you disappeared up into your old bedroom and the boys insisted on taking the living room. For a few minutes after you heard them fighting over who would take the couch. Then Ma had thrown an uninflated air-mattress out at them and told them to shut up, followed by a night’s worth of peaceful silence.

All of it had passed in a sunny haze, even if the first snow was fast approaching. As you’d brushed your teeth you’d felt a sense of impermanence, though, and argued away the feeling with your reflection. John wasn’t coming to pick the boys up tomorrow. The next few weeks wouldn’t be canyons of radio silence. Your wish had come true, in the ugliest possible way.

Now, you crossed the clinging silence of your room on light feet. Your dagger hung casually in your other hand, just in case. In this house you didn’t technically have to salt the room, but you’d already finished the windows when you remembered that. Similarly, it was second nature to wake up at random to check the lines, so in the navy darkness you crouched before your closed bedroom door and straightened the granules with the flat of your knife.

The only sound in the entire house seemed to be the soft scrape of the blade against the floor. Then, the softer squeak of the stairs just outside your room.

Brandishing your dagger, you held your breath. Someone’s lungs hitched. You didn’t want to wake the whole house if this wasn’t a demon or a hunter breaking in, so you quietly wedged the ancient door open and peered out. It was cast in total darkness. The pale blue moonlight from your room seeped out into the hall and passed through the banister, throwing ghostly shadows across a broad figure’s back.

Immediately, you dropped your dagger on your dresser and stepped out. “Sam?”

He didn’t turn around. His shoulders were trembling like the shivering muscle in a horse’s flank, scaring away flies. The bone-deep, unconscious sort of shaking that no actor could mimic, that didn’t look right on a person in real life. Sam’s head was tilted back to get the full scope of the staircase’s wall.

The pictures there were hard to discern in the dark, but Sam had wandered back to them so many times in his life that he didn’t need to see them. He always lingered on the stairs whenever you passed them. Beth had given Sam his own copies of them ages ago, but if you had to guess, Sam wasn’t magnetized to the wall because of the memories there. He always came back to them because of what they represented.

Most of the photos, in their mismatched frames, were of you. There was a grouping of your baby photos, each little ___ in lace dresses and pink hair bows; a cute-faced toddler on her father’s shoulders, wearing matching biker shades and smolders; you being kissed to death by your mom after your first day at school. Somewhere along the way two strangers had crept in. Sam saw a framed candid of an eight-year-old, long-suffering Dean wiping finger-paint off your face, which was glowing with pure admiration. (Because at age six, there was no one cooler to you than Dean Winchester). The one Sam hovered over the longest was of you and him, fresh to driving and posing for junior prom. A few more dotted the physical timeline of your life; the giant werewolf snowman you’d made together, Sam’s spelling bee victories, Dean and Ray—your dad—working on cars together.

Most of them, including the ones with Sam and Dean, were in one massive frame. It was inscribed with, the love of a family is life’s greatest gift.

“Sammy,” you touched his shoulder over the banister, praying for a response. “Did you—did you have a nightmare?”

It was so quiet that you could hear your heart aching, and like a question mark it didn’t have a precise sound—just a change in inflection at the end, an uptick or a downtick. The sound of worry in your chest was unquestionably a downtick.

His nickname drew him out of his paralysis. Sam swiped his wrist across his eyes, and hovering on the stairs, a soft weeping hiss seeped out of him. “I-I didn’t wanna wake you up,” he said through his teeth.

You rounded the newel and dropped down a step as silently as you could. Sam turned, now level with you on different steps, and softened in surprise. “Hey, what’s—” you started, but shut your mouth the moment you met his open, searing gaze.

“You’re crying,” Sam said at the same time as you, reaching out.

You tongued the corner of your lip, tasting salt there. You really were crying. “Huh,” you said, and maybe you should’ve been a bit more bothered by it than you were. “Don’t worry, m’ okay. I must be picking up your feelings a bit.”

Sam’s expression collapsed with remorse. “God, I didn’t even think—I-I didn’t mean to affect you—”

You took Sam’s hovering arm and drew him into an exhausted embrace, bundling both arms around his neck and taking as much of his weight as you could. The difference in height between your steps gave you a rare opportunity to be just as tall as him, which was new and yet nostalgic. He used to be the perfect height to hug you. But this hug was for him, no matter how much he wanted it to be for you, too. Sam held strong and then immediately sunk, trusting you to catch him. The unconditional faith he put in you never failed to make your tear ducts burn, so no matter what you kept the two of you standing.

Another sob jerked out of him, and Sam dug his face into your shoulder and let it all out. But after two weeks of this, his well of tears had already dried, and all the bottling he’d done hadn’t contributed anything to their stores.

“It’s okay,” you soothed, shakily, “just breathe with me for a minute.”

Sam dug his fingers into the back of your sleep clothes, heavy and feverish with loss. He flinched away when your hand cupped his neck, which was raw and red from all his phantom itching, and you thought about stroking his hair instead. You were always the affectionate one—but you didn’t want to push Sam, not now. Not when it could mean you were filling someone else’s role.

You felt Sam’s hand tap across your back, slowing with realization. He twisted the fabric of your nightgown in one hand, and slow, mounting horror filled your chest as his palm pressed carefully into your belly. Searching for a wound that wasn’t there.

Sam pulled away, voice almost too broken to hear. “...Why are you wearing this?”

It was an oversized, long-sleeve shirt for sleeping in. The fabric was light blue—but in this light, it looked white, and the Nightmare on Elm Street text at the bottom looked like a gaping, crimson wound…

Your hands snapped to Sam’s shoulders, forcing him to look at you. “I’ll change.”

“M’ sorry, m’ sorry,” Sam repeated, “You don’t have to, I just—”

“Shh,” you said, feeling beyond stupid, “You got nothin’ to apologize for. Now, go in my room and get comfy. I’ll be back in a second.”

Sam didn’t look so sure. His legs were braced to run, ready to turn tail and forget he’d bothered you at all, but you were already slinking past him down the stairs. He uttered your name to argue, but you shut him up with a warm squeeze of his hand. “Don’t make me chase you, idiot. Go on. We’ll have a sleepover, just like when we were little.”

The fight in him died, and Sam, probably feeling a little pathetic, dropped his numb shoulders at his sides. He pressed his lips together and trudged into your room. You waited until his shadow interrupted the moonlight, then crept downstairs and hunted around for supplies: meds, water, and snacks.

When you returned, you were a little impressed with yourself for not waking up Dean. He had a sixth sense for these kinds of things, and as much as you loved the guy, you hadn’t had any serious time alone with Sam in two whole years. His brother had sort of been hogging him. Sam must’ve realized this too (or maybe you were projecting), because when you returned, he was sitting on the floor beside your bed—not fighting to go back to sleep under your watch, per the month’s routine.

Sam had also turned on your lamp, warming the void-like corners of your room with buttery light. In the most detached, innocent way you could manage, you thought to yourself that Sam looked beautiful. His face was too heartful and sweet to belong to cold, blue darknesses. You thought about the last time you’d been alone with him, when he’d left for Stanford. Vile, self-loathing bubbled up out of you without your permission. You changed into a comfy flannel in the bathroom and tried not to think about it—you had moved on and Sam had moved on. Simple math.

You closed the heavy door of your bedroom with a click, and with the barrier between you and Dean’s bloodhound ears, you could talk at a normal volume. “Do you think you’ll be able to go back to sleep?”

Sam’s hands stilled in his lap. “No. Probably not.”

“Fine by me,” you shrugged, and glided past him to the record player on your table. Compelled to do something with your hands, you mechanically popped in one of your mother’s oldies records and lowered the volume to comforting background noise. Maybe that would keep Dean from waking up at the sound of your voices.

“Your dick of a brother has been hogging you. It feels like it’s been ages since we’ve sat down and just talked like this.” You plopped down next to him and brought your knees up to your chest, already plowing through the bowl of blackberries. “Pray to whatever god you believe in, Sam, because I’m about to unleash on you two whole years of bottled-up rambling.”

His lip quirked. “Dean doesn’t sit through your scientific conferences?”

“In the beginning,” (and what a strange phrase that was to use; there was a beginning and now an end to Sam’s absence in your life), “he tried, I think. But after two days of me explaining black holes to him, he sorta gave up.”

Sam emptied some headache meds into his hand. “How’d you do it, then?”

