#it was sad looking at old picture of how healthy he used to be

[wolfstrong]

Rest in peace to my smallest Cory Cat!!! He got sick a couple weeks ago and passed this morning :((((

[punkshort]

i know who you are | 7. the week

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Joel is on a mission to win you back. You struggle with your feelings and visit an old friend for some perspective.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, pining, sad!Joel, amnesia, slow burn, physical violence, wounds/blood/injuries/gore, vague reference to suicide (Joel remembering his incident after Sarah), alcohol consumption, non-descriptive smutty memory, mentions of murder (adults and children), mentions of pregnancy (not reader)

WC: 7.7K

A/N: I took some liberties with the background of the Fireflies, it's not exactly canon.

Series Masterlist

Somewhere in Northern California

It took two days.

Two full days of freezing temperatures and frigid wind as he traversed up and down mountains, through snow covered forests with little to no shelter, but he finally made it. Right before nightfall, he approached the edge of the town you grew up in. The town your parents still lived in ten years ago. The town that holds a history of you and everything you hold dear.

It was too dark and he was too tired to enter the town and go any further, but fortune smiled upon him for the first time since he left Jackson when he spotted a dilapidated woodshed tucked into the forest. It was small, no bigger than a bedroom, but it would do. It would be the first time in two days he would get to sleep with a roof over his head, and he desperately needed it.

He grossly overestimated his ability to survive out in the wild. He did it before, of course, but life in Jackson made him soft. Made him complacent. Made him weak.

Time took its toll on his body. His age was an offensive reminder every time his knees creaked or his back twinged. He wasn't as fast as he used to be, nor as strong. But he was determined and stubborn, two things that would never change.

With hands trembling from the cold, he jabbed his knife into the lock and broke it with ease, a small triumph in an otherwise unforgiving journey. The shed was mostly empty, save for a pile of wood and an axe. Plenty of room for both him and the horse.

After he scattered some oats on the floor, he grabbed his rifle and marched back out into the snowy tundra to do a perimeter check, knowing he would fall asleep the moment he allowed himself to slow down. By the time he deemed the area safe, he retreated back into the woodshed and lit a fire in the tiny furnace to warm up a bit.

Once he got feeling back in his fingers, he cracked open some stew and ate it cold straight from the can, too impatient to warm it up and too eager to get some rest. The wind howled outside, practically screaming at him with every gust: How could you say that to me?

The horse nickered softly, her head lowered, one back leg cocked as she began to doze off. He laid on the wooden floor, partially resting inside his sleeping bag, ready to strike if there was an intruder. The back of his wrist laid against his forehead while he stared blankly at the ceiling, wondering for the umpteenth time if what he was doing was even going to work. If he would even be capable of finding your house in this town, let alone finding any pictures still in good enough condition to bring back to you.

But it was all he had.

You had mentioned to him when he was sick, after you saw the photo of Sarah, how you wished you had pictures of your family. You looked so somber and distant and he was once again reminded that even though you lost them ten years ago, in your mind you only lost them months ago.

He couldn't imagine losing Sarah twice. Waking up one day, thinking she was alive and healthy and late for school just to be told she was killed mercilessly ten years prior and died in his arms. You were so much stronger than him. You always were. You were told your whole world changed, your family gone, and then tossed into a house with him, pressured by everyone every damn day to regain your memories and become a completely different person when he knew deep down if the same had happened to him, his answer would lie at the end of a barrel. But unlike before, he might not flinch.

You really fucking hurt me, Joel.

He rubbed his face aggressively, the pain and anguish in your voice haunting him. This trip left him with too much time to get lost in his thoughts, too much time to wallow in his grief and replay every single painful memory from the past several days.

Sighing, he dropped his hands to his chest and tried to think about something else. Letting his eyes drift shut, he let his mind wander back to before. Before your accident, before he fucked everything up, back to a time when you were happy and stupidly in love.

"What's cookin', good lookin'?" he heard your voice behind him.

He grinned as he stirred a pot of sauce on the stove while you wrapped your arms around his midsection, burying your face against his back.

"My accent rubbin' off on you now?"

You giggled and let go, walking over to grab the bottle of whiskey and pouring you each a glass.

"Maybe."

You handed him his glass and clinked them together before taking a sip.

"How was patrol?" he asked, turning his attention back to the pasta.

"Boring," you replied, hopping up onto the counter next to him, swinging your legs back and forth. "Jesse has a lot of work to do. He's not seasoned enough to be out there without one of us."

He nodded thoughtfully and lifted the spoon up to your lips to taste the sauce. "Needs lemon," you said, licking your upper lip while he snatched a lemon from a basket in the corner of the kitchen and sliced it in half.

"Yeah, I know, but he's got potential. Just gotta get him to focus a bit more. Gotta be more aware of his surroundings."

You hummed and rubbed the back of your neck with a wince.

"You hurtin'?" he asked, but you shook your head immediately.

"Just tired."

"You sure?" he said while he strained the pasta. "I can rub your neck later."

"Oh, well in that case, yes. I'm absolutely aching over here," you said with a smile.

"Don't tempt me, baby," he told you, setting down the pot before wedging himself between your knees, his hands rubbing over your thighs. "Might not stop at your neck."

"Is that right?" you teased, pulling your lower lip between your teeth playfully.

"Mhmm. First it's your neck, then shoulders," he said, pressing a gentle kiss against your lips, "then your back," he dragged his hands up your back and pressed you forward, nearly pulling you off the counter.

"Then what?" you asked breathlessly, arms loosely draping around the back of his neck.

"Before y'know it, you'll be pullin' at my belt, tellin' me you got an ache someplace else 'n you need me to stuff you full of my cock." His hands dragged up and down your back, his mouth nipping gently at your throat as you tipped your head back with a gasp.

"You know me so well," you murmured, a lazy smirk spreading across your face when you felt the urgency behind his touch.

"Yeah I do, baby," his words getting lost against your skin, "know you like the back of my hand. Know what makes you tick. What makes you feel good. Know what makes you scream my fuckin' name." His lips slotted over yours urgently, the pasta cold and long forgotten as you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him close.

"Take me to bed, Joel," you begged after you pulled your head away, breaking the kiss and then quickly latching onto his neck. "Need you. I want - shit!" you cursed when one of you accidentally pushed a plate off the counter and it smashed into pieces against the floor.

"Leave it, don't care," he said, picking you up and pulling your attention off the shards of ceramic littering the floor. "I'll clean it up later."

His eyes popped open, the echo of your giggle from that night bouncing around his skull. It was almost laughable now, thinking he felt lonely before compared to how he felt in the middle of fucking nowhere with only a sleeping horse to keep him company.

He wasn't stupid. He knew he would need to do more than bring home some pictures to convince you to forgive him. But it was a start, and maybe, just maybe with time, you would come to understand what you meant to him.

And if he was really lucky, he might end up meaning something to you, too.

It was stupid and it didn't mean anything.

That's what you kept telling yourself ever since Joel left and you found yourself curling up in his bed at night instead of yours.

His bed was more comfortable. His room didn't store the bad memories of your fight. It was simply easier to sleep there.

It certainly didn't have anything to do with the way the sheets still smelled like him. Like the soap you both used combined with the outdoors and a hint of his sweat. And on the third night when you picked out a flannel of his from the closet and wrapped it around yourself, it was only because it was a particularly frigid night.

You didn't miss him.

Well, you missed having another person in the house, sure. But you didn't miss him on some deeper level. Maria and Ellie were wrong. They had no idea what they were talking about. They had no idea what was going through your head, what you were feeling, what you were struggling with.

There was no possible way you could have feelings for Joel. Not after everything he did and said. Not after the lies and the cheating and the deception.

But then why, when you were struggling to fall asleep at night, did your mind always wander back to the way he looked at you in the meadow, or the way his arms felt wrapped around you on the back of the horse, or the way he made you laugh when you played Monopoly?

And why did it feel like a part of you left with him that night?

"Pathetic," you muttered to yourself, pulling the sheets tighter and rolling over onto your side, his soft, worn flannel like butter against your bare skin. You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing the memories from your mind and instead, replaying what he told you about the hospital.

He almost killed you. He was seconds away from putting a bullet in your head and only after presumably begging for your life did he let you go, and then he had the nerve to keep that information from you not only once, but fucking twice.

He was protecting Ellie.

But he still shouldn't have lied.

With a groan, you rolled onto your back and stared up at the ceiling, sleep so far out of reach you didn't even feel like trying anymore. Then a thought occurred to you:

You weren't the only one he let live. There were two other people in Jackson who were there, who were shown mercy and didn't appear to hold any resentment towards him for it. In fact, they seemed rather happy with the second chance they were given.

You hadn't seen Ben or Lisa in a long time. The opportunity never presented itself for you to seek any perspective from them about that day.

Perhaps it was time to change that.

It took him a few hours to scope out the town and venture out of the woods, but by late morning he was heading down what looked to be one of the main thoroughfares in town, eyes squinting against the blowing snow as he tried to pinpoint the location of town hall.

All he remembered was your street name but he had absolutely no idea how to find it, so his plan was to break into the town hall and find a map. From there, he prayed Ellie's drawing was truly accurate enough to narrow down your parents' house.

He was freezing. His face was numb and his back was fucking killing him from riding so much, but he was so close. If he was lucky, he could find your house, get what he needed and head out all before nightfall. Maybe he could even spend another night in the woodshed. It wasn't so bad. At least he was warm.

As he continued to steer his horse down another road, he couldn't help but think Tommy was right about the storm. It was providing him some cover, just in case there were survivors around that wouldn't take kindly to his intrusion. He just hoped it would blow through in a day so his ride back would be clear.

After another thirty minutes of wind whipping at his face, the cold penetrating his coat and several layers underneath, he finally saw it. It was a smaller building than he imaged it to be, but the sign was clear. Hoping that the town size was as small as the town hall, he steered his mare down the drive and through the parking lot, making sure to take in his surroundings, confirming he was truly alone before he slid down from the saddle and trudged through the snow to the front doors.

He wiped away the snow from the window, peering inside before heading to another one and doing the same. It appeared to be empty so he tried the door, unsurprisingly finding it locked. He pulled out his knife and worked on the lock, his fingers stiff and his ears so cold he could barely feel them anymore. Finally, he broke the lock but when he shoved the door, there was something blocking him on the other side.

"Shit," he muttered, glancing around, kicking and dusting snow off the surrounding area, looking for a brick or a rock. Giving up, he grabbed his rifle from the saddle and angrily made his way to the nearest window, smashing the butt of his gun against the glass repeatedly until it shattered. He gasped for air, not realizing how much energy he was exerting before he continued, knocking out as much of the glass as he could.

Sticking his head inside, he looked around. The place seemed empty. It was quiet, covered in dust and debris. Untouched dust was good. It meant nobody had been there in a while. Human or otherwise.

He crawled through the window, taking great care to not catch on any jagged edges. He held his breath, ears straining for any noise that might give someone away, but all he heard was the howling wind outside. This is your fault. Still, he kept his guard up. He walked room to room, finding his way to the lobby and searching the front desk for a map.

"You gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me," he grumbled as he opened and shut each drawer in the desk, only pausing to snatch up an old protein bar and shoving it in his pocket.

With a sigh, he looked around the room. There were a couple benches, chairs that were moved and tipped over, papers scattered about but his eyes were drawn to the portraits on the wall. There were a few paintings of men he would never recognize, unknown sheriffs and mayors, and some framed pictures of the staff, but the one that really drew his attention was the large map on the wall next to the front doors.

It was a road map of the town. Simple, but it was all he needed. He rounded the desk and shined his flashlight over the map, studying it, searching for where he was before looking for your street.

"Grant Street."

"Grant?" he repeated, his fingers lightly skirting up and down your bare back.

"Mhmm," you confirmed, eyes closed, a small, satisfied smile tugging at your lips as you buried your face into his neck.

"That's funny," he said, his hand wandering past your waist and over your ass.

"Why's that?"

"Grant's my Mama's maiden name."

Your eyes opened and locked onto his. "Maybe it's fate, then."

Maybe it was.

Grant was only four blocks north. It didn't look like a very long road, either.

He could do this.

He was so close.

Lisa answered the door with the same look of surprise as before, although this time she was clutching needles and yarn in her left hand while the fire quietly crackled behind her.

"Hey," you said, arms wrapped around yourself as the snow storm continued to swirl behind you. "Can I come in?"

"Oh! Of course!" Lisa said, stepping back, "how rude of me. Can I get you something warm to drink?" She closed the door behind you and took a step towards the kitchen. "I just boiled some water for tea, it's still hot."

"Tea sounds lovely, thank you," you said as you hung up your coat and scarf, trying your best not to make a mess of melted snow all over her floor.

She told you to make yourself comfortable while she prepared your tea, so you wandered into her tiny living room, the space seeming a little larger now without your two imposing men.

"Where's Ben?"

"Working," she said, setting down a teacup and saucer next to hers. "I put a little sugar in it."

"Oh, thank you, that's perfect. I like it sweet," you replied, sitting down on the same couch as before and bringing the cup to your lips.

"I know, I remember," she said, and when she sat down and fixed her billowy top, you noticed for the first time the small bump protruding low on her hips.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise and she followed your gaze.

"Oh, yes," her tone soft, "I'm due this spring."

"Wow. Congratulations, Lisa. That's wonderful, I had no idea. I thought I would have seen you from time to time at the infirmary," you explained, setting down your tea.

"Nick agrees to see me after hours, sometimes he makes house calls," she said, picking up her needles again.

You titled your head to the side. "Why do you want to be seen after hours?"

Her lips pressed into a thin line, eyes fixed on the yellow blanket she was making. "I still find it difficult sometimes to face some of the others in town, I suppose. I know I shouldn't but the guilt sticks with me."

"Guilt?"

Her eyes flicked up to yours and she shifted her weight. "I know Ben mentioned the Fireflies to you." She held out her wrist, showing you the small moth-like symbol tattooed there. "I'm not sure how much you know or remember-"

"Actually, that's why I'm here," you said, taking a deep breath. "Joel told me everything. About the Fireflies. About the hospital."

Her eyes widened, the needles abandoned in her lap.

"Oh."

"Yeah," you said, chewing on your lip and glancing at the fire. "He told me what he did there. Told me he spared us, let us go."

"Yes, he did," she agreed softly.

"Can you tell me more about that day?" you asked, dragging your eyes back to meet hers. "I'm having trouble understanding how I could have known this before and still managed to fall in love with him."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

You laughed dryly and shrugged. "I mean he almost killed us. He killed countless innocent people, friends of ours I'm assuming, and I'm expected to believe I just looked past it? We just looked past it?" You motioned between the two of you. "He's a murderer, Lisa. He-"

"We're murderers," she corrected, and you fell silent. "We killed innocent people. We helped lead a revolution that resulted in hundreds of deaths, and where did that get us? Nowhere! People weren't any better off. In fact, they were worse. Friends and family killed, caught in the crossfire, tangled up in this idea of freedom and safety and giving their lives to an empty cause."

You swallowed as you watched Lisa's face, her eyes fiery and her tone hardened, transforming into a different version of herself before your very eyes.

"What Joel did..." she trailed off as she thought back to that day. "We did bad things. So did he, but he single handedly cut the Fireflies off at the legs. He stopped the insanity, stopped the war, stopped the ridiculous experiments and half baked ideas to save the world, regardless of the lives lost along the way. You don't remember, I understand, but allow me to explain."

"Please," you begged softly, "please tell me everything."

