#i mean where do you exactly cut with the ‘old hunters’ and other old Hunters who aren’t from the same group if that make sense

[fantomette22]

EXCUSE ME

ASTROBOT WTF

FROMSOFTWARE WE NEED ANSWERS

PLEASE

Cant believe astrobot casually threw at us deep bloodborne lore

[underground-secret]

The Hunter and the Witch~ Dean Winchester x F! reader

Description: The boys and reader come to the aid of Sam's old college buddy after he is accused of a murder he swears he didn't commit. They discover a shapeshifter is adopting the likenesses of others and murdering people.

Warnings: cannon violence, not my GIF, shapeshifters, teasing, tension 🤭, choking, kidnapping, mentions and usage of guns, being tied up, murder

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld , @okayiamkassandra , @fablesrose, @ada--44

Word Count: roughly 8,000

(Not my GIF but we can still appreciate it)

Skin

(Master list, Previous Chapter, Next Chapter)

The Impala comes to a stop in front of a gas pump, the slightly warmer breeze of late February brushing through the car as Dean opens his door, half sitting out the door.

“Alright, I figure we’d hit Tucumcari by lunch, then head south, hit Bisbee by midnight.” Dean announces. I hum in agreement with a little nod of my head, Dean looks back at me in acknowledgment and then at Sam, who has given no response or recognition.

He rolls his eyes, “Sam wears women’s underwear.”

“I’ve been listenin’, I’m just busy.” Sam shrugs his brother off, looking down at his PalmPilot.

“Busy doin’ what?” Dean shoots back.

“Reading e-mails.” Sam says simply, not even bothering to look up. Dean gets out of the car and rounds it, beginning to fill the tank with gas, “E-mails from who?”

“From my friends at Stanford” Sam replies.

“You’re kidding. You still keep in touch with your college buddies?” Dean scuffs.

“Hey I don’t see anything wrong with that” I chime in truthfully.

“Well, what exactly does he tell ‘em?” Dean switches his gaze to Sam now, “You know, about where you’ve been, what you’ve been doin’?”

“Thank you Y/N.” Sam begins with before actually answering Dean's questions, “I tell ‘em I’m on a road trip with my big brother and best friend. I tell ‘em I needed some time off after Jess.”

“Oh, so you lie to ‘em.” Den acknowledges.

“That’s not technically lying, he's just not giving all the details” I point out.

“Yeah, that’s still called lying. I mean, hey, man, I get it, tellin’ the truth is far worse.” Dean responds.

“So, what am I supposed to do, just cut everybody out of my life?” Sam asks, Dean shrugs, “You’re serious?” he adds.

“Look, it sucks, but in a job like this, you can’t get close to people, period.” Dean states.

“Okay well, what about Y/N? We’ve known her for a long time but she’s not blood related, and I'd say you’re pretty close to her.” Sam brings up smiling to himself as if he knows he won, before quickly adding, “No offense Y/N.”

“Non taken” I answer, curious to hear Dean's response.

Dean goes quiet, just staring at his younger brother with big eyes and a tight jaw as if to tell him to stop. Finally he answers, mumbling, “That’s different.”

Without missing a beat Sam immediately follows up with, “How so?”

This time Dean really doesn't answer, just kind of looks awkwardly around. Realizing he won’t get an answer Sam adds, “Exactly.”

Dean rolls his eyes, half turning away to check how much longer he has to be there for.

Suddenly Sam speaks up again, except this time without his cocky smile and sassy attitude, “God….”

Dean turns back ‘round quickly, “What?”

“In this e-mail from this girl, Rebecca Warren, one of those friends of mine.” Sam begins.

“Is she hot?” Dean cuts in, getting a look from both Sam and I before going back to the real situation at hand.

Sam ignores him, continuing his explanation, “I went to school with her, and her brother, Zack. She says Zack’s been charged with murder. He’s been arrested for killing his girlfriend. Rebecca says he didn’t do it, but it sounds like the cops have a pretty good case.”

“Dude, what kind of people are you hangin’ out with?” Dean exclaims, putting the pump back in its place and closing the tank he rounds the car again.

“No, man, I know Zack. He’s no killer.” Sam assures as his brother gets back in the car.

“Well, maybe you know Zack as well as he knows you.” Dean offers.

“They’re in St. Louis. We’re goin’.” Sam orders.

Dean chuckles, “Look, sorry ‘bout your buddy, okay? But this does not sound like our kind of problem.”

“It is our problem. They’re my friends.” Sam shoots back.

“St. Louis is four hundred miles behind us, Sam.” Dean says, looking through the rear view mirror. He meets my eyes and I give him a pleading, knowing look. He sighs as he pulls out of the gas station, he makes a U-turn now driving back the way we came.

“Oh my God, Sam!” Rebecca greets happily, the long haired blonde smiling brightly.

“Well, if it isn’t little Becky.” Sam jokes bending down slightly with his arms open for a hug. She wraps her arms around him tightly, “You know what you can do with that little Becky crap.”

It’s odd but endearing to see Sam like this, being able to have a peek into what his life was like when he was away at college. When he was happy, things were a little bit simpler.

They break away and Sam turns serious, “I got your e-mail.” Her smile falters, “I didn’t think that you would come here.”

Dean steps forward and extends his hand, “Dean. Older brother.” She shakes his hand looking at him with a hint of confusion, “Hi.”

“Hi.” Dean says back with his cocky smile.

Her eyes wander over to me, as if signaling it’s my turn to introduce myself with a little wave, “Hi! I’m Y/N a, uh, good friend of these two.”

“Nice to meet you” She smiles back.

Sam, rightfully, cuts in, “We’re here to help. Whatever we can do.”

“Come in.” She steps aside leading us further into the house, Dean being the one to close the door.

“Nice place.” Dean compliments looking around the cozy well loved home.

“It’s my parents’. I was just crashing here for the long weekend when everything happened. I decided to take the semester off. I’m gonna stay until Zack’s free.” She explains, as we follow her through the house.

“Where are your folks?” Sam asks.

“They lived in Paris for half the year, so they’re on their way home now for the trial.” She answers as we enter the kitchen, “ Do you guys want a beer or something?”

Dean smiles, “Hey—“

“No, thanks. So, tell us what happened.” Sam cuts him off, definitely for the better. This isn’t the time nor the place for drinks.

She leans against the island as she begins, “Well, um, Zack came home, and he found Emily tied to a chair. And she was beaten up and bloody, and she wasn’t breathing.” Her voice gets all crackly, tears freely flowing, “So, he called 911, and the police—they showed up, and they arrested him. But, the thing is, the only way that Zack could’ve killed Emily is if he was in two places at the same time. The police—they have a video. It’s from the security tape from across the street. And it shows Zack coming home at 10:30. Now, Emily was killed just after that, but I swear, he was here with me, having a few beers until at least after midnight.”

“You know, maybe we could see the crime scene. Zack’s house.” Sam offers.

“We could.” Dean adds

“Why? I mean, what could you do?” Rebecca asked.

“Well, me, not much. But Dean’s a cop.” Sam clarifies, nudging his brother.

Dean laughs, “Detective, actually.”

“Really? Where?” Rebecca gushes.

Easily Dean shrugs, “Bisbee, Arizona. But I’m off-duty now.” It always amazes me how easily these two lie, well mostly on Sam’s part.

“You guys, it’s so nice to offer, but I just—I don’t know” She stammers

“Bec, look, I know Zack didn’t do this. Now, we have to find a way to prove that he’s innocent.” Sam explains, eyebrows scrunched together in seriousness.

“Okay. I’m gonna go get the keys.” She leaves us alone in the kitchen, walking down the hall to get those keys.

“Oh, yeah, man, you’re a real straight shooter with your friends.” Dean comments, lightly shoving his brother.

“Look, Zack and Becky need our help” Sam pleads.

“I just don’t think this is our kind of problem.” Dean shrugs.

“Oh come on Dean, it's the right thing to do.” I add, joining the pleading party. “Yeah and two places at once? We’ve looked into less.” Sam points out. Dean sighs but remains silent in defeat, he won’t win this one especially when it’s the both of us pleading with him. He didn’t stand a chance.

The Impala pulls up across the street from Zack’s house, the white building in contrast with the yellow crime scene tape plastered on its outside.

We get out of the car, Rebecca having rode with me in the backseat, “You’re sure this is okay?” She asks Dean. “Yeah. I am an officer of the law.” Dean says all nonchalant as he leads us to the house.

Opening the door to this taped off house revealed a mess of blood. There was blood smeared on the walls and the furniture, a table cluttered with fruit, playing cards and newspapers as if a life was interrupted. And it was. One life physically gone and never coming back and another life, who is potentially innocent, sits rotting away in a jail cell. Rebecca remains strigid just outside the constraints of the police tape. Sam turns back to her, “Bec, you wanna wait outside?”

“No. I wanna help.” With tears in her eyes she ducks underneath the tape.

Dean and I walk slowly around the house, observing the messy crime scene. And although neither of us are actual police officers or forensic scientists it doesn't take a genius to figure out there was a struggle, based on the upturned furniture and the blood splatter alone.

Meanwhile Sam stays with his friend,“Tell us what else the police said.”

“Well, there’s no sign of a break-in. They say that Emily let her attacker in. The lawyers—they’re already talking about plea bargain.” She looks around the room and begins to cry, “Oh, God…”

“Look, Bec, if Zack didn’t do this, it means someone else did. Any idea who?” Sam asks her, over the loud noise of a dog barking nearby.

She shakes her head, “Um, there was something, about a week before. Somebody broke in here and stole some clothes—Zack’s clothes. The police—they don’t think it’s anything. I mean, we’re not that far from downtown. Sometimes people get robbed.”

Sam walks away from her with a nod. I then walk over to the half open front door, looking at the neighbors dog who hadn’t stopped barking the entire time we’ve been here.

I feel her come up behind me, “You know, that used to be the sweetest dog.”

“Oh, what happened to him?” I ask her, still looking at the black dog who bared its teeth as it barked relentlessly. If she hadn’t said anything I would think this dog was always aggressive, mean even.

“He just changed” She replies, half shrugging.

“Do you know when that change occurred?” I half turn to her.

“I guess around the time of the murder.”

I nod in confirmation, making a mental note, walking away towards the boys, a comforting hand on Rebecca’s shoulder.

The brothers stand in the hallway looking at a framed photograph of Sam, Zack, and Rebecca all together, talking over something I couldn’t quite catch. It’s bittersweet to think that even after Sam left for his “road trip” that his friends hadn’t forgotten him, had even kept up a photo of them all together.

“Apparently the neighbors dog suddenly became all aggressive around the time of Zack’s girlfriend's murder.” I retell the information I just gained. “Animals can have a sharp sense of the paranormal.” Sam adds.

“I was thinking the same thing” I nod along.

Sam turns to his brother, “So, you think maybe this is our kind of problem?”

“No. Probably not. But we should look at the security tape, you know, just to make sure.” Dean answers simply.

“Yeah.” Sam says

“Yeah.” Dean says back just as Rebecca walks over to us, “So, the tape. The security footage—you think maybe your lawyers could get their hands on it, ‘cause I just don’t have that kind of jurisdiction.”

“I’ve already got it. I didn’t wanna say something in front of a cop.” She answers, causing Dean to laugh (a little uncomfortably), “I stole it off the lawyer’s desk. I just had to see it for myself.”

“All right.” Dean says with the slightest hint of a smirk, leading us out just as he led us in.

After seeing the crime scene, Rebecca’s home stood as a total contrast. The clean cozy vibe of the home being completely absent of blood and the act of murder.

“Here he comes.” Rebecca turns her laptop towards us, pointing to the tape of Zack entering his house.

“22:04, that’s just after ten. You said time of death was about 10:30.” Dean points out.

“Our lawyers hired some kind of video expert. He says the tape’s authentic. It wasn’t tampered with.” She explains.

“Hey, Bec, can we take those beers now?” Sam cuts in, and if I hadn’t known him. Hadn’t known it was probably because he’d seen something he couldn’t exactly say with her around then I’d say it was a jerkish move.

“Oh, sure.” She gets up from the couch.

“Hey.” He calls out, forcing her to turn around, “Maybe some sandwiches, too?”

“What do you think this is, Hooters?” She replies back as she leaves the room. If I hadn’t known if I liked her before this I definitely do now.

“I wish.” Dean muttered in a hushed tone. I lightly smack the back of his head in warning. His head snapped towards me, and his eyes widened with confusion. “Don’t give me that look; you know what that was for!” I whispered, my words sharp as I poked his chest. He seized my wrist, his grip tight enough to send a shiver down my spine. The room seemed to grow smaller as my mouth fell slightly agape, and I gazed up at him through my eyelashes. He peered down at me, his green eyes seemingly a couple shades darker, a cocky smile on his face.

"Guys!" Sam whisper-shouted, and the small moment between Dean and me shattered like fragile glass. Dean quickly dropped my wrist, the cocky smile vanishing as he was caught in the act. My head reluctantly turned towards the taller man, although all I wanted was to keep my eyes on Dean, to feel his attention solely on me, but now it was all disrupted.

"Check this out," Sam rewinds the tape, seemingly unfazed by what he just witnessed. I clear my throat, attempting to dispel the lingering, fuzzy feeling that Dean's touch had stirred within me. This wasn't the time or place for distractions. Shifting my focus back to the reality of the hunt at hand, I watch as Sam rewinds the tape once more. In one of the frames, Zack stares directly at the camera, his eyes an eerie shade of silver, far from anything normal. Sam pauses the tape once again.

“Well, maybe it’s just a camera flare.” Dean shrugs, skepticism lingering in his voice.

“That’s not like any camera flare I’ve ever seen. You know, a lot of cultures believe that a photograph can catch a glimpse of the soul.” Sam informs.