“Do what?” You tried to avoid thinking about how wet his eyes still were.

“Survive.” Sam snorted. “I mean, last year was huge for all the stuff you geek out about—all those exoplanet discoveries, the Mars rovers making it past their expiration date—”

You slapped Sam’s knee and practically shrieked, “Or finding proof of water on Mars!” He started smiling, so you hooked an arm around his shoulders and shook him until he was laughing at your excitement too. “Water—you know, the stuff microbial aliens might’ve lived in? Oh my god, don’t even get me started!”

This was around the marker for when Dean would say, trust me, I won’t. Even if you were putting on a bit of a show to goad better feelings out of Sam, you knew by now that you were probably being annoying and backed off.

“By all means,” Sam leaned in, his eyes glittering with interest. “Microbial aliens?”

For that reason, it was really his fault that neither of you fell back to sleep. Microbial aliens turned into wendigo sleeping patterns, and that changed hands into an hour-long discussion of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. Sam had tried Twilight, but the vampire lore had annoyed him too much for him to finish reading it. Stanford had kept him pinned to his law books beyond that. This derailed into another hour of complaining—”If I were a vamp I’d be so damn offended!”—about the accuracy of supernatural literature, which passed in the blink of an eye. You did a dramatic reenactment of Rick Grimes riding through zombie-infested Atlanta in volume one of The Walking Dead, including the impressions Dean did when he read it with you. Sam was in stitches.

The rhythm of the conversation felt circadian. You graduated from the rug to curl up on your bed, just an inch away from the edge so you could incline your face toward Sam’s. He hadn’t moved from the floor, but unwound there, wrists on his knees and a constant laugh in his chest. You buried any thoughts of his moles or the pencil-bump on his middle finger under your tongue, which was cottony from the hours of talking. He offered you the last sip from his water. You rolled onto your belly and took it, shamefully wondering if his lips had touched the same place on the glass.

“Dean actually read it with you?” Sam scoffed, brows disappearing into his bangs.

“Zombies. Guns. Apocalypse drama. That is so up Dean’s alley,” you snickered, dropping the glass on your nightstand. “We kinda got each other into comics again last summer—he forces me to reread Batman Year One every few months, for the culture.”

Sam’s face had been a canvas for honest color the last hour, so you noticed too quickly when that changed. This time, he did a pretty solid impression of you innocently detaching yourself.

“You and Dean are closer than I remember.” He commented plainly. Jealousy looked strange on him.

You hummed. “What d’ya mean?”

“You guys… read books together now. Share tapes, cook together… I don’t remember you doing anything like that when we were kids.” Sounding surprised, Sam added, “You’re best friends.”

Hearing that, you couldn’t help yourself. It was impossible not to burst out laughing. Sam’s head swiveled hard to throw you his, c’mon, give me break, brand of bitchface, so you humored him.

“We’ve always been best friends,” you promised. “Must’ve been less obvious then, cause’ you and me have always had more in common than me n’ Dean, but he’s always been my best friend. You both have.”

Sam ran a finger around the rim of the blackberry bowl, staring into the dredges like he could read them. “I guess I’m just thinking of how things were when I was, um, going to leave. I thought you two were,” his eyebrows raised, “...falling out.”

The because of me went unspoken by him, but you got the feeling that Sam didn’t fully grasp the battering ram he’d hit you with by leaving. John became even more ferociously driven. Dean had phases of clinging to him with both hands or going cold on you both, because he wanted his family together but couldn’t believe John had driven Sam away in the first place. It was hard to watch, but even harder to participate in. There was no doubt in your mind that Sam had made the right choice. You believed it enough to endure John booting you out for “putting ideas in Sam’s head,” and made sure to spit in the guy's face before hitchhiking home. There were all sorts of similar screaming matches at the time. Some nearly physical.

Dean had hunted you down himself, despite John’s orders, then paradoxically snarled at you for arguing with his dad at all. It encompassed the hypocritical loyalty he had for his father so perfectly that it only made you more upset. Thing was, you always turned to Sam when you felt that way—so by the time Dean’s energy for yelling hit empty, you were bunched up on the side of the road and sobbing into your hands. A part of you had hated him for not trying harder to support his brother. You’d killed yourself watching Sam walk away, and then a second time defending his choices from John. Dean hadn’t done a damn thing.

One more angry thought and you would’ve never spoken to him again. But you understood Dean, almost as much as you loved him, so you knew that his inaction weighed on him even more than it weighed on you. Given a second try, he would’ve fought tooth and nail for Sam to live the life he wanted.

Sam had every, every right to leave. Still, half of your soul had severed when he escaped. That was one thing you had in common with his brother.

But Sam hadn’t witnessed any of that. All he’d seen was the nuclear argument the week he’d left, and now magically you and Dean were attached at the hip. Two years of silent, methodical work had occurred when his back was turned, which was something you felt he deserved to know about.

Sam’s gaze was open and curious, so you didn’t shy away.

“We almost had a falling out, yeah,” you murmured, picking your nails. “I was pissed at Dean and he was pissed at himself. But if I’m being honest with you—and you can’t even hint that I said this, Sam…your brother was real lonely.”

I know I was too, you wanted to say, but the words tasted like a guilt trip. Sam could guess, anyway.

“He had Dad. And you.” It sounded like something he told himself often.

“That’s what you’d think.” You sighed. “But John went quiet on us pretty quick, so it ended up just being me. Dean, y’know, kept waiting for me to shut him out. And it just never happened. He pushes people away when he gets like that… so it surprised me when he offered to help me rebuild The Chief.”

Sam had been marinating with the knowledge that John had mourned him, hands folded over each other in his lap and seared white by his own grip. It was The Chief that had him whirling to look at you again. He was suddenly on his knees at your bedside, a soup of surprise and old grief mixing achingly on his face. You thought there might’ve been some pride in those charged brown eyes too.

“You’re joking,” Sam breathed, incredulous, “Your dad’s motorcycle? I thought it was destroyed in his accident?”

You resisted the urge to lean away from his proximity, and it was all too easy to stay in. Shrugging one sleepy shoulder, your voice ticked up: “Basically. The remains sat in the garage for years, rotting away into scrap metal. Dean kept reminding me that my Dad had wanted me to inherit it, and eventually we fixed it up together.”

Sam caught your wrist. “Where is it?”

“The garage,” you sat up, grinning despite yourself. “Do you wanna see it?”

_

Like bandits, you and Sam hurtled into your jackets and planned to escape out into the night. You both knew the house by touch, so you navigated easily through the dark apartment, giggling and hushing each other as you slipped past Dean. You thought you saw him lift his head in the darkness, but it gradually fell back onto his couch pillow. It’d been a long time since you and Sam had been able to slip away together.

The garage was a stout little building across the alley, filled to the brim with the discarded memories of a dozen generations of Proctor. It was cold enough to see your breath in the air ahead of you, so you and Sam bundled close as you skirted quickly across the alley. The walk was maybe twenty steps from the backdoor, but it felt like any other time you and Sam had run off as teens. The unfallen snow waited in the silent air. Frost grew like moss on the pavement. You caught yourself preparing to turn right, which after a short walk would lead you to the nearest 24-hour convenience store. You and Sam rarely had money for yourselves growing up, so sometimes you would pool your resources and share a jumbo slushie, which you traded sips from huddled together on the pavement. It was too cold for that now.

While you fought with the garage’s side-door, Sam dropped his hands into his pockets and stared down the endless length of your street’s back alley. From here, you could make out the shadows of chain-link fences thrown across the tarmac. It was so silent you thought you could hear the tinking of moths against porch lights. You felt his hand brush your back. For no reason at all a stomach’s worth of butterflies roared over you, but you knew he was just reaching for your dagger in case something crawled out of the dark. The house was warded; not the slim strip of street behind it.

“Open sesame,” you murmured when the lock was close to giving. Finally, the ancient door groaned open, gliding inward to reveal a wealth of rich cobweb-y darkness.

A single sconce bathed you both in amber light. You threw a grin at Sam underneath it, and gestured for him to enter the slightly-terrifying, cramped murdershed. “Gentlemen first,” you flourished, smirking.

The sound trailed off—Sam was already looking at you, and intensely. The tips of his nose and ears were rosy from the cold, but his cheeks were especially red, coloring him down into his collar. He glanced away from you and lost a bit of the pigment.

“You’re twelve,” Sam muttered. But he really was a gentleman, since he graciously led the way inside.