She rested a palm against her swelling stomach and leaned back. "We realized we made a mistake pretty early on," she began, "but we didn't have anywhere else to go. We had been living in the wild for so long. We were tired and hungry and weak and we fell for it. Fell for the sales pitch when they found us. We were told we wouldn't have to fight, but they didn't tell us what they expected us to do."

"W-what did we do?" you stammered, sitting on the edge of your seat.

"We killed people. Innocent people, point blank. FEDRA soldiers. Civilians who ratted out our location for extra food for their family. Children-" her voice wobbled a bit as she looked down at her stomach. "Children who were experimented on, vaccine prototypes tested on, who became horribly disfigured a-and screaming in pain, begging to be put out of their misery-"

"Okay," you said, cutting her off and taking a deep breath, unable to hear much more. It was becoming clear why Joel kept this from you, and although you had a right to know, you were beginning to understand his motivation. He was trying to protect you.

"Anyway," Lisa continued, flicking a tear from her cheek, "we planned on getting out. We couldn't do it anymore. Then, Joel showed up."

You held your breath, waiting for her to continue.

"We were doing perimeter checks. Loosening a spot in the gate so we could sneak out later that night. Then we heard the gunshots. And at first, we thought some infected got in. It was the perfect distraction, so we grabbed our gear and made a run for it."

She paused to take a sip from her tea, her eyes looking miles away.

"We almost made it. We were in the parking garage loading up a vehicle when he snuck up behind us. Told us to lay face down on the ground with our hands behind our heads. We never saw him and it wasn't until later we found out he was all alone. The whole time we were convinced it had to have been a group of men. It seemed impossible for one man to do what he did, but somehow..."

She trailed off again and cleared her throat.

"He gave us a second chance when we didn't deserve it," she said solemnly. "You and Ben dealt with the weight of what we did far better than me. I still struggle with the guilt, I can't..." she looked up at you, "I hope you never remember."

A chill went down your spine and you nodded.

"Try not to hold it against him," she said, offering you a small smile. "We've all done terrible things. It's not all black and white."

It ain't black and white.

"Yeah, okay," you replied quietly, standing up from the couch, your mind reeling. "Thanks," you added, motioning to the tea before she walked you to the door, "and congratulations again."

"Thank you," she said, rubbing her belly, her green eyes sparkling. "I'm glad you stopped by. The truth is sometimes ugly, but that doesn't mean you don't deserve to understand the whole picture." You nodded and bent over to shove on your boots. "Joel's not a bad man. I'm sure he was just trying to protect you by leaving some things out about our past. He would have told you eventually."

When the whole goddamn world ends and all you got left is one or two people you care 'bout, you'll do whatever you gotta do to protect 'em.

"Yeah, I'm starting to realize that now," you said, shrugging on your coat with a wry smile.

The whole way home, you practically kicked yourself for not visiting Lisa sooner. Maybe it would have made a difference, maybe not. But it finally felt like a missing puzzle piece was back in place and you could begin to make sense of your confusing feelings for Joel.

Ellie was incredibly talented.

He needed to make sure to remind her of that when he got home because even through the blowing snow, in near whiteout conditions, he was still able to figure out which house was yours because Ellie's drawing was so detailed, so accurate that it almost felt like he had been there before.

He was eager and impatient. He just wanted to get inside and get what he needed and leave, but before he did, he peered inside the windows and did a walk around the whole house three times, just in case. It was a small brick ranch and if the snow wasn't so thick, he would be able to see the black shutters framing the front windows, just like in the drawing.

He shouldered open the side garage door first, a pile of fluffy snow spilling over the hard concrete as he stumbled in and shimmied open the roll top door so he could bring his mare inside.

He pat her between the eyes, murmuring his thanks for being so damn tough and sprinkled some more oats on the ground before slipping inside the house.

The door from the attached garage led right into a kitchen, which, by the looks of it, was rifled through on more than one occasion. No doubt some survivors had come through over the years and turned the place upside down for anything useful, but that didn't matter to him. What he needed wouldn't be stolen.

Glancing at the fridge, he paused when he saw some photos stuck to the door. He leaned his rifle against the wall and shook his head, curls flinging melted snow over the dusty floor, then bent over to examine the pictures. Most of them didn't have you and he began to worry he was in the wrong house after all, but then he saw it: at the very top was a picture of four people, all wearing summer clothes and Mickey Mouse ears with the Cinderella castle in the background. A middle aged man and woman bookended a young man, lean but muscular with his arm draped around your shoulders.

You were younger, maybe still in high school, and your hair was longer and lighter, but he would recognize that smile anywhere.

He carefully plucked the photo from the fridge and brought it closer, his eyes raking over every detail of the picture, from the brightness in your eyes to the cotton candy pink sky behind you.

You looked so happy.

Nothing like the way you looked when he last saw you: broken and bruised. Ruined and dejected. Because of him.

You spared my life just to break my heart.

He blinked and pocketed the photo before turning around. The living room was in worse condition. It appeared someone must have stayed there at one point because the couches were shifted around, an armchair wedged in front of the door, cushions flung around haphazardly.

He had to move furniture out of the way, dig around a bit through broken bookshelves, but he managed to finally unearth an old photo album. Resting on one of the couch cushions with a huff, he took a few moments to flip through it, smiling now and then when he saw an especially cute picture of you. The wind outside was howling so loudly, the old house creaking with every gust that he couldn't hear when footsteps slowly crept up behind him and knocked him unconscious with the butt of his own rifle.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

He knew better. He should have scoped out the inside of the house before getting distracted. But he was too excited and too eager to get what he came for that he forgot his own rules. And he took for granted the snowstorm would hide his tracks.

Now he was hunched over on the living room floor, leaning against the wall with his wrists tied behind his back while five raiders went through his things.

"Hey man, don't you like peaches?"

"Fuck yeah I do, give it here."

Joel groaned, the back of his head throbbing, thick, sticky blood slowly trickling down the back of his neck.

"He's waking up."

"Hey, princess, how's the head?" one said with a sinister laugh. Joel ignored him.

"You got some nice shit. Wanna tell us where your camp is?"

Joel opened his eyes and glared at the man in front of him, wearing a leather jacket and leather gloves and a black bandana pulling his dark, wiry hair off his scarred face.

"Fuck you."

The punch came fast and hard across his jaw, making him see stars for a moment. The other men chuckled and got back to dividing up his things.

"You wanna try that again?" the first man asked, crouching down in front of him. Joel tugged on the rope holding his wrists together. The knot was tight but it wasn't foolproof. He just needed a little time to loosen it up.

"Don't got a camp."

"Bullshit," the man barked, spitting against the wall next to Joel's head. "Ain't nobody out here with this kinda gear and a goddamn horse roughing it all alone. Now, just tell us the city and we'll take it from there. We'll even let you live."

He heard one of the other men scoff but the rest remained quiet, and if Joel wasn't already convinced they were planning to kill him either way, he definitely was now.

"Boise."

"Boise?" he repeated, and Joel nodded, twisting his hands behind his back, feeling the coarse rope burn against his skin. The man in the leather jacket sighed and hung his head before landing another blow, this time across the mouth. Joel's lower lip got snagged on his teeth and tore. Blood trickled down his chin as he angrily whipped his head back towards the raider.

"I told you what you wanted!"

"You fed me a bunch of bullshit is what you did," he said, kicking Joel in the ribs. He gasped for air, doubled over against the wall, coughing and spraying blood across the faded floral wallpaper. He wondered if your parents did the wallpaper themselves, if your mom picked it out, or did the house already come like that?

Joel tugged harder on the rope, feeling it start to give. He needed to stay focused. He needed to make every move count if he wanted to get out of this alive.

The raider pulled a revolver from the back of his pants - Joel's revolver - and flipped it over in his hands. Back and forth, back and forth. Then he leaned forward and pressed the barrel against Joel's forehead.

"I'll give you one more chance, asshole," he said, his dark eyes boring into Joel's, "tell us where your camp is or else I shoot you in the fucking head."

"What the hell was he doing here anyway?"

"Shut up, Mike," the guy in the leather growled, eyes still trained on Joel.

"No, but seriously. There's nothing in this house worth taking. We've been through this neighborhood months ago."

The raider's eyes flickered around the room and Joel tugged harder on his restraints when he looked away. Then the man spotted the photo album lying face down on the ground.

"What's this?" he asked, lowering the gun and picking up the album. He began to flip through it and Joel felt the rope finally give. The raider let out a low whistle and slid a photo out to look at it closer. "Don't tell me you came out in the middle of a storm just to find something to jack off to," he teased, holding up a photo of you in a yellow bikini by a pool. He flipped the picture back around and grinned. When he went to stuff it in his pocket, his attention momentarily diverted, Joel took his opportunity to strike.

In the blink of an eye, he snatched the revolver from the raider's fingers and shot him in the temple, his body immediately falling limply to the side. Wet, sticky blood sprayed all over Joel's hand but he just tightened his grip on the gun, taking aim and bringing down another one of the men while they were still too stunned to move.

"Fuck!" one of the remaining three men screamed as they scrambled for cover. Joel ducked behind the couch and held his breath, straining to hear the scuffling of their boots, trying to pinpoint where they were in the small room. When he heard one of them accidentally knock against the kitchen table, the wooden legs scraping against the linoleum, he straightened up and took aim, taking out another man with a bullet right between the eyes, but unfortunately one of the last two men got a shot in as well.

The bullet grazed against his left bicep. Joel hissed and ducked back behind the couch. He would deal with it later.

"Come on, man, we can work something out," one of the men called out after a minute. "Let's just go our separate ways. Act like this never-"

Joel jumped up and shot the man in the cheek, the bullet traveling through his mouth and out the back of his head, leaving brain matter that looked like globs of gelatin dripping down the kitchen cupboards after he fell lifelessly to the ground.

Joel stepped towards the kitchen, now only one on one. He got cocky. He was feeling too confident with how quickly he took out the group. He didn't even see it coming when the knife lodged into his side, just above his hip. Without thinking, he yanked the knife out, twisted around and jammed it into the final raider's throat, watching as he fell to the floor, choking on his own blood, and didn't look away until he stopped twitching.

Adrenaline still coursed through his veins and he used it to his advantage, his left hand pressing weakly against his wound, the wound in his arm preventing it from being very effective while he searched the dead bodies of the men for anything useful. He had brought some first aid with him when he left Jackson but he was too far from home, he would need antibiotics, at least, if he was going to make it back.

Of course, he came up empty, so he snatched his first aid kit from the table and stumbled down the little hallway, searching for a bathroom. He knew it was a lost cause, the raiders already admitted to clearing the place out months ago, but he had to try.

He flung open the medicine cabinet with a grunt, the pain beginning to set in now. Pressing his bloody fingers against the stab wound as hard as he could, he rummaged around the cabinet, leaving paths of red everywhere his fingers touched, then tried the drawers under the sink.

Nothing.

"Fuck," he muttered, collapsing onto the cool tile floor as he began to sort through his first aid kit. There were no towels left but he was sitting on an old bathmat. He groaned in pain when he lifted his hips to pull the bathmat out, shook out the dust and dirt, then pressed it against his side, bringing his knee up to hold it in place.

With trembling fingers, he threaded a needle. He wiped the blood from his hands on his shirt, but they were stained red. Ripping open his jacket and flannel, he lifted the two other layers he had on underneath and lowered his leg to get a look at the wound.

It was deep and he was losing a lot of blood, but he was fairly certain the knife wasn't long enough to knick any organs. His stomach wasn't swelling, that was a good sign.

He only had a small bottle of antiseptic, so he used most of it to clean the wound and then the needle, saving a little bit to use on his arm later.

He took several quick breaths in, hyping himself up, then paused when he first shoved the needle through his skin. Tears sprung up, blurring his vision, but he blinked them away.

Focus. Focus. Focus.

In and out, in and out, he slowly stitched himself up. The angle was awkward and the stitches were ugly, but it got the job done: the bleeding stopped. His heart was hammering in his chest, sweat poured from the sides of his head, mixing with all the blood drying on his face and beard. He slumped to the ground with a pained groan, lying flat on the floor in a pool of his own blood, staring up at the ceiling. He just needed a moment to rest, a moment to catch his breath and then he would go.

Would he ever see you again? Would you ever even know why he came out there? Would you always wonder what happened to him? You told him you cared about him, but was that even true anymore? After what he did?

"C'mon, baby, gimme a sign," he whispered to himself, "gimme a sign that I still got a chance in hell 'cause if I don't, I'm not sure I got the strength to make it home." Tears welled up in his eyes again and this time he let them fall. He sniffled and waited. For what, he wasn't sure. Divine intervention? Genius to strike? A brilliant idea to form? But all he heard was the blowing wind outside.

The tile felt so cool against his burning hot skin. A small voice in the back of his head told him the longer he stayed there the weaker he would become, but he was just so tired. He rolled his head to the side, his eyes about to slide shut when he saw it: a dusty, opaque orange bottle rolled all the way against the wall underneath the sink.

Blinking a few times, he wondered if he was imagining it.

He wasn't.

Stretching his arm out, he slowly reached underneath the vanity and pulled out the half empty bottle. Holding it above his face, he squinted at the letters on the faded sticker.

Penicillin. Use as directed by your dentist.

His breath caught in his throat when he read your name on the label.

He finally got his sign.

"What happens when we die?"

"What?"

You rolled over onto your side to face him, wrapping your arm around his waist. He looked so peaceful, lying in bed like that. His eyes closed, face relaxed. You repeated your question.

"Don't know," he said, cracking open one eye to look at you. "Haven't died yet."

You giggled and he smiled, pulling you closer. He smelled so good. Like the rain and sex and smoke from the fire.

"I mean... do you think there's a heaven?"

He hummed and kissed the top of your head, his fingers lightly trailing up and down your bare arm.

"Yeah, I do."

You swallowed nervously and drew invisible circles into his skin, making him shiver.

"Do you think..." you trailed off and he froze, picking up on your tone.

"What, darlin'?"

"Do you think we'll make it? To heaven, I mean?"

His eyebrows pinched together. "Why wouldn't we?"

"You know why," you replied softly, "we've done bad things, Joel."

"Yeah, but we ain't bad people," he reminded you, then rolled over, pushing you onto your back so his arms caged you in. One knee slotted between yours and you spread your legs, hooking your ankles around the backs of his thighs.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," he said, dipping his chin down and pressing his lips firmly against yours. You sighed, your shoulders finally relaxing. "Besides, this is heaven right here," he murmured against your mouth, feeling you smile.

"Ain't nothin' better than this."

You awoke with a gasp, your heart fluttering wildly in your chest. That was the first time you had a dream about Joel, and something about it made you uneasy.

You had slept in his bed the entire week, wrapped in his clothes, and today was the day you had expected him to come home. Shrugging off the dream to no more than your subconscious fixated on his return, you forced yourself to get out of bed, fixing the sheets so it wouldn't look like you had been sleeping there and then headed to your room to change and freshen up.

The past couple days you had secretly hoped he would come back sooner but you refused to let it show. If Ellie or Dina or Maria asked you about it, you played it cool, or at least you thought you did. But every night you stayed up as late as you could, curled up on the couch all alone, waiting. Every time someone walked by, your body stiffened and your pulse raced, expecting to hear his heavy footsteps walking up the porch, but they never came.

But today was the day. The seventh day. His note said a week, and you knew if Joel was alive, he would stick to his word.

His absence afforded you a lot of time to think. Time you didn't realize you desperately needed, and now that you were able to process everything clearly without his overwhelming presence muddying the waters, you felt confident you knew what you wanted now.