“Right.” Dean says, unamused.

“No! Sam’s right! The belief has deep rooted ties to certain Native American cultures, it stems from the idea that a photograph freezes a moment in time and can capture a person’s spirit or energy at that moment.” I explained with a beaming smile, happy to share the fact.

“Do I even want to know why you know that?” Dean asks me to which I just shrugged, “I love fun facts.”

“Anyway” Sam continued, “Remember that dog that was freakin’ out? Maybe he saw this thing. Maybe this is some kind of dark double of Zack’s, something that looks like him but isn’t him.”

“Like a Doppelganger.” Dean concluded.

“Yeah. It’d sure explain how he was two places at once.” Sam finished.

As dawn broke, the persistent nudge of the boys broke me from my slumber, rousing me from a deep, cozy dream. With a groggy sigh, I realized it was just 5 a.m., way too early for me. Regret gnawed at my bones as I recalled having given them the spare key to my motel room for precisely these sort of moments.

Reluctantly, I rolled out of bed and slipped into the comforting embrace of leggings, a sports bra, and a thick zip up sweater to fend off the early morning chill. As we piled into the car and set out for Zack's home once more, the chill weather and the steady movement of the car nearly brought me back to the darkness of sleep.

The car was now parked discreetly behind the house, and we stepped out, greeted by the morning's biting cold that nipped at our cheeks. "Alright, so why are we here at 5:30 in the morning?" Dean inquired, as he nursed a cup of coffee. "Mmm, yeah, it's way too early for all of this," I mumbled groggily in agreement.

"I realized something. The videotape shows the killer going in, but not coming out," Sam explained, gesturing toward the house behind him. "So, he came out the back door?" Dean pointed out, leaning against the hood of his car, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Right. So, there should be a trail to follow. A trail the police would never pursue," Sam clarified, walking up to a large red garbage can. "Because they think the killer never left. And they caught your friend Zack inside. I still don't know why we're here at 5:30 in the morning," Dean grumbled, taking another sip from his coffee.

Sam walked away to scour the area only to stop near a telephone pole, noting, "Blood. Somebody came this way." Dean and I exchanged a perplexed look before joining Sam near the smeared blood. "The trail just ends...?" I inquired, glancing around to confirm what we were all seeing.

Suddenly the loud blaring of an ambulance sped past us, the red, white, and blue lights illuminating on the houses it passed. Once again, we exchanged a glance that balanced on the edge of caution and curiosity. With that unspoken understanding, we swiftly returned to the car and pursued the blaring ambulance.

Upon our arrival, a slightly older Asian man was being forcibly guided into a police car, his wrists cuffed tightly. Exiting the vehicle, we approached a woman nearby, clad in running wear. I asked her softly, "What happened?"

"He tried to kill his wife. Tied her up and beat her," the woman explained, causing my eyes to widen and my eyebrows to shoot up in shock.

"Really?" Sam inquired.

"I used to see him heading to work in the morning. He'd wave, say hello. He seemed like such a nice guy," the woman sighed, her gaze fixed on the man being taken away.

Moments later we had split up, Sam and I together to semi-explore the crime scene, meaning the surrounding area since the police and a sizable forensic team were diligently at work. We were on the side of the house, scouring for any clues. Oddly enough, Sam sifted through garbage cans only to come up empty-handed. All we discovered was another trail of blood that suddenly terminated. We rounded to the front of the house.

"Hey," Dean called out, causing us to turn around. "Remember when I said this wasn't our kind of problem?"

"Yeah," Sam confirmed.

"Definitely our kind of problem," Dean nodded, sort of throwing his arm into it for emphasis.

"What caused the change of heart?" I inquired, stuffing my hands into my pockets to ward off the chill.

"Well, I just spoke to the patrolman who was first on the scene, heard this guy, Alex's story. Apparently, the dude was driving home from a business trip when his wife was attacked," Dean elaborated, nodding towards a burly police officer standing nearby.

"So, he was in two places at once," Sam stated rather than asked.

"Exactly. Then he sees himself in the house; the police think he's a nutjob," Dean shot back without missing a beat.

"Two evil doubles attacking loved ones in exactly the same way, how sweet," I remarked sarcastically.

"Could be the same thing doing it, too," Dean suggested. Sam looked up in thought, "Shapeshifter? Something that can make itself look like anyone?"

"Well, you know, every culture all over the world has shapeshifter lore. All sorts of creatures who can transform themselves into animals or the other way around or even into other men, like skinwalkers, werewolves, nanaue, etcetera," I reminded.

"We've got two attacks within blocks of each other. I'm guessing we've got a shapeshifter prowling the neighborhood," Dean added.

"Let me ask you this Y/N—in all this shapeshifter lore, can any of them fly?" Sam asked me.

"Uh…no?" I answered.

He turned to Dean, leading the way, "Well then we picked up a trail here. Someone ran out the back of this building and headed off this way."

"Just like your friend's house," Dean confirmed.

"Yeah. And, just like at Zack's house, the trail suddenly ends. I mean, whatever it is just disappeared," Sam explained as we followed the trail of blood all the way to an empty street at the back of the house.

"Well, there's another way to go—down," Dean replied. The three of us peered down at a manhole.

"How lovely," I mumbled, not particularly thrilled about having to go into the sewers.

Sam lifts the grate up, allowing Dean to go in first with a smile with me following next down. Surprisingly the ladder wasn’t sticky and full of muck like I thought it’d be, but still it was gross to be down here and I don’t think two showers would be enough after this.

The tunnels were dark and leaky, a constant dripping sound coming from somewhere. “I bet this runs right by Zack’s house, too. The shapeshifter could be using the sewer system to get around.” Sam says, looking around.

“I think you’re right. Look at this.” Dean answers bending down in front of a glossy slimy pile of blood and skin. He takes out his pocket knife, pulling some of the skin up the slime of it glistening in the dim lights. I had to stop myself from gagging.

“Is this from his victims?” Sam inquires, a scrunched look of disgust on his face.

“You know, I just had a sick thought. When the shapeshifter changes shape—maybe it sheds.” Dean pointed out, letting the goop of the skin fall back to the floor.

“Why would you say that?” I cringe, my question more rhetorical than anything.

Dean opens the trunk of the Impala, taking out some bullets and entering them into the slots of the gun. “Well, one thing I learned from Dad, is that no matter what kind of shapeshifter it is, there’s one sure way to kill it.”

“Silver bullet to the heart.” Sam smiles, dimples on display.

“That’s right.” And as if on cue Sam’s phone rings.

“This is Sam.” He answers walking to the front of the car, remaining just in hearing range. And just as much as I hate to admit it, Dean and I stayed quiet to eavesdrop.

“We’re near Zack’s, we’re just checkin’ some things out.

…

What are you talkin’ about?

…

Why would you do that?

…

Bec—

…

We’re tryin’ to help.

….

Bec, I’m sorry, but—“ His hand drops to his side, sighing as he looks down,

Dean walks over to his brother with a half frown, “I hate to say it, but that’s exactly what I’m talkin’ about.” He pauses before continuing, “You lie to your friends because if they knew the real you, they’d be freaked.” Again he pauses, “It’s just—it’d be easier if—“

“If I was like you.” Sam finished his sentence.

Dean breathes out looking around, “Hey, man, like it or not, we are not like other people.” He pauses for a third time, “But I’ll tell you one thing. This whole gig—it ain’t without perks.” He holds up a gun at hip level, Sam takes it with a sigh and begins tucking it into the back of his jeans. He begins to walk away leaving Dean and I behind.

Dean walks back over to me by the open trunk, he leans against the car as I hand him a flashlight. “What’s with that pout?” He asks me, tilting his head down to catch my eyes.

“I’m not pouting” I smile, nearly laughing. “I happen to know you quite well, you were definitely pouting sweetheart.” He smiles now too, “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

I closed the trunk, Dean taking another flashlight from me so I could tuck a small gun into the side of my leggings as I balanced my own flashlight. “I’m thinking that…this job is destructive” I look up at Dean who waits for me to continue, “Seeing Sammy with Rebecca and how happy he was just seeing a friend from college, or that photo with the three of them all together. It was bittersweet to see that really, knowing that he was and can be happy without all this” I motion to the flashlights and the guns neatly tucked away.

“I know” he sighs, “lasting relationships ain’t exactly part of the job description” he smiles sadly and I know he didn’t really know what to say to me.

I gave him a slow nod, giving his upper arm a squeeze as I walked past him, “We should go before Sam starts bugging us for taking so long.”

With guns and flashlights drawn, we cautiously treaded through the sewer, a squishy, unpleasant noise underfoot with each step. I’d definitely need to burn my shoes and clothes after this ordeal.

The sewer resembled a labyrinth, an intricate network of pipes and tunnels twisting and turning in every direction. Drips of who-knows-what fell from the ceiling. Despite our careful steps to avoid the puddles on the ground, I still felt utterly disgusted. There was not enough showering in the world to cleanse me of this event.

With Sam leading the way, his gun extended ahead of him, Dean broke the silence, "I think we're close to its lair."

"Why do you say that?" Sam murmured without turning back to acknowledge his brother. "Because there's another nauseating pile next to your face," Dean retorted, using his flashlight to reveal a slimy heap of skin clinging to a pipe. Sam leaped back, repulsed. "Oh, God!" He glanced down at his shoulder, which had been perilously close to the pile.

I moved my flashlight just past Sam, revealing a pile of discarded clothes. "I think it's lived here for a while."

"Who knows how many murders he's gotten away with," Sam added, turning to face us. "Dean!" He suddenly shouted. Both of us spun around to see the shapeshifter, still in its last victim's form, right behind us. The shapeshifter struck Dean, sending him crashing to the sewer floor, then sprinted away. Sam fired twice, the bullets whizzing just above my head. He missed.

I bent down to assist Dean, who clutched his left shoulder, grimacing. "Get that son of a bitch!" He grunted and nodded as Sam took off, leaning against the wall. Dean gestured for me to follow his brother.

Running in a sewer was just as challenging as walking, with overhead pipes requiring us to duck to avoid collision.

Sam reached a ladder and began ascending it, lifting himself up and out. I followed, feeling the cold night air surrounding me as I emerged. We stood in a park, a distance from where we had entered, scanning the surroundings. Dean struggled out of the manhole, still holding his shoulder.

"All right, let's split up," Sam suggested, concealing his gun within his jacket, out of sight from the passersby in the park. The fact that they hadn't noticed us emerging from a manhole was beyond me, but I didn't question it when it worked in our favor.

“All right, I’ll meet you guys around the other side.” Dean agreed.

“Copy” I answered in confirmation, I twirled to the left as Sam headed right, and Dean proceeded straight. Despite the cold air, I unzipped my thick sweater to conceal my gun while ensuring I could still draw it swiftly. Even though I was comfy I began to regret just wearing a sports bra beneath my sweater, my stomach and above my breasts open to the frigid air.

I walked cautiously, weaving through crowds, scanning both people and the shops that remained open. Yet, street after street, there was no sign of our quarry. No more than five to ten minutes passed before I spotted Sam standing by a crosswalk. I tucked my gun into my leggings, finally able to zip up my sweater. He must have caught sight of me approaching from the corner of his eye.

"Nothing?" he asked, even though he likely knew the answer. I nodded in confirmation.

"Hey," Dean's voice called out from behind us, prompting us to turn toward him. "Anything?" he inquired, arms outstretched. "No. He's gone," Sam replied as his brother approached.

"Alright, let's get back to the car," Dean ordered, and we complied, turning to cross the street.

“You think he found another way underground?” Sam asks, stopping at the side of the Impala.

“Yeah, probably. You got the keys?” Dean retorts.

“Hey, didn’t Dad once face a shapeshifter in San Antonio?” Sam turns around facing Dean.

“Oh, that was Austin. It turned out not to be a shapeshifter, it was a thought form. A psychic projection, remember?”

“Oh, right. Here ya go.” He throws Dean the keys who catches it with his…left hand, he opens the trunk of the car. Sam walks off towards the front of the car but I hang back, maybe I'm overthinking it but this isn’t something that I can just let slip by.

“Hey, Dean” I call out my gun trained carefully on his back, “Yeah sweetheart” He answers turning around. I fight the urge to cringe hearing the usual endearing pet name curl off the lips of someone who wasn’t Dean, even more so a being who looked like him.

Sam sees my movements and swiftly moves to the right side of his brother, “Y/N! What are you doing”

“Yeah, chill. It’s me, all right?” ‘Dean shoots back his arms raised in defense.

“Sammy, he caught the keys with his left hand” I explained through gritted teeth. In my peripheral vision I see Sam’s eyes widen in realization, he mumbles, “Your shoulder was hurt.” His hand moved to the back of his waistband, searching for his gun. But before he could reach it, the shapeshifter swung a crowbar from the trunk, striking Sam down. My gun went off twice, the first bullet missing entirely, allowing the shapeshifter to hit Sam once more.

The second bullet nearly finding its mark, grazing his shoulder. He turned his head slowly toward me, glaring up at me through his lashes. A bullet grazing his shoulder didn't seem to slow him down. He stalked toward me, like a predator closing in on its prey. But before I could pull the trigger for a third time, he used the same crowbar to knock the gun out of my hand. The sharp metal sent the weapon tumbling, 'Dean' kicking it behind him, it sliding beneath the car.

He grinned at me, and my eyes widened with a mix of fear and determination. As he swung his arm back, ready to strike me with the crowbar, I grabbed hold of it, both hands clenching the cold metal. He was undeniably stronger than me, so I braced my feet even harder against the ground, bending my knees for added leverage and pushing up against the weapon.