The darkness was less intimidating once you were inside it. Your eyes adjusted after a few blinks, then you could make out everything you and Dean had left here last summer. There were huge wooden shelves of random bins and shit, then tall metal tool chests that Dean had put wheels on decades ago. The bike had been finished by spring of Sam’s first year gone, so the last time you’d driven it was the following summer. You hadn’t touched it since. That probably should’ve disappointed you and Dean, but it was less about riding it and more about the cheesy, Hallmark movie time you’d spent putting it back together.

“Here?” Sam said, approaching the heavy tarp you’d thrown over it.

“Here,” you agreed, and hit the button on the wall which retracted the garage door. The motor rumbled it up, slowly exposing the silhouette of the bike to the moonlight. “Would you like to do the honors?”

Sam found a fold in the top, hefted it up and pulled. As expected, The Chief had hosted an entire realm of spiders while you’d been gone. Sam hardly cared. A laugh bubbled out of him, ecstatic and young, and in a daze of nostalgia he ran his hands over the familiar chrome and leather motorcycle. Chief reminded you of the cowboys from Dean’s favorite westerns. She was a steely sonuvabitch, with a tall windshield, a broad, muscled body, and three glaring headlights mounted on the front. The frame was a deep water blue with soft beige accents. Even if she’d been almost entirely rebuilt, you and Dean chose to keep the quirks that made her charming.

“Man,” Sam whistled. “She looks exactly the same!”

The Impala had the toy army man Sam had crammed into the ashtray in the backseat, and Dean’s legos were still rattling in the radiator to this day. Similarly, the Chief still had the B+R heart drawn in sharpie on the saddlebags. You’d torn a line in the passenger’s perch when you were little, and your mom had sewn it shut with pretty blue thread. What was new was the long, jagged scar in the head of the body. You had tried everything to get it out, had even painted over it, but the mark from your Dad’s crash was still there.

“You and Dean did this together?” Sam asked. He acted like you and Dean had never even looked at each other before, and silently you wondered if your argument with Dean two years ago had really been that terrible. It was apparently grave enough to wipe Sam’s memory of any friendship you and Dean had ever had.

“It was his peace offering, I think,” you cleared your throat. “He arranged everything with Ma, then surprised me one day with lunch and offered up the idea. It was… It was really sweet. Dean, he’s… he can be—”

“A closed-off asshole?” Sam offered. You huffed out of your nose and swatted him on the shoulder, but it was hard to even jokingly scold Sam when he was lit up like that. He crouched beside the bike, admiring the work that’d gone into it.

“Yeah. But a bit of a sucker, too. He loves you and he loves me, and it was one of those times where he was desperate enough to show it,” you shrugged. “We spent months in this garage, fixing it up. I learned a lot from him. So… yeah. I guess this is why we’re closer than you remember.”

All the spiders grossed you the hell out, but you kind of wanted to be a big girl for Sam, so you grabbed one of Dean’s old rags off the shelf and wiped down the seat and handlebars. Sam stepped back to watch you work; there was a similar admiration in his eyes then, too.

“I love it,” he gushed, “You guys did a great job. I know it must’ve been hard for you, after your Dad.”

Sam was full of sincerity, as usual, but the fact that he talked about it at all was refreshing. It’d been more than ten years since your dad had died, but Dean still kept his mouth shut and your Mom always changed the subject. You knew that they were mourning too—he’d been a partner and teacher, as well as your father. But you’d been ready to talk about him again for a long time. Not his death, but his life, which was understandably harder. Dean and your Mom just weren’t the type to roll that way, but Sam had studied how grief festered with age. He’d let you talk.

“It made me feel closer to him, to be honest with you. I don’t know if you remember, but we used to joke that he had two great loves in his life: my mom, and the Chief,” you snickered.

“I’m sure Beth enjoyed that,” Sam replied, dryly. He hovered at your shoulder while you cleaned up the bike, close enough to put you in the bubble of his warmth.

“Oh, she pouted, but deep down I know she loved it just as much as him.” It only took a little to make the bike gleam again, so once again your hands were left with nothing to do. You tossed the rag back on a shelf, hyper-aware of Sam and the two helmets hooked on the wall. “They took the Chief on their first date. She used to say that she fell in love with my dad on this bike.”

Sam leaned against the saddlebags with crossed arms, rolling a question around in his mind. The night was so soundless that you could hear a pin drop a block down. But it was a peaceful silence, with room in the air for thought, so you looked at Sam and tried not to explode with joy. It’d been weeks now, and you were still blown away that he was here in person. That you had him all to yourself again. Standing across from you, Sam seemed to glow with the same soft relish.

Unlike Sam and Dean, you’d had the fortune of growing up in a place with roots. You had a childhood home and a hometown. When you went to school, you went there until you graduated, and people knew you and you knew them. You had friends. Girls that you’d known since kindergarten, boys who’d been coming to your birthday parties since you were in diapers. But your lunch table-mates, your lab partners, and study buddies—not even one of them could even imagine what your real life was like. What you were really like. The only people who’d ever actually understood you had all been passengers on The Chief: your parents, Dean, and Sam.

“You should take it with when we leave tomorrow,” Sam suggested, smiling down at his warped reflection in the handlebars. “It’d be real handy to have two vehicles, I think, and you can get some use out of all the work you put into it.”

You probably should. It was a good, reasonable idea, but the picture of yourself alone on your bike, chasing the Impala’s exhaust… “I prefer the Impala’s backseat. S’ more roomy,” you smiled at your shoes. “Maybe I’ll take her tomorrow. But I don’t think I could ever handle riding it by myself for long.”

“Well,” Sam hummed. He pushed himself off The Chief, and you took that as a sign to leave. Stupid, childish disappointment welled in your chest, but it was your fault for hoping for something that wouldn’t happen. Sam was tired. He didn’t have time for teenage rebellion, not now.

Sam reached over your head. You thought he was going to collapse the garage door, but instead he unhooked a driving helmet from the wall. He offered it to you, a rebellious smile dimpling his cheek.

“I’m here, and I’m with you. Shall we?”

You double-taked. Wild, fervid excitement reignited in your limbs. You took the helmet, observing him carefully. “It’s past midnight. You haven’t slept in days. Are you sure?”

Sam got a helmet off the wall for himself, but thunked it onto the driver’s seat of the bike. Then he was suddenly in your space, dropping your heart into your boots and thudding it up into your throat in one simple step, rendering you still just by coming closer. It was different when Sam was the one initiating contact. The ball wasn’t exactly in your court this time, and there was no way he didn’t see it in your face because that’s all he was looking at. The helmet was taken from your hands, then set carefully onto your hair and over your face. You could feel his hands cupping either side of your head. Sam flicked up the visor so he could see you more, and pitifully your knees turned to jelly.

“Of course I’m sure. I trust you,” he promised, squeezing your shoulders. “Now, c’mon. I haven’t ridden this thing in years! We don’t have to drive long, I swear.”

Sam tugged on his own helmet and you sighed until your chest felt tight. It wasn’t obvious that he’d been crying just a few hours before, but you could still feel it in him. The difference between now and then comforted you. He was happy; he still could be happy, once this was all over.

When he didn’t get an immediate answer, Sam slyly commented: “You know, you called me your favorite earlier today. Seeing as I’m your favorite, I think that means you should drive me—”

“Alright, alright!” You laughed. “Get on the damn bike, Winchester. Just a few minutes, then we’re coming right back. You are such a snot.”

“Your favorite snot,” Sam reminded, and didn’t waste any time hopping onto the pillion.

Your mother and father had fallen in love on this bike. You’d put it back together with Dean, who was your best friend as much as he was your brother. But Sam—he’d always lived in his own realm, where he was both within your family and outside it. He was special.

This truth dug a little deeper into you than it usually did as you mounted the driver’s seat. Sam’s gangly legs were all in your way, his knees pressing into your thighs and his chest into your back. Even with the pillion being slightly elevated behind you, Sam made that distance feel small, snuggling closer without order and getting comfortable. The seats were freezing cold and so were the handles, but Sam was a furnace that melted any discomfort down the drain. You started the bike, and it rumbled to life like it’d been patiently waiting for the day you would come back. The motor’s throaty growl hit you like a punch to the teeth. It sounded exactly as it always had, when your dad was finally home after a long, faraway hunting trip.