All day at work, you were distracted. Nick had to call your name repeatedly to get your attention on more than one occasion, and by the fifth time you felt guilty. He didn't say anything, though. He understood. By then, most of the town knew Joel had left. Word spread like wildfire, especially once the storm passed through. It didn't take a genius to figure out how difficult it would be to survive all alone in those conditions.

Then the rumors started.

You tried to ignore them, but it was hard. When people began drinking and getting loud in the dining hall, it was impossible not to hear.

When you heard a man claim he saw Joel's horse frozen in a river during patrol, you stopped going to the dining hall to eat.

It was dark, it was just a deer, Tommy had told you later after he went out to the river to check, but it still shook you up.

When the sun set on Jackson on the seventh day and Joel still hadn't returned, the fear began to take hold. Your stomach churned, making it impossible to eat the following morning. You had hardly slept, the bags under your eyes dark and heavy. Nick begged you to take the day off but you insisted you needed to stay busy, although it didn't help much. On your lunch break you tried to casually walk by the main gate, the one near the stables, hoping to catch a glimpse of him returning, but you had no such luck.

So you went back to work. You kept your hands busy, tried to keep your mind occupied, but it was impossible.

I'll spend the rest of my life makin' it up to you.

You couldn't get those words out of your head. The guilt was weighing you down as you grew worried that was going to be one of the last things he ever said to you.

"Went on a date the other night."

"With who?"

"Cindy, from the kitchen."

Ricky laughed heartily and Andrew smacked his shoulder with the back of his hand.

"Shut up, man. We're on watch, we can't be giving ourselves away."

"It's the middle of the goddamn night and we haven't seen any infected in weeks. It's too cold for them, they're all frozen somewhere waiting to thaw in the spring," Ricky said, shouldering his rifle.

"Yeah, but still. You never know. There's more than just infected out there."

Ricky chuckled and shook his head. "Tommy telling you ghost stories again?"

"Raiders ain't ghost stories, asshole," Andrew shot back.

"And raiders never make it this far up the mountains, asshole," Ricky replied, mocking Andrew's tone.

Andrew grumbled under his breath and strolled away from the tower, towards the gate, his eyes scanning the treeline. He couldn't see a damn thing. It was pitch black and deathly quiet.

He turned on his heel and began the slow walk back towards the tower where he could see Ricky unwrapping a granola bar and pulling a paperback book from his back pocket.

Just as he was about to chastise him for letting his guard down, he heard twigs snapping in the woods. He whipped around, bringing his rifle up so he could get a better look with his scope.

"What the hell was that?" Ricky's whisper materialized in his ear.

"Dunno. Something's out there."

Ricky lifted his own rifle and scanned the trees as well, both of them holding their breath, waiting for another noise.

"Maybe-"

Then they heard more twigs snapping and pine trees raking against fabric. Louder this time.

"Fuck," Ricky muttered nervously, his palms growing sweaty inside his gloves.

"There," Andrew said lowly, and Ricky followed his aim. Something was approaching in the dark. Something big.

"I got it."

"No, just wait a second," Andrew said, squinting through the scope. Then his jaw went slack when he realized what it was.

"It's a horse."

"What?"

"It's a fucking horse, bro," Andrew repeated, his voice rising a little.

When it finally emerged from the forest, they saw the rider slumped over, covered in snow, their face buried in the horse's mane.

"Holy shit," Andrew said, slinging his rifle over his shoulder and racing towards the ladder. "Radio Tommy!"

"W-what do I say?" Ricky stammered, fumbling with the radio dial.

"Tell him it's Joel!"

Please follow @punkshort-notifs and turn on notifications for fic updates ❤️

[dancingdonatello]

jealousy headcanons rottmnt x gn reader

Raph is a sad jealous, both before you two date and during. He knows you’re human and he knows he’s… him. He knows there’s a bunch of good looking humans on the surface and sometimes his chest burns when you talk about your friends and show pics of them.

Sure, you cuddle him and his brothers, another thing that makes his chest hurt, but you also are very touchy feely with these human buds of yours.

While dating, he won’t say a word about his jealousy. He has a whole mindset of him being just lucky enough for you to even like him. He shouldn’t push his luck by acting all jealous. It’s really up to you to pay attention to every tick of his to see what makes him uncomfortable and to talk about it with him.

Donnie is obvious, the most obvious of his brothers. Whenever you mention a guy, he has a comeback with how he’s better. Some guy has good muscles? He mentions his own and even flexes. Some guy is really smart? Oh, can they build an atomic bomb from scratch? He didn’t think so. They saved a cat the other day from a tree? He saved the entire world from an alien invasion, baby.

Soon you just ended up mentioning other guys to see him flex or go on a rant about why

When dating, he has a list and picture of all his competition and keeps it on the wall. He throws darts at them. He keeps a list of all their embarrassing moments and keeps old pictures they had on their instagrams to show you to give you the ‘ick’ and then shows pictures of himself posing with the skyline of New York behind him.

Before dating, Mikey only gets jealous sometimes. But he’s very good at keeping a healthy and positive mindset. It’s hard for him to get stuck in his head about you potentially dating someone other than him.

However, while dating, Mikey kills any competition with kindness. Well, sort of. He cooks them too spicy of food. Their toast may be a little burnt, their coffee… tastes strange. Any and all handshakes, he uses full force, making them whimper and clutch their hands.

Every allegation made against him is met with eyebrow raises and shakes of the head. Mikey would never!

He is not a force to be reckoned with.

Leo’s part

[irafuwas]

some thoughts on how lilia views love

I’ve been watching through the Stitch event and there’s a bit of dialogue Lilia says that unfortunately made me Think, so I wanted to gather my babblings here.

This post contains spoilers for: Book 7, Tsumsted Wonderland 2, Lost in the Book with Stitch, Spectral Soiree/Endless Halloween, and Tamashina Mina

After spending the day fighting off Gantu’s robots, scavenging for food, and exploring the island, the boys rest for a bit in an old cottage they found. Lilia wants to take the opportunity to spruce up the cottage and make it more resort-like while they’re enjoying this “vacation”, and Riddle and Jack are both surprised and a bit peeved to hear him say this.

Riddle: Don’t you want to find a way off this island as soon as possible, Lilia Senpai? Malleus Senpai, Silver, and Sebek… Everyone at Diasomnia must be worried sick about you right now. I should think you’d want to assuage their concerns a tad bit faster!

Lilia: …Thing is, I trust them.

Riddle: You trust them?

Lilia: Mm-hmm. Knowing them, no doubt they understand I’m safe and sound and having a good time right now. Malleus and the others know I’m not the type of guy who’d get in a pickle over something as trivial as this. And that’s because they know me very, very well – just like family!

(snipped)

Lilia: It’s truly wonderful having people in your life who trust you and wish the best for you - and for whom you do the same in return - no matter how far apart you may be.

When you take this dialogue and look at in isolation of this event, then it’s a wonderful thing to hear Lilia say. He trusts his boys and they trust him - because they’re family, and that’s what families do. It’s always great to hear the characters themselves acknowledge their strong bonds with each other, and I thought it was really cute how Stitch got so happy to hear Lilia talking about his Ohana.

But when you take what he said and consider the broader story of Twisted Wonderland (vignettes and events, included), and you consider other things he’s said and done in the past… This dialogue just hurts.

There’s been small moments here and there that made me think Lilia has kind of an unhealthy(?) or warped(?) view of love. I’m not sure what the best word for it is, but I’ve noticed that he doesn’t like people worrying over him, he doesn’t like emotional farewells/sappiness, and he really doesn’t like letting others see him when he’s weak.  Additionally, he seems to value himself very little – he doesn’t think people would be worried about him if he were in danger, or that people would be happy getting pictures of him, or that his departure in Book 7 would hurt those around him so much. I’ll go ahead and put examples for each point so you all can understand better what I’m trying to say.

He doesn’t like people worrying about him

We can see this partly from the quote this whole post is based on, as well as from Book 7.

Based on his conversation with Riddle, Lilia’s way of thinking appears to be:

If someone trusts me -> that means they wouldn’t worry about me

As well as:

If someone worries about me -> that means they don’t trust me

But we do worry about the people we love and care about, don’t we? We worry about our spouses getting home safely from a business trip, and our kids making friends at school, and our friends acing the interview they’ve been practicing for because we love them, don’t we? And because we want the best for them. But it doesn’t seem like Lilia thinks the same way.

And to add onto this point, it’s very clear the boys do worry about Lilia a lot, contrary to what Lilia claims. Due to Lilia’s departure, Malleus brought a snowstorm to the island in his sadness, Silver considered dropping out of school and leaving with his father, only to end up breaking down and crying in front of their crown prince of all people, and Sebek used his one wish to make Lilia be healthy and have him stay with Silver forever. They were all worried terribly about him in their own ways, but it doesn’t seem like Lilia ever noticed (or maybe he did, and just didn’t want to bring it up for some reason. Who knows.)

At any rate, he also gets mad (well, more like tsundere lol) at Silver when the boy was on the verge of tears after Lilia took a nasty hit for him. (I know this exchange occurred with General Vanrouge, and he was quite the asshole back then, but he’s still retained that dislike for people worrying over him.)

Lilia: Oh, would you quit it with the sniveling. I drank the potion, didn’t I? I just to rest for a little bit, and then I’ll be good as new.

He doesn’t like emotional farewells/sappiness

He exhibits his distaste of sappiness in Book 7 and the Welcome to Tsumsted Wonderland 2 event. In the latter, when everyone is saying goodbye to their tsums, he mentions he doesn’t like the gloomy atmosphere. He wants goodbyes to be happy (and most likely, free of any emotional weight). The same can be said in Book 7, when he wholeheartedly agrees to the going away party the students wanted to put on for him, as well as when Silver mentions his father had wanted them all to send him off with a smile. I’m not sure if Lilia just doesn’t enjoy people getting serious with their emotions towards him, or if he doesn’t like seeing it in general. It gives me Macho Man (tm) vibes, kind of? Like, “don’t let people see you cry and feel sad because then you look weak” kind of thing but idk.

Lilia: Farewells are certainly sorrowful, but I hate leaving things on such a gloomy note. Let’s keep our chins up until the end. Tsum, your ability to surprise others was exceptional, and you made today so much fun. So long!

He really doesn’t like letting others see him when he’s weak

There’s still a lot of loose ends to be resolved in Book 7, one of them being the full extent of Lilia’s motives for wanting to leave so suddenly. It does seem to be he’s telling the truth that his magic ran out early, since he couldn’t muster up enough strength to fight back against Malleus when he was about to Overblot, but we don’t know if the real reason for that is just because he “went a little to wild” in his youth, like he claimed, or if something else caused his magic to deplete so prematurely. But we did hear him reveal a little bit of his motives when he was talking to Floyd at the party.

Floyd was dismayed he never got a chance to fight Lilia, and he wished he could’ve seen Lilia go all out at least once. When he asks Lilia why he’s dropping out, Lilia says under his breathe that he didn’t want “them” to see him so weak.

Lilia (whispering to himself): …It’s because I didn’t want them to see me so feeble.

Regardless of why his magic ran out and why he wants to go the Land of Red Dragons of all places, we know part of the reason for his departure is because he doesn’t want Malleus and the others to see how far he’d fallen from his former military glory. (sidebar: I have a feeling he thought he’d be a burden on Silver and co. with him losing his magic, and he was trying to leave so quickly to escape his shame towards his rapid loss of strength and independence (I imagine since he’s a magical being who comes from a country that runs on magic, him losing his powers must feel very isolating and limiting, like he’s lost a lot of the control he used to have over his own life).)

He doesn’t think people would be worried about him if he were in danger

In Endless Halloween/Spectral Soiree, Lilia was surprised by how much Silver and the others had been worrying about him and Malleus when they disappeared. Interestingly, even though Lilia is the one that Silver was the most relieved to see (it’s hard to tell with the live 2d models, but it looked like he went up to hug? Lilia and Lilia slapped his hand away), Lilia later says “I didn’t think you’d be so worried about us.” (referring to himself and the others involved with the party shenanigans).

(I am aware they changed this line to “I didn’t think you’d be so worried about me” In TWST EN, but I’m just focusing on the JP version).

I just found it weird that even though Silver was very clearly worried about Lilia the most, Lilia kind of redirected Silver’s concern over from “Lilia” to “Lilia and everyone else”. Did it make him uncomfortable to hear Silver was that worried about him? I’m not sure, but it just stood out to me as being a little strange how he responded, and how surprised he was that his own son would get worried about him suddenly disappearing.

He didn’t think people would be happy getting pictures of him

At the end of Lilia’s Tamashina Mina vignette, Yuu stops by Diasomnia to give him some photos he’d taken of Lilia on their trip, and Sebek, Silver, and Malleus are delighted to see them, since it’s not often they get to see photos of Lilia. Lilia is surprised at how happy they are to receive those pictures of himself. But why wouldn’t they be happy? They love him and treasure him dearly, of course they’d be overjoyed to have pictures of him to remember him by. It’s like he thought they wouldn’t care about him that much, which is really bizarre, considering the whole “even if we’re not related by blood we’re still family” thing he told Malleus before.

Lilia: To think, you’d all be so delighted just to see some pictures of me. I never would’ve imagined you’d all react like this.

He didn’t think his departure in Book 7 would hurt those around him so much

This relates back to what I mentioned in the first point, but there’s one scene that demonstrates this perfectly.

After Silver breaks down in front of Malleus, Malleus teleports both of them to Lilia’s going away party. All eyes should have been on Malleus with how strangely he was acting, but the first thing Lilia honed in on was that Silver had been crying. And not only that, but Lilia looked surprised that Silver had been crying. And why wouldn’t he cry? The one person who formed Silver’s entire world and sun and stars was about to leave him and go die all by himself on the other side of the planet. There is no reason Lilia should’ve been surprised at Silver’s tears, yet he was. And I gather that’s because he never thought the boy could ever possibly want to choose to stay by his side, to choose him over all the hopes and dreams he’d burdened on the poor child from the moment he could walk, to choose him over his real friends and his real family members.

I hope when Lilia “wakes up” from his dream, the first he does is ask Silver what he’d been crying about back at the party. And I pray to god they will actually talk things out and Lilia will finally apologize for how much of a complete idiot he’s been acting.

My headache’s coming back so to wrap this up quickly, my current understanding of Lilia Vanrouge is that he either doesn’t realize just how loved and cherished he is by his family members, or that he does realize it and just pretends not to. If it’s the latter, which is what I personally lean towards, I think he does this as a means to protect himself.

He’s already lost so many of his loved ones, and he very well may be putting up these walls around his heart and pushing away the people who love him just so he doesn’t have to get hurt again. We don’t know how he became an orphan, but his birth family either gave him up or passed away and left him behind. Even when Queen Maleficia took him in, he was always made the scapegoat for the princess’s schemes, and it sounded like he was brought up more as Levan and Mallenoa’s inferior than their equal. And then war struck their nation. And then his one best friend went missing and the other one probably gave up her life trying to protect the very child who'd go on to shatter the ice surrounding his wounded heart.

Perhaps with Malleus and Silver and Sebek now, he thought his best option would be to exit their lives before they had a chance to do the same to him, because he knew they would do the same to him. Everyone does.

As a final note, I still keep going to back to what he said in Cater’s Halloween vignette. I think this one line sums up his views of love better than I ever could:

“But the more precious a bond is, the more pain it can inflict.”

