#if y'all have/know of a full body official image of her please send it to me

[weeb-polls-with-pip]

Autistic Anime Girls Group 2 Match 21

Miriel -

"she's one of the oldest people in the main cast which i respect. she's also a Wizard Scientist except she wants to study EVERYTHING. she is utterly fascinated by even the most basic social behaviours and most of her conversations with other characters revolve around her desire to study them. Yes, in the event she gets married, she has a kid as part of an experiment, and her son is exactly as nd as she is. She wants to study a guy because he is somehow perfectly average. She wants to study someone to understand flirting. She wants to study a dark wizard to see if they can magick a baby (yes this is how her son is born if she marries the dark wizard.) On that note, her son directly asked to dissect someone once. Other people have trouble understanding what she says, she gets so absorbed in her studies that other people need to snap her out of it so she'll go eat dinner, and one of her favorite hobbies is reorganizing her belongings. She is so utterly oblivious to proper decorum yet so deeply intrigued by the human condition that I'm skeptical she wasn't raised exclusively inside a library. She is a mad scientist constrained by lack of chemistry as an established field AND by being a side character instead of major antagonist. But I love her. She got that wide brimmed hat and a really good defense stat for a mage."

Anzu -

"she is so cute and is always hyperfixating on her work and forgetting that she is. a person. which is a thing that i, as an autistic person, also do so she is obviously also autistic. everyone vote for anzu if you love trans sapphics <3"

[justskulkingaround]

Lone Star

This is a request I got on Wattpad and decided to post it here. There is vague mentions of alcohol and nsfw content, so if that bothers you, please don’t read.

Texas runs as fast as his legs can carry him, trying desperately to get away, to escape and leave behind the mess he made.

He'd just joined them, just joined a new family, and yet it's already ruined.

He scrubs the tears away with a scowl, hopping onto his horse and kicking. The horse whines and bucks before speeding off toward the sunset.

'Just like those movies.'

'I can't stay here. Not anymore.'

He growls and his eyes burn.

'Why do I have to be so stupid!'

He snarls and violently scrubs away at his face, covering it and trying to ignore the shaking in his breath.

'Can't keep anything nice.'

Flashes of images of America screaming, Dixie yelling, and so much fucking blood.

'I didn't mean to.'

He could almost imagine voices calling for him behind the whipping wind filling his ears. He clutches his hat and clenches his teeth.

The states he had taken to thinking of as siblings putting themselves between him and their father.

Texas bites his knuckle and blinks hard.

Even Alaska.

'My chest hurts.'

He scowls, trying to turn it to anger, but can't find it in himself to be angry at anyone but himself.

Eventually, the horse's movement slows to a trot and Texas no longer finds comfort in the whipping winds. A white knuckle grip encircles the reins and he scrubs at his face with his hands. He looks down only to realize that he hadn't brought anything but the saddle and the clothes on his back.

He scowls and sniffs. He pulls the horse to a stop and gets off. He ties the reins to the hook on the saddle and the horse whines.

"Go home, boy," Texas says, gently patting the horse's flank, "I didn't bring the stuff to take care of ya."

The horse begins to trot home, and Texas watches in the fading daylight before he turns back around and trudges through the sandy, desert grounds.

When he reaches a city, it's already late into the night.

He walks into the closest bar he spots, his main focus is to drown out the emotions storming his thoughts. He parties and drinks and the whole rest of the night blurs into bright flashes of light mixed with bliss and guilt.

He wakes up the next morning, a scream of terror on the tip of his tongue. The sun burns his eyes.

He looks around and finds his clothes scattered in a room he didn't remember walking into, to his left a woman, and his right a man, both as bare as he.

Texas feels his dignity leave him as he carefully crawls over the couple, collecting his things and leaving, giving the room one last head nod goodbye before closing the door behind him.

He continues his aimless wandering, not ever wanting to go home, but his thoughts begin to swirl.

He only stops to spend his nights at bars, in blurs of alcohol, and leaving before his partners wake up. He loses count of the days he'd been gone.

'How selfish am I? Escaping like that? Into booze and sex?'

Soon, he finds himself sitting against a tire hung on a barbed wire fence, staring out at the vast plains that lay ahead. He watches the sunset, and his heart gets heavier the more time his thoughts occupy him.

'Why did they all move like that? Did they always expect me to lash out?'

His mind is already set on the answer, but he shoves it away, his face stone cold.

"Hey! Boy!" Someone calls from behind him.

Texas jumps in surprise. He turns to see an old man walking toward him on a cane.