You thought about your dad, and how he would race to get off his bike in time to catch your leaping hug; you thought about Sam making a point to talk about Ray when no one else would, and the little squeeze he gave you when The Chief pulled out of the garage. Sam shut the garage door behind you and together you peeled out into the cool, serene night.

You knew exactly why Sam didn’t fit a Dean mold or even a friend mold in your life. You knew why he felt special to you. But it would be murder to do that to Sam now, and you’d had enough of killing lately.

-

tags: @cookiemumster1 @seraphimluxe @leigh70 @emily-roberts @lacilou @cevans-winchester

ask to be added to my taglist!!

NEXT PART: dead in the water, p.2

[whaleofatjme1920]

Headcanons on what do Clef, Kondraki, Bright and Dr Glass think of the Foundation Squad?

Well Known Doctors and Their Thoughts on the Squad

[Including: Quill, Sora, Icarus, Grace and Tjme. Respectively, @lynxlycan, @hereggssuitcasefish, @celestialissues, and @nursegracecreates/@thegracelessfaceless]

[Warnings: LIke, none?]

[AN: I'm keeping everything platonic.]

Dr. Clef

I'd say that Quill is like the definition of "hey girl buddy". They're really good friends, often trying to one up each other and get into more mischief than what's good for them. They're kind of a scourge on everyone else though. Lots of pranks, annoying the SCPs, scaring new blood, it's fun. She tries to get him to jog with her and what not. Clef dryly laughs and tries to beat her. Never can though.

Sora and Clef are also very good friends. They like to hang out with each other in a very quiet way, one of the quietest that Clef will ever be. He trusts them with the silence. I think they have a deep trust in each other that no one can quite explain. Sora is deeply protective of him and 166. Clef is admittedly protective of Sora.

Icarus has been vouched for by Clef multiple times so I'm saying their friendship is very strong. They have an angelic, religious thing going on without actually liking 343 and I think that's quite neat. They joke a lot, and they understand each other in bizarre ways. It's a friendship that communicates by glance alone. I think they also talk about guns every now and then together.

Tjme and Clef get along when they have to but ultimately, do not speak to each other unless necessary. She's polite to him and nothing more. When he does, it's to annoy her and nothing else. Still prefers her over Glass during evaluations.

Grace is a good friend of Clef's and vice versa. He helped her get better clearance access and then vouched for her and Sal to stay together in the long run. He's got a soft spot for their love story, but why? Well, I guess we'll never know. He likes to make sure she and Sal are taken care of. it's the nicest he'll ever be.

Dr. Kondraki

Kondraki is admittedly no where near ready to deal with Quill's energy and treats her a lot as he does Clef. Lots of "don't touch that". He likes her, but cannot actually put up with the energy. Sometimes, they go outside and take photos of stuff together. It's low energy and quite nice. But other than that, she gets the Clef treatment.

Kondraki likes Sora too, but I'm not quite sure Sora and him are close friends. They get along just fine, but they're more so work friends than people who hang out other than that. Sora has the potential of being better friends with him, they're just busy. Immensely busy.

Icarus and Kondraki are tied together because of their nature. He was one of the powerful men and women to ask for Icarus to have more freedom. I'd say they have really deep respect for each other. Occasionally, they'll come to each other for advice. They have mutual trade offs and what not.

Another tired parent duo of entirely different kids, Tjme and Kondraki drink coffee and sometimes brag, sometimes complain. They're pretty silent together, which is nice when the world is so loud. They don't really see each other that often but when they do, it's like two moms in a grocery store.

Grace and Kondraki are still getting to know each other, so it's very cordial. But, they have a strong potential to be better friends! I think they just get each other. Kondraki will key Grace in on things she doesn't know about yet because he's looking out for her in his own way. He also continually asks for Sal's upgrade to become a researcher so he has more freedom to be with Grace.

Dr. Bright

Bright and Quill get along like a house on fire. I think Bright is a really scary, kinda tired man but he can't help but let loose around her. They're always laughing. Tons of inside jokes. They're like best friends in every sense. Lots of nicknames for each other, and lots of little adventures. They sometimes talk about the deeper things, but it's chaotic with them even when it's not.

I think their relationship is hesitant, him and Sora. Sora and Bright work together like a well oiled machine but can't actually speak to each other due to nerves??? Whatever they're both anomalous hug it out. Bright knows Sora's power and Sora knows what's going on with Bright. They're kinda stuck with who they are and there's a mutual understanding of that "being stuck".

Icarus and Bright are interesting because I think he respects her more than other people. Getting Bright's legitimate respect is really, really hard. But Icarus got it relatively easily. They don't speak much anymore, but their friendship runs deep. I think earlier in their friendship, this was a lot different? But, they don't need to speak every day to be good friends.

Tjme mellows out Bright in a way that keeps him non aggressive. There's some things that make him kinda bitey and she manages to avoid most of that. They're pretty professional, but he does like having her around and vice versa.

Grace is also still getting to know Dr. Bright. But, he likes her and Sal very much. He thinks their story is interesting and sometimes comes around for jam sessions. He thinks Grace is straightforward in the best way, and keeps him in check in ways no one else does.

Dr. Glass

Quill and Glass don't mesh that well. He's cordial and polite with her but does not have a desire to hang out with her very much outside of that. I just don't get the energy they'd get along very well - but it's not mean either, just a difference in energies. They're very polite though when interacting. But it's surface level. I feel Quill doesn't really have a strong desire to be better friends with him.

Sora doesn't really trust Glass? They try their hardest but he's never really been able to break through. Still, they're friends. Not like, deep friends, but friends. They enjoy working together and they enjoy the things they do together. It's not really that deep of a relationship, but it's a pleasant one regardless.

Icarus and Glass kinda size each other up every now and then. Glass has a bizarrely competitive nature with himself, where he wants to know why someone is the way they are, utilizing strong empathy, sympathy and some tricks that probably aren't ethical. Icarus doesn't give any of that freely. Still, they get along just fine.

Tjme has the best relationship with Glass due to him being her legitimate boss over everyone else. He asked for her to serve under him, and they're kinda shifty together. Tjme isn't an untrustworthy person, but Glass can certainly be depending on what he wants and what he's doing. She gets it. Other people really don't.

Grace and Glass are pretty good friends. They kinda understand each other and utilize really strong bouts of empathy. Glass was asked to take care of her and Sal first before anyone else. As a result, they've always been kinda close. Glass really likes having Grace around, and Grace enjoys him as well.

[tardytothepardy]

Fruits Basket - Vol 23

It's the final banquet babyyyy

(i hate how blurry that picture is but my camera just wouldn't fucking focus)(also yeah i colored in the speech bubbles, they were kinda confusing without context and didn't have anything to do with this specific frame)

So everyone's gathered in the main Sohma house, and no one really knows what's going on. They have no idea what to expect. Hiro notes that the grown-ups are "the ones who can't sit still today". Some miscellaneous stuff happens but I'm not sure if it's worth talking about? After the miscellaneous stuff, it is announced that Akito is ready for everyone to see, and out she steps in a kimono (I bet it's red; she'd look great in red, I think) and asks where Shigure is, because he apparently dipped out. Ritsu is in complete awe, does Akito partake in the same hobby he does? No, Ritsu, this is who she is.

There's a brief flashback to the previous book, where Shigure gave her something, and said "I guess you could call it a farewell present." Akito did not take kindly to that at all, and lashed out, accusing him of being the first to abandon her. He asks where she got that idea, he meant that she's finally becoming her own person, rather than the person her father wanted her to be, and his gift was something to commemorate that. Welcome in the new Akito, and all that.

Back to the present, Akito explains that the rest of the Juunishi were able to become their true selves, beyond the curse, and so she decided to as well. She tries to apologize, but she can't-- she knows that won't make up for anything that she did, at all.

It goes back to that memory with Shigure (this chapter is just a series of flashbacks and flashpresents) and he teases her, saying that he didn't know he was so important to her, and Akito insists that wasn't the case, that he was the one that she was most afraid of, the one that strayed the furtherest from her, bond or not. He says he had to keep his cool, be nonchalant, because otherwise he'd explode (ka-blooey). He says that he's childish, and doesn't like getting hurt, he hates losing, and he can't stand sharing things. This causes Akito to basically go Ó///Ò in realization, and he confirms that realization (the realization being that he likes her as well, in case you didn't catch it. It kinda took me a second on first reading, and I'm not exactly explaining this the best), and says that if Akito wants to reject him, now's the time, that if she comes to him again, it'll become a Thing. They'll become a Thing.