(source)

[emeritusemeritus]

The Artist and the Entrepreneur part 2

Part 1

Title: The Artist and the Entrepreneur Part 2.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Artist!Reader {Established Relationship}

Timeline: Timeline is a little wonky (picturing it OOTP just before the twins departure but there’s no war/no Umbridge)

Warnings: ANGST. Sadness, breakups, illusions to cheating, breakup references. Happy ending I promise! Talks of marriage, proposals, Hagrid and his creatures, Fang being the goodest boy. Lots of tears and sadness but it gets better! Not beta read nor spellchecked, apologies for any mistakes.

Word count: 3.5k [part 1&2= 8.2k]

You don't know how long you sit there crying with your pal by your side for every moment but eventually the tears begin to slow, your breath finally evening out though your heart still pounds, much like your head. Fang lifts his head slightly, his big eyes peering into yours and you give him a thankful smile through the tears, even if he doesn't know exactly what you're trying to convey. He gives your arm a little nudge and in your near delusional state, you assume that it's a reply to your thankfulness. You chuckle, giving him a good scratch of appreciation on his wrinkled forehead at the absurdity of the situation, but you'd be forever thankful that of all things, Fang was the only one that had held you together in your darkest moment.

It was nearly dark now and you knew that you'd have to move soon, to complete the favour for Hagrid even if your side of the bargain was now moot. You walk over to the cupboard and find fang's food, giving him a healthy amount in his bowl and replacing his water so that it was fresh. You know better than to disturb the oversized hound when he was eating and so you set to preparing yourself for the task, reaching into various cupboards and pulling out the equipment you'd need as Fang ate his dinner in peace.

To say you were in complete misery would almost be an understatement as you trudged down the path towards the tree line of the forbidden forest with fang dutifully beside you. Almost as it acting on autopilot, you made your way to the small dell in the woods where you'd been coming twice a day at least for the past two weeks, your side of the bargain with Hagrid.

You opened the gate to the wooden pen, fully equipped with the fire retardant boots and long sleeved gloves that Hagrid had given you and reached for the bucket at the end of the pen, scooping up the vile contents and leaned over the inner pen to dump out the contents into the little trough. Immediately the inhabitants of the pen came scuttling out, their glittering shells creating a magnificent display of light even in the limited lamp light.

The firecrabs scuttled on their six legs towards the food and instantly began nibbling at the food you'd laid out as you kept yourself back from being in the firing line of their flames. You'd already been caught out a few times, most notably on the side of your neck where you now sported a very sore and angry pink mark that had inadvertently caused the worst heartache of your life. You looked at the beguiling creatures, so beautiful and yet grotesque and wondered how in the hell you ended up here. You were covered almost head to toe in a slimy gel like substance that Hagrid had warned you always to use to protect your skin if you ended up in the line of fire. An old and grimy hat sat upon your head to protect your hair and though your robes were naturally fireproof, hagrid had provided an old coat for you to wear that he'd found in lost property. You looked dreadful, felt worse, but at least you were warm.

A little sparkle of fire caught your eye and you noticed one of the firecrabs becoming slightly aggressive with another. Usually Hagrid would step in at this point, telling you to stay clear back as he broke apart the two crabs but he wasn't here tonight and the duty fell on you. Fang barked at the sight and you were quick to silence him, not wanting to attract any other creatures from the forest. You quickly leapt over the pen and made yourself known to the crabs, careful to avoid any unnecessary burns and pulled the two fiery crabs apart with a definitive shove, your over emotional day causing you to lose all patience and therefore take necessary action without the hindrance of fear or emotion.

You climbed out of the pen, breathing heavily from inhaling the smoke around the two flaming crabs and dumped the bucket back beside the food pen, wanting to get away as soon as possible, hoping that Hagrid would already be back with the kettle brewing. You dumped the protective gloves and the hat on the side of the food pen and pulled out your wand to rid yourself of the suffocating gel that covered every inch of bare skin with a simple charm, though you'd need to bathe to really be rid of it. You kept the boots on for good measure, not wanting to dirty your shoes on the walk back up to the hut.

Fang guided you back to the tree line of the forbidden forest with you trailing a little behind, hardly able to drag your body any faster. Your stomach growled loudly at you and you realised that you'd barely eaten anything today, from your quick exit at breakfast to the skipped lunch which left no time to eat. Once you were clear of the trees, you let out a deep sigh at getting a clear view of the castle, dreading what was waiting for you inside. Instead, you looked towards Hagrid's hut and froze when you saw that all too familiar figure awaiting for you once more.

You didn't want to continue walking towards him but had nowhere to escape to other than back to the forest which was definitely not an option on your own. You didn't want to do this here, or now, with no energy left and your body crying out for rest. You were depleted of all energy, running on hardly any sleep and no food. At least you wouldn't have to stay up late into the night for your stupid project anymore.

"Taken up chimney sweeping in your spare time have you?" He jokes, no doubt seeing the soot on your face from the quarrreling crabs.

"Fred, can we not do this now," you say with a dismissive sigh, opening the door to the hut for fang who happily trotted in, collapsing into his soft bed so easily that it made you jealous, wanting nothing more than to do that yourself. Hagrid still hadn't returned and you briefly considered just walking inside the hut and locking the door behind you in a feeble attempt to make Fred and all your problems go away.

"Please," he says, his tone much calmer now, almost pleading with you. "You have every right to be mad at me, I should have never said that to you."

"You mean you shouldn't have said it out loud," you quip, knowing exactly what he was referring to.

"No," he says quickly, running his hands through his hair in frustration. "I never meant.. that. You know how much you mean to me, you're, well you're everything."

"Only in the bedroom," you snark, not dropping the hatred from your voice, hardly able to look at him.

"No, sweetheart please, you don't, you know I didn't," he says, sounding more contrite than you'd ever heard him, his hands reaching for you one again in an almost desperate scramble.

"No Fred, I don't," you snap, your emotions no longer able to be contained. "It's not just about your stupid comment or how it's made over four years of our relationship a cheap joke! I don't know anything anymore!"

You take a deep breath to steady yourself, voice quivering once again with your emotions, somewhat thankful that Fred doesn't even attempt to interrupt or interject. Despite the steadiness of your breath, your emotions quickly get the better of you and you can't help but let it all out, the mounting misery of the past two weeks free flowing now as the barricades shatter around you.

"Everyday for two weeks I've been looking after those sodding firecrabs for Hagrid so I'd have somewhere to work! Up at 5 everyday to come down here to clean and feed those evil like tortoises then back again after dinner. I've barely had time for my homework, I'm behind in every class, Snape's threatened detention all of next week because I fell asleep during his lecture on the history of cauldrons and their importance, like I give a single sodding shit! I've been avoiding you because I could never explain why I'd been doing it and it was harder to lie to you when I'm so exhausted all I wanted is to crawl into your lap and fall asleep because you're the only person that brings me comfort. I did all of this for you and all that it did was ruin everything!" You voice breaks as tears begin to stream down your face once more and you no longer care to hold it together in front of him, the pain no longer able to be contained.

"I ruined everything," you sniff, "I lost you. I tried so hard and all I did was push you away, I lost you." You sniffle again and your voice comes out weaker every time, voice breaking almost completely. "There was never anyone else. And now Angelina gets to take my place and I'm lost Fred, I don't know what to do without you. I was just trying to do something nice."

Your voice breaks one final time and you can no longer talk as a sob breaks through. Within seconds Fred has his arms around you. He holds you tightly to his chest, allowing you to sob into the material of his robe as his strong arms hold you together. His hand reaches up to stroke your hair and it only makes you cry harder for a few moments before it evens out again as Fred holds you still. You can hear him shushing you gently, cooing almost as he stands unwavering, letting you cry it out. Once your sobs stop, he reaches out to hold either side of your voice, forcing you to look up at his face. Even through your somewhat blurry eyes you can see that he'd been crying too, glistening lines trailing down his face and onto his nose, eyes a little puffy and lined with red.

"Sssh sweetheart, you didn't lose me, I'm right here," he says gently, imploring you with his eyes. Your lip wobbles as his words slowly sink in, the faint glimmers of hope and relief beginning to ignite within you.

"I'm right here," he assures you, thumb reaching out to wipe away another falling tear from under your left eye. "I'm not going anywhere, ever."

His own voice is strained and you can tell he's holding back, even as your grip loosens on him, feeling suddenly more steady as you begin to believe his words.

"I've loved you since the moment I saw you wearing my jumper to the quidditch match back in second year, I swear. You're it for me, the minute me and George make a killing at the shop I'm putting a ring in your finger like you deserve and making you my wife as soon as mum's talking to us again."

You can't help but let out a little chuckle at his words, watching as his face erupts in a little smile, knowing that he'd broken through your sorrow. You knew how Molly felt about their business and the inevitable rupture it was going to cause with them leaving their education early to pursue their dreams. Eventually she'd talk to them again, though you didn't know when.

He turns slightly more serious again, a little frown tugging at his brows.

"I can't believe you'd ever think that I could replace you. I've been such a bloody idiot," his head dropping slightly as he speaks. "This morning outside potions, I never meant for it to turn into that. I really was just asking you to the black lake. I just wanted my girl back, to tell her about how George had invited Angelina last night and how I saw them snogging when I came back from getting those good rocks from the bottom."

You look at him with wide eyes, your problems momentarily forgotten as you gasp at his disclosure, earning a wicked smile in return at your outburst.

"No way!"

Hearing his chuckle once again brings a smile to your face and in mere seconds his hands are sneaking around your waist, a much more comfortable affair, just as they used to.

"I tell you I want to marry you and the biggest reaction I get is to telling you about your future brother in law snogging someone! Typical!"

You reach out and give him a delicate swat on the shoulder before you bite the bullet and lean up to kiss him. It's one of those kisses that takes your breath away almost instantly, the power and the meaning behind the kiss so prudent. It's a reconciliation, an absolution and a forgiveness all in one. Your tears are long forgotten now as you hold on to each other closely, the playfulness and the connection between you having been cemented once again.

When you pull away, he's smiling. That special smile that seems as if it's only for you, eyes shimmering and looking greener than ever against the slightly red rimmed eyelids.

"Calm down Freddie, it's not like you proposed," you taunt with a playful roll of your eyes that makes him squeeze you tightly in reply.

"Maybe it was," he jokes with a playful raise of his eyebrows, earning a little nudge from you.

"You could at least wait until I'm not filthy and covered in soot," you joke, knowing that your face is probably covered.

"You look like a Weasley already," he beams, his smile only widening when he hears you bark out a laugh at the unexpected quip. "Want to head back to the castle?"

You nod, only to pause a moment later when you realise with a building amount of guilt that you had never finished your project, needing it for tomorrow. Your stomach growls loudly in protest at the prospect of missing dinner again and you're torn between what needs doing and what you want to do.

"Ah y/n! Hope those firecrabs didn't give yer much trouble. Fred, good to see yer! Happy birthday! How'd you like yer present? Spent weeks on it y/n has!" Hagrid bellows, appearing as if from nowhere, nodding his head excitedly as he steps inside the hut greeting fang. You sigh, not even slightly annoyed at the disclosure of your secret even after you'd tried so hard to conceal.

Fred's eyes widen, eyebrows raising as he smirks at you devilishly, acting like the cat that got the cream.

"My present eh?" He smirks, swaying you from side to side as his arms slip around your waist once more.

"Yes your present, for your birthday... tomorrow," you taunt, not giving him any hints. He whines like a petulant child but you simply roll your eyes, not giving anything away.

"But I've been such a good boy this year."

"You probably haven't, and I'm not Santa," you counter with a smirk, winning a kiss from him though you know it's just to shut you up.

"So that's what you've been doing? You've been making my present?" He says, no longer joking as he looks down at you with soft eyes, a stark comparison to the look you wish to forget from earlier. You nod, not wanting to give anything away. His hand comes up to your chin and cups it gently, pressing a delicate kiss to your lips, his way of a precursory thank you.

"If you hate it it's completely fine, I can change anything," you say, leading both Fred and George down to Hagrid's hut where their gifts are waiting for them.

"Princess," Fred warns, stopping you from spiralling.

"You know we'll love it," George says trailing slightly behind. "Especially because you made it, and we know you love us," he jokes with a wide grin.

"Some more than others," you bite back, earning a playful shove from the slightly younger twin and a loud chuckle from the elder.

"Baby, I can't, you..."

"Merlin y/n."

You'd never heard the twins speechless before and you wished more than ever that you could take a photo of their faces, to capture the moment you stole their words from them.

"You really did this? For us?" George asks, looking at you in bewilderment, his fingers sliding across the top of the sign that you'd so proudly painted. You nodded, tears beginning to rise as you look at your beloved twins looking at you with so much thankfulness and adoration that it makes it hard to breathe.

In front of you, displayed on thick boards are posters for all of their products, ready made and free to use for their shop. You'd designed all the packaging and promotion for them, even included their likeness on the skiving snack boxes poster that you were actually rather proud of. You were surrounded by a symphony of colour set against the muted pallet of Hagrid's hut. The posters were as fun filled and dramatic as their products and from everything they'd ever told you about their plans for the shop, you knew they'd fit right in.

"You have no idea how much this means to me," George says, suddenly turning all emotional at your gift. He reaches for you and pulls you into a strong hug that feels eerily similar and yet so different to his twin but nevertheless you sink into the hug with a smile. "Best present ever," he says when you both break apart, "can't wait for you to be my sister."

George turns to look at Fred who had remained eerily quiet and senses that it's time for him to leave, reaching for your shoulder to give it a little squeeze as he leaves you too alone. You look on hesitantly towards Fred who still stares at the paintings in front of him, his face incredibly hard to read in that moment.

"I'm sorry if you hate them," you say in a quiet voice, his extended silence suddenly making you anxious.

He turns upon hearing your voice and silently makes his way over to you, his eyes fixed upon yours until the last moment when his hands reach out for your jaw as he captured your lips in a blazing kiss. You're caught off guard but steady yourself quickly, kissing him back with as much need and affection as he's giving you.

He pulls away and there's a desperation in his eyes that you can't place, as if his mind is ticking over with juxtaposing thoughts.

"Marry me."

"What?" You ask, the breath completely knocked out of you.

"Marry me," he says again, the clarity in his eyes nearly forcing your knees to buckle. "I know I'm supposed to be down on one knee with a beautiful ring to tempt you," he says quickly, eyes shining. You let out a breath of laughter at his words, as if you'd ever need anything to tempt you towards marrying him.

"You deserve all of that and I'll give you all that and more, anything you want in life is yours. But this," he pauses, gesturing to the artwork around him. "You astound me everyday with your creativity and your talent, but not just that, with your generosity and your thoughtfulness. I know I'm impulsive and don't always think far enough ahead but I've never been more certain, never seen things as clearly as I do right now. I want to spend my life with you, I want to wake up everyday with you by my side and to go to sleep holding you every single night. I never want to feel like I did yesterday and it's only made me more certain that I need you to be my wife. I know we're young and we can keep it secret until the time is right, even from George. Marry me."

You leap forward the second his lips have stopped moving, throwing your arms around his neck as your lips fiercely claim his, a proclamation of your love and a wordless acceptance of his proposal.

"Yes Fred Weasley, I'll marry you!"

His smile is wider than you'd ever seen it as he places another kiss upon your lips, hardly able to kiss as your smiles are too wide, too contagious, the promise of forever sounding too perfect.

You pull away, still smiling like fools as you giggle at the sudden turn of events, a new secret to hide but this time it wouldn't come between you both.

"Well if some painting get me a proposal, wait till you see the window displays I've drawn up," you smirk, leading him by the hand out of Hagrid's hut and out onto the grounds for a walk, the past behind you and the future to look forward to.