His feet swept under me, sending me crashing hard to the ground, my back absorbing the brunt of the impact. I grunted, pushing myself up on my elbows, preparing to rise. But he quickly knelt over me, a knee on each side of my hips. 'Dean's' large, veiny hand closed around my throat, gripping it tightly. I used my hands to try and push him off, but it was futile. With his free hand, he seized my wrists, pinning them to my chest. My head lolled back against the concrete street.

My chest began to burn with the desperate need for air, and tears welled up in my eyes from the pain. Black spots started to invade my vision as I gazed up at 'Dean' through half lidded eyes. “Come on, baby," he growled, his voice raspy as his grip tightened even further. It was the last thing I heard before everything faded to black.

In and out, voices sang in a disjointed melody. Dim lights blurred behind my closed eyes. Fragments of Sam's voice pierced through the darkness, the words struggling to piece together. "Where...he...?...Dean?"

I blinked slowly, my head swaying to the side and then back. With a deep breath, my eyes snapped open. We were in the sewer.

Sam sat directly across from me, tightly bound to a pole, a rope encircling his neck. Strangely, it wasn't a rope that constricted my neck but something cold. I lurched my shoulders forward, feeling the restrictive, itchy rope around my ankles, wrists bound behind my back, and right beneath my breasts. It was then that I noticed my sweatshirt was missing.

"I wouldn't worry about him. I'd worry about you," 'Dean' told Sam, seemingly unaware that I was also awake.

I attempted to move my bound hands, intending to use my magic to free myself from the ropes, but nothing happened. I couldn't sense my magic at all. Panic began to well up within me. I kicked my feet out in frustration, though beneath the surface, I was terrified. I couldn't feel my magic.

'Dean's' head snapped toward me, his gaze drawn to my soft whimpers of fear. "Are you wondering why you can't just...poof out of there?" I didn't answer. He crouched down in front of me, tapping the cold, constricting object around my neck, the sharp clicking of his nails against metal audible. "Iron," he whispered. He firmly grasped my chin, moving my face as though to savor what he'd done, offering me no chance to evade his touch. "From what I've learned from you guys, this has never happened to you," he murmured. He was right; while I was aware of what could inhibit a witch's powers, it had never been used against me

"Fuck you," I spat out, the curse word feeling alien on my tongue. I wasn't one to curse often.

"Oh, right back at you, sweetheart," he chuckled, rising from his crouched position and strolling over to a nearby table.

"What do you mean, 'learn'?" Sam asked him. The shapeshifter paused, gripping his head in pain and grimacing, then suddenly relaxed.

This time, he moved over to Sam, his voice laden with resentment. "He's got some serious issues with you. You went to college, and he had to stay home. I mean, I had to stay home with Dad." He corrected himself, "You don't think I had dreams of my own? But Dad needed me. Where the hell were you?"

Sam brushed aside his comment and pressed, "Where is my brother?"

The shapeshifter leaned in close to Sam, his words oozing with bitterness. "I am your brother. See, deep down, I'm just jealous. You have friends. You could have a life. Me? I know I'm a freak. Sooner or later, everybody's going to leave me." He retreated to another table, this time picking up a knife.

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked.

"You left. Hell, I did everything Dad asked me to, and he ditched me, too. No explanation, nothing, just poof. Left me with your sorry ass. But, still, this life? It's not without its perks," he laughed darkly. "I meet the nicest people. Like little Becky."

His gaze shifted to me now, his head tilted to the side in a taunt "You know, Dean would bang her if he had the chance." I strained against my restraints, and he turned back to Sam. "Let's see what happens." He walked away, grabbing a bag on his way out.

As soon as the shapeshifter was out of sight, Sam and I began struggling against our restraints. "Damn it," Sam grunted.

I mirrored his efforts, but anxiety washed over me, and my breathing became rapid and shallow. Panic coursed through my veins, I couldn’t feel my magic. The unfamiliar absence of my powers only added to my distress. Leaning my head back against the pole, I hoped that somehow, it would rid me of the constricting iron collar around my neck.

"Y/N, you've got to breathe," Sam urged through gritted teeth as he continued to struggle against the bindings. I tried to listen to him, taking a deep breath that got caught in my throat as I attempted to swallow a sob, releasing a low whimper.

Suddenly, Sam ceased his struggles, and we both listened. We heard movement and coughing coming from somewhere behind him.

"That better be you, Sam, and not that freak of nature," Dean's voice called out from a corner his, also tied to a pole.

"Yeah, it's me," Sam chuckled. "He went to Rebecca's, looking like you," Sam added as he continued to struggle against his ropes.

"Well, he's not stupid. He picked the handsome one," Dean joked as he continued working on his own ropes. “Yeah, that’s the thing. He didn’t just look like you, he was you. Or he was becoming you.” Sam explains further.

“What do you mean?” Dean asks.

“I don’t know, it was like he was downloading your thoughts and memories.” Sam shrugs as well as he can in his confinement.

“You mean, like the Vulcan mind meld?” Dean references, escaping his ropes. “Yeah, somethin’ like that. I mean, maybe that’s why he doesn’t just kill us.” Sam suggests.

Dean walks over to us, standing between the two of us. I urged him to release Sam first, my voice trembling. He nodded and moved behind Sam to undo the ropes. “Maybe he needs to keep us alive. Psychic connection.” Sam was quickly freed and stood up to stretch his neck and flex his hands. "Go see if you can find a drill or something for that," Dean ordered, pointing at the metal collar around my neck. Sam nodded and began searching the nearby tables.

Dean crouched next to me, undoing my restraints as he inquired, "What is that thing?"

"Iron," I mumbled, and his eyes widened in realization. He pulled out a pocket knife, I assume he picked up from the nearby table. I flinched slightly, even though I knew this was Dean, the real Dean who would never harm me.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. I'm just using it for the ropes," he reassured me, raising his hands in defense and displaying the knife. He glanced at his brother across the room, and I couldn't decipher their exchanged looks. I felt silly.

Sam approached with the drill in hand, "I got it," he said, kneeling on the other side of me to begin unscrewing the collar. It seemed to be a rectangular piece of iron cut from a sheet and then drilled into the pole around me, creating this confining device. The whirring of the drill close to my ear did little to ease my anxiety.

The rope around which had rested just below my breasts, fell free. Dean quickly moved on to the one binding my wrists, which came apart more easily, and then to my ankles. I placed my hands on my lap, my wrists slightly bruised from the rope, and finger imprints marked into my skin. I now dreaded seeing what my neck looked like.

Dean's large hands cupped my wrists, gently massaging my sore skin. His movements faltered when he realized his hands and fingers matched perfectly with the bruises. The whirring of the drill stopped as Sam shifted the metal slightly, allowing me to slip free. I shuffled away from the collar, standing up quickly, nearly stumbling over myself. The sensation of my abilities returning enveloped me, offering a sense of comfort.

Both brothers stood up from their crouched positions, and Sam walked away to place the drill somewhere.

Dean approached me slowly, as if I were a frightened animal. He paused just inches in front of me, his eyebrows furrowing as he scrutinized my bruised form. His hand reached up slowly, giving me the chance to evade him, but I didn't. I allowed him to cup my cheek, his touch gentle and in stark contrast to the shapeshifter. I reminded myself that the shapeshifter wasn't him.

His gaze was soft as he observed me, carefully tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. He'd already seen the bruises, but his eyes dipped to my neck again, a touch of sorrow evident in his gaze. Just like my wrists, if he put his hand to my neck, it would match perfectly. I knew he would blame himself for this later.

With his hand still cradling my cheek, he brought my face closer to his. His lips pressed to the crown of my head, lingering there for a moment, and I melted against him. The urge to cry washed over me again, though this time it wasn't from fear, but rather from the overwhelming relief.

"Sorry to ruin the moment, but we've got to go," Sam's voice broke the silence from across the room. Dean didn't jump back or withdraw, instead his lips left my head as his hand slid from my face gently. His hand sought mine, and we followed Sam as he led us out.

Sam kicks open a grate, going out first into an alleyway. I crawl out after him, Dean following closely behind. The cold air nipped at us, our jackets nowhere in sight, and though that mixed with my bruising wasn’t the greatest fun in the world I at least got to see Dean in a tight light gray shirt. This probably shouldn’t have been on my mind at this moment but it was a nice distraction.

“Come on. We gotta find a phone, call the police.” Sam orders.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. You’re gonna put an APB out on me.” Dean exclaims.

Sam shrugs, “Sorry.”

“This way.” Dean runs off down the street.

We stood in front of a store window, a bunch of little tvs broadcasting the same news channel.

The reporter announces, “An anonymous tip led police to a home in the Central West End, where a S.W.A.T team discovered a local woman bound and gagged. Her attacker, a white male, approximately twenty-four to thirty years of age, was discovered hiding in her home.” A sketch of Dean appearing on screen, “

“Man! That’s not even a good picture.” Dean throws up his arms.

“It’s good enough” I answer, looking around at the passerby, “We should move somewhere more out of sight.”

“Agreed” Sam says walking off. “Man!” Dean complains following after his brother.

"Come on," Sam paused in the alleyway. "They said attempted murder. At least we know—"

"I didn't kill her," Dean cut him off.

"We'll check with Rebecca in the morning, see if she's all right," Sam suggested. But I couldn't picture her wanting to see us.

"Alright, but first, I wanna find that handsome devil and kick the holy crap out of him," Dean declared.

"We have no weapons. No silver bullets," Sam pointed out.

"Sam, the guy's walking around with my face. It's personal. I want to find him," Dean argued, crossing his arms.

"Okay. Where do we look?" Sam asked.

"Well, we could start with the sewers," Dean suggested.

"We have no weapons. He stole our guns. We need more," Sam reasoned.

"Oh," I laughed. "You want guns. I'll give you guns." I flicked my wrist, and a gray revolver appeared in my hand, just like when I produced the flare gun back during the wendigo hunt.

I handed the gun to Sam, adding, "How many do you want?"

“I don’t think I can wait, I'm gonna go check on Rebecca now.” Sam said as we walked around some back streets, near the person in question's house.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? No offense” I ask him.

“Yeah. You guys just wait for me don’t go into the sewers alone” Sam orders

“Sorry Sammy but do you really think i’ll be able to listen to that” Dean responds chuckling.

“Alright, fair point. Go, i’ll stay with Becca just don’t split up” Sam comprises, turning away to go to Rebecca’s.

Guns raised, Dean leads us across a ‘room’ in the sewer. The chamber filled candles and chains, more piles of disgusting skin and blood on the floor.

A muffling noise echoes through the halls, Dean and I share a look gripping our guns tighter as we approach a figure covered with a sheet.

Dean bends down to the figure, removing the sheet to see Rebecca beneath it. Her hands and feet were bound.

“Rebecca?” Dean and I ask at the same time.

“What happened?” I ask as Dean begins to undue her binds.

Rebecca begins to cry, “ I was walking home, and everything just went white. Someone hit me over the head, and I wound up here just in time to see that thing turn into me. I don’t know, how is that even possible?”

“Okay, okay. It’s okay.” Dean finishes untying her, “Come on. Can you walk?” She nods, “Okay, we’ve gotta hurry. Sam went to see you.”

Even from outside her house you could hear the commotion and most likely fighting that happened inside. Dean crept the door open, gun drawn as he snuck in. I mimicked his movement falling after him into the living room.

The shapeshifter was on top of Sam, pinning him down.

“Hey!” Dean calls out to the shapeshifter. He gets off of Sam turning to the voice that beckoned it. Two shots ring out, through the heart and down the shapeshifter went.

Rebecca enters running over to her friend, “Sam!”

Meanwhile Dean went over to the shapeshifter that looked like him yanking back his necklace that was stolen, and it was probably bad that I hadn’t known it was gone till now.

I sat in my usual spot in the back seat of the Impala, cozied up with my halloween blanket regardless of the fact it was early March. It’s my favorite and I won’t accept any criticism.

The early morning sun shone through the windows, we hadn’t slept last night, spending the entire time busy with the hunt and by the time it was over morning was already breaking and we had to leave to avoid the police. We stopped at the motel for our bags but that was it, we were going to bid our goodbyes and then head to the next state over to rest up. I wasn’t even able to shower, which was okay in retrospect, I'd feel cleaner mentally once we drove away from here. I’d thrown a random t-shirt I had over the sports bra I had been running around in for hours. We eventually did find our coats but I hadn’t taken mine with me, memories I hadn’t wanted to keep sewn into its fabric.

Dean leaned on the outside of the car looking at a map while Sam talked to his friend. Neither boy bothered me or had talked to me much in the couple of hours since the end of our hunt, perhaps too afraid to ask if I was okay or maybe they didn’t know what to say.

I looked out the window watching the trees dance slowly in the wind after waving bye to Rebecca, listening to the boys talk in front of the car.

“So, what about your friend, Zack?” Dean asks now ignoring the map.

“ Cops are blamin’ this Dean Winchester guy for Emily’s murder.” Sam jokes smiling, “They found the murder weapon in the guy’s lair, Zack’s clothes stained with her blood. Now they’re thinking maybe the surveillance tape was tampered with. Yeah, Becca says Zack will be released soon.”

Dean rolls his eyes, scuffing, before getting into the car.

We’ve only driven for a couple minutes before Dean brings back the subject of the hunt and everything that had unfolded, “Sorry, man.” Dean suddenly began.

“About what?” Sam responds.

“ I really wish things could be different, you know? I wish you could just be….Joe College.” Dean confesses.

“No, that’s okay. You know, the truth is, even at Stanford, deep down, I never really fit in.” Sam admits too.

“Well, that’s ‘cause you’re a freak.” Dean smiles that charming sweet smile.

“Yeah, thanks.” Sam laughs.

“Well, I’m a freak, too.” Dean adds

“You already know I'm one!” I topple on.