"What are you doing out here? Them snakes like to burrow there."

Texas carefully gets up.

"Come 'ere," the old man demands, and Texas tilts his head down, obscuring his face.

"Yes, sir," Texas mumbles.

"You're comin' with me and gettin' inside. There's supposed t' be a tornado coming soon and you don't wanna be caught in one of them out here."

Texas solemnly nods and follows the man back to an old looking farmhouse, his hands at his sides and quiet.

"Take off them there shoes before you step inside," the geezer says, shaking his cane at Texas' feet.

"Yes sir," Texas mumbles, kicking off his shoes.

"So, son, what are you doing all the way out here?"

Texas looks away.

"What are you running away from?"

"...I made a mistake."

"You can't run from shame."

"..."

"I'm sure your folks are looking for you."

Texas looks away.

"Now call your folks. I'm sure they're worried sick."

Texas stares at the landline phone the man gestures to. New Mexico's number loops in his mind. He bites his lip.

'Maybe she won't pick up.'

His heart pounds in his chest.

He slowly dials the number and holds the phone to his ear. The dial tone fills his head until a tired voice answers. Hoping in the back of his she won't pick up.

"Hello?" New Mexico's voice ring through, sounding unbelievably tired.

Texas feels his heart stop.

"Is there anyone there?"

"Mexi?" Texas mumbles.

"Texas!?!" New Mexico shrieks, "Oh thank God! Are you okay? Where are you?"

"Uhm... sir?" Texas asks off the phone, handing the phone to the old man.

Texas sits back on the couch, just shaking his head.

Eventually, the old man hangs up the phone and sits in the lazy-boy chair on the opposite side of the room.

"You certainly got good folks," the man comments.

Texas looks away.

"You shouldn't be running away from 'em. Your sister says she'll be here soon."

Texas bites his lip and waits, trying not to catastrophize. But despite his efforts, images of screaming and anger flash in his mind and the worst-case scenarios play on repeat.

Then there is a furious knock on the door. The old man smirks and stands, opening the door. He hears someone come crashing in and he sees a flurry of movement before someone hugs him, tight.

"You're okay! You're okay. Oh thank God," New Mexico says into his shoulder, seeming to dismiss the grime that covered his clothes and the grease in his hair.

Texas couldn't help himself when he latches onto her. Tears well in his eyes and a lump grows in his throat.

New Mexico pulls back and scowls, wiping tears off her face before slapping him. Texas takes it without complaint.

"Why the fuck did you do that?!" she shrieks, scowling, and tears stream down her face, "Running away like that and sending Austin back to the house alone?! You fucking dumbass!"

Then she pulls him back into a tight hug, and Texas feels his walls break. His shoulders shake and he sobs. he grabs the back of her garb and holds it as if she's about to disappear.

He leans into New Mexico's shoulder, his breath choked by sobs.

New Mexico rubs small circles on his back until he calms a little.

"Where have you been?" New Mexico asks quietly.

"Just walking," Texas mumbles.

New Mexico scoffs and shakes her head in disbelief.

"You sent Dad into a full panic. Hell, even York and Cali are looking for you."

Texas just feels his emotions wrack through his body, shaking.

New Mexico pulls away and stands in front of him, digging through her pockets and pulling out her phone.

"Hey, Apple! Yes, this is actually important. I'm with Texas right now... yeah..."

Texas finds himself buried in guilt to pay much attention to the rest of the conversation.

Eventually, New Mexico hangs up.

"Lulu and Peaches are gonna come and get you. I think they got Bama and Sippi with 'em, but they're the closest right now, and I got to go back home. But I ain't leaving until I know you're with them."

Texas nods mutely and New Mexico sighs.

"You know Dad's not even mad, right?"

Texas' head whips up to face her. He stares in disbelief when she gave an airy laugh.

"He just wants to make sure you're okay."

Texas buries his face into his hands

New Mexico sighs and takes a seat on the opposite end of the couch.

"I ain't never seen two people with such clear flags," the old man comments and Texas stiffens, "normally something's gotta be off. Who are you?"

Texas tenses and New Mexico sighs.

"I suppose I owe you an apology. But most do not know who we are, but I owe you an explanation," New Mexico says, standing and tipping her hat before offering a hand, "My name is New Mexico, and that there is my brother, Texas."

'Brother? Does she still think of me like that? I thought I would be no one.'

"The states?" the man asks.

"Yes," New Mexico agrees with a nod, "we represent the populations. Our flags are the official flags of our states, that's why they look like replicas."

The man nods and looks at Texas, respect shining in his eyes. Texas can't meet his eyes.