[moonyasnow]

TWST OC Showcase: Timofey 'Spike' Orlov

Voice Claim: Patrick Seitz (in his performance of Franky from One Piece)

Beastman - Kangaroo Right-handed Shaftlands 210cm / 6'10 - #990909 / 153, 9, 9 November 12th - Scorpio - 19-20 y.o. 3d year - Junior - Class C, no. 18 Basketball Club Best Subject: P.E. Hobbies: Watching Pro-Wrestling Pet peeves: Betrayal Favorite food: Poppyseed muffins Least favorite food: Just meat Talent: Fighting Floyd-given name: Sharky Rook-given name: Monsieur de Pointe Cater-given name: Spikey Signature Spell: Wild Stab Can make spikes shoot up from the ground or from his hands. Depending on the amount of magic he pours into it those spikes could become MASSIVE.

Link to all my OC Showcases here!

Some quotes:

"Always known I got a scary mug— didn't realize just how scary, 'pparently… 'M real sorry 'bout before…" He stands awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.

"You're the easily bribed kind, huh. Didn't figure you the type at first." — "N-nothing! I—" His face flushes a little "I think 's cute."

"Course! I'd never ditch my comrade-in-arms— uh, no, best bud— ok really gotta work on a word for it— a-anyway! I'd never just ditch you like that. You're important to me, yeah? Where you go, I go, 'n all that."

His mother had him quite young, and his father was never in the picture. When Spike was very little, just around one year old, his mother left Spike to be raised by her mother, his grandmother. She said it was because she was too young to be a mother. She never came back after that. His grandmother, an incredibly forgiving and understanding soul, just hoped that wherever she is now, she's doing well, and that she's lived a good life. And so Spike was raised by his grandma, or 'Gran' as he called her, in a pretty bad part of a big Shaftlands city, and they didn't have much money. But they weren't entirely impoverished— they could afford to put food on the table basically every day, though having to cut corners to save water and electricity. Though it still wasn't at all uncommon for their electricity or water to be turned off once every month or so. Especially since Spike had a very big appetite, and both ate and grew a lot. His grandmother thought it was more important he grow up healthy than save money on electricity. So while they did sometimes have to choose between light or food for the night, it could have been a lot worse.

Though they were poor, his grandmother could afford to send him to a nearby public school. When he got there, even at age 6, he was almost twice the size of all his peers. And he wasn't used to playing with other kids— when they saw him they thought he looked scary, and would hide, or run to a teacher. And he was a lot stronger than them, too. When he tried to pat someone on the shoulder, he might accidentally use too much force, and the kid would run to the teacher saying he hit them. He didn't mean to! He just wanted to ask them to play with him.

Spike spent a lot of time as a kid watching TV. There wasn't much else to do where he grew up. Especially not since he and his Gran were basically broke. And tickets to the cinema, or going bowling, or visiting an amusement park, all cost money. But there was almost always something to watch on TV. But in particular, from a pretty early age he became fascinated by two genres: romcoms, and wrestling. At first, he didn't like wrestling very much because he thought it was sad everyone seemed so mad at each other all the time. But when his Gran told him they were just pretending to be mad, were just acting, it made him feel a lot better. So after that, even as a young joey, he thought the wrestling moves he saw on the screen looked so cool! And the stories…to him, it felt like his own superhero show. And romcoms...just like he grew up idealizing the guys he saw doing wrestling, he grew up wanting to be like the male leads in the romance movies. Love looked so nice, and warm, and happy, and from a pretty early age he became a bit of a hopeless romantic.

All he knew about his mother was what his Gran had told him, that she had moved somewhere, and that she didn't know where, but hoped that she was happy. His Gran never seemed all that sad she wasn't there, so it was never a big deal to him. He never cared all that much that he never had a mom. His Gran kinda filled that role for him anyway. But he was sometimes sad that he didn't have a dad. Because the boys he saw on TV who had dads seemed to have so much fun with them. His Gran was really really nice and he loved her a lot, but the dads he saw on the screen were different; they tried to teach their sons things, like being strong, or how to stand up to people when they're mean to you, or stuff like that. Moms could do that too, of course… But a mom wouldn't be a boy like he was. So there were some things that just wouldn't be the same. So he really wanted a dad. In particular a dad because… He'd seen pictures of his mom, and she didn't look a lot like him. She was a red kangaroo, yes, and shared some features with him, but she wasn't as abnormally tall as him. Or as scary-looking. So he often wondered if maybe his dad looked more like him. If people were scared of him, too. Spike may not always have been able to catch on it was him and his appearance specifically people were scared of in individual cases of them seeming uncomfortable around him…but it did usually click eventually. He looked at pictures of other kids in books or on TV, and then at his own reflection in the mirror, trying to find which parts of him it was that made people scared, and unwilling to be his friend… He hoped that, if he did have a dad, and he could meet him, he could help him. Or at least, he'd have someone else like him. He hoped his dad was like one of the wrestlers he watched. One of the good ones. The nice ones, who fought bad wrestlers. They were big and strong, maybe even a little bit scary-looking, but people all cheered for them, and liked them.

He didn't do well in school, even though he tried his best. He learned to read and write, but thinking deeply about subjects, or counting really high numbers, or putting his thoughts into words just never came naturally to him. And seeing all his classmates get, at the very least decent grades, he felt even more discouraged. If he wasn't learning anything even though he tried, and all the other kids were scared of him, and the teacher always assumed he was aggressive and dangerous just because he was a Red Kangaroo beastman, then he figured he wasn't welcome there. Didn't belong there. So he started skipping. And doing so, he encountered other kids who were also skipping school. With them, he didn't feel as out-of-place anymore. He was just tall with them. Not scary, not dangerous. Just a really tall kid; which they thought was pretty cool actually. So this group of kids, basically running loose with no adult supervision, gradually started doing more and more dangerous stuff, which, as they grew older, started sometimes crossing the line into being illegal. It was mostly just small things at first. Like stealing candy from the store none of them could afford, so they could share it with each other, or painting with spray cans, or roughhousing that got a bit out of hand and ended up with someone losing a tooth. But these things also lead to them slowly growing a distrust for the police, and adults in positions of authority in general, just because they knew that if the adults knew the kinda stuff they did for fun together, they'd all be in trouble. And none of them wanted that; the little gang they'd formed was important to all of them, after all. So that sense of loyalty fostered among each other slowly became a strict code. And as they all grew older still, their activities became more and more dangerous. Now they didn't just steal candy, but larger things, sometimes even TVs, which they promptly found middle-man buyers for, who could pass them onto more 'reputable' sellers, to be sold back to the public. Some of them started stealing ATMs. When people got upset at each other, it couldn't always just be forgiven the next day anymore. Now, if it was bad enough, people beat each other up. And these kids, raised by TV or violent or uncaring guardians, had no one to tell them off for it. So violence, running from the cops, and breaking the law just became common-place eventually. Especially when they started coming into conflicts with other gangs.

Spike's straight-forward, impulsive 'punch first, ask questions later' personality lead to him doing quite well in this world, developing a reputation as an almost scarily good fighter, even though he'd never trained, and was the youngest of the group. That's how he got the name 'Spike'. He ended up learning most of the things he knows that way, through trial and error. He ended up getting real attached to one particular member of that gang, who became like a brother to him. He would always defend Spike if someone else tried to pick on him for not being super smart, or would get intimidated by Spike and try to pick a fight to prove how much tougher than him they were. That older guy, Oscar, ended up becoming the leader of their little gang; he was the smartest, after all, the one who made all the plans, not to mention quite charismatic. The kind of person people rallied behind. Spike looked up to him a lot. Spike ended up getting some money from their activities, which he gave to his gran. When she asked where he'd gotten the money, he told her that he'd dropped out of school, but he'd gotten a job! She was understanding about his dropping out, saying that the straight-forward path isn't for everyone; there's nothing wrong with taking a roundabout path. What was important was that it was what he himself decided on.

Growing up in the gang had started making him more crass, using 'foul' language and things like that. But the gang was also a comfortable place for him. Way fewer people were scared of him, and the few people who were at least tried to stand up and do something about it, even if that was to try to fight him. He could be unabashedly himself— at least for the most part. He did hide the fact that he really liked baking and loved cute things from most of the group except Oscar; he was worried that would have the others making fun of him for it. But the gang also taught him violence. So while it's not exactly something he finds 'fun', he can absolutely fuck someone up if he needs to. And so he did for the gang on multiple occasions, getting rid of rival gangs' members by fighting them, usually breaking a few bones and taking them out of the game for quite a while until they were healed. They were by no means the biggest gang around, despite what they'd thought as younger kids. They were part of a criminal ecosystem now. And some of the others in the gang started thinking Oscar wasn't bold enough. His strategies for things they'd steal were more methodical; carefully planned out so as not to draw too much suspicion to them, so no one would get caught. But they didn't yield for the kind of money some other people got for jobs. And greed and desperation can drive people to do bad things. One of the people in the gang ended up selling them all out to a bigger, more powerful rival gang nearby, who jumped them all one day. People's bones were broken, he- he thought he saw someone get their neck snapped. People passed out from the beatings they got from the members of the other gang that outnumbered them. He was so busy fighting off people who tried to get at him that he could barely see what was happening around them. Until he heard gunshots. That day Spike realized just what small fry they really were compared to other gangs in the area. Spike was the only survivor. He tried to get Oscar to a hospital, but because they were a violent gang, he told Spike not to bother, since they probably wouldn't receive help anyway. And it's not like they could afford it. So it ended with him being forced to see his best friend and mentor, someone who was at once an older brother and closest thing he'd had to a paternal figure, die on the ground. He was only 15 and half. And he'd just watched his best friend die. Of course he knew the stuff they did was dangerous— he or one of the others had ended up wounded or had gotten into a foot-chase with the authorities more times than he could recall. But everyone had always been ok in the end. The worst that would happen was someone wound up in jail. No one... No one had ever died. Sure, he'd heard about it happening with other gangs, but this...

The first thing he felt was a confusing mix of sorrow and pure rage. His friends, who he'd grown up with, who'd had his back for so many years, who made him the person he was, who'd always treated him like he was just any other guy...were dead. They'd been killed. They even got Oscar. The person Spike had always looked up to. Who Spike thought seemed invincible. Because no matter what trouble they got into, he was always the one who got them out of it. Oscar didn't deserve it— he was amazing, the smartest person Spike had ever met, and he cared a lot for his friends even if it didn't always seem like it at a glance. Once, he'd asked Spike what he was doing there: Spike had a home, and his grandma. Not everyone in the gang was that lucky. But Spike said the gang was as much family to him as his gran was. "I know I ain't good for much besides punchin' folks. Couldn't do school. But I can do this. 'F it helps my gran, 'm gonna keep at it." And after hearing that, Oscar just nodded, and didn't bring it up again. Spike knew that he himself didn't have a lot of hope at a better life than what he'd already gotten himself into. Oscar was meant for so much more than this! he was smart! Capable! Cared a lot! He was meant to go places! Better places! More legit places. Get a real job, a real good one, and get out of this violent life. Spike had never been so angry before in his entire life. The other gang, who killed or recruited all his old friends, went to him to try to recruit him to join them. He was already in too deep in the criminal world to stop now, and he needed to provide for his Gran somehow— her having gotten too old to work— so he swallowed his pride and his rage and agreed. He was doing it for his Gran now, and that gave him strength. But still, he couldn't see the old friend who'd betrayed him and the rest of the gang's face without wanting to literally snarl like a rabid animal.

But then his gran died. She'd had quite a bad cough for a while, and pausing to cough had caused her to slip and fall down the stairs. When he found her after coming home, it all felt like some big, sick joke. With that, the last thing keeping him and his emotions in check was gone. He went on a rampage, showing up at the gang's HQ and beating every single member he could find to death, saving his 'old friend' for last— after a brutal beat-down he squeezed his head so hard his skull cracked. He didn't realize until then just how strong he really was. Police who showed up to the scene later would find the entire place covered top to bottom in giant, razor-sharp spikes. It seemed that was how he discovered his Signature Spell: 'Wild Stab'. That was also how he realized he was a mage in the first place; he was too poor to ever have gone anywhere close to any kind of educational source about magic, and any previous occurrences he'd just chalked up as being something else. And those spikes were what had actually done most of the heavy lifting during said rampage. Though he wouldn't know just how much damage he'd caused. All he knew was he got so mad he couldn't think or see anything, and he punched a lot of people, and felt something weird and kindly tingly everywhere. He himself was grievously injured. He'd gotten a bad beating from the people he fought, and was black and blue everywhere, and bleeding. At some point he'd also managed to impale himself in the arm on one of his own spikes. He didn't realize it until after he'd staggered away from the scene and ending up falling into a gutter. He was still alive, but on the brink of death. He thought he was going to die. He was only 16 at the time. But then he heard someone begin to approach him. Spike told whoever it was to: "Screw off and let me die in peace". He was just so tired. He wanted to take a nap... The man said no. He gave Spike an offer: If Spike agreed to work for him, he'd get him patched up, and then get him the funds to retire early. Not really having anything else to do, Spike just answered: "Maybe. Depends on the job."

The next thing he remembers is waking up in the hospital three months later. And when he woke up, he'd gotten a letter in the mail. From a place called 'Night Raven College'. Then they found Spike's biological father, who he moved in with. His father was neither happy nor upset to meet him, but did seem annoyed that Spike would be moving in with him. They quickly came to an agreement that they stay out of each others' space. They were just living together; and only until Spike turned 18. Spike had wondered about what his dad might be like often as a joey, and wondered if he was just as big and scary-looking as Spike. Little Spike always took some comfort in thinking maybe he was, and that maybe he could meet him one day. Turns out he wasn't. He was tall, but definitely not as tall as Spike, and while a little bit rugged, he wasn't exactly scary to look at. He couldn't help but feel disappointed... He'd always hoped his dad would be just like him, and that with him, Spike could finally no longer feel so out-of-place. But now even in what was supposed to be his 'home', he felt like an unwanted intruder. So he just felt more out-of-place than ever. He wasn't exactly upset by his dad not wanting to be his dad. He was just a person living his life, who maybe didn't even know Spike existed at all before this. But... That comforting idea he'd idealized of a dad who was just like him, and was proud of Spike being just like him...someone Spike could go to for guidance, who'd want to help, and never be too busy to come running when Spike really needed help...seemed to just kinda go up in smoke. And for the first time he realized how vulnerable he truly was. He really had no safety net. No one to catch him. His Gran had always tried her best, but she had to work so often, and then became too weak to do a lot but just simple stuff around the house. But all that time, he hadn't really noticed the lack of it. Maybe because he'd also distantly had this thought that he had a dad out there somewhere, who loved him, who'd care for him when he finally met him, and welcome him with a big hug. He went walking around the street that night, because it felt familiar... Eventually he stopped walking next to the bank of the river passing through the city, and just sat down on the ground, and cried, hugging his knees. He missed Oscar. He missed his Gran. He missed all his other friends. He hadn't even begun to fully process they were all gone yet. And he had no one who could help him do that. He was left there, alone. Just a 16-year-old who grew up too fast, with no one to guide him, show him how to feel, how to think.

Miscellaneous facts:

He goes to anger-management classes now. He doesn't get angry often, and if he does it's always for a very clear reason. But when he does, he sometimes goes overboard and ends up causing an absolute mess. His Signature Spell scares him, honestly. He doesn't like that it's so violent, since it's a part of himself he isn't proud of.