“See, we’re right there with ya, all the way.” Dean chuckles. “Yeah, I know you are.” Sam looks between Dean and I as he speaks.

“Those who freak together, stay together?” I offer with a smile, the car falling into laughter. The kind of laughter that lasts in the air even after it was over with, it was stupid of course but it left a warmth in my heart that blanketed me with just enough comfort to last me till the next state over where I'd be safe.

The car fell silent, big smiles on all our faces, “You know, I gotta say—I’m sorry I’m gonna miss it.” Dean announces randomly.

“Miss what?” Sam laughs lightly.

“How many chances am I gonna have to see my own funeral?”

[chvoswxtch]

OMG HII HAPPY 2K, LOVE!!!!

Thank you for writing and sharing it with the world, FOR FREE ‼️💖💕💞

Truly a blessing if u ask me and know you're appreciated by me (a big whore) and other people alike 😋

I'd like to order an old fashioned with Frank Castle, please!

So here goes my silly thot:

hunter/butcher!Frank au (anything to do with selling meat)

+

"I didn't come here for meat. I came for your meat."

AHHH MY LOVE!!! THANK YOU!!! 💖

i'm not gonna lie to you, reading this one turned me rabid. if i may be an absolute whore add some spice to this old fashioned-

this old fashioned is garnished with jalepeño (minors dni)

thots below the cut

frank castle's meat

let's set the stage, shall we? we're talking long haired, bearded frankie (think punisher season 1)

he's the local butcher in town, and all his meats come from his own hunting kills

now frankie has a shop most of his customers come to so they can get their meats, but because you typically work while his shop is open, he allows you to come by his cabin to pick up your orders

his secluded cabin in the middle of the woods (you know where this is going)

now you know for a fact he doesn't allow anyone else to do this, and you use that knowledge that he's sweet on you to your full advantage

maybe your dresses and shorts get a little shorter with every visit, or your shirts get just a little more low cut, but frankie doesn't seem to mind and you notice his flannels and henleys are far more unbuttoned around you than they are when he's in town

being the gentleman he is, he loads everything into your car for you

"can't have you gettin' your pretty hands all dirty."

sometimes he lingers for a moment, leaning up against your car as he asks you about your day or how work is going, and you ask him questions in return. if he's busy and doesn't have time for small talk, he'll throw a little extra something in for you, but he never invites you inside

he's not the chattiest person, and he's always polite and professional when he's talking to you, but that doesn't mean you don't catch the way his eyes wander when he thinks you're not watching him

you keep your flirting playful and light, just in case you're reading him wrong and he really is just that nice, but eventually you grow frustrated and decide if he's not going to make a move, then you will

so you put on your prettiest dress and the sexiest pair of panties you own and drive to frankie's one friday night, and that mountain of a man is on his porch before you can even shut your engine off bc he saw the headlights

and while there's clear confusion on his face when he sees you, the second you get out of your car and he sees what you’re wearing, that confusion quickly melts into something else

"hey sweetheart. I uh...missin' somethin'? didn't think you had an order to pick up tonight."

and the clear lust shinning in his eyes underneath the glow of the moonlight fills you to the brim with that last ounce of confidence you needed to finally get what you want

you swear you see him swallow thickly when you approach him slowly with a sultry smile on your lips and a shake of your head

"I didn't come here for meat, Frankie. I came for your meat."

again, being the gentleman he is, frankie just stares at you with wide eyes, refusing to make a move until he's sure he knows exactly what you're asking for and stumbling over his words

"I uh...don't think I...I know what you're askin' for here, sweetheart."

"I think you do, Frankie. I think you want something from me, too. What do you say we work out a trade?"

if you weren't so turned on you would find it comical that you rendered the giant broody man everyone in town was intimidated by so nervous that he couldn't speak, but you were turned on and impatient so you take frankie's hands and guide them to your hips until he gets the hint

and that is all the confirmation he needs to pounce and then there is not an inch of your skin his hands aren't exploring

he's wanted you for so long that he can't even make it to the bedroom. he spreads you out right over his dining table and drops to his knees to get a taste of you before he's fucking you so hard over it that the table ends up halfway across the living room by the time he's done with you

needless to say, you're his favorite customer

[random-chaotic-bitch]

Maddi's Reaction to TBB S3 Finale

Warning: SPOILERS. LOTS AND LOTS OF SPOILERS

The episode title killed me a little bit, ngl

I mean, "The Cavalry Has Arrived". Talk about a callback lmao

Ofc Omega found a way to release the Zillo Beast. And Echo's reaction was amazing. "How do you know?" "Because it's exactly what I'd do!"

Same with Hunter, Wrecker, and Crosshair: "Echo or Omega?" "Omega." "Omega."

I was so fucking convinced that the og operative - the one with the sniper rifle - was gonna be Winter Soldier-ified Tech. Like, I was banking on it, and it turns out he was just a random clone. (I might make a rewrite changing that outcome lol)

Emerie finally became a good guy! After Episode 10, I was rooting for her to wake the fuck up haha. Glad she came to her senses, and very proud that Echo had the sense to trust her.

Oh, speaking of the not-actually-Tech operative, HE CUT CROSSHAIR'S HAND OFF?! CROSSHAIR BBY NOOOO

Ahem. I'm not mad. It's a TV show, it's not real, I'm not mad.

Sorry, where was I?

Hunter and Crosshair finally acting like brothers again makes my heart so happy. "You should stay here. I'll go after Omega." "Not a chance."

Ooh, when Echo found Omega and the other kids, the way he greeted her made me wanna cry a little bit. And the way the kids hugged her before Emerie flew them to safety - guys, my heart can't take this cuteness.

Echo's speech to the prisoners gave me Fives' battle for Kamino speech. "You've all been through enough, and you all deserve your freedom, but Omega and I can't do this alone. Will any of you help us?" compared to "We're one of the same. Same heart, same blood. And my blood's boiling for a fight." "But what about our training?" "Your training is in your blood."

Hunter, Crosshair, and Omega working together almost non-verbally to kill Hemlock was amazing. Our baby Omega has grown up so much since Season 1, and I'm so proud of her. Also, yay, Hemlock is dead!

Nala Se's "sacrifice" to destroy her work kinda made me tear up, ngl. (I say "sacrifice" because it wasn't a big thing like Tech's death, she just got shot by Rampart and dropped the detonator at his feet. It still made me tear up tho.)

Everyone recovering on Pabu made me so happy, but we didn't see Phee and Omega reunite, which was kind of a let-down. But, everyone's safe and happy, so I'll take it.

Now for the big thing: THE END SCENE

Oh my god baby Omega grew up so much. Her long hair in the really loose and messy ponytail made me so happy haha. Also, was that Hunter's bandana? TBB team, can we confirm?

Speaking of Hunter, his older look makes me so happy. No armor, just soft, comfortable clothes. (I do miss the old bandana though)

Hunter's concern about Omega becoming a Rebellion pilot is so fatherly omfg. Also, our baby is a Rebellion pilot!!

Omega's little salute to Hunter and Batcher made my heart melt a little. Seeing Tech's goggles on the dashboard also didn't help. And Hunter's final line - "She'll be fine."

Guys, I'm in awe. This episode was amazing. Laughed, cried, and melted the whole way through. Perfect ending for our favorite squad.

[foxes-that-run]

The Lakes

The lakes is about escaping the challenging aspects of Taylor Swift's life with her muse to form an artist community like Wordsworth and Keats had in the Lakes district in the 19th century.

Above, the Lyric video shows wildflowers, LK has referenced this song and Harry also has for a Pleasing campaign. In the vertical video Taylor is on a swing, reminiscent of the swing in Seven, possibly about Harry. Finally a photo with a swan in The Lakes District.

In the Long Pond Session Taylor said (I've shortened it)

'The Lakes is a testament of what I wanted to escape from and where I saw myself escaping to. We'd gone to the Lake District in England a couple years ago. In the 19th century you had a lot of poets like William Wordsworth and John Keats. There was a poet district. They had their own community of other artists, which I've always in my career.' Jack: 'it's not just I've found something worth escaping to it’s a person to escape with.” Taylor agreed "That's a huge sincere statement of hope, everything I'm naming is completely small compared to this love.” “Hoax as the ending song was interesting for a couple weeks but then I wanted the real last song. The Lakes shows you exactly what the overarching theme of the whole album of trying to escape and having something you want to protect, protect your own sanity and saying look they did this hundreds of years ago, I'm not the first person who's felt this way.

Taylor said they had gone to the lakes "a couple of years ago", and she described a poet district with an artist community, meaning fellow songwriters. She had been to the Lakes with a couple of years ago with on her first trip there with Harry Styles on her birthday in 2012. At the time Taylor said it was her best birthday since she was 6. Like Taylor, Harry has a similar experience of fame and is a lyricist. Harry has also sung about being in an artist community with Taylor, in Canyon Moon, which has a very similar idea as The Lakes.

I have seen people refer to the Invisible String Lyric "Our three-year trip / Getting lunch down by the Lakes" to point to Joe. While not photographed, their 3rd anniversary was October 2019, or 6 months before this song was recorded. 'A couple of years ago' rather than 'last year' implies the earlier trip. Joe is also not a lyricist, she spoke about an artist community. He is credited as a producer on Folklore. Taylor described how William Bowery wrote the melody's not lyrics.

Lyrics

Is it romantic how all my elegies eulogize me? I'm not cut out for all these cynical clones These hunters with cell phones

An elegie is the speech at a funeral, her songs, particularly those she is reclaiming are like diary. She lost her eulogie, the story of her life.

The last line refers back to 'I Know Places' "They are the hunters, we are the foxes" where she and Harry ran from paparazzi, now they hide from every person with a cell phone.

Take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die I don't belong, and my beloved, neither do you Those Windermere peaks look like a perfect place to cry I'm setting off, but not without my muse

Taylor is saying she is not cut out for the music industry life, she lost the rights to her diary, constantly photographed. In the Long Pond she referred to having this plan for years, which she foreshadowed for Lover, and I think Harry's Peace ring. I think they may have shared this plan when they first visited for when she turned 30 and into 2020. Folklore is about communication and how life differs to what a 23 year old planned.

The final line is so lovely, her muse is Harry Styles. No other partner has inspired so much work or so much success, they have inspired and encouraged each other to do their best work. Even when they are with others for years they still write about each other. When they see each other they are prolific. Harry has even sung about how he writes too much about her. I could list what proportion of awards and hits are about this relationship, but let's stay in the Windermere peaks.

Despite their success Taylor does not think they are cut out for this life. Taylor has sung about Harry's anxiety in New Years Day and Now that we don't talk, it's also apparent watching him at award shows in his solo career. This song and many (Mirrorball, I know places, Slut!, You're on your own kid) are about how fame impacted Taylor.

What should be over burrowed under my skin In heart-stopping waves of hurt I've come too far to watch some namedropping sleaze Tell me what are my words worth

The first line I think could have 2 meanings, one that the relationship should be over but it is not and the waves are hurt of not being together. Or, and I think this because of the second half, Taylor cannot let her masters go. The last line is a pun on the worth of her words and the poet William Wordsworth.

I want auroras and sad prose I want to watch wisteria grow right over my bare feet 'Cause I haven't moved in years And I want you right here A red rose grew up out of ice frozen ground With no one around to tweet it While I bathe in cliffside pools With my calamitous love and insurmountable grief

I want auroras and sad prose, refers to Harry Styles. She describes his eyes as “aurora borealis green” in Snow on the Beach. She also describes him as sad boy in Question..?, he does write sad prose.

In the Long Pond Session Taylor said "I could see this you know you you live in a cottage and you've got Wisteria growing up the outside of it and you just why you know of course they escaped like that." William Wordsworths cottage (below) has wisteria growing on the side, which is a slow growing purple plant, almost a lavender haze!

I love the imagery of 'Red rose grew out of rose in frozen ground', because it refers to Rose, which is a Haylor theme. But also because it refers to the track before Hoax: "My winless fight, this has frozen my ground" It also refers to a theme of hiding their love, "I would die for you secret" in Peace, that something beautiful and no one needs to know about it.

The last lines are so poetic and dramatic I love them. Calamitous love refers to a love that’s “built to fall apart (and back together)” in OOTW or "a crooked love in a straight line down” in IWYW. Taylor used a similar word discussing SOTB, calling it cataclysmic love. Taylor describes her dramatic and passionate relationship with Harry rather than staide and safe one described with Joe.

Her insurmountable grief is all she’s lost, her masters, the things she gave up in your own your own kid and things she has to pine about.

Take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die I don't belong, and my beloved, neither do you Those Windermere peaks look like a perfect place to cry I'm setting off, but not without my muse No, not without you

Love this chorus, such beautiful poetry about poets and love.

[phoenixwatchesmovies]

2023 Favorites

I'm kinda glad I was keeping track of what I watched, in retrospect, because looking back over my posts this year, I realized I forgot about a lot of stuff. XD After looking over the recaps and excluding rewatches, here's my top ten New Stuff I Watched for 2023:

10. Cabinet Of Curiosities

Bizarre nightmares unfold in eight tales of terror in a visually stunning, spine-tingling horror collection curated by Guillermo del Toro.

If GDT is your guy, give this a watch. Creature features, cursed objects, aliens, you name it. 8/8 tentacled eldritch abominations.

9. Wolf Creek

Three backpackers stranded in the Australian outback are plunged inside a hellish nightmare of insufferable torture by a sadistic psychopathic local.

Holy shit, this was intense. And as I said initially, so mean. If you're into Texas Chainsaw Massacre, try this. I'm into franchise bingo, so I'm going to look into the sequels and TV series. 3/3 heads on a stick.