They wait quietly until there is another knock. The old man invites them in and Texas finds himself under a near crushing weight.

"Texas!" Alabama cheers.

Mississippi and Alabama pile on top of him and laugh in relief.

Texas laughs quietly and hugs them back.

"Well, are y'all gonna come home with us?" Georgia asks.

"Yeah. Come on Tex, let's go," Mississippi says, pulling Texas to his feet.

Texas looks away, but can't bring himself to argue.

[masksandtruths]

Never Normal: Part 2

A/N: This was done for @revwinchester's Y1K Challenge, and in typical “me” fashion, I got a bit long winded. This one isn't going to be a big series, but there will be 2 3 parts, the last of which will explain a few things, including the story behind the reader’s post-it note. Anyway, congrats Rev, and I hope y'all love it!

If you want to catch up: Part 1

Summary: When the Winchesters found Y/N the moment after her world fell apart, she never expected they’d be the ones to help her put it back together--but that’s exactly what they did. From friends, to brothers, to the possibility of something more--their lives together were far from normal, which was exactly how she liked it.

Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader (Romantic) ; Sam Winchester x Reader (Platonic)

Warnings: Swearing, Fluffy (Sam is such a sweetheart), a tad Angsty (Maybe? If you look really closely?)

Word Count: 2600-ish

A bottle of red wine, a heaping plate of food, and a slice of pie later, and you were ready to pop. “Okay, I’ve got to quit. My jeans are starting to cut off my circulation,” you admitted sadly, sitting your fork on your plate and pushing it away from you.

“Well, you could always take them off.” Dean looked up from the pie he was inhaling, meeting your eyes, a wicked grin lazily turning up one corner of his mouth. Before your brain could form a truly witty and amazing comeback—something other than, “I wish you would,” which was the first thing that popped into your mind—Sam leapt to your defense.

“Jesus, Dean, could you maybe not start with the cheesy pickup lines?”

“Who’s starting what, Sammy? I simply offered a solution to Y/N’s problem.”

You let out a sarcastic snort and rolled your eyes. Sam just leaned back in his chair and gave Dean his best, little brother bitch face—complete with crossed arms, a raised eyebrow, and “you’re so full of shit” practically blinking on his forehead.

“You know what? Screw both of you,” he swore laughingly, shoveling another forkful of pie into his mouth and smiling widely.  “It’s my party, and I’ll do what I want to.”

***

You sent Sam and Dean off to other parts of the bunker to watch a movie or catch up on Game of Thrones or something so you could clean up the aftermath of Dean’s dinner in peace. Half an hour later, you had all the leftovers put away and were just finishing up the dishes when you heard heavy footsteps behind you.

“Hey Y/N, almost done?” Dean asked as he approached.

“Yeah, just about. Just gotta finish drying these bowls and put them away.”

“Need any help?” He was bent over, elbows resting on the counter, looking up at you with a dopey grin, and you felt a very strong—though definitely not unfamiliar—urge to lean down and kiss him. Such a simple thing—a tilt of your head, a press of your lips—and yet, you just couldn’t bring yourself do it. A relationship wasn’t in the cards for you, and you wouldn’t risk your friendship with the boys for a lone night in bed with one of them—even if one of those aforementioned boys happened to be looking extra scrumptious in a certain maroon shirt of his. Nope, you just had to get your hormones under control, maybe find a random dude to take out your pent up sexual frustrations on, and keep pretending you didn’t want to do very un-sister-like things with the man standing right beside you.

“Hello...earth to Y/N?”

“Uh…y-yeah…sure. Here,” you stammered with a jolt, shaking your head slightly to clear your thoughts and shoving a bowl towards Dean. “You dry. I’ll put them away.”

He plucked the towel out of your other hand and started working on the job you assigned him. You spun around to put up the bowl you had already dried, and when you turned back, he already had the next one finished and held out towards you.

“Thanks.” You latched your hand around the dish, but Dean didn’t loosen his grip. Your eyes went to his, and you knew immediately he could tell something was up.

“You want to tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours or am I going to have to play twenty questions?”

“It’s nothing, Dean.” He released the bowl but didn’t drop the subject.

“Uh huh, and I guess you assume that even after living with you for over half a year, I’ll just buy that  answer. You’ve been acting weird all night. What's up?”

Shit. How were you going to get out of this one? It was no secret Sam was good at reading people, but what most folks didn’t realize was that Dean was just as good—hell, maybe better—especially when it came to his family. You feigned confusion, flipping your hand in the air casually, “I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t have mixed wine and liquor. I think it made me a little loopy.”