He has lanky yet weirdly strong arms.

He's still got the same attitude as he did when he was a street punk, he's incredibly tall, and he's always had a horrendous case of RBF, so most people are scared of him as soon as they meet him. He's not very forward thinking and is pretty bad at planning ahead and he knows it. He just focuses on the thing right in front of him and gets going with it. He's always done better as the lackey of smarter people.

Just how much he can mess both things and people up with his strength when he tries can make him honestly terrifying, especially when he gets genuinely upset. But he's still got a good heart. And when he's comfortable and not on edge, he's actually a giant softie who cries when the dog dies in a movie and gets shy and embarrassed really easily if you know what to say/do. And deep down, he's pretty insecure about a lot of things. His appearance and way of speaking just scares people into being really wary of him. That he looks scary, and that he could really harm someone if he wanted to, are his two biggest insecurities.

He has more manners than you'd expect of a street punk, since his grandmother was very insistent on teaching him, and he does try to follow her advice when he needs to. In practice, this usually means he only swears around his friends, and gives very polite, even somewhat stiff first greetings. And he's super extra polite when he's visiting someone else's house. If they're an adult he always calls them 'sir/ma'am/mx'. He'll be pretty stiff and awkward the whole time, and won't know what he can and cannot stand on, and if he should take his shoes of— And he always tries to bring a gift, even if it's just something small like chocolates or homemade sweets.

He's pretty good at baking, actually! And pretty ok at cooking too. He was actually the go-to cook in the gang when they couldn't go out to some fast food place. He really likes cooking for people, and sharing meals with his friends. The kinda guy who will say, no irony to be found, that 'food always tastes better when you share it with others'.

He doesn't normally have freckles! He has them at NRC because he's so pale, Savannaclaw is so bright and sunny, and he does not put on sunscreen that often.

The city he grew up in was the kind of city that seemed to be constantly either cloudy or rainy, but also got really cold and snowy in the winter.

At NRC

For a while, he didn't really know what to do about the letter he got. He'd never been good at school, after all. And he wasn't good at thinking about the future; what good could going to school even do, if he even managed to finish it at all? But somewhere in the back of his head, he knew Oscar would probably tell him to go for it.

And it's not like he really knew what else to do.

There was that weird guy who'd saved him, and said something about Spike working for him... But he really didn't wanna just stick around waiting for who-knows-what to happen.

So he decided to go.

At the Entrance Ceremony, he was shocked when he heard the mirror call for a 'Timofey Orlov'. His gran was the only one who ever called him Timofey after he dropped out of school. In his head 'Spike' had just become more like his real name than a nickname at some point. He doesn't dislike Timofey, but in a way it feels...somewhat intimate to hear. For the rest of the school-year he had to tell everyone he met; teachers, other people who remembered him from the entrance ceremony (which was a lot, given just how tall he was, and how his height combined with his gravely voice made people ask if he was even a teenager) that he preferred going by 'Spike'.

And then, after feeling very out-of-place in his custom-tailored Ceremonial Robes, having been sorted into Savannaclaw, he found himself standing next to another freshman; some guy with lion ears. And they ended up rooming together. Spike tried to be polite and introduce himself, but all he was met with was the other guy turning his back to him to take a nap.

But he eventually found out the guy's name was Leona. Leona Kingscholar, apparently.

At first it didn't click for him. Spike just said he thought it was cool, and wondered what it must be to like to have the same surname as a royal family, asking if people treated him like royalty because of it. Leona answered 'not really'.

"Huh." Spike said. "Well that blows. 'F you have a cool name, figure other folk'd treat you like you're cool too. Just ends up bein' confusin' then."

When he found out Leona— who'd ended up becoming 'Lona' because of Spike's habit of not paying too much mind to proper annunciation— was a year older than everyone else, and not due to being held back, but having chosen to attend a year later, Spike just looked at the cast still left on his arm and asked "Wait, I coulda done that?! I figured it was a 'now or never' kinda deal!"

Leona ended up becoming a really good friend of his, and Spike basically his first follower/lackey.

At one point, during their second year, the new Housewarden of Octavinelle had tried to recruit Spike to his own dorm. But all he got was a death glare and a 'piss off!' in return, with Spike making it very clear he was "Not jumpin' ship! Doesn't matter what ya try to throw at me!"

Oh, and when Leona eventually straight up told Spike that he was the Leona Kingscholar, as in, the prince, when they were doing homework (read= Spike trying to do his homework in Leona's general vicinity and asking him for help with questions he didn't understand) Spike just went 'Mhm.' . . . "...Wait really?!"

"So that's why you're so rich!" and then rubbed the back of his neck and asked "So uh...d'I gotta start callin' you 'your highness' or 'sir' or somethin' now and junk?" to which he was just met with a "Do whatever you want."

Spike just kinda went 'Oh. Ok.' Then proceeded to ask 'Lona' for help on another question.

(Spike's entire world was rocked when Leona started pointing out all the other people going to their school who were actually big-name celebrities or the kids of rich CEOs or something)

His literal second day, after classes were over, he was approached by Night Raven's entire Basketball team, who proceeded to all get down on the ground and literally BEG him to join their Club. "Uh… Not doin' any other stuff, so guess I could—" then who he thought was probably the leader grabbed his hand and shook it vigorously, thanking him profusely and promising he would not regret it!

He ended up becoming the MVP of the team. If they managed to get the ball to him, it was almost always a guaranteed point for them; most games he was playing in ended up turning into the other team trying their absolute best to work AROUND him, because everyone knew that as soon as he was on the opponent's side of the court and he had the ball, even if he was still pretty far away, he could jump and have a 70% chance of getting the ball in the hoop anyway.

And he became good friends with Floyd, Ace and Jamil, once they joined the Basketball club.

And through the Basketball club, he met Neige— specifically after an NRC vs. RSA basketball match hosted at Night Raven in Spike's second year at school. After saving Neige from some Night Raven students who were harassing him, it was love at first sight for Neige, and it didn't take Spike long to develop a crush.

And eventually, after hanging out more and getting closer, Neige taking every chance he got to visit NRC, they started dating.

Spike was incredibly nervous and sorta awkward at first— he'd had a few crushes growing up, but had never actually gotten even close to a romantic relationship. But the nerves started wearing off with time, leaving just a very happy Spike, hopelessly in love with his boyfriend.

Since he grew up basically without adult supervision, starting to skip school so early and with his gran often working, he was so used to just doing whatever he felt like that having teachers with authority over him came as a shock. He'd never really experienced being told off by adults before— adults who weren't police, at least.

It surprised him when one day he said something about 'when I was a Joey' and one of his teachers responded with 'you're still only 16'.

He sure didn't feel 16.

He started wondering if that was weird.

He started realizing he'd never really been treated like a kid before. Somewhat by his gran, but mostly when he was very little. By the time he was in school, he was much bigger than the other kids and his face also made him look older than he was, so they treated him more like a teenager than a child. And the same went for all the other adults he'd ever encountered.

Throughout all his time at NRC, he kept feeling like he 'stole' his friend's place somehow. Oscar was supposed to be the one going to some fancy magic school— not him. Oscar actually had the skills to make good use of an education— not to mention even get that education in the first place. Spike started skipping school when he was 9, and had dropped out completely by age 11.

Spike knows would never have made it in any of his classes without Leona's help.

And that night…the things he did… He tried his best not to think about it. He partially can't remember much anyway. He just knew he flew into a bloodthirsty rage, and only emerged from it when he was about to finish off the person who betrayed him and the others.

He feels strange, thinking about how easy it was.

That night he realized he had it in him to hurt others. He didn't exactly want to hurt others, but he could. ...Probably good people, too. He didn't feel bad about what he did. Not in the way he knew he was supposed to. He knew he'd be able to do it again.

But he did feel bad thinking that...maybe that was exactly what his teachers and classmates saw in him when he was a joey.

Were they right, then? Was this the only outcome for him?

That night…the reason he accepted the stranger's offer was probably because after what he'd done, he already felt like he was a monster. He'd accepted that he was, even.

But Neige… His hands were so soft. Clean.

He didn't know why he was allowed to hold Neige's hands in his own— his own, that had hurt so many people already, and would probably go on to hurt more, if the vibe he caught from his savior were right.

He hoped that, if he really was a monster…then at least he could be the monster that protected Neige. And Leona. And all his friends.

More sprites:

Tag list: @another-random-paradise @thehollowwriter @faefum @cactus13-rolloflammesimp @beneathsakurashade

@nyx-of-night @theolivetree123 @babyghoul138 @skibidibabygirl @screamintoad

@mishig

[eyesxxyou]

Backstage Show Pt.6

★🎸 {} .. hobie brown x groupie!reader

rating. m

word count. 5.5k

synopsis. it's been a long time since you and Hobie last saw each other. after he invites you to his next concert, despite better judgement, you go. you know yourself, you always fall into old habits

or

you and hobie get back together

🍒・．❕warnings. she's a long one, smut with LOTS of plot, fingering, hand riding, sloppy kissing, save a horse ride a cowboy, love making, a lot of references to other parts, angst, lots of angsy, a healthy(er) relationship, reader has more control than before

You and Hobie haven’t spoken in months. You imagined it was all too easy for him to pretend you never existed, that this was how all his relationships inevitably ended, unceremoniously without even a text to apologize for everything said in the worst of your moments. You were absolutely torn, terribly upset, and horrifically furious when he still used your picture on his album cover, the picture of you with his thumb in your mouth, only your lower face visible to his audience. It was like some sick wink at you. He knew you’d see the cover, knew that you’d know it was you. You two were probably the only two people in the world who knew.

Fuck him. He could fall off a building for all you cared. You didn’t need him. It seemed almost impossible to think that you were once obsessed with him, that you would have once kiss the ground he walked on and done the most heinous things for him.

Nearly half a year and you were beginning to forget what he looked like, what he smelled like, the smallest details about him. You were eternally grateful for it and unquestionably sad over it. Your sheets no longer smelt like him, the last remnant of him in your home. It was almost as if he never existed in the first place, how little he left around. He made it so easy for himself to disappear.

And he did disappear for a while. From your life and your mind.

Until he was back to touring in your location. 

You weren’t going to the show. You never even listened to the new album affectionately named “Doll” after the title track on the 12 track list. You could only imagine what that was about, that and the rest of his tracks. You'd never know. You never would listen to it. You never bought a copy.

You got off of your shift with a sigh and made your way down the the bar near your job to grab a drink. It was Friday, you were able to get the weekend off, and you needed to be drunk the entire time. Mary Jane fans were swarming the streets and you couldn't stand any of them. You wondered which of them was Hobie's new plaything. When would they realize he would never love them even a fraction of the way they worshiped him?

Poor thing. Whoever they were, they were on the fast track to getting their heard broken.

You pushed open the door to your usual bar and found it roudier than usual. You managed to wiggle your way to the counter before you saw him. He was sitting out with his chair leaned back, his feet kicked up on the table, and a nice pint of frothing beer in his hand. He was smiling at some fan who had approached, wanting autographs. He was very obviously flirting with them until his eye caught yours slightly behind them. His smile faltered a bit as you whipped around and hid your face behind your hands.

He was more gorgeous than you remembered, fucking breathtaking. You never realized how much you would miss the individual features of his face. His golden eyes, his nose, his lips, his hair. You hoped he hadn't seen you, that you could get your drink and mind your own. But of course he had and of course he felt the need to come up to you.

"Y/n? Y/n, is tha' you?" You could hear a distance away and swiftly you asked the bartender for a kamikaze. This would be a long night. There was no getting away from him now. He was already making his way to you, lightly pushing people to the side to get to you.

Hobie sidled up beside you on the stool to your left, his knees on either side of your body. "How ya doin', doll?" His voice was so smooth and gentle in your ear you could just melt into him, profess how much you missed him all this time, beg for the two of you to go back to the way you were. But you refused to cave, refused to be so weak.

You didn't answer him. The bartender came back with your drink and you thanked her with a smile and a nod. You were no not talking mood, especially not with him.

Hobie's been missing you a lot. Things didn't feel the same without you around. Things didn't feel right. He felt a bit uneasy going on stage, the energy before and after wasn't exactly the same. He drank a little more, slept a little less, haunted over the way things ended. He thought he'd never see you again. The world was too large for something like that.

But here you two were. And you weren't talking to him. Why would you? You had confessed your love to him and he had squeezed your heart til it exploded in the palm of his hands. There was absolutely no reason in the world why you would talk to him.

"Still mad at me, luv?"

Something about his tone of voice made you upset, like he was telling you to get over it, what's past is past and it shouldn't bother you anymore. You finally looked at him, your lip twitching with disdain. "Why are you here, Hobart?"

"Oh, the government name." He placed a hand on his chest to feign hurt but the way you were acting did hurt him. It was deserved, more than deserved, so he took it as it was. "I'm here on tour. It's the night before our concert. We're jus' celebrating." He nodded over to his mates, all of them distracted by fans of their own. They hardly even noticed Hobie left them.

"I ain't think I'd run into ya. I though' I'd have ta hunt'cha down, luv. I need to talk to ya." He timidly placed a hand on top of yours. You needed something far stronger than a kamikaze. You needed straight vodka shots.

You pulled your hand from his, subsequently pulling your heart away and locking it up behind your ribcage despite the way it pulled and leaped for him. It's hard not to be in love even after months of never seeing him. But you wouldn't open yourself to getting hurt again. You might be in love but you're not gonna be dumb about it. "There's nothing for us to talk about. You made everything very clear the last time we spoke." Why aren't you punching him in the face? Why aren't you leaving? Why aren't you cursing him out? All of them are valid reactions. "I'm not gonna be an easy fuck for you."

"Just give it a chance, luv. Give me a chance. I really just wanna talk, nothin' else. I think with the way we left tings off wasn't the greatest–"

"Ya think?" You downed the rest of your drink and flinched at the sharp sting at the back of your throat. You motioned for some shots to the bartender and mouthed vodka while Hobie continued.

"I just wanna make tings right, dove." There was something very soft and genuine in his voice. He just wanted to give the both of you closure. You were done with him and that was okay, just as long as you knew the truth. "How about you come to the concert tomorrow? We'll talk after. Free admission."

You stared at him, gaze softening just a bit. How tender and palpable you could turn for him, like putty in his hands. With just a soft tone and a pleading gaze and you folded. "Fine. I'll go to your concert. We'll talk but I don't want to do anything, Hobie. I don't wanna feel like you're plaything again."

Hobie raised his hands in surrender. "I won't even touch you, luv. I'll never make you do something you don't wanna." It's true. He never made you do anything you weren't down for. And you were down for anything involving him.

Hobie rolled his lips, buying the bottom one to hide a grin. He stood up and dropped 40 pounds to pay for your drinks and a couple more if you chose to have any. "Have a good nigh', luv. I'll see ya tomorrow."

You huffed in response. It took everything in you to not turn to watch him walk away. You didn't want to stay any longer. You couldn't stand the thought of being in a room with him, pretending his was there when you were acutely aware of his existence staring holes into your skull.

You used the money to pay for your drinks and left the rest as a tip to the bartender before takinging your leave. You had to be rested for tomorrow.

—

Hobie ended up getting you tickets for the pit closest to the stage. The asshole. You stood squeezed between two fans screaming Hobie's name, dressed in gaze-attracting outfits. They screamed their heads off the moment they saw him and the other Mary Janes come out on stage, hoping to get his valuable attention. Your lips were sealed but your heart swelled seeing him where he was his very best. He was so beautiful, the stage lights casting down upon him from behind. He looked like an angel but you knew better.