8. Requiem For A Dream

The drug-induced utopias of four Coney Island people are shattered when their addictions run deep.

I get the feeling this is one of those that hurts so much more on rewatching, so there's that to look forward to. I've also rarely seen movies that do so much harmonizing between the music and the visuals, and it was so satisfying. 4/4 refrigerator jump scares.

7. Evil Dead Rise

A twisted tale of two estranged sisters whose reunion is cut short by the rise of flesh-possessing demons, thrusting them into a primal battle for survival as they face the most nightmarish version of family imaginable.

This was probably the most fun I had with a horror movie all year, TBH. Horror exploring family dynamics will always be a fave, and this brought plenty of fresh stuff to the franchise while also holding onto the core traits. 5/5 Staffenies.

6. Dungeons and Dragons: Honor Among Thieves

A charming thief and a band of unlikely adventurers embark on an epic quest to retrieve a lost relic, but things go dangerously awry when they run afoul of the wrong people.

This was the most fun I had watching a movie all year, period. If you know nothing about DND, it's a good fantasy movie. If you're a DND nerd, the game mechanics are baked into it. If you're a fan of found families, guess what! 6/6 stealth checks.

5. Cowboy Bebop

A ragtag crew of bounty hunters chases down the galaxy's most dangerous criminals. They'll save the world--for the right price.

I got exactly what I wanted out of this, so haters be damned. The anime is a masterpiece and a classic, but if you're not in the mood for the existentialism and other heavier themes, here ya go. 3/3 shower-bath-showers.

4. The Black Phone

After being abducted by a child killer and locked in a soundproof basement, a 13-year-old boy starts receiving calls on a disconnected phone from the killer's previous victims.

Near perfect, as far as I'm concerned. The older I get, the more kids-in-danger as a concept fucks with me, making this the most stressful movie I watched this year (though It Chapter One gave it a run for its money, and I still think they would make a great double feature). 5/5 black balloons.

3. Evil Dead (2013)

Five friends head to a remote cabin, where the discovery of a Book of the Dead leads them to unwittingly summon up demons living in the nearby woods.

It's gnarly. It's badass. I almost puked. I had THE BEST time. The story works as an effective allegory, the effects are gruesomely awesome, and the finale is metal af. Plain and simple. 70,000/70,000 gallons of fake blood.

2. The Crow

A man brutally murdered comes back to life as an undead avenger of his and his fiancée's murder.

Beautiful, sad, aesthetic for days, hella good soundtrack. *chef kiss* I still haven't seen The Batman, but they seem visually similar, so if you like that, you'll probably like this. For more in-depth thoughts, read my post. 1/1 epic rooftop guitar solos.

1. The Fall Of The House Of Usher

To secure their fortune (and future) two ruthless siblings build a family dynasty that begins to crumble when their heirs mysteriously die, one by one.

Not just a new favorite Mike Flanagan. A new favorite in general, and my number one for the year. I just screamed about this one last month, and I don't have anything more to add. I've seen Succession comparisons, and while I have no idea how accurate that is, there's my "if you like that, here's this." Holy crap. 7/7 deadly sins personified.

Happy New Year! 🥂

[mantisgodsdomain]

Once again we return to Old Faithful Format (discord conversation transfer so we don't have to write things out in a post in a more coherent manner). This time about Scarlet. Transcript below cut.

Mantis God: Problems on purpose!!! Problems on purpose!!! Mildly off topic but we think Scarlet's the kind of guy where, like. He'll say or do Literally Anything if he thinks that it'll benefit him or get him out of a situation and it'll absolutely bite him in the ass if he hangs around somewhere for too long because that setup means he's absolutely willing to, like. Flip sides on a whim and eternally denounce something he was singing the praises of five minutes ago if he thinks it'll get him somewhere

Lavender: Yeahhh He's such a guy

Mantis God: He's a good actor but he's the sort of chameleon that personalizes his persona to whoever he's dealing with and it gets really obvious if he ever gets put in a situation where he has to juggle conflicting personas Guy of all time tbh we love him very much

Lavender: Yeeeee If I ever write him I'm sure I'll have a grand time In a similar vein to how I'm writing Hunter rn like "would he fucking say that?? no. no surely not. …but maybe???"

Mantis God: Scarlet is so fun to write But admittedly we're biased He's great because he has. Literally seven lines of dialogue total in the game and he chameleons enough in those seven lines that as long as you get the right cadence he'll, like. Always scan correctly.

Lavender: Whereas Hunter has probably more samples of his character voice than probably any other character in Hollowed Aight and we get plenty of his perspective on prey but no examples of him talking TO prey so I'm struggling

Mantis God: Antisocial

Lavender: I feel like I'm making him sound too much like a stereotypical villain

Mantis God: Tilt him around a bit rewrite the scene We suggest trying, like. Write it bad then go over it and see where it comes apart Then do it again better

Lavender: Probably a good idea

Mantis God: …it's how we pull like half of our fic & scenarios fhdkfjdf We're very good at figuring out where failure points are and we then just try and avoid them in our own work He's great because he has. Literally seven lines of dialogue total in the game and he chameleons enough in those seven lines that as long as you get the right cadence he'll, like. Always scan correctly.

Mantis God: We've seen some really badass and skilled and, like. Actually Malicious And Predatory Scarlets out there but honestly that doesn't scan super well to us specifically if only because, like. Scarlet has VERY little in means of motivation for killing people, so if you don't fill that gap he'll feel flat, and a lot of people who do Genuinely Malicious Scarlet don't… do that? He's not killing people for a reason, per se, he's just, like, a Semi-Generic serial killer dude, and generally if they go into him needing to gather life force it's more treated as, like. Stores? He's got a decent supply and just kills to supplement that or, like, save up, without really going into anything like "what happens when he runs out" we are ofc superior in this regard because we like cornering him like an animal

Lavender: Make him quite literally fight for his got damb life

Mantis God: But, uhh, the general cadence usually swings more towards confidence and security in his skills, giving him that aura of, like. Distinct Power, if that makes sense? Same set of tools that often get used for people like the Wasp King. A power fantasy sort of cadence. He's in charge and he knows it and he could beat your ass And though that's all well and good, we like to tinker more with… resourcefulness, we suppose? He's smart and strong and cunning, because he kind of needs to be to keep himself out of range of the cops for that long, but we don't tend to have that… security? We mean, the guy lives in a cave with no worldly possessions but the clothes on his back and One (1) book. He doesn't exactly have a safety net to… allow for that sort of confidence?

Lavender: Lmao yeah He's sure good a Faking Everything though !

Mantis God: He's REALLY good at faking everything, and it fools the audience as well. But he's still, uhh. He's living in a cave and hiding behind a stick. Not really the finest of accommodations and definitely not the sort of thing that gives that self-assurance. It's a persona, almost definitely, and the way he turns on a dime from faux-nice to faux-confidence kind of just… hammers that in?

Lavender: He's a guy with nothing to lose! Except his life. And he would really quite like to keep that please and thank you- And freedom I suppose

Mantis God: Though the actually confident and self-assured Scarlets are fun to toy with having to scavenge to survive and live paycheck-to-paycheck can have some VERY long-lasting effects on your brain especially when it comes to, like, budgeting resources and such, and a lot of the depictions here act like… a guy who has fallbacks? And he doesn't, really. It's plan A or nothing because if he's caught, he's done for.

Lavender: Hhhh yep

Mantis God: Something something class gap or whatever we're very conscious of this because we have eight hundred thousand hours research looking into shit and as it turns out your circumstances impact your mindset and you will act differently depending on external positions Unfortunately it's also really hard to articulate this without either Eight Trillion Words or saying shit like "he acts like someone with a house and a refrigerator but he has neither of those things"

Lavender: The latter does articulate it very well Note that I am reading all this in fascination and also agreement I just don't know how to express that much

Mantis God: Scarlet's an incredibly fun character to handle because he's got that specific set of circumstances where changing things even a bit can dramatically change his circumstances but the people writing him do him very, uhh. Middle-class? Which strikes as off to us, because a lot of what draws us to Scarlet is the fact that he very much has the motivation to lie and cheat and do anything he damn well can to end up on top, because pretty much anything he tries is gonna wind up being a zero-sum game.

Lavender: He comes pre-packaged with Circumstances and you can Do Things to these circumstances to see how be reacts

Mantis God: It just feels a bit… more dull, we suppose? To make him someone who can simply stop and chooses not to, because if you play him as, like, someone who could simply Not Do That at any time and is just evil for fun, then it feels like you lose a bit of something.

Lavender: Yeah, makes him more two-dimensional …..in a metaphorical sense of course One-dimensional

Mantis God: You've got a character here who could be brought to care for someone so deeply it hurts and still have to leave them behind and betray them because his very life depends on his capacity to stab people in the back for the sake of his own skin

Lavender: Ah yes, the Painge

Mantis God: Selfish means very different things if you have Something compared to having Nothing, is what we're saying. And Scarlet's very, very selfish, but in the very specific way that you get when you grow up having few enough resources to need to hoard.

Lavender: No yeah exactly Not for fun, debatably for profit, mostly just for survival

Mantis God: We know he's got like no canonical motivation besides "he kills people" but given canon evidence there's only like two possibilities for the Reason for that because unlike almost everyone else who Kills People he has no special cause or conviction or even, like, firm code of conduct, he just goes for. Literally anyone who answers his requests. Either he's Like That For No Reason or he's doing the exact same thing any other hungry ambush predator does and honestly the second one is far more interesting

Lavender: Love to give him motivations and depth!! Take this paper binch and make his actions comprehensible!!

Mantis God: We are holding him like a purse dog and making him grapple with horrors

Lavender: It is far more interesting than just another villain who exists for you to fight and get rewarded for it put him through the horrors

Mantis God: MORE horrors He's very fun to tinker with bc like all of his motivation can be boiled down to the same handful of Needs Of Life you see on, like, those goddamn basic needs pyramids And as such we can put him in basically any situation ever because he'll do fucking to slightly extend his life

[raccoonfallsharder]

Hi! I just wanted to say I've been reading through Window Across the Galaxy - inching forward but reading it - and the way you write Rocket is so damn good. Though maybe I'm biased to hell and back because that is also exactly how I pictured pre-vol. 1 Rocket, haha.

The switching perspectives offer so much. I love how much they are misunderstanding each other.

Your work is inspiring me to want to work on my own wip OC fic. I've only just finished reading chapter 2 but I'm so hooked on Jolie and Rocket's tale. I love all these little snippets we get about her and her career as an artist/appraiser/restorer is so interesting.

A few questions, I know there are a lot of little references to the comics here and there, some I recognize from my own forays into reading those, and when I don't, I look it up because honestly, you add so much flavor and life to the worlds you write that I feel the need to know more. For the stuff that isn't a reference or at least a direct reference (as in a product from a known planet), how do you decide on names and other specifics? I personally long to do that in my writing but struggle with thinking things sound believable.

My other question is do you have any tips for writing Rocket? I know technically he hasn't said anything yet where I am in the story - semantics really, lol - but even through his thought process it sounds so much like him.

friend. sunshine. dewdrop. every time i see a comment or message or ask from you, i get giddy as a six-month-old puppy. you are SO kind and generous and I appreciate your words & support SO much

i’m gonna (try to) answer your questions behind the cut because I am a wordy bitch. also these questions are hard because i don’t often think about HOW my brain works so i will do my best.

but first i wanna say that i am SO excited & honored to have encouraged you to work on your own oc fic! if you end up posting here pleeease tag me ♡ and if not that’s okay too. when i started Window i thought it was going to be just for me and honestly it freed me up to do whatever the fuck i wanted, at my own pace, and that is part of what has kept it fun for me.

K BUCKLE UP THIS IS LENGTHY

so in terms of the shit I just make up (Glortho’s Equation, Spartaxian sugardrops, various fruits and foods and soap and recycling-compressors and other general NONSENSE). this is a layered process.

Almost everything I make up, I try to root in a canonical environment/planet, and I want it to make sense for the characters to HAVE it.

so eg, recycling-compressors came about because, like, they just need a practical way to store or get rid of trash. Are they jettisoning it into space every cycle? Dropping it on a landfill planet? Rocket’s comics-canon disdain for Earth + mentions of intergalactic human lifeform rights policies that Earth doesn’t honor leads me to belief that MOST space-folk embrace more sustainable practices. could be a recycling planet, but i didn’t want them needing to travel there every eight rotations or whatever so i decided having a compressor would allow them to have longer gaps between unloading. but like, you could do ANYTHING. maybe most intergalactic packaging is made from products that can be burnt as a clean universal fuel or something ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

similarly i wanted my best raccoon boy to have access to fish. but since he’s a broke-ass bounty hunter 90% of the time, it’s gotta be something inexpensive/accessible (or stealable) - which means it’s probably a cheap export from a planet with a lot of water. Hello, Morag (and the resulting Moraggian moonfish). Sometimes I’ll reference something already canonical in connection to something I fuckin made up just to increase the sense that all these things interplay with each other (zargnut-crusted moonfish sold by a street vendor on conjunction).

Sometimes I do the opposite. I try to imagine what a product from a planet would look like. eg Indigarran beeswax. I thought, what would Indigar export? It’s this gorgeous planet with a cathedral/palace/place of devotion made of glass. if i - an aesthetique lol - had a glass cathedral, I’d want that shit lit up with candles. Can you imagine how gorgeous that would be? Glimmering everywhere. That’s how i spent too much time dreaming up Indigarran beeswax ceremonial candles for a throwaway line somewhere deep in Window I think ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I also figure because of Kree imperialism in this region of the galaxy, a lot of shit is probably Xandaran. Relatedly if it’s a product associated with wealth, I’ll use Xandar or Spartax (also Atraxia but I think I made that planet up lol). I’ll use Asgard occasionally too but less often because it’s supposed to be at the other end of the galaxy. So if I’m referencing a luxury item, it USUALLY comes from one of these places.