“Nice try,” he flipped the towel over his shoulder and took a step towards you, “but I call bullshit again. Want to go for strike three?”

You turned your back to him and reached up to place the bowl he’d handed you on its proper shelf, effectively buying yourself a second to come up with your next answer. A straight up lie didn’t work, but maybe a half-truth would. You sighed and slowly faced him, lifting your y/e/c eyes to meet his concerned, green ones. “You know this is something I used to do with my little sister?" You made a circling motion with your finger. "The whole big fancy birthday dinner thing?”

You watched his expression soften at the mention of your sibling. You rarely mentioned her—or anything about your past life really—so any time you opened up the tiniest bit, they were more than willing to listen.

“No—no I didn’t know that. Shit, I’m sorry. You didn’t have to do this for me, Y/N." He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and down the underside of his jaw. "I never want to see you hurting. Ever. For any reason. But damned sure not because of me.”

You slowly stuck your hands in your pockets and lifted your shoulders in small shrug. “You didn’t know, Dean. Besides, I wanted to do this for you, and I don’t regret it one bit. There’s just a lot running through my head tonight, that’s all.” You felt the note in your pocket pressed against the palm of your hand, and it sent a wave of comfort through you. You pulled your hands from your pockets and slapped them together like you were dusting something from them.  “Alright, titty baby moment is officially over. Don’t you have a show full of battles, boobs and fire breathing dragons waiting on you in the other room?”

He dropped his head with an amused snort, and you couldn’t stop the smile that tugged up the corners of your mouth. When he lifted his face back up, his amused expression mirrored yours, and it made your breath hitch in your chest. He really was perfect. For a second, neither of you moved, content and happy in each other’s presence—enjoying the warmth of a light-hearted moment and shared smiles.

When the second was up, you stepped forward, intending to brush past him and continue your task of cleaning up the kitchen. But when your right shoulder lined up with his, his arm shot out, blocking your path and halting you in your tracks.

You felt the pressure of his arm across your body first—then the heat of his strong fingers tightly gripping your left hip—and finally, the subtle weight of his gaze. The air in the room suddenly felt thicker. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, silently reminding your lungs and heart that they did, in fact, know how to function properly.

“Y/N?”

Although it was barely above a whisper, the sound of your name falling softly from his lips in that perfectly husky voice of his somehow managed to echo through your entire body, sending a shiver down your spine and a ball of heat to your core. You squeezed your eyes tightly against a flood of images threatening to invade your brain—ones you knew would show you all the beautiful, wonderful, normal things you no longer allowed yourself to daydream about. You blocked them before they ever got the chance to turn into anything other than unfocused and blurry outlines of childish wishes from another lifetime. Before you started confusing “is”s and “never would be”s  with a bunch of “if”s and “maybe it could be”s.  The only thing that did was open you up for heartache and disappointment, and you’d had enough of that to last you until forever.

When you finally forced your eyelids open and met his gaze, you immediately saw the love and hope and numerous unasked questions swimming there in his eyes. You could read everything in them as well as you could read any book sitting on one of the shelves in the other room—and as his continued to search the depths of your own, you couldn’t help but wonder if he could read the emotions in your eyes just as clearly as you had in his. “What?” you breathed.

“What do I need to do here, Y/N? Am I supposed to be your brother or your friend…or…or something else?” he asked softly.  Well, that wasn’t what you were expecting. He didn’t come right out and say it, but you knew from the way he phrased it which answer he was hoping for—and you just needed a minute to process that. Everything in your heart was screaming at you to open your mouth and form the words he wanted, but your brain just couldn’t figure out how that would ultimately end well for either of you…so you stayed silent.

“It’s your choice, sweetheart, and I’ll still be here no matter what you decide. But please, decide soon because I can’t keep doing this back and forth thing. It’s giving me friggin’ whiplash.” When the last word fells from his lips, he released his hold on your hip, pressed a gentle, lingering kiss to your temple, and then quickly moved past you and through the door leading out into the bunker’s garage.

Holy shit balls. You’d told yourself that there was no way he could possibly be interested in you. That he flirted like that with every woman. That he was just protective because he thought of you like a sister. That you were imagining things. Now you realized you’d probably told yourself all that crap because it was much easier to ignore your own feelings if you thought there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell they’d be reciprocated.

***

“Sam!” you yelled. You were still standing there by the sink looking sort of shell shocked when he came barreling into the kitchen seconds later.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” he asked, hastily glancing around the space for any sign of what caused the panic he heard in your voice when you called his name.