His eyes searched the crowd for you and once his gaze landed upon your figure getting pushed around by fans trying to push their way to the front, he smiled. "How's everyone doin' t'nigh'?" Hobie kept looking at you, like he meant to be asking you specifically. You turned your head away, playing with your nails to show you weren't interested.

"Aww, don' be shy, a lil' louda." And the crowd responded with all their lungs could handle but all he wanted was to hear from you. All he needed was you.

"I've got someone special ina crowd t'nigh'. I wanna make sure tonight's a good show for them. So please, luvs, be nice to each otha t'nigh'." He knew you didn't want to be here, it was basic etiquette. Who wanted to be shoved around all night?

They started playing some of their new songs you've never heard before and suddenly you remembered why you loved them so much. They were all so mesmerizing on stage, their lyrics made you want to move, to jump around to close your eyes and feel the chaotic rhythm. 

But as you listened, you realized a little more that the lyrics were about you and Hobie. To anyone else, it was just about two people who were in love but never meant to be together. It was a progression of events across the album, each song about different aspects of your relationship. "Worship" was about how much one worshiped the other to the point that it killed them. "How We Cave" was the end, about how they fell apart, all of it cleverly hidden within the folds of the song so that no one batted an eyelash.

The entire album was a wink and nudge to you, between the two of you. "Only we have to know" it said and you despised how much it meant to you. You needed to get out of here. Suddenly the entire venue felt as though it was crushing you, crashing down on your head.

You writhed and wiggled your way between people to make your way to the nearest exit. When you got outside, you took a deep breath, your exhale a cloudy haze before your lips under the cold air. You shuddered, reached into your pocket, and lit up a joint. You needed it, deserved it.

How he changed you, molded you into a person unrecognizable to your younger self. You had never been a smoker, never been much of a drinker, not before you met Hobie and he changed who you were so intrinsically. You never knew if it was a good thing or a bad one.

You knew the concert was over when people began funneling out, talking amongst themselves about who this new, special guest was. You pushed yourself off to the side and took a long drag of your joint, leaving strawberry lipgloss that you could taste with every drag. You wandered around the side of the building until you found the back entrance where Hobie told you to wait if the two of you managed to lose each other.

He came out about 10 minutes later, looking left and right until his eyes landed upon you. "Sorry, some fans wit' backstage passes I was meetin'. The boys are entertainin'em now." He excused himself, hopping over the guardrailing to get to you. "Since when did you smoke?"

"Take a wild guess." You took another drag before Hobie took it from you and took one himself. He loved the taste of you on it, took another drag because of it. "My bad, luv." He came and leaned against the wall beside you, his leather jacket the only thing protecting him from the cold. You weren't much better off either, dresses in an outfit similar to when you first met, you shivered from time to time while smoking with him.

"I saw you leave." He hummed and passed the joint back to you.

"Doubt I missed anything crazy. You were almost done anyway."

"The fuckin' Queen's ghost came on stage 'n did a backflip." Hobie countered, looking down at you with eyes that told you he was serious. His expression fell way into one of humor when you giggled and tossed your head back against the brick wall. "You're so stupid."

"I so am."

You didn't like how serious the undertones of his voice sounded. You didn't look at him, just smoked your joint to a bud before dropping it and putting it out under your boot. "I wanna go home."

Hobie stood from his position and offered out a hand to you. "Then lemme walk you." You looked at him, then his hand, and with a scoff, walked right past him. But you didn't tell him no, so he went right with you. You never said no to him along the way to your flat only a couple blocks away.

It was like the two of you were scared to talk about what you really wanted to. The way you two left off. Anyone looking at you would have said you were friends, not ex-lovers. And you weren't even that technically. You two laughed together, walked together without a single touch shared but all the longing glances of two people wanting to get back together after so many months.

And when you reached your flat, you turned and looked at Hobie and his massive height head on. "You can't come inside."

"I can't or you don't want me to?" He countered again because he knew you too well. You shoved him softly and he didn't even move. "Both. I know myself." If he comes in, you'll have sex, you'll wake up, and he won't be there. You would have let him in just to get hurt again.

"I told you, I won' touch ya, luv. I haven' yet, have I?" He was right, the only time he tried, he gave you the option to take his hand and you had refused, renewing your agreement that he would not be the one to initiate anything between the two of you. "We still haven' spoken. I don't think ya wan' everyone on the street to know our business, yeah?"

You crossed your arms over your chest and looked around. Finally, you looked for your keys to the front door and when you found it, you unlocked it. Hobie knew to be quiet as to disturb your neighbors and he surprisingly was considering his size. You knew where the stairs freaked and he followed your moves. Most of your neighbors were older people and that they'd have no qualms reporting you to your landlord.

When you finally reached your flat, you unlocked the door and let him in.

Your flat looked mostly if not entirely the same. Hobie smiled. "Good memories in here." He looked back at you with sparkling eyes. You closed the door. "Yeah, yeah, Hobie. Come on, we came in here to talk." You didn't want any of his bullshit anymore. You needed closure or you'd go crazy. Barely getting through the day without crying and throwing things was no way to live your life. Drinking and smoking all the time wasn't much greater either. You both were a mess.

"Yeah, yeah, we did." His playful attitude faltered as he crossed his long arms loosely over his chest and looked at his boots. "Look, 'm sorry, y/n. 'm sorry for all of it. You never deserved the way I treated you, you never deserved what I said to you."

You sat, you listened, you let him talk, your lips pulling to the side as you attempted to hold back swelling tears.

"I know I was wrong. I know. And I regret it everyday for the way I hurt you. We just…one, we shouldn't've had a conversation like tha' at a time like tha'. But I'm–" he paused for a moment, looking for the words. "I wasn't lying when I said I'm not someone you want to love. I am someone that no one has ever loved, doll. They have always left me because of who I am."

"But I'm not everyone else, Hobes. You can't decide for me who I'm gonna love." You interjected, a bit tearful. The situation frustrated you to tears and you felt a bit ridiculous for crying but Hobie didn't care, he reached out and wiped the fresh tears from your face. "Ya right. I should've let you make that decision yaself and 'm sorry for tha', luv. I was jus' scared."

"Scared? Scared of what, Hobie?" You croaked out, looking up at him with those big, beautiful eyes of yours that he adored so much, that he thought of in the darkest part of the night to keep him going.

He closed his eyes because he couldn't bear to look into your gaze. "I was afraid you would leave me one day because what would I do withou'cha by my side, luv. I was scared because I loved ya too and I knew I didn't deserve ya and one day you'd figure tha' ou' too."

He was scared to look at you, scared that it may ruin the moment to know how you were feeling about all of this. If only he knew him hard you fell for him again. Maybe the two of you weren't right for each other. Maybe whatever high power never ordained for you to be together. But fuck that higher power.

Hobie felt the weight of your lips ease against his and immediately took you in to him. He's been waiting to kiss you since the moment he first saw you but he promise he wouldn't touch you, not unless you touched him first.

Your hands reached up and caressed his face with your soft palms. His hand timidly came to your hips, waiting for you to writhe from him hold but you don't, you lean into him, standing on your toes to reach his lips better. You still taste like fruits and he hopes that your nether lips taste the same.

"I want you." You murmured against his lips in a daze of lust. "I want you right here, please." You kissed him harder pushing him back onto your couch before clamoring onto his lap with your legs straddling him. Hobie pulled you close, so close until your body pressed against his chest, rolling like waves under the exploring nature of his hands.

Your hands pulled at each other's clothes, removing shirts, tugging at the buttons of pants, a bra was tossed over your shoulder by you don't know who's hand. You wanted him completely naked, completely vulnerable to you for the first time and he wanted you the same.

Removing each other's clothes, you got up and stumbled clumsily to your bedroom where, by the time you got there, the two of you stood naked, embracing each other while you kissed. You had Hobie on the bed in seconds, still on top of him while you kissed hickeys down his neck. His hand slid down the soft skin of your naval, sliding between your supple legs to touch the slick nether lips of your pussy. He slid his middle finger between your folds and groaned softly. "Are you this wet all the time?"

"Only for you." You rocked your hips softly against his hand, shuddering as he curled his finger and let it slide into the wetness of your entrance. It was so easy to add another finger into you, and with enough working from his middle and index, scissoring you open while rubbing that sensitive ridge you've got inside you, he managed to add a third.

"Ahh– shit…Hobie." You rode his fingers, your hands holding his head where his jaw and neck met. You kept your eyes on his, your foreheads pressed against one another. "Keep goin', luv. Take wha'cha need."

You liked the warmth of his skin against yours. Two humans in love sharing in the taking of each other's bodies. Your teeth met his skin, nipping, biting, the salty remnants of sweat from performing still on his skin. He smells like weed, looks like heaven, and tastes like love.  His palm worked against your clit while his fingers stretched you open in preparation for his size, which you haven't taken in a long while. You could feel it resting against your stomach, aching, smearing precum across your naval. You wanted it inside you in any way you could have him. But it seemed that he was intent on making you cum hon his hand first.

"Mmmh~ Ion wanna cum yet." You told him still rutting your hips against his hand. "I wanna cum with you." You wanted out, biting your lower lip as you whimpered. "I want your cock. Please lemme have it, Hobes. Please." You offered him puppy dog eyes like he wasn't already willing to give you everything you wanted and the world on top of it.

"Cummin' twice never hurt nobody." Hobie used his free hand to lift your head and make you face him again. "Jus' look a' me wit' those pretty eyes, luv. Can you do tha' for me?" He let his hand drop to your hip and felt the way you moved under the weight of his palm, desperate for a climax long denied to you for months. You nodded with wet, pouty lips and those pretty eyes. 

Yoru walls clamped down upon his fingers as your ground your hips down hard and whimpered with the beginnings of an orgasm. “Just keep–” You tilted your hips to rub your clit a little more against the heel of his palm. You bit your lip and held him tighter as you rocked to the sway of your climax washing over you gently. Your body paused and you pressed your lips to Hobie’s to stifle your moan so you wouldn’t wake the neighbors. “Fuck– Hobie!”

Your tongues pressed against each other, your kiss sloppy and passionate, full of lust melting back into love. It was dark in your room, hard to see anything all you two had were your unadjusted eyes and the intimacy of touch to guide your way. Hobie laid back on your bed with his head in your pillows. Your scent surrounded him and he was in heaven as you climbed further up on top of him and grasped the length of his cock tenderly.

He let you do what you needed to do, sighing with perfect content as you dragged the tip of his cock between your wet folds. “Go slow, dove. I wanna feel ya.” He told you, shivering as your positioned him against your soaked entrance and sank down until your warm walls enveloped his fat tip. From there, you braced your hands upon his chest and did as told, slowly sinking down upon him, his cock spreading you further than you remembered.

You watched the way Hobie writhed beneath you, his hands gripping up and down your hips and thighs. “Fuck, y/n. Oh my…” He missed this so much, he missed you, this pretty, tight, warm cunt he dreamed about at night. All the toys he’s gotten in an attempt to replicate you, all of it in vain. He almost whined for you, biting his lip to contain something of a whimper. He wished he could se the way your folds parted for him or the way your hole stretched and struggled to contain him.

You liked the sight of him struggling to control himself. There was an overwhelming sense of power you felt you had over him for the first time in you entire fucked up situationship. His grip left bruises in your skin, tighter and tighter as you lifted yourself to the very tip of his member before pushing yourself back down, sheathing his cock completely, He made space for himself inside you, you walls melding to his exact length and girth. You had almost forgotten how good he felt, how he kissed your cervix so tenderly and pressed against sensitive spots you could never reach on your own.

"God, doll. Ya know wha'cha doin' t'me?" His hands find purchase on your hips, weakly following your movements as he watches the outline of your silhouette in amazement. The bed creaks a little with your movements, your moans mingle with the wet sounds of his pushing his cock into you, it's heaven in a single bedroom and you never want to go back to Earth.

Hobie lifted his knees and propped himself up, his hands gripping your hips a little harder so he could have his moment of control. He thrusted up into you, conjuring a breathless gasp from you as you gripped his shoulders for support. Your back arched as he fucked you, abused your cunt a little harder than you were used to over these past couple of months. You but your lip to contain the onslaught of moans you had to offer him, only letting out soft cries and whimpers to satiate his hunger to hear you.

You let him fuck into you, nice and rough, a position only those gifted in his department could pull off. You leaned down, pressed your body to his, laid on top of him with your back arched. You moaned into his neck, nosing at the angle of his jaw. Your hips flicked to meet the thrust of his hips. "H-Hobieeee." You squealed for him and he adored it, the way you dragged out his name like you wanted to hold it in your mouth for longer.

You stretched like a cat on top of him, you hands grasping at the pillow on either side of his head, scratching at the head post. You kept your face against his throat to hide your moans so only he could hear but they were so loud you had to bury your face in the crook of his neck and bite down to muffle them.

It was like he was tearing you apart, his large hands spreading you wide, his full lips muttering obscenities along the lines of his good you felt around him. So soft, so silky, so wet, so good. 

When you kissed, it was not a kiss. It was just the parts, a sloppy meeting of tongues, teeth, and lips, all tangled up and touching on another. It was broken down by lust fueled by love, by the warmth of heated skin, by the kindness one human offers to another. He paused his hips to slide his hands up to hold your head with his fingers tangled in your hair.

"I love you, I love you, IloveyouIloveyou." You groaned against his lips at first before babbling it out like you couldn't hold it in you much longer. You needed it out, in the air. You hips rutted, you pussy leaving his cock soaked as you dripped. Your clit rubbed against his hair-covered pelvis and you shivered with pleasure. "Please, don't stop."

Hobie chuckled a little and you fed on it like you've never known any other substance. "I love you too, dove. 'N I wanna see you fuck me. Give me a show. Jus' f'me this time." This whole time, you've been giving shows to other people, now he wants you just to himself.

You sat back up, your hands against his stomach, scratching lightly as you rocked your hips. Hobie watched the way your body moved, hypnotized by the way you rolled and danced. You bounced on his cock, each one met with a lazy thrust into you.

You closed your eyes and tossed your head back, your mouth slightly ajar. You let the pleasure take you, you felt every thrust of his cock inside you, every point of pleasure it touched, the way your greedy, swollen clit rubbed against his pelvic bone, his hands on your hips, sliding up and down your thighs to coax you to continue. You loved his light voice, "you go' i', baby. Keep goin', jus' like tha'. My lovely, looks so pretty." His voice strained with each word, the beginnings of an orgasm making themselves known in his throat.

You shuddered, pussy trembling with your own climax. "I wanna cum together, Hobie. Please." You pleaded with him, looking back down at his fucked out expression trying to hold on to some cohesiveness. His muscles tightened as you fucked him harder, bringing yourself all the way up to the tip of his cock before coming down with a loud clap.

 "Wha'eva you wan', lovely. I'll do wha'eva you wan'." He'll be whatever you want to. He just needs you in every way he can have you, for as long as he can have you. "You keep goin' like this 'n 'm gonna cum inside this gorgeous cunt of ya's."

You moaned at the thought of his cum filling you up, taking up the space his cock once did. "Do it, do it, please." You were just on the edge of your orgasm and he could tell. The way your walls clamped around him told everything and each movement brought him closer as well.

It was a simultaneous reaction. It took you both at once. Your moans were louder than before, mingling together embracing each other as your pussy quivered and milked his cock just the way he needed to shoot ribbons of cum right against your cervix and coat your walls in white. There was just so much of it and you continued to ride him, earning a few whimpers from Hobie as you milked him nice and thoroughly. To the point that his cum leaked through the tight seal his cock made with your entrance and dribbled down the underside of his cock and down his balls.