Back to the meeting, Akito says that she still wants to live with the Sohma family, because there are still things she feels she needs to do. She still is, at the end of the day, the head of the family, it's her duty (probably). She plans on talking to Ren, which I imagine will go well. After the meeting (I think, I don't think it's before, though timey wimey stuff is difficult), Akito is with Shigure, and he's asking if she wants him to stay at the main Sohma house, and she asks if he's angry about it. The vibe I get from him is "yesn't", honestly, but hey if they're happy, I guess it's fine.

Next chapter!

So there are two exposition characters (I'm sorry but that's really all they are) at school, and one of them sees Kyo. She gets excited, maybe she can go talk to him, and the other thinks he's waiting for Tohru, his girlfriend, to finish up with her tests. The first girl goes, "Whaaa?? When did that happen??", and the second says that it happened shortly after Tohru came back from the hospital. The first girl's hopes and dreams are apparently destroyed, I guess she liked Kyo.

It pans back to Tohru, now finished with her test, and the teacher, Mayu, wishing her a good summer vacation, it'll be her last. She also asks if something happened in the Sohma family, because a certain He seemed a little happier when she saw him yesterday. Tohru took "he" to mean Kyo and Yuki, and was basically like "yeah I guess so". Mayu played it off, yeah yeah those two that's definitely who she meant yeah totally see you next school term byeeee.

At the house (Shigure's house), Kyo, Yuki, and Tohru are talking about the meeting, and how it felt like it came out of nowhere. They were surprised that Tohru already knew about Akito, but she had to pretend she didn't for Akito's privacy (you don't just out people, that's rude). She asks if it was that much of a shock, and Yuki says he's mostly dumbfounded, though there has been a lot going on lately, a lot to think about. Kyo says he feels weird about it, simply because now he knows he's been violent with a woman all this time, but also says something about if Akito was a man, Kyo would be in trouble if there was another guy who liked Tohru. I'm not really sure where he got that idea, but Yuki thought it was pretty funny. It made Tohru realize that the air between Kyo and Yuki had cooled off significantly, and they seemed to be more at ease with each other than they ever had before (i mean in the beginning yuki would sneeze and kyo would be like "and i took that personally", so yeah they've changed a lot). She asked Kyo what had caused that change, and he told her that Yuki beat the crap out of him, and knocked some screws loose, but it was okay. They needed to be loosened.

Later, it seems that Kyo and Tohru went to Kazuma's house, where Kazuma said "I have no regrets. At this point, I'm prepared for death at any time.", because he's happy, y'know? But Tohru and (that other guy whose name completely escapes me wtf) protest at that, saying that you can't say things like that, it's not true! The other whispers to Kazuma that he can't die yet, because when they get married and have kids, he'll be a grandparent, which he seems to like the idea of. He tells Tohru that he eagerly awaits that time, but since Tohru didn't overhear it, she just awkwardly agrees that she also can't wait. (Kyo kinda caught on though)

Izusu comes in, says, "This is stupid, by the way", then walks out before anyone can respond. Tohru follows after her, and Kyo asks what Izusu was saying. Kazuma says that a lot has happened recently, and not everyone is going through the same thing.

Going with Tohru, she finds Izusu in another room, saying that she doesn't get it, how can he (Kyo, presumably) act like nothing's wrong, after all that's happened, and how Tohru can do the same, after she got so hurt?! Those kinds of hurt don't go away easily. Izusu continues, and says that if she had to choose to forgive Akito or not, she wouldn't, because she can't. She doesn't want Akito to apologize, and she can't help but feel like she's doing something wrong, because she can't make herself accept everything and move on. Tohru reassures her that there's nothing wrong with her, she didn't do anything wrong. Izusu wonders if her demeanor will turn Haru away, if it will disappoint him. Tohru says that there's no way that Haru could hate her.

The scene changes to Akito, who is talking to that one old lady who pops up every now and then, but I've never seen her name, who says that Akito went to see Ren again, but heard that she wasn't able to really talk to her. She says it would be faster to chase her out of the house, but it's also possible that Akito complicated things by staying at the house. She continues, saying how it must be nice being young, and being able to change your life so easily. She notes that she was born with the Sohma family, and raised with them, and has lived at the house for sixty years, she couldn't change her life now. Akito says that no one can change every thing, and no one would be asking her to. Maybe all she needs is a helping hand. In the end, the maid simply walks away, but y'know, not everyone wants to change, or feels like they can, it's fine.

In the next chapter, it seems like it's the date with Tohru and Kyo that Uotani and Hanajima decided to tag along with. Kyo is thinking back to that moment when he tore off his bracelet, and how afterward, Tohru picked up all the beads. She put them in a little bowl in her room, next to the picture of her mom. In the moment, he could only watch as she did it, and in all honesty he wouldn't have minded if she had tossed them into a fire, but it also occurred to him that he might regret not having them. As he watched Tohru pick up the beads, he thought of it like she was "protecting both the me of now and the me of the future". Alternatively, and this one is a bit spoopy, she was gathering the memories of the people over the (many, many, many) years that had worn that bracelet. Either way, he realized that loving someone isn't just about loving the person as they currently are, but as they were, and as they will be.

That's what he thinks anyway.

I mentioned the date but I didn't talk about it at all. They went to a zoo, Uotani got excited about seeing elephants, and they went to a place with cats, and the cats did not care either way about Kyo. It was neat. By the end of the day, Tohru went off to use the bathroom, leaving Kyo with Hanajima and Uotani. This is when Hanajima asks Kyo if he's going to take Tohru away with him. She knew the time would come, eventually, when she, Uotani, and Tohru, would part ways, but it still hurts to think about. Uotani says that, despite how they might act, they do like Kyo, even if they think he's a bit of a dumbass (Uotani's words, btw), and it's because they both think he's a good guy. He just has to take care of Tohru, because she's like family to them, so he'd best not fuck up.

When Tohru comes back, Kyo says there's a place that he wants to take Tohru before going home. Can we go see what Yuki's up to first? Okay yeah we're going to do that now, we'll get back to Tohru and Kyo, don't worry.

So Yuki's at Kakeru's place, and it seems that they're talking about their college plans. Apparently Yuki's going to a college pretty far away from where they're currently at, but if they have subjects that he's interested in, it's fine. (I don't think it's ever said what exactly those subjects are. Like, what's his major? Do I really care? Eh. But it's still nice to know. Same thing for Kakeru, what is he doing?) When Yuki says he'll be living on his own, Kakeru asks if he can manage, he doesn't want to go for a visit and see an emaciated Yuki (living on like,, partially-cooked instant ramen noodles, and several scattered half-empty water bottles in a nest of laundry and schoolwork). Yuki is more optimistic, saying he's going to learn by doing (so that means those cups of instant ramen will be completely cooked). Apparently he told Machi about it and she's fine with it, though she would not be fine if she heard Kakeru saying that anyone is "climbing the stairway to adulthood" which honestly I wouldn't be fine with that either, that just sounds stupid.

Komaki asks how Yuki's going to get the money to live somewhere, and Yuki says that he considered asking his parents, but in the end he asked Ayame to help. Ayame was overjoyed to help, and went nuts to find a place that would suit Yuki's needs (Or be the foundation of his "empire", as he phrased it).

When asked about college, Kakeru said he'd go, not because he really wants to, but mostly because people keep telling him to. He was planning on taking over Komaki's family business (they run a laundry service), but he supposes he'll go anyway.

Later, Machi shows up with a package of meat, which Komaki was very excited about. Kakeru trotted out his "stairway to adulthood" line on Machi, and Machi punched him in the face along with the meat, she somehow balanced the meat on her fist to smash into Kakeru's face, much to Komaki's distress (over the meat, not Kakeru).

Anyway, let's go back to Tohru and Kyo.

Kyo took Tohru to the graveyard, and they're standing at the Honda's family tombstone(memorial? thingie? idk), and he says that after he graduates, he wants to leave, because he's spent his whole life up until pretty recently avoiding life, and not letting himself get involved in things. But now that he's a normal person, he wants to live in the world as a normal person, with Tohru, and because of all of this, he wants to go outside of this place that he's been his whole life. Tohru asks where he's planning to go, and he says that Kazuma knows someone with a dojo, but it's really far from where they presently live. He says he's planning on going there first, attending the dojo while he works, and then one day, he'll inherit Kazuma's dojo, using the experience from the first dojo. He hesitates on asking Tohru to break away from everything and everyone she's known to go off with him, but Tohru agrees, and says she wants to go with him, as soon as possible.