For writing Rocket. I think @aliasrocket recently wrote something about this and I agree with like, every flawless thing they said. I listen to a lot of Rocket clips. I try to hear each spoken line in my head in his voice. Some verbs will end in a hard -ing, and some in a soft hanging -in’. I might also use a conjunction (even if it’s not a “usual” conjunction). Sometimes I use something like a liaison in French (I don’t know if there’s a word for it in English, but I basically smush two words together). Moreover, I’ll go back through Rocket’s dialogue on reread and just make sure I don’t go more than like 1-3 sentences without some kind of word-softening. Some examples:

“What’re you laughin’ at me for?”

“Why d’you wanna do that?”

In third-person narration from Rocket’s perspective (non-dialogue) i still try to use these sporadically, but nowhere near as often because I am trying to separate narrative voice from speaking voice just a little.

I also try to consider rocket’s frame of reference for everything from his perspective. What does he know about because he’s seen it? Heard of it? How did he see or hear it? did he learn about it from a fellow prisoner in the Kyln? Someone he did a job for in Conjunction? An alien refugee on earth? Iron Man? Did he steal it? Make it? Buy it? Was it given to him and by whom and why? How trustworthy is his source? How trustworthy does he think they are?

…

OKAY. wow if you made it to the end of this novel you are IMPRESSIVE and I hope it was at least a little helpful. if you have any other questions I will be flattered and happy to answer them and I’ll try to less fuckin wordy. ♡

you are a gem & a blessing & I hope your fanfic-writing brings you JOY

[saintadeline]

(don't remember if this was answered in game!) how long do you think the entire process in research hall was? + what do you think she was like before her time in there?

GOOD QUESTION TBH bloodborne timelines in general are extremely vague and confusing aside from a few events, its less about being hard to place in order (thats usually fine) and more who the fuck knows how much time passes and when. Like how the old hunters and the events of the dlc couldve happened 5 years ago just as they might have 80 years ago. So that doesnt really help theory making LMFAO. The way i see it, the rh timeline is kind of cut in two where the waking world has its own timeline of events and then when the nightmare took it, it was brought back to a mix of specific times in the past, resetting some of the timeline of events and mashing it together to put them in stasis. So to make it easier ill just talk about the waking world LOL i think its like... we know for sure adeline was part of the early experiments, i wouldnt say the first because of the timeline of the healing church itself, the rh was created fairly soon after the healing church actually took position (after the hamlet incident) and we know adeline likely became a saint around its creation as well, so the way i see it she helped in the rh as a saint/nun before actually joining the experiments. So not the first (few?) batch(es) of patients but still early on relative to the rest. I also think her waking world self died a few years after the start of the actual experiments? She seems to have been a bit more resilient than most patients at least in terms of what she could take, but the her we see in the nightmare is definitely not the same way she was in the waking world but thats a whole other can of worms. What im getting at is i think she was possibly already gone by the time the experiments advanced to the stage of the living failures which are definitely more developed in terms of manmade ascension. Its hard to tell when and how the rh transitioned into the orphanage but the way i see it, either the living failures marked the end of an era of trial and error, or the nightmare had a physical effect on it somehow. Maybe both. ITS HARD TO EXPLAIN what i mean about the nightmare id have to make like a timeline graph but i think there IS a physical and timestamped event when a certain place is brought into the nightmare (see: yahargul and mensis), however the nightmare realm itself isnt bound by the law of time and can bring things back in time inside itself when twisting them. I completely lost what i was talking about but i think there was an off time between the official "end" of the rh, (possibly because they could tell something about water wasnt working right. And laurence and maria probably died in between.) and what was later known as upper cathedral ward. I dont *think* the orphanage is directly the rh? Id say the orphanage is a subset of the choir and we can see its not the exact same area as the rh it just overlaps in one place. What i mean by that is the orphanage didnt Replace the rh and there is still very much likely an active equivalent of the rh still working nowadays that the orphanage is attached to. We just dont get to see it but i highly doubt the choir was just concentrated in the orphanage and that wasnt just a smaller portion of upper cathedral ward. Anyway all that to say ummm i have to clue as to how long exactly but id say the rh as a whole had a span of over a few years, maybe something like 5-7? Could be more or less depending on how close to present time you see the dlc. Not extremely long, you can tell the research didnt manage to get pushed very far compared to the emissaries for example. But these did have the backing of ebrietas so its hard to say how much of it comes from pure research and how much is an outside influence. Overall id say it kind of depends on when you think laurence died compared to when he created the church. I dont think he had a long lived vicarhood

[fruit-salad-ship]

Can I request some Witcher au Drabble my brain is in need of some brainrot after a exhausting last few weeks

Sorry to hear youve been worn down a bit, ive tried to scramble together something, but admittedly witcher AU is a fun one but also one ive not explored as much with feeling and emotion.

Hope this is better than nothing at least.

It starts in a bar, plums been sulking the whole way home as the pair ride back, now held up by the fireplace chewing through slightly old bread and some kind of cured meat with a pout on her features that Peach cannot ignore. The rain hammers on the window, the establishment is rife with drunkards, and people seem to have taken shelter here from worsening weather. “How many times do I have to say sorry?” Plum shoots her company a glance and goes back to the fire, huddled under a cloak that still feels damp. “More.” She wasn’t exactly angry, more, embarrassed, frustrated. The other patrons in the bar could feel the sheer cold energy coming from her, her menacing stare and both the woman’s gear keeping them away. No one cared much for Witcher’s, let alone ones who didn’t even fit the conventional definition for the hunters. Peach picked up a jug and leant across, refilling the little fighters glass as a small peace offering. “You-“ “Don’t.” Plum cut the broader, taller woman short immediately, and peach dared not continue, holding her hands up in defeat as she huffed back into the chair she occupied.

She was mad. This had been their first job alone, no one higher up in the ranks with them to make sure things got done, and plum was over the moon with the fact that she dealt the killing blow. The whole ride towards this grim little town was originally spent with her stomach in knots, thinking they’d fail, they’d die, all the worst outcomes, she planned and overthought every detail. All the while her partner, this egotistical, calm woman, just as new to the work as she was, simply rode, joked around, took time to rest without too much though, assuring her things would be fine. They were opposites, one worrier, and one carefree. Their hunt had been successful, they had trained twice as hard as the others in their order to make up for their gender, an issue that plagued them since being taken in by Witchers. By all accounts they should not have come through, Peach in particular had undergone a far more violent transition. But they got to the area where a Nightwraith was known to frequent. In a moral boosting act, Peach feigned injury and fell as if downed by their foe. Plum, overcome with worry pushed past fears, casting Yrden and ending the creatures suffering. She returned to peach’s side, triumphant but thinking her childhood friend dead, or close to. In that moment Peach kept the act up to mess with her a little but it allowed Plum to admit some…more personal feelings, assuming this might be the last chance to do so. The shock when her companion opened her eyes and sat up perfectly fine was so great she fell back onto the dirt a little. The realisation that she’d blurted out feelings, and Peach was in fact conscious and now AWARE of those feelings was crushing. And so now, they sat in this uncomfortable realisation.

Plum sipped, glaring over her goblet, trying not to feel completely stupid. “What I said was in the heat of the moment, and not true. I was scared, thought you’d die!” She observed, expected peach to be sarcastic, to take a dig at her, but she didn’t. There was a pause as the big woman watched the fireplace, before a short calm ‘mhm’ followed. She drank, and did not focus on the topic at hand. Somehow this made things worse. “What do you mean ‘mhm’? What’s that?” “It’s just a ‘mhm’, don’t read into it so much.” There was another pause, peach took the jug in her hand once more and stood to leave with a huff. “Where’d you think you’re going?” “Away, I can’t apologise, you’re in a foul mood, it doesn’t matter what happened, but you’re not going to let this go, so i’m better off letting you cool off. We’ll get back on the road first thing tomorrow.” And with that she skulked off out of the bar into the rain. Plum knew she’d be hanging around with her horse, not going far, so retreating to the room they’d rented that night was the best she could do to put her angry energy somewhere.

It wasn’t until the late hours that she was awoken, the sound of the door opening, familiar footsteps making their way inside. Plum didn’t move, feigned sleep, heard the form pause before sitting on a chair she knew was by the small window. Some gear was removed, probably anything water logged, the drips from it loud on the wooden floors. Peach sat quietly, a little drunk, cold, wet, and very conflicted, refusing to get into the only bed in the room. Damn tiny Inn had three rooms, only one of which were available. Go figures. So a chair would do, give the poor woman some space. Her guilt of playing a trick on her during their work was heavy, she made a mistake thinking it’d just push the smaller person to be a little braver with the fight, not…everything else. Sometimes she could stand to be a little more serious about things, her teachers always scolded her for messing around, for not being focused on the task at hand. This was a lesson well learnt. She tried to get comfortable on this hard chair, finding a position that wasn’t too bad, attempting to get some rest listening to the sheets of rain on the window. She could sleep just about anywhere, this was arguably a bit of an upgrade to rest on the road.

Plum lay, waiting, listening, realising that the woman with her was not coming to bed, she’d be worn out riding home tomorrow, perhaps… no. No way. Peach wasn’t getting a free pass on this one. She huddled up tighter under the blanket and stood her ground, didn’t give in. Not for the first 20 minutes at least, able to hear her partner slipping into a deeper sleep, peaking over. She’d leant herself on the window ledge, awkwardly crumpled to balance herself in a way that didn’t mean she’d instantly fall if she moved around, clothes still dripping wet, swords and heavier gear placed on a table close by.

“Idiot.” Slipped from her lips, this is how people got sick, though she recalled that peach never seemed to grow ill, not since she was turned, she’d grown in stature, in durability, and became something…different. None of the historic texts of their order covered whatever she was now. Whatever they did to her, it created something new, something that sometimes felt unnatural. The memories of hearing the elders discussing what happened rung out, Plum had turned over what was said a million times in her head, recalling being hidden in the shadows assuming Peach dead, they were just kids, she was so sure she’d never see her friend again. But her midnight trip to steal a snack from the kitchens got her more than she bargained for. She knew more than Peach did… Plum sat up and looked at her. Growing irritated that she was considering this, slowly feeling the floor come into contact with the bottom of her feet, standing, approaching. Two steps from her, she noticed Peach’s eyes open, reflecting back what little light was there, a red reflective sheen to them, something Plum had seen in bears and wolves, but never humans, not until this one. She reached out, touched the woman’s arm, unsurprised by how cold she was, Peach use to be so warm, but now she was always cold as the grave. “Come to bed.” There was no arguing. She got up and followed the little hand that pulled her, being stopped a few steps in, plum turning back to touch the shirt she was in, still soaked from rain.

It was lucky that the dark masked her reddening cheeks. First the impromptu confession during work, now this, pulling the clothes from her body, hanging them to dry. She could hardly see, and Peach wasn’t about to let her friend know that her vision allowed her to see more than most, picking up on the little micro movements in her companies face that showed she was going through a lot of complex feelings right now. The bigger woman said nothing, a welcome feeling of warm hands on her skin from time to time, until she was pulled once more, now unable to hide behind clothes, to a warm, far more comfortable bed. There was a quiet moment where they lay beside each other. Face to face, each on their side, huddled under admittedly scratchy sheets, but neither cared. That empty quiet lingered for a moment, Peach said nothing, she’d done enough damage for one day. Plum wanted to say so much, but there was comfort to this quiet, for the first time since she’d said too much, they reconnected in the silence, this was her best friend, someone who understood more than anyone what it was like to walk in her shoes, both having been worked to the bone their whole lives, bound together by some strange twist of fate. It was not lost on either of them how important this moment was, Peach put her hand on her companions side, pulling her in closer, tucking her up under her chin, feeling a little hand placed on her back, the weight of an arm over her side something that felt so natural. Plum could feel the scarring on this woman, gouges in the skin that told many a story, burying her head in the cold chest, able to for a moment hear a heartbeat, feint and very slow, so weak for someone so strong. It didn’t use to be like this.

One day Plum would tell her, tell her she’d found her father while digging for information during a job, a lord who saw a daughter as a waste, who got rid of her, that she had two brothers out there who got given the world, while she was thrown away. Tell her that she died, that she died a dozen times in fact, each time brought back by the very order she swore to stand by obediently as a test, an experiment. Tell her they turned her to one of them expecting her to die, and yet she did not, they were willing to lose her for the sake of scientific curiosity. That whatever happened to her was so horrifying the order swore to never perform those methods again, acknowledging their mistakes in secret amongst elders. But right now? It didn’t matter, nothing else mattered but being in the arms of someone who was always there for her. Neither had to say sorry, it was an unspoken feeling they understood.

In the dark Peach felt a kiss, one small little gesture left beside a collar bone before Plum curled up tight and drifted off. The words from their first job bounced around in her mind in the quiet, entranced by the heat of this little woman in her grasp, a woman who’d admitted feelings Peach never thought she’d receive from anyone. There was so much more to fight for now.

[invinciblerodent]

4, 8, 18 & 19 for your Bg3 babes? :D please do ramble away!

weeeeeeelll, if you ask soooo nicely~ :D (For time constraints, I'm gonna go for those specifically for this game, and omit Ray!)

4) What color or colors do you most associate with your OC?

SO this new graphics software I'm using is a little unwieldy to me still, but I tried to make little palettes!

Iona's color symbolism is probably the strongest- in my mind, she's... golden yellows. Bright, bold, warm sunshine yellows, deep forest greens, and the dark reds and burgundies of old, slow blood. Amber eyes, crimson waves, everything about her is just warm. Of course, that isn't an unequivocally positive thing: the fire that warms can just as easily burn.