You felt so warm, so full. You fell on top of him, let him wrap his arms around you as you took in his scent so intrinsically his. You missed him so much, missed the feel of his sweaty skin against yours, missed the sound of his labored breath in your ear, then his chuckle he inevitably did at some point. You shook with his chest, rocking your hips a little to feel the comfort of his softening cock inside you.

"What's so funny?" You asked, drawing imaginary shapes against his chest in the dark.

"Really slutted me out in the end there. 've neva whimpered before." He laughed again, tossing a arm over his face to hide his embarrassment. You were laughing with him, a smile half pressed into his chest. "We could do it again."

There was a long stretch of silence as your laugher faded together and you sat there with him still inside you and his cum leaking out in globs, creating a mess between the both of you. There was so much you two needed to say, so many conversations you needed to have, but you narrowed it down in 8 words.

"I missed ya, luv." Hobie began.

"I missed you too." He'd never know how much hearing those words from his pierced lips would make your heart soar. The fact that he said it first, even more so.

"Remember tha' shower you was talkin' 'bout?"

You thought back to that moment of embarrassment for you when you had invited him to shower with you and he had refused. "How could I forget?" Even thinking about it now made your cheeks ache as blood rushed to them.

Hobie shifted a little beneath you. "I wanna take it now." A smile began to creep up onto your face and now your cheeks burned for another reason. 

"Let's go take it then."

[inuiiwonderland]

I’m sorry….

A/n: Take this as an apology for me not being active on here😔

Word:678

Warnings: mentions of toxic relationships, slight hint of abuse, and angst (tell me if I forgot anything!)

Mitsuya x fem reader

-

Another knock on the door caused you to sigh as you got up from your bed to go answer it.

Walking down the stairs you could feel your heart pound with every step you took, knowing who is behind that door in the late hours of the night. You finally made it to the door, taking a deep breath and opening it to see your best friend. Mitsuya.

"Y/n…" You could see the dried up tears and how puffy his eyes were. Probably from all the crying he did before coming to your place.

"Just come in" You said as you stepped aside for him to enter your home. He quietly did as you said and walked in. You closed the door and walked to the living room where he was.

"So what happened this time?" He let out a sigh and sat down on the couch.

"She said I wasn't giving her much attention. I already told her how packed my schedule is because of the next fashion show for next month. But then she started saying how I'm lying and that I just don't want to spend time with her." You sat quietly on the opposite end of the couch as you listened.

"She also said that I don't love her anymore and that I'm losing feelings, which I'm not because I truly love her!" Your heart aches hearing those words but you tried not to show it.

"Last night she went out and emma sent me a picture of her going to a hotel with some guy. I confronted her about it today which caused an argument about me not having any trust in her. And I trust her! But then she said that she was going to break up with me because I'm always busy.." Your heart broke seeing him all stressed and scared of losing the one girl he loves. It wasn't anything new for Mitsuya to run to you every week after a fight with his girlfriend. You started growing used to it as time went by, but it made you even more sad and annoyed seeing him still be with her after everything that she has put him through.

You noticed earlier on that the relationship those two have wasn't healthy. More like toxic. She loves to control, lie and use him for almost everything. Even after he caught her cheating one time he still forgave her and stayed by her side. Which caught you off guard since you didn't expect that from him.

But what could you do? He has been in love with her since high school and was thrilled when she accepted his confession on graduation day. Which caused you to cry that night.

"Mitsuya…this isn't normal you know, she has put you through a lot and caused you so much stress! She cheated on you multiple times so why?! Why are you still hurting yourself like this?”

The boy stayed silent. His hands were shaking and he closed his eyes as he looked away.

“Y/n…she’s my girlfriend. The love of my life and I think people deserve second-“

“Bullshit. She already cheated on you gods know how much and lied to you on multiple occasions! Hell she even put her hands on you mitsuya! That’s not love takashi…”

“But…I know…I know she’s going to change. She’ll stop”

No she won’t

“Takashi…”

“I-“ He was cut off by the sound of his phone going off. Text after text and soon a call made Mitsuya stand up as he grabbed his phone.

“It’s her” He says. As he was about to accept the call, you gently took a hold of his hand.

“Mitsuya…” You pleaded.

“This isn’t Healthy and you know it. You can’t continue staying with her. So please…don’t” The phone continued ringing as his phone blew up with texts. His eyes went from the phone to you and then to his phone before finally going back to you.

“M’sorry…”

Your heart shattered as he picked up the phone and made his way towards the door.

-

This was an old draft from last year😭 so sorry if it’s ooc😓

[onlyluxalo]

More random Welt hcs because Welt is my male bias for HSR and Hi3rd <3

Also this is a gender neutral and older reader btw!

Random Welt Yang hcs

Reader and Welt quite literally act like Carl and Ellie from UP no questions asked (thanks twitter oomf for saying this when I talked about Welt with an older reader)

Reader has definitely found pictures of Welt when he was a child (when he was still known as Joachim obviously) and feels a bit shy about it when reader found the pictures as they gushed about how cute he was

(Here’s what Joachim (Welts shadow/inner self/consciousness looks like so you HSR only players know) and plus Bronya just in SoQ to find Seele from chapters and chapters ago)

So since I was told by another Hi3rd oomf on twitter that Welt can shape-shift, I’d like to think when the Express members are gone and when Pom Pom isn’t around, Welt would just casually go into his SUGAR form and just stay on readers should like feeding him something small

(Here’s SUGAR Welt btw for just the HSR only players)

Welt lets himself be comfortably drunk around reader despite him being used to get drunk with Siegfried because canonically he’d procrastinate on work (as a animator) and leave to go hang out or drink with Siegfried

Reader practically sees Joey (Welts adopted son) as their own and gushes on how adorable Joey is (idk if Joey ages or not due to being a Welt Joyce clone so he’s still a child in this 💀) and also reader practically adopted Bronya (Zaychik) in the process since Bronya was mistaken as Welts daughter and he didn’t bat an eye (that’s canon)

Reader has scolded Welt at least once or twice about him not really needing his glasses because he’s not even nearsighted anymore

Reader and Welt game together occasionally and Welt always wins if it’s a fighting game (Bronya definitely taught Welt her skills) but occasionally slips up intentionally so reader can win and not feel sad

Cuddles are a must with Welt no questions asked. He loves the closeness.

I like to think Welt would be overprotective of reader (in a healthy way) because he doesn’t want to lose anyone important to him like his father and Welt Joyce again and reader knows that but they don’t mind the protectiveness because they know it’s not ill intent from Welt

(Left is Welts dad, Elias Nokianvirtanen and on the right is Welt Joyce for HSR only players and no theirs no image of what Welts mom looks like because theirs no official image or look but he has his moms genes I believe cuz Welt isn’t blond)

Welt has shown his moms/parent figures (Tesla and Einstein), reader they gave them the look on that they better treat Welt right since they’ve known Welt since he was only 8 years old and they want Welt to be treated right with the right person

(Red head is Tesla and blue head is Einstein)

That’s all I think so I hoped you guys like them at least and I apologize for using “()” a lot 😭

[class1akids]

My emotions are all over the place about this latest chapter with the Todoroki Family.

1) Based on Pikalua’a translation I fell in love with the fact that Shoto responded to Toya’s answer with a childish voice of ‘Same’. Even the picture of Shoto in that panel made him look younger. It’s probably the first time Shoto looked to be the baby of the family. And the fact it was said to the oldest brother, the brother Shoto missed out on getting to know and play with, means a lot to me.

2) I wonder if anyone else in the family knew Touya’s favorite food was Soba. Specifically Natsuo who was extremely mad that he missed out on getting to know his younger brother and pointed out he didn’t even know his favorite food till just now.

3) enji needs to just stop talking. We don’t need any more apologies or empty promise see from that man, especially if he is not gonna praise his children for growing up into the amazing people they are despite the hellish childhood he put them in.

4) I wish Rei and Fuyumi talked more in this chapter. Enji took all their speaking space up, again why her needs to shut up. They should have something to say to Toya. I mean they had 13 very close years with him, compared to Natsuo’s 8/9. They should have some words of comfort or love to say to him during this time. Hell they should have words to say to Enji. Rei had so much to say to Enji in the hospital, she put so much blame upon her own shoulders for the family they created together yet she has nothing to say to Touya right now.

5) I love that Shoto took it upon himself to tell his parents he is fine on his own. NO ONE and I mean NO ONE in his family, seemed concerned about him or how he is handling the repercussions of being Dabi’s and Endeavors family member or the emotional turmoil of seeing his older brother, whi he saved, in a death chamber. He is 16yrs old. Natsuo has announced he wants nothing to do with Enji, Fuyumi announced she lost her job, and not one asked Shoto how you doing at HIGHSCHOOL!!! So I am happy he took it upon himself to say “I am fine, I have friends who can help me.” Yeah boy you go and make a found family with your friends. They at least have asked “are you ok?”.

7) this is more my emotions based off a MHA fanfic you wrote, where it was the tragic family. In the fic Shoto reflects that at no point in time would his family ever be happy if he was born within it. Because the only reason he was born was because his older siblings didn’t accomplish Enji’s goal. (And I know this is not the exact wording you used but this is the gist of what I remember from what was written). And let me say that moment in the story broke me down into tears because I don’t really think about that fact. And I feel like this chapter kinda continues that tragic family plot/trope. And it ties back to that amazing and beautiful panel of the Todoroki family minus Shoto. The family doesn’t think of Shoto the way they think of their other siblings/children. I am not saying they don’t recognize him as a Todoroki or a son or brother but they definitely don’t go out of their way to think about his happiness and his life and his future. And maybe it all comes back to the tragic family plot, that Shoto is the final product and cumulation of their family being broken and irreparable. So yes if the family was a happy healthy family he would not have been born. But because his family is toxic and dysfunctional he was the final product born into it. (Please don’t think me saying this is me blaming Shoto for that toxic and broken family, I am just saying I feel so sad for him because he loves his family so much, with the exception of friggen Enji, and yet he has no place in the happy family portrait).

Yes he looks so much like a baby. I also loved that info that he's being just in baby of the family mode. It ties back also to how Touya saw him as a child in Ch 390.

I wonder that too. It seems like something someone eventually say to Shouto. Or maybe everyone knew, but it's just another heartbreaking detail how isolated Shouto was and how right Touya was about being buried and left behind.

It seems like he did acknowledge in a small way what Shoto did, even if he doesn't seem particularly grateful.

I feel like maybe Enji and Rei don't feel entitled to take pride in the kids who became what they are not because but despite the parenting and home environment.

4. Yes - it stood out to everyone. This chapter is of course about Touya and then the family "final". But Rei gets cut off by Endeavor and by the guard too. And after that, she says nothing to the kids. I guess it's implied that they stay in touch with her but they deserved a little scene - if nothing else, a small touch.

5. Yeah, seriously. It was so weird. But on the other hand it makes me feel like Shoto is not afraid to take up space anymore and is willing to just say what he wants and remind people not to forget about him. Like the first time he did that in the Endeavor internship where Endeavor asked Deku and Bakugou about their goals but not Shouto.

6. Yeah, he was born for the wrong reasons and would not exist in a healthy, happy timeline. Even more amazing that he's able to affirm for himself his own reasons and say that "your reasons don't define who I am or who I will be - only mine do." Like Shouto has such incredible mental fortitude and resilience.

[thefiery-phoenix]

YANDERE SUGAWARA KOUSHI HEADCANONS

Aww... he looks so wholesome and so nice in that picture right? Yeah, well.... don't judge a picture without knowing him since Sugawara is DELUSIONAL and OBSESSIVE ASF

He really thinks and believes that you love him with your heart and you 2 were destined to be soulmates

He is also INSANELY protective of you and you CANNOT convince me otherwise. One day you and Sugawara were walking home from school together, laughing and talking about the things that happened that day and he was busy basking himself in your glorious angelic presence till some moron almost ran you over with his bicycle. Sugawara quickly pushed you out of the way and saved you from getting a sprained ankle but you fell down and hurt your knee on a rock and it started bleeding. Sugawara frantically ripped a part of his shirt and used it to dab your blood while you were laughing it off saying it barely hurt and it was just a simple bruise that's all. But did he listen? OH NOOOOOOOO!!!!! He thought that you were trying to be brave and tough and strong since you were shy that if you started squealing in pain, he'd make fun of you for it but he doesn't blame you at ALL. You were his darling princess, his goddess and he was going to take care of you and you don't have to be tough for him to like you, he likes you just how you are. And as for that guy who was in the car? Yeah, well, his car 'mysteriously' landed in a swamp marsh that was found 3 days later with everything broken and rusting after it was reported missing

This guy will take eyebrow raising questionable precautions for you to be safe even if it means stalking you wherever you go, or as he refers to it as "Watching you from a distance so you'll be safe'' and not to mention him secretly watching you sleep and do your daily routine everyday so he knows you're doing all right and you're taking care of yourself and you're healthy

If you forget to eat or drink water, he'll leave some anonymous notes around your house reminding you to drink water and eat your food at the right time

Doesn't like it when you go to sleep late

He will kidnap you if he thinks you're not safe or not capable of taking care of yourself since he thinks that there are SO many things in the world that could hurt his precious little flower, his angel, his princess/ goddess and he wants to keep you safe from all those horrors of the world by just carefully wrapping his arms around you, embracing you in his arms and making you feel safe in his hugs while he strokes your hair softly telling you how he'll protect you from everything and trails butterfly kisses on your face and down your neck

He probably has a journal or a notebook filled with all your habits so he can please you

ABSO FREAKING LUTELY has a shrine for you since you're his goddess after all and he'll be busy thinking about you 24/7, whether or not you're safe or taking your meals properly or feeling all right and everything

He will infantilize you SO MUCH, you'll start feeling suffocated and stuffy

He will give you your space when you need it. When he first 'took you in his care', he knew how lost and miserable and sad you'd be and so, to cheer you up, he brought some of your stuffed animals from your old house and along with some of your favorite stuff like your favorite books and posters and all that and he'll give you time to adjust to your new home

The type of person to go through your diary just for 'knowing more about you' and if he finds out that you've written about some of your crushes from before, well.... they might mysteriously disappear within a short period of time or get severe injuries

Loves to dress you up but will NEVER make you wear anything uncomfortable. Just say you're feeling uncomfortable and he'll be apologizing a million times and begging you to forgive him

If you try escaping or act up and drive him over the edge, he'll just be upset and sad. Not to mention heartbroken but he'll convince himself that it's just a lover's spat and he'll resolve it by trying to look at the situation from your perspective. If what you asked for is too much he'll just refuse and he'll hold you in his grip till you've calmed down and will hug you and tell you everything's all right and you don't need to be sorry and you were just feeling confused and disoriented

Will be punish you? Are you freaking kidding me? He's the type of person who apologizes if he so much as lays a hand on your hair without your permission. He will NEVER EVER lay a hand on you or shout at you or use your fears against you or even lock you in a room for that matter. Come to think of it, he most certainly won't restrain you with chains and ropes and all that. If at all he DOES have to scold you about something, it'll be like he's gently scolding a toddler and he'll pat your head after that. Honestly, he ain't THAT bad

He'll be reluctant and hesitant to let you outside but he'll eventually cave in and he'll let you roam around ONLY in the back garden, that's IT, nothing more, nothing less. You would live in a cute little cottage

[layce2015]

Supernatural (Dean Winchester x