There is one thing that Tohru wants to tell Kyo, and it's that she's sure that her mom never hated him. Even if she did say that she would never forgive him, Tohru is confident that she didn't say it out of hate, she knows it. She will go along with Kyo, even if it hurts to leave everyone else, because it would hurt her more to be apart from him (🥺). To end this section, Kyo says that he'll keep the promise he made to Kyoko about Tohru, all that while back, and he'll keep it for his whole life.

(don't mind me i'm just screeching and wheezing simultaneously this shit is too much i'm gonna die)

Onto the next section, it actually has to do with Kyoko and Katsuya. Mostly Kyoko, and her last thoughts before she died. At first, it was weird. What's going on? She can't hear anything, she doesn't even really hurt. Why is it so dark? Oh crap, Tohru! She can't leave yet, she doesn't want to leave Tohru alone, she only just got into high school. She hopes that she loved her enough, and that Tohru knew that, though she wished she could have had more time to love Tohru. She finally understands, though, that leaving people behind and being left behind, they're both so hard. She hopes that someone can be there for Tohru, to protect her, stay with her as she cries.

She then sees Kyo, and recognizes him as the little orange-haired kiddo she used to talk to sometimes, and hopes that even if he forgets about her, that the next time Tohru gets lost, Kyoko wants him to find her, even just once. If he doesn't do that, she'll never forgive him(that's what she meant, out of what he heard, by the way). She hopes that he can somehow take her place, and protect Tohru, and let her be happy, let her be loved by lots of people. Even if she gets lost or makes a mistake, Kyoko wants Tohru to be proud of the life she lived.

Then she wakes up in a place. I don't really know what the place looks like, but I imagine it as a light blue shimmery place, and she can see someone walking towards her, from a distance. Katsuya. Suddenly she's young again, with her long hair and uniform, and she can be with the man she loves again. (🥺😭 dissolves in my tears)

There's a time skip, now Tohru, Yuki, Kyo, Hanajima, and Uotani have graduated, and it soon after shows Tohru and Kyo cleaning up their rooms, and reminiscing about when Tohru first arrived. A lot has changed in that time, it's incredible. Tohru thinks on how she will miss everyone, and all the things that have happened (in the span of a year, right? This all mostly happened within a year or two?). Kyo then says that everyone loves and appreciates her, and it's not like she'll never see any of them again, it's just the start of something new. Then Tohru's stomach grumbles and she gets embarrassed (oh no im hungry how embarrassing 😖)

We then jump to Yuki and Machi, and Yuki gives Machi a key to his new place, because he doesn't want her to think that he's cheating on her (why would she think that???) and then nearly fuckin yeets it out the window when she says that she's not worried that he'd do that. (So he does want her to have trust issues? Yuki, dude, you're confusing me on this) I think that Machi is a year behind Yuki, so she won't be starting college the same time as he will, but she promises that she'll follow after him and be back with him as soon as she can, which is very sweet.

This whole section is mostly jumping from one group of people to the next, so I think I'll try to summarize:

Ritsu and Kagura are talking, it seems that Ritsu is giving Kagura his old kimonos. He's cut his hair shorter, and he mentions how Shigure apparently has quit being an author, much to the relief of his editor, Mitsuru. Kagura asks if Ritsu is going to marry Mitsuru, which leaves him very flustered. Kagura still is hung up on Kyo, and says that she'll see Kyo and Tohru go just to see Kyo. She won't well wish them, because she knows that they'll be happy regardless.

Hiro and Kisa are walking past Shigure's old house, speculating on what is going to happen to it. Hiro says he thinks it will stay as it is for a while, which makes Kisa happy. She hopes that it can stay up and that a new household can live in it. She then starts crying, thinking about Kyo and Tohru leaving, but she says that she will smile when she sees them go, on the next day. Hiro tells her to not be upset over crying, that she can cry as much as she wants, because he knows how much Tohru means to Kisa.

Haru, Izusu, and Momiji are talking, and Haru mentions how Hatori said that eventually, Shigure's gonna get punched in the face, but he never did. Momiji says that it didn't happen because they are all more mature than Shigure. He says as an aside that he doesn't think it should be allowed that Kyo is "taking away" Tohru, because he's being selfish, and that he wants to pinch Kyo. Haru asks why he shouldn't do it tomorrow, and Momiji says that he can't do it in front of Tohru, but this whole thing has given Momiji a new sense of motivation, to find the best girlfriend in the world, and then he'll show her off to Kyo (not the best motivation to find a partner but okay). Izusu pops up by saying that she thinks Tohru should break up with Kyo. I'm not sure why though.

It's shown that Hanajima is working at Kazuma's place as a cook, which is something that Kyo was not pleased to find out, but despite his best efforts, The Guy Who is Also There at the Dojo Whose Name I Cannot Remember can't figure out how to get her to leave. Kazuma says that he will miss Kyo, but he won't worry about him. He's in good hands now.

Uotani is on the phone with Kureno, saying that she'll send his regards to Tohru and Kyo. She also says that she will miss Tohru, but she's also excited for her, for the both of them. She asks if the cherry blossoms are blooming yet, and that she'll have to make her way out to see them (and Kureno) soon.

Ayame and Mine are sending well wishes gifts in the form of big flouncy dresses, for Tohru (who I imagine would be flattered but I doubt she would wear them). Mine says that now that the time has come, she finds this sensation of "children leaving the nest" to be lonely, and Ayame agrees, and says that's exactly why adults put obnoxious amounts of love into cardboard boxes with instant ramen, socks, maid outfits, what have you. (They then say that they're going to send similarly flouncy dresses to Yuki, who I doubt will respond kindly)

Mayu and Hatori are on a date, and he offers to take her with him on a summer vacation to Okinawa. He says he's never been on a "decent" vacation, and that he wants to see the country. Mayu starts cracking up at the idea of Hatori in a swimsuit, then sobers quickly at the idea of herself in one, saying that her figure isn't ideal for a swimsuit (from the way she talked about herself I think she'd be all the rage in early 2000's Western fashion).

Akito says that she's not going to see Tohru and Kyo leave, saying that if she wants to visit Tohru, she'll go and see her, but I imagine it's also for the sake of everyone else that would be there.

Finally, we end with Yuki going to talk to Tohru. He tells her that he's happy about all that has happened, and that he's glad that he has gotten to this point. He says that he was weak, that he couldn't handle being around people, but he wanted to be loved, and be needed. All he ever did, he says, is want. But during that crucial time, Tohru appeared, and fulfilled that wish without even trying. He learned so much from her, and she gave him what he needed, and that's how he is able to be the person he presently is. And he also finally says that she was basically his mother, in a way. He wonders if she was like that to everyone, with how warm, welcome, and gentle she is to everyone she meets. He goes on to say that in this time, when everyone is parting ways, everyone is thinking of Tohru, wondering if she's happy, if she's crying, if she's doing well. Finally, he thanks her, and says that he's so glad that he got to meet her, and that she was there for him, and for all of them. (He also actually says her name, which he's never done, I don't think. It's always been "Honda-san", but never "Tohru", but now he's said it. There's really not an English version of that, as far as I'm aware, but from what I know, it is a pretty significant thing.)

There's a little bit of an epilogue, showing a child walking into a house, asking where Tohru and Kyo are. A woman replies saying, "That's Grandma and Grandpa to you!", but the child pouts and says that Grandma said she could call her by her name, and that they left her behind again on their walk. The woman tells her to not get in the way of their "lovey-dovey alone time", and there's a final establishing shot of Tohru and Kyo walking together, holding hands, with Kyoko's words: "Repeat the good, and the bad. Do it all, and pile on the years."

And that's the end!

I think I'm heartless, because I didn't cry at the end. I wanted to, but I didn't. Overall, I really liked this series! It was a lot of fun to read, a lot of shit goes down, it was a rollercoaster. Thinking back on how the story started, knowing some of the events that occurred before the story started, it all kinda leaves a bitter taste in my mouth (mainly the teasing that Kyo gets about him "training in the mountains", and knowing what was actually going on, it's kinda hard to laugh now 😬). One thing that I was kinda expecting the story to mention, but never did, was Izusu's mark on her back. It looks like some kinda of scar, but I never saw anything addressing it. Now that I think about it, it could have been from a number of things, but it was never said explicitly, which I think is weird. I think I'm gonna leave it here (I'm typing this last portion on my phone at 3:45am so it could be better).

[dakotafinely]

Can I please get headcannons of rottmnt leo hearing his s/o play for the first time?Like they're playing Monster from adventure time and leo walks in on them playing the song on their ukelele.

Thank you! For making me obsessed with another Adventure Time Song when I've never seen the series! It's great to add to the list!

(Sarcasm aside, I have fallen for this song very quickly! Its so good!)

So, I was making a small fic for this cause the song had me inspired. Then I accidentally deleted all of it. So, welcome to take two, where you had no idea take one even happened.

Let’s hope I don’t delete this one. And without further ado:

You’d been practicing the song for weeks. As it was your final for the first semester in your chorus class. You didn’t technically have to learn the ukulele. But you were planning to anyways so it’s just two birds with one stone for you.

You tuned the ukulele with a gentle hand. Every time you held the instrument in your hands, it felt like you could break it with the soft pressure of your palm. You strum it again, tuning the last out-of-tune string. Before beginning to play.

Leo was on his way. He’d been itching to come see you, missing you every moment you were gone. And the moment your school ended, he began making his way to your house. Sneaking from roof top to roof top with haste.  He was young, and in love. In love with someone wonderful and perfect in his eyes.

You, he was deeply, deeply, in love with you.

Your laugh, your kindness, the way you walked, the way you stood. The way you spoke, your smile. The way you held everything with a gentle touch, as if you were afraid of breaking it with the pressure of your hands. The way you lived, and the way you moved. Goodness, was there anything he wasn’t in love with about you?

He landed on your fire escape with a quiet creak when heard it.

“You're the pink in my cheeks / And I'm scared 'cause that means / I'm a little bit soft,“ You sang, eyes closed as you immersed yourself in the song. Knowing the tune and the words by heart now.

Leo froze, everything in time stopped as he listened. Practically becoming hypnotized by your voice. Slowly inching closer as he listened, his eyes wide as he stared at you through the window.

Jeez, cause he needed more reasons to love you. Falling deeper into a pit he was slowly realizing he couldn’t get out of.

“Don't beat yourself up, Bonnie / It wasn't just the sun that I was hiding from / We were messed up kids who taught ourselves how to live / And I'm still scared that I'm not good enough,” You sang, whether you choose the lyrics because they spoke to you. Or because they swept you up in emotions you couldn’t explain, but felt right. Or because you just thought the song was neat didn’t matter.

What mattered was your voice danced around the room. Making it feel lighter, brighter, an emotion that didn’t make sense yet felt perfect in a way you can’t explain. Like sunsets, or star gazing. Something that felt... good.

Leo continued to lean in closer, a hand pressing on the window as he tried to immerse himself in your voice. To hear you in all your fantastic entirety. When he tripped open the window, falling in with a loud thud as you played the last notes of the song.

You whipped your head around. Partially revealed to only see Leo breaking into your home. But also concerned, as he landed straight on his face. You quickly place your ukulele down and rushed over to his side.

“Leo! Are you alright?” You ask as you slide onto your knees. He gets on his own knees, quickly grabbing your hands. A love drunk look in his eyes as he grinned at you.

“Guess you could say I fell for you?” Leo gives a small snicker and you do to. Rolling your eyes as your face began to heat up. Despite having been dating for a couple of months, every time he made a dorky pun. It made your heart flutter.

“You’re alright,” you says grinning at him. He nods and gives you a small peck on the cheek, the two of you moving to stand up.

“So, when were you gonna tell me you could sing?” He asked as he joined you on the bed. You shrug, you never even thought of mentioning it. He jokingly places a hand on his heart, mocking being offended.

“O my dearest lover, do you not care for me enough to tell me of your song birds?” He says with an attempt at a Shakespearean accent. Whatever that really was. You let out a laugh and roll your eyes.

“Doth mine eyes deceive me? Do you laugh at my agony?” he flails his hands around for extra dramatic effect and you lightly wack him with a pillow.

“I think you’ve been hanging out with Donnie to much.”

“Well, he is my brother.”

You scoff and roll your eyes. Leaning against him gently.

“So, mineth, lover-th, how can I make it up to you-eth?” You ask, not really trying the whole Shakespeare thing. He rolls his eyes at your “attempt” but goes along with it. Lightly tossing you your ukulele and getting comfortable.

“Sing that song again, please?” He asks with the flutter of his eyes. You giggle at his antics but oblige.

And you sing for him again.

--

Whoo! I made it through this time! I hope you liked it! I really liked the song and it made me super inspired! So I hope this turned out well! I had fun, this was fun, thank you for the ask! And the song!!

[yehlsays]

Some places are worth it. That's Mt. Edith Cavell. It's named for a nurse who treated the wounded during WWI. She was killed by firing squad October 12, 2015. Her crimes? Treating the wounded on both sides of the war, without prejudice and aiding in the escape of some 200 allied soldiers from occupied Belgium. Her death sentence was later condemned as a murder. Anyway, so that's Mt. Edith Cavell on the left, you can see it from just about everywhere in the park that's in spitting distance of the Jasper town site. Next to it on the right is Sorrow Peak. The layered ice between is the Angel Glacier and below that is Cavell Pond, butting right up to the toe of Cavell Glacier. And here's what's neat about that lake: Sometimes it just overflows Look at all those icebergs bobbing around in there. See what happens is those glaciers like to drop ice chunks the size of houses into the lake when ever they're feeling a little melty or unstable (so like, all the time, thanks climate crisis). In 2012 almost an entire glacier, the Ghost Glacier, that used to cling to the side of Mt. Edith Cavell just let go of the mountain and plummeted into the water. That lake overflowed with so much force that it sent a flash flood down the mountain, tore apart half the parking lot, moved tonnes of boulders and ripped out trees. It was an instantaneous and catastrophic landscape change that by shear luck didn't kill anyone because it happened just early enough in the morning. Most of the trail overlooks the resultant spillway, which is now too unstable even for foot travel and, given the possibility of another flash flood, strictly of limits. Sept 2021

Last year, during my first visit to this area I had to read about it from the parking lot, and peer up at the peak from the head of the trail. I couldn't get any further than that. I was a year into a severe back injury that I was beginning to assume was going to result in permanent disability. I could barely walk across my kitchen, the parking lot at the bottom of a mountain was a feat. This year I drove up the road again on a whim. It's a pretty drive, and I like the switch backs and surprise views. When I got to the parking lot it wasn't very busy, privacy gives me courage, so on a bigger whim I tied my boots a little tighter and put Badger's leash on, and I started to trudge up the trail. I'd just go a little ways, I said. I can always turn around. No one would know if I don't make it. I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about it more than once. That trail isn't long by any stretch of the imagination, but it is straight up hill the whole way, and I wish I could blame the elevation alone for how red faced and out of breath I was, but nearly two years of "barely getting around the house" does a lot of things to a body, and to a person's confidence, and these last six months I've been working my butt off to regain mobility... hobbling around a duck pond 1/3 of a kilometre at a time. Getting to know the names and relations of every person on a memorial bench along the way. But I didn't turn around. Sometimes I only trudged four steps and then I stopped and huffed and puffed and negotiated with the crackling in my spine, and then I trudged four more. I just wanted to see the lake. It was worth it.

[scarlettkat86]

Counting Sheep

**don't read if you don't want fluff/smut, recreational drug use/alcohol**

@naromoreau and @youre-my-boshaw-baby I finally finished this thing.

Liz opened the door to the Spread Eagle, immediately ambushed and bear hugged by Nick. "Goddamn, you beautiful son of a bitch. I ain't never seen anything like that before. Good to have you back in one piece kiddo, I was beginning to worry."

"Glad to be back too Nick, I could really use a stiff drink or 5." Liz groans as she takes a set at the bar.

"Hey, nice to have you back. Anything you want, on the house tonight." says Mary May.

"No need to do that, I'll have a double shot of whiskey, neat."

"I insist, after all you gave us something we never thought we'd never have again, hope."

Amber liquid filled her glass, the rich, smoky undertones working to sooth her aches and pains away. It seemed like everyone had shown up to celebrate taking down the youngest Seed brother.

Looking around, all of her friends looked so happy, and that made her smile. _Like it or not, this was the right thing to do. _

There was only one person she was hoping to see, and would be lying if she said she wasn't disappointed that he wasn't the first one to welcome her back. Loud voices carried from the back corner of the bar.

"Now i'm a gamblin man and I'll bet you a twenty and some uh, some woods porn, that you can't even hit the board Hurkie."

"When the hell did you find woods porn man!? You're on amigo. Hey everybody, watch this!" Liz watched as Hurk chugged an entire bottle of vodka, then started spinning around in circles. A small crowd had formed, rooting him on. This looked like a disaster waiting to happen. Taking another moment to watch Sharky, she smiled sadly. _I should just go drag him back to my place, let him know he's what keeps me going. Probably not gonna get any time with him tonight anyway, too many people, too much noise. _

A huff from her side brought her attention back. "Gross, are you over here eyefuckin Sharky?"

Liz nearly choked on her drink, "What?! I-I, no, the fuck Jess?"

"Hey you're the one too distracted to hear me. Still can't believe yall haven't- never mind, I'd rather not think about it."

"Not my fault your mind is in the gutter."

"Whatever. I'm shit at small talk, but I wanted to say i'm glad you're back. Those Seed fuckers have a way with gettin in your head, be glad you haven't caught Jacob's attention yet."

Liz shook her head and smiled.

Yeah I'd rather not catch any attention, yet here I am...

"Bless your heart. Careful now Jess, that almost sounded like you care. Listen, you're my best friend, but I can see you're itchin to get out of here, so go on, before I change my mind."

That makes Jess snort.

"Asshole. I ain't gotta be told twice, 'sides, I got better shit to do then watch you watch that idiot. Take care Liz, I'll see ya in the Whitetails."

She stared at the empty glass sat on the counter before her. Walking behind the bar, Liz grabs a bottle of North Fork whiskey and heads for the door.

*Sharky's POV

He'd seen her walk through the door. Damn if she wasn't the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. Not cuz she was beautiful, she is, but cuz he'd been worried sick the last few days of radio silence. He'd been pissed that she didn't take him with her, but it was her call, Nick deserved to help her take down that fuckface more than any one of her friends. Still didn't stop his stomach from twisting in knots every night that passed without a word from them. He wants to go kiss her, hold her, tell her how much he realizes now that he's in love with her. She's got a crowd though, and it's only been a couple months since she'd shown up in his life, unsure of how she'd react to a declaration of love, so he stays rooted in place. He's drinking, placing a bet he's seriously gonna regret if he loses. Glancing over again he sees her heading out the front door. *

Standing at the river's edge just outside of Falls End, Liz felt like she could breathe again. She barely escaped the Spread Eagle, so many thank yous she lost count.

Rummaging through her bag, she was relieved to find the baggie she was searching for. "Deal with the devil ain't so bad when he leaves a little lettuce to get by on." Liz laughs at her dumbass joke.

_Really have jumped from upholding the law to breaking it, guess a little weed is nothing when you think about it. _

Lost in her own thoughts she didn't notice someone had followed her.

Walking up from behind, Sharky grabs Liz by her waist. Startled Liz grabs her knife and yelps in surprise when she realizes who it is. "Fuck, Sharky, don't sneak up on me like that! I could've killed you!!" Taken aback by the knife to his throat Sharky swallows. "Shit, not like you to not notice someone tailing you chicka. You mind uh, putting the knife away because i'm not really into that sorta thing." Putting the knife back in its holster Liz laughs and tries to slow her racing heart. Sharky looks down and presses his lips to hers, soft and sweet. She slowly breaks the kiss and sits down.

"Hell yeah, some grass and party liquor, you tryin to impress me shorty, cuz it's workin."

He laughs and rolls the joint neat, tight as he can and seals it with his tongue.

Once they've smoked the whole thing, Sharky takes her hand in his. "Ya know, i'm glad you're back in one piece, things wouldn't be the same without ya." He wants to say that's an understatement, that he don't think he would be able to go forward without her, but he just stands up and pulls her to her feet, "Now allow me to be the gentleman that I am, and escort you back to the party inside."

"You think you can just, drive me back to my place? I'd rather just have you with me for the night."

"That sounds a million times better than finding out if I still own the only woods porn in all of Hope county. "

Opening the door to her house, Liz heads for the kitchen, she pulls out a metal tin with a few blunts already packed. "Damn johnny law, you been holding out on me!" While Sharky lights one up, she mixing a couple drinks. "I've had a couple bad influences. Now pass it over."

The smoke filled her lungs, slowly turning her limbs to jelly and clearing her mind. Sharky slowly walks to her phone, picking out some music. "Boshaw, I swear I am in no mood for disco music."

"Relax Izzy, I've got something a little different picked out."

A slow sensual beat fills the room, and Sharky looks at her with a hunger in his eyes. He grabs her by the waist and starts to rock her side to side to the beat. The lyrics start and he's singing in her ear, "tonight, I've got nothing on my mind but you..." kissing her lips then down her neck,

"don't you take a bow at the last curtain call.. thinking you're nobody's nothing after all..."

Biting her lip and suppressing a moan, she slides her hands under his hoodie, slowly pulling it off. "Fuck Izzy, i'm tryin to be a gentleman here, but you're makin me hard." He says, voice hoarse and shaky.

"I know. I need you Sharks." she says with a smile, as she turns her back to his chest and grinds into him, slowly moving side to side with the music, discarding her own shirt along the way.

He takes a hold of her full hips, pressing himself against her. With one hand he follows the curve from her hips, over the softness of her stomach and the swell of her breast, finally putting a hand on her throat fingers brushing the side of her jawline. His other hands fingers sliding between her thighs. All she could feel was the heat that spread through her, a half sob of pleasure escaping her lips. It had been a year since she felt a touch not her own.

"Bedroom, now" she whispered to him, discarding her pants along the way.

Sharky pushes her to the bed suddenly and pulls her panties off. The sight of her made his mouth water. Soft dark curls in a neat strip. He blew a hot breath and she gasped. Then his tongue replaced his breath, precise swipes parting her folds and latching onto her clit. She looked down into his eyes, a silent plea to make her cum. He held eye contact and alternated between quick flicks of his tongue and circular motions, sliding a finger inside her core.

"Damn Izzy you taste so good, wanna make you cum."

She was teetering on edge already, each nerve on fire, legs tingling, and just when she thought she would finally find sweet release, he'd pull back and lick up her juices. Sliding two fingers inside easily now, he curled upwards to find her bundle of nerves, and closed his mouth around her clit and sucked. He could feel her beginning to pulse around his fingers, back arching, head flung back, "Look at me Iz, I wanna see you."

That sent her over the edge, locking eyes with him again, she felt pure bliss as she came around his fingers. Lapping up the rest of her juices he moved up her body, stopping to tease each nipple on the way, finally kissing her lips. The taste of herself on his lips sent another wave of pleasure through her body and mind. "I need to feel you Sharky, please.."

The neediness in her voice making him even harder. He unfastened his pants, pulling them off. She felt him spring free, sliding the head of his cock up and down her folds, then lines himself up with her entrance, filling her excruciatingly slow. She's already clenching around him, a perfect fit, slightly thicker than she's used to, but he feels like heaven. He can't hold back and slams in to the hilt, causing them both to moan in sync. Pulling out to thrust back in lazily again and again, Sharky is running his hands down her body, one taking place on her clit.

“I'm not gonna last long babe, fuck. You're so tight and wet." Biting her bottom lip she nods her head, "Me either, just fuck me." She wraps her legs around him, pulling him in closer as he picks up pace. They're both panting, moaning curses, as their bodies match rhythm. She can feel him twitch and knows he's close, so she slides her hand down between their bodies and takes over her clit. He pulls her leg over his shoulder changing angles, hitting that perfect bundle over and over. White hot pleasure tingles every inch of her body, and she's crying out his name like the most beautiful melody ever heard. He's not far behind, pulling out at the last possible second. He growls an almost animalistic sound, hot spurts of his cum coat her inner thigh and stomach. Sharky rolls off her, grabbing a shirt to clean up the mess, then pulls her into his arms, kissing the nape of her neck. "I love you Lizbeth." She's quiet for a minute and he's praying to whatever god, monkey jesus, whatever, that he hasn't fucked this up. Then she's looking up at him, smiling the most brilliant smile, "I love you too Sharks. Always."