She's cajoling warmth and biting flames, as charming as she is dangerous. I really like that association for her, that she's kind of... well, "fire made flesh and a demon asleep", as it were.

Petyr is more associated in my mind with "natural" colors- olive- and hunter greens, and warm, rich browns. As a ranger raised among druids, he's very... well, druid-adjacent I guess, is how I can sum him up. I associate him -and this might sound silly- with... the breeze on a forest path. The rustling of leaves in late spring. The deep grooves on the bark of an old, gnarled tree.

He to me is... simultaneously a young man, and one far older than his years. New growth and ancient forests. Fresh, green shoots poking their heads through the carpet of dead leaves. Is this making any sense at all lol.

And Arvid, well, I sometimes have Gale affectionately call him "Blue" in my head for a reason, lol. He's steel greys, and cornflower blues, indigos, and similar cool tones. He's there in the clash of blades, and the soothing touch of a cold palm on a feverish forehead. In the harsh glint of plate armor and the purple of bruises, in the silver of binding chains, but also... the melancholy blues of the sky when it looks like it might rain.

And that... sounds sad, when I put it like that, but the rain is also nurturing. Water is welcoming, comforting, ever-present. I like this sort of duality for all of them, actually- but for Arvid, it's probably the most obvious. He's very much a healer with bloodied hands.

...... they're all sort of making a Dreamworks-face in the shots I found, that wasn't intentional lol.

[since it got so long, i'M putting the rest under a cut!]

8) Greatest strength and greatest flaw about your OC?

I think for all three of them, their strength is also their weakness, in a way? Like...

Iona is very charismatic and adaptable- to the point where she has a difficult time being her real self. It takes her quite a lot of time to stop saying what she thinks others want to hear, actually say what she thinks, and discover who exactly it is that she wants to be. She was stuck playing a role for so long that, taking off the mask, she... doesn't know who she is underneath.

Petyr is very... I guess steady as a person, very staunch- but that's gotten to the point where he has all but convinced himself that he has no emotional needs. That he's not lonely, and he doesn't yearn to be known. He has turned self-reliance into an art, and opening up emotionally, or communicating in general, comes very hard to him. (Which is why I like that Shadowheart's first romance scene is just... an honest conversation. I like that she forces him to open up and let her in.)

And Arvid, I think his strength and flaw are both his courage. As in, it's his faith that drives him to be brave, and to fight, but that courage means that he doesn't back down, even when he... probably should. When it would be the smart thing to do. And by the gods, he's often so afraid. Oh, he's so terrified (I'm honestly beginning to think that he just. straight up has an undiagnosed anxiety disorder), but he powers through it even when it's to his own detriment, because that's the right thing to do. [I may be feeding this off my own anxiety going into overdrive that first playthrough, lol.]

18) What is your OC’s greatest fear?

Oof, yikes. Um. This one is a doozy.

I've thought about this before, but beyond very general concepts, it's kind of... hard to describe.

Iona is... mostly afraid of being tossed aside again. Of experiencing the same pain of losing everything once more, of... opening up and showing herself, only to end up being rejected for it. She's scared of being taken back to that old life of repression that she hated so much, but she's... more scared of not being worth enough to anyone for them to come to her rescue.

In a more literal way though, I think she's most scared of... forgetting, I think. Dementia, amnesia, the likes. As an elf, memory and previous lives are very important to her, so she's... having a bit of trouble as her Drawing of the Veil draws closer, and the wholeness and clarity of her mind, they're definitely some of her biggest concerns for most of the game.

Petyr, I think a lot of his gruffness is also kind of a self-shielding mechanism. He pretends that he doesn't have needs, and pretends that he can't be assed to do anything, so he can't fail, because he doesn't try. He's afraid of -essentially- falling short.

And also the cold. Fuck the cold. The cold is relentless, insidious, it's numb yet it scratches the very flesh off your bones, and by the time you realize that it's going to fucking kill you, the dominoes have already fallen, and it's far too late. You can't win against the cold; the cold spells death. You can merely stave it off for one more day, and your reward for surviving is just one more day, month, season of struggle. (His first few winters alone in the forest were... rough.)

Arvid, he's... most scared of emptiness. The idea that the heavens are empty, that prayers go unheard, and he's just... screaming into the void. That's definitely a nightmare he's had a few times.

On a more superficial level, I think he's scared of just... being alone. He's never really been alone, truly alone, in his life, and I think the fact that for the entire adventure everyone was within tadpole-distance did not help it- I think I've mentioned it before, but after the game, i think that'll evolve into full-blown separation anxiety for him. (Can't feel Gale's tadpole, can't 'ping' him to see if he's okay, what if he's not, what if he's hurt, what if he can't call for help, etc, etc, it'll be a whole mess, and the first time he leaves his new fiancé alone for a few hours, Gale will definitely return home to an anxious wreck of a man having a full-blown meltdown on the living room floor.)

19) Does your OC have any close friends?

Outside of the party, I assume lol

Iona... used to. She got along very well with... pretty much all she ever met, honestly, but she had a very good friend by the name of Karissa Dawnbreath who was her closest confidant, her best friend of many, many long years, but... also her downfall, in a way. Karissa was the one who outed Iona as a sorcerer to the rest of their village/compound when she found out (she can't really be blamed, she was terrified), and she kickstarted the events that lead Iona to Baldur's Gate, and ultimately to the nautiloid.

Along with abandoning all of her old life, Iona abandoned her friendship with Karissa as well. She's kind of going back and forth on whether she resents Karissa, too.

Petyr kid of... doesn't, have friends. Not only does his prickly personality and "lone wolf" kind of nature prevent him from making many friends (my man spent half his life alone in the forest), he's also... rather awkward around people in general, and all of his relationships (friendly or romantic) were very surface-level for the past 20 years. It was either about... cordially conducting some sort of business together, or a quick fuck, and that's... about it.

He felt very uncomfortable opening up to the party as well. (That's kind of why I like it so much that Mr. "I have no needs, do not perceive me" ends up with the two healers, I think that's really sweet lol.)

And Arvid, he has two very good childhood friends who are still in his life by the names of Parker (human) and Redd (halfling). They were boys in his village who were taught self-defense and swordfighting in the monastery around the same time as Arvid (only they didn't live in the monastery), and the three of them sort of fell into fast friendship the way little kids do, and it ended up persisting well into adulthood.

Over the years, both boys eventually got married (both to dwarven women, interestingly) and became fathers, but they only really lost touch with Arvid for a short spell when he moved to Baldur's Gate a year before the game. They were on the top of the (very short) list of people Arvid invited to his own wedding. <3

[ashes-of-alar]

Hi! My name is Noelle or Sanguinary, depending on where you know me from. Please don't call me "Sang" or "San", if you must shorten my name, please call me S. I am a lesbian who's gender identity is best described as trans lesbian. I am twenty-three years old, my pronouns are she/her, they/them. I also use moon neopronouns, but these are optional. Please respect grammar though and do not change pronouns in the middle of sentences (she went to the park and they brought her frisbee, at least I think it was moons) as this makes it incredibly hard to read and understand.

I am currently in a long-term relationship (08-28-21) with my joyous little beast, @incubian. While it is my little beast, I am it's little freak.

(P.S., you don't need to read more. Knowing this is plenty about me.)

I am physically disabled. I might talk about this sometimes, because it sucks balls. The exact specifications in regards to my disability are private and poking and prodding in regards to what exactly disables me is inappropriate. If I feel the need to disclose my disability, I will, but I am under no obligation to be your personal Bible in regards to answering questions about disabilities unprovoked. Please use Google instead.

Past my physical disabilities, I am neurodivergent, I have several "scary" mental illnesses that I am not obliged to share, but what I am willing to share is the fact that I have autism. I may type with a flat tone, miss social cues or misread your tone. However, do not use tone indicators with me. They do not help me and I spend more time Googling what they mean- I do not appreciate time wasted.

I spend most of my free time creating, reading and playing games. I have been writing since 2010 - 2011, a fact that startles me. I have writing commissions open- Check my other blog, @sanguinaryrose for those. When I am not doing that, I often spend my time badgering my long-distance significant other like a cat realizing you are mere moments late to it's regular feeding schedule. It loves me, though, so I'm allowed to be a little cat running in front of it to play insurance fraud every once in a while. Past those activities, I spend a lot of my time resting on account of my chronic conditions.

Some of my special interests are dragons, Pokemon, Yu-Gi-Oh! (TCG & Anime), Warrior Cats, World of Warcraft, Monster Hunter, Baldur's Gate (I - III), Final Fantasy, Kingdom Hearts, Axolotls, Dinosaurs and Spyro. If you want to make friends really fast, ask me about these. However, I ask that you err on the side of caution when it comes to critique of any medias mentioned in my presence unless I initiate it; I can take it very personally, like you're attacking me, and it will, 100%, make me act like the big companies need defense from some random online.

I am a non-practicing, baptized Wiccan. I respect all religions, even if I do not personally practice them or have bad experiences with them. So long as you respect my religion, I will respect yours, or your lack thereof. Please do not try fighting with me or debating me in regards to my religion, it has taken me over 15 years to even want to consider my religion properly past a "God hurt me!" level of comprehension. I am not going to try and debate you in or out of any religion or world view, as above all else, unless bigotry (racism, trans/homophobia) is involved, I believe in mutual respect. However, in having said that, I reserve my right to sharply cut contact should you prove yourself to be a threat to me, my partner, or my mental health in any way, shape or form.

I have a blacklist of media or things that I avoid at all costs, it's either triggering or I loathe it to such a deep degree that I just cannot discuss it civilly without making an ass of myself.

Additionally I have a whitelist of a few special interests of mine. Note that these links do not work on mobile.

If all of this [written while motioning to the whole post] doesn't bother you, or sounds cool or whatever, you're more than welcome to reach out and start chatting; I'd quite appreciate having more mutuals to talk to. I hope you have a peaceful rest of your day; thank you kindly for reading this all.

Divider template by @/cafekitsune / @/kithsune.

[violets-in-her-arms-writes]

Happy Worldbuilding Wednesday!

Tell me about the culture in your world in regards to death and the afterlife.

i.e. what are the most common beliefs about it, is there fear surrounding death or something else, are there any gods of death and how to people in your world feel about them, is there an afterlife that people believe in and how does it work, what rituals and practices are there in regards to the dead (burials, mummification, burying them with important objects, burning the body, etc), and anything else you would like to share

<333

Thank you so much for this !!! ♥♥

It took me forever to answer because I actually had to think about this one, but here I am 😅 I went into details for two species instead of the 5 (vampires, Faes, mermaids, werewolves & witches) I had in mind, because I need to think more about the others, but I hope you'll like it anyway ^^

So... The thing about La Fledgling is that it's a story about endings. Lou is immortal, Jo is not. Lou (and most of their friends) will live forever or something close to forever, Jo will die. She has limited time and so much to do, which means that, concrètement, she hasn't really thought about what comes after.

(Which means that I, the author, hadn't thought about it either, but let's blame it on the character, shall we? 💀)

So... Death...

For the vampires:

Vampires can die (insert *people die if they are killed* meme here), as vampires tend to do in other fantasy stories. So decapitation, silver, symbols of faith (and real faith, just waving a symbol won't work - you have to believe), fire, sunlight, stake through the heart... the classics will work, but if you really want to be original and take them by surprise, you could also poison them through the blood servants they feed from. I'm just throwing this out there, no reason.

Several vampire families were killed during the hunter/vampire wars, entire Coven burnt to the ground, knowledge evaporated, entire lignées brought to the brink of extinction. Needless to say, it terrified the vampires who then decided to retire from the public eye and live secular lives among themselves, where they don't have to interact with humans (much. Feeding is another story entirely).

They feared death during these few centuries when it came knocking at their doors, but during the novel, none of the vampires think about death as something that concerns them. Death is something humans and semi-mortal creatures go through, and something that happened to them a thousand years ago.

There is no afterlife for vampires, because they are not supposed to die.

(The rest of the species and their view on death can be found under the cut 🦇)

For the Fae:

Fae live until they get tired of living, at which point they can choose between several options :

become a tree -> really popular, as long as it's not in the moral realm because on Earth you tree might be cut down and you will spend the rest of eternity as a very ugly couch or coffee table

spend a few years as an animal and live as a cryptid in either the fae realm or on Earth (I'm not saying le Dahu is a Fae but... yeah that's exactly what I'm saying) -> marginally less popular and often time not the definitive choice. Old Faes who don't know if they really want to "fade away" or not will spend a few decades or centuries as an owl, a cat or some kind of made up animal/creature, and when their time is up, they'll seen if they want to go for option 1 (*be the seed*), option 2 (go back to their ancient life and keep on living until they get bored again) or option 3 (below)

reincarnate -> the least popular choice by far (Iris Adam, who chose to get reincarnated 250 times is an outlier and shouldn't have been counted), because the fates like to mess with faes and there is no guarantee a Fae will be reincarnated as a Fae in her next life. She could be human. Or a cockroach. Or the southern wind. Or she could be a Fae but come back wrong. Really, there's nothing sure about this option.

Fae who chose to become trees all planted their roots in the same forest and they can be heard, from time to time, giving unsolicited advices to the younglings having fun beneath their branches.

For the witches:

They mostly have the same approach as the humans, except they live up to 500 years instead of 80, which mean they start worrying about it a lot later. They still are the weakest (physically speaking) of all the magical and semi-mortal species, which means they are much more prone to accident and very few actually reach past their second or third century.