“Dean…I…” You didn’t know how to start.

“Oh no. What did that shit bag do now? I told him to lay off the booze. Where is he? I swear to—"

“No…No…just stop,” you interrupted. “No, that came out wrong. Everything is just all wompyjawed right now, and I don’t know what to do. And I probably shouldn’t even be talking to you about it. I just don’t know who else to talk to. And you’re like my brother, but he actually is your brother, and—what the fuck.”

“Whoa, slow down, Y/N.” He stepped forward and wrapped you in a big bear hug, squeezing tightly and pinning down the arms you’d just been flailing about wildly. “Just calm down and tell me what happened.”

You inhaled deeply and then loudly blew the breath through your lips before stepping out of his arms and hopping up to sit on the counter. You rested your elbows on your knees and dropped your head, your temples resting between the palms of your hands. Sam waited patiently for you to get your thoughts together. “He told me to decide.”

Sam nodded knowingly, stepping backwards and resting his back on the island counter opposite of where you were sitting. “And what’d you say?”

“Not a fucking thing. I froze. Hell, I didn’t know he felt that way. How did he expect me to take in that little revelation and then give him an answer two seconds later?”

“Because most girls wouldn’t have to think about it.”

Your head shot up. “Well I’m not most girls.”

“Yeah, you’ve made that abundantly clear,” he said with a snort and a smirk.

You playfully swung your leg out towards him, acting like you were trying to kick him. “Shut up, turd.” You were silent for a minute, lost in your thoughts of Dean and the horribly confusing situation you’d gotten yourself into.

“What’s stopping you?” Sam asked quietly, finally breaking the silence.

“I don’t know. Just after everything I’ve learned, I don’t really see how it’d be possible for me to have something as normal as a relationship. I’ve lost too many people in my life already, and if I go down this road with Dean and then lose him, I don’t know if that is something I could survive. Besides, I made a promise to my sister that I’d never be normal anyway, so...I guess this is me keeping that promise.” You shrugged, giving him a sad, half smile.

“Well, let me ask you this…you love me, right?”

“You know I do, Sammy.”

“And you’d be absolutely devastated if something happened to me, right?” he continued with a wink.

“Of course, I would,” you answered dramatically, placing a hand over your heart.

“And you have already let yourself feel that kind of love for my bone headed big brother too?” You nodded your head in agreement. “So then if you’ve already let yourself love us enough for it to hurt if you had to live without us, why not go ahead and dive in head first with Dean? Yeah, it'd suck if you decided to try with him and it didn't work out, but wouldn't spending the rest of your life denying yourself a true shot at happiness suck worse?”

“Ummm…” Sam quirked an eyebrow up at you, and you shook your head in disbelief. “I don’t know why I’d never really thought of it that way before.”

“Because you aren’t as smart as me,” he teased. “Now, what’s your next lame ass excuse?”

You rolled your eyes and let out a small chuckle. “Well you're sure handling this well. You seem mighty proud of yourself and not the least bit surprised.”

“Because I’m not. Unlike you two, I figured out a longggg time ago that y’all were made for each other,” he joked. “I’ve been telling him for months to quit being such a pansy and just say something to you about it, but you know as well as I do what a stubborn ass he can be when he sets his mind to it.”

“You ain’t never lied,” you laughed in agreement.

Sam crossed the small space between the two counters, stopping beside you and playfully bumping your shoulder with his. “Seriously though…just go for it, Y/N.”

You dropped your head sideways with a groan, resting it on his shoulder. “What if I screw it up? Or he screws it up? Or we both do? I don’t want to have to walk away from the life I’ve built here with y’all because we couldn't get our shit together,” you admitted quietly.

“You won’t ever have to do that,” he said, resting his cheek on the top of your head. “Promise.”

“How can you be so sure?” You straightened, lifting your face from its resting spot on his shoulder so you could see him when he answered.

“Because I, for one, think you two idiots belong together and are just hardheaded and contrary enough to make it through anything.” You punched him lightly on the arm for that one. “And because, you’re family now—whether you like it or not—and that means something to us. Sure, we may get crossways sometimes, and things might get a little messy for a while if y’all’s deal happened to go south—but that will never change the fact that this is and will always be your home.”

You twisted your body on the counter so that you could wrap your arms around his neck and pulled him to you tightly. “Thank you, Sammy. I love you.”

He reached up with a giant hand and patted one of the arms you had locked around him. “Love you too, kid,” he chuckled. “Love you too.”

Read Part 3 -->

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