For the mermaids:

They also live very long lives and have the advantage of being away from humans most of the time, so when wars or conflict start again on the surface, they can just... swim away and wait for the storm to pass. The older a mermaid gets, the bigger she is, and the more she has to eat. There are only three really old (we're talking several thousand years old) mermaids because they feed on weaker mermaids - or, more precisely, younger, weaker or otherwise hurt mermaids are send bound and pre-broken to the deep caves in which the dwell and the three leviathan feast of the flesh of the unwilling.

Death is either a sacrifice (eaten by a leviathan) or a victory (not eaten by the leviathans bc they 1) died in combat so they at least were not eaten alive or 2) ran away on land to escape their fate which brings its own problems)

For the werewolves:

Mix between the witches and the mermaids. They die of old age (live longer than humans, less prone to disease or accident than witches) or in a fight and then they get eaten by the rest of the pack so that their spirits and knowledge can stay with the pack. Yay.

For Jo (sole human in this crazy friend group):

She doesn't think about it. She'll die when she'll die. She used to be really religious, but her faith was shattered when her whole family was murdered and Lou became a bloodsucker, so she doesn't really believe in an afterlife (be it hell or heaven). But should she be proven wrong, she's ready to throw hands with whomever is here to welcome her.

[acergi]

Okay I’m gonna try and put together my prediction for a timeline:

I HAVE NOT WATCHED FOR THE FUTURE YET PLEASE DO NOT SPOIL IT IN REPLIES!!!!

Also, this only has stuff in the trailer, so I’m tagging it with spoilers, but there aren’t really any. I’m putting it under the cut because it’s super long stjrsjsrs

First off, the link to the trailer if you haven’t seen it yet:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZIurNjdV-X0 

And the promo stuff (cause I mentin them a bit):

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t_qUdLeKQA8

Episode opens similarly to TTT 

So we go back to the DOU. The Collector goes and does whatever they did to the coven heads next. There may be a brief fight (I doubt they could fight for long in that condition), or they never even wake up from the spell and wake up to being used as a puppet. 

Based on King’s outfit (by which I mean not wearing those robes), I think this also happens on the DOU. The Collector recogonizes Eda/The Owl Beast, and doesn’t put the weird mind control on her (or tries and it doesn’t work, which could be why Collectors are supposed to lock up all Flying or Swimming things so they last (I think that’s what the book said)). Eda doesn’t win, maybe because she too, was weakened by the spell, and lost an arm (and the collector is crazy powerful), or The Collector vaugely threatens King (or Eda thinks he does and wants to keep King safe). She either ends up locked up by where the coven geads are later seen, or is able to barely escape, but not save King.

Lilith gets away somehow. Maybe the BATTs do too, and I think Hooty? Lilith has a different outfit and way shorter hair, so she must be able to originally get away. Since Eda also does it’s possible she initially gets away. Not many others get away from the DOU.

The parents of the Hexsquad may think the kids are either dead or under the Collector’s influence, since they were last known to be in the area. 

Side note: The Collector being called a collector and being trapped in something strongly resembling a pokeball is hilarious to me rn.

Anyway, credits play (or just the show name), and it cuts to the Hexsquad. They do they’re little thing in the forest from all of the New Years promo stuff. If the palisman thing is a trick of the Collector, this happens now, letting the rest of the hexsquad understand the situation a bit better. Since I think they’ll be by the Clawthorne ruins at first, they are in the forest, so all the foresty stuff happens. If the palisman is actually hatching, it won’y happen in the beginning of the episode because that makes absolutely no sense. 

I think this is the first place they would go, just to see what’s left and regroup. Some of them may need medical attention *cough* Hunter *cough*. Amity and Luz talk about what happened in the Human Realm/Amity tries to comfort her, maybe Willow finallly does something since she was barely in the last episode. Maybe Gus and Hunter can finally have the Grimwalker/Belos’s memories talk? They decide to go see what’s happening in Bonesbourough/see who they can find/see their parents. I think Willow and Gus live in town, so their parents would be there.

That being said, Amity and Camila are fighting someone in a cave, which could happen more towards the beginning if they are tracking Belos. 

Belos has a head start, so he goes back to his stupid cave that he used to live in 300 years ago. He opened it with a glyph combo so I think its his old cave. Can’t exactly have people coming across your genocide plans. I think this episode will be more about the Collector and King, while Belos plans for the finale. I know the blurb says he is also going after the collecor, so maybe this is him regrouping. idk what he’s doing. Maybe he’s hoping he left a palisman in the freezer a couple hundred years ago before he moved out. 

Okay the next couple of things happen some time in the middle but idk in what order:

King reads the story to The Collector/we get Collector lore. It seems like there are a bunch of them. 

From the handwriting at the bottom, it seems to me like The Collector does not exactly fit in with the other Collectors/disagrees and just wants to play. Also, the last line about wiping everything really concerns me.

Whatever happens to Hooty happens. This could have happened in the beginning and Lilith is just seeing it now which could be for a few reasons:

1. King, who has Hooty manages to escape with Eda

2. Eda gets a hold of him and shows her

However, it is also very possible that this happens now. What’s interesting is that King has Hooty in this shot:

which seems to be Eda trying to rescue King or escape. I would imagine this happens later in the episide as almost a penultimate fight, or a secondary fight while the main fight at hexside is happening, but it’s hard to tell. Either way, I think Eda and Lilith have been camping out somewhere together and this is their daring plan to save King (and maybe the kids if they don’t know where they are). Also, Eda’s curse is starting to come out. And short hair!!

Also, it lowkey looks like the grom tree in the background, so maybe grom is here? The goop thing in the poster looks a lot like grom, and there’s a picture of grom in the memory room later in the trailer. 

They go to Hexside where everyone is hanging out.

They look through Luz’s memories for knowledge of Philip Wttebane. I think I saw someone say that they could be looking for that glyph combo he used to get them into the Titan’s skull, where The Collector’s castle seems to be. This gets interrupted by whatever the Collector’s doing. Also, that spider is slitghtly concerning. 

Callback to grom, with the grom monster, who I think is going to make a callback in this episode in some way. Maybe in the end of the episode?

Meanwhile, Hunter and Willow are out and about doing some Huntlowy things. They seem to be in town when The Collector and King arrive, so idk what they’re doing. 

They arrive in Bonesbourough. Idk why King looks sort of mad. Bump tries to hold them off, but fails, Boom attack, something happens that totally changes things, idk. 

I also have no idea what Belos is doing this whole time. Idk what his next plan is, or litterally anything about what the hell he’s trying to do at this point. 

[ejsuperstar]

"Pspspspsps Phoenixxxxx" Maria walks out of the kitchen with a tin of cat food and a grin on her face.

I stretched my legs and meow, I was sleeping by the window of our flat, I catch a glance of my reflection. Right. An orange tabby. I don't think I could ever get used to this.

I trundle along to my food bowl as Maria tips the tin out, trying not to get any on her slippers. I look up at her and meow.

"Fifi? What is it baby boy?"

I pur and smile. She leans her head down and I rub up against it.

"Awwww babyyyyyyy. Where was this affection when I rescued you." She teases.

I meow back, before turning to my wet food. It's not exactly nice, but the great thing about shape shifting is I get the taste buds of a cat too, so I guess it isn't that bad...

However, before I can take a single bite, the doorbell rings. Back when Maria first saved me, I would scurry under the furniture every time, scared that I was going to get caught. After a few months though I realised I was in the clear.

Maria stands up and heads over to the door, still in her pyjamas, who's ringing this early? Tentatively, she opens it.

"Hi sorry I'm not interested in any leaflets." She says, a fake smile donning her face.

I hear rustling as the person at the door puts something away. "Oh. I'll just put these away then ma'am... Do you mind if I talk for a bit?"

"Yes?"

"Ok great!" The person clearly misunderstanding pushes open the door and walks into the flat.

"No- I said yes that means-"

"I'm from the monster hunter's guild, we have reason to believe you are unknowingly holding a fugitive. Do you live alone here?"

The man who walked in seems rather young. Not a face I recognise. The words he say send shivers down my spine. That's the damn guild that attacked me. I try not to visibly react, just focus on my food, if he thinks I'm a cat then he can't hurt me. What bastard hurts a cat?

"Uhm" Maria hesitates, she's nervous. "Yes? Other than Phoenix here I live alone..."

"Phoenix?"

"My cat"

The man turns and looks at me. I don't react. I can't look him in the eye.

"Phoenix huh..." He says incredulously.

I can hear him walking behind me. He kneels down and looks at me.

"So you're Phoenix!"

I don't respond.

I can hear him moving. My body tenses up.

Maria calls out. "No! Dont-"

I ready myself to unshift for the first time in years and-

He places a hand on my head and starts scratching behind my ears.

I stop moving. Stunned.

"Please don't touch him he's very nervous around strangers!" Maria starts running up, and pulls the man's arm away. "Especially while he's eating."

"I think he likes me!"

"I can assure you he doesn't sir!"

I take this as an opportunity. I turn around and look at the man, before slowly backing off, when I get far enough away, I bolt into the bedroom. I can hear them talking

"Sir I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"But the fugitive!"

"I live alone!"

"What if it's the cat!"

"Excuse me‽ Get out."

"The fugitive is a shapeshifter! It could be anyone!"

I hear a scuffle.

"Out. Now. Don't come back. Phoenix is not any sort of shapeshifter. He is a 6 year old orange cat! I've had him the entire time I've lived here! He is not a shapeshifter!"

"Can I please at least give you a-" the man's hurried voice is cut off by the slamming of a door.

I hear Maria sigh, then walk into the bedroom. She lies down at the end of the bed, looking for me.

"It's ok now Phoenix, the scary man is gone... I'm so sorry about that."

I meow. I meow again. And again. And again. I'm upset she even let that man in. I'm upset at myself for getting upset at her. I'm upset at the world for threatening me again and again...

I'm scared. I'm scared for Maria.

I walk up to her, out from under the bed. She scoops me up and holds me. I pur. She smiles. We sit on the bed as she fusses me.

I can't get rid of the lingering feeling that I'm lying to her...

I think...

I think it's time for me to leave.

Once she sleeps I'll leave a note for her, explain it all.

I'm sorry Maria.

You’re a Shapeshifter who was wounded by a monster hunter, in a last ditch effort for survival you shifted into a normal household pet and were whisked away by a plain human unaware of the supernatural where you’ve lived for the past three years. You thought you were safe, but they’re back…

[visceralfractal]

Statement of Pamela Remington, regarding the disappearance and reappearance of her half-sister. Statement begins.

I would have you know that up until sometime last week, I didn’t know I had a sister. My father was a very covert man, you see, and a very powerful man. He was what your Institute’s great scholars might call a Hunter. I never saw him that way. He was just Father on a good day and Wilhelm Remington on a bad one.

I didn’t know she existed until I found that picture. I can’t bring myself to think of her as anything but she. I’m sure she has a name, but I’ll be damned if I know it. She is female, or at least she was. She has long, matted black hair that hangs down over the back of her neck. She wears ratty old white dresses and fake pearl bracelets the color of bleached bone. Her mother was with her in the photo. Quite a beautiful woman, I admit. I understand why Wilhelm was so tempted by her.

You see, she is a bastard, and she knows this. Another woman’s child, by my father. My wonderful, loving father, who thought gifts and pretty words and false kindnesses could buy him a double life. I wouldn’t, couldn’t have it.

I’d Hunted with him for years. He’d trained me to take on his duty when he was gone. He gave me his rifle, the heirloom Remington bolt-action rifle that made our family so much useless money, and I shot him through the head with it.

I think she saw him before then, actually. I heard him mention something offhand, exactly three days before he died, that he’d seen claw marks on the windows. When I came to look, there was nothing of the kind. At least, not that I could see.

My family is touched. I don’t mean only by the Hunt, I mean touched in the head. We have a long history of delusions, psychosis, breaks from reality. That’s what my father initially thought my visions were. I saw things, things that were true and things that weren’t, but none of them were ever really there. Kind of like my father, if you want to get metaphorical, but I’m not one to philosophize, nor one to dwell on the past. I was just told that making this statement might help me find her again.

Well, he put me on pills and took me to doctors and it never really helped. In fact, it only seemed to make things worse, and that was about when he started to guess that it was more than mundane psychosis. When my visions started to come true. They showed me things, gave me information. Not always reliable information, mind you, but reliable enough.

I think it was when I showed him to the door that he really got scared.

I don’t always perfectly remember what I saw on the other side. It’s like trying to describe the colors that you see in static. But I do remember that it hurt. It hurt so fucking badly, and all he did was stand there and watch me flounder around like an idiot in a dimension where up was down and right was wrong and nothing made any sense.

Is that how she felt when her life was upended?

It cut my throat. Right here. Don’t ask me to name it, I don’t know names. If you wanted me to tell you the truth, I’d say the door cut my throat, or it cut itself and I was cracked by the broken pieces. But the truth would not make sense to you, and it would not feed your Eye. So, instead, I make up stories.

That’s how I learned to glitch. It took me a long time to track her, even with the glitching. I can only go short distances, and I can’t always control how much of me ends up in a given place. But I did find her eventually, or maybe she found me.

It was about a week after she got out of that wretched asylum. I called ahead. Maybe she knew?

Oh, I remember now. She did give me her name. Rem. What a pretty name. I told her my name was Pamela. She kept trying to call me Pam, for whatever reason, but I was very insistent. She seemed…surprised? I don’t think she’s used to people being that stubborn.

Well, we talked for a while about nothing in particular. Nothing of particular interest to you, surely. Has she met you already? Oh, silly me, you can’t answer my questions! All you do is get answers. You delve and dig and drag them out of people’s minds. I should be mad. After a fashion, I am. But if your Eye can help me find my sister, Hunt her down and help her back and tell her all the things I’ve done, then I’ll be glad of it.

Rem. Remember that, please.

Statement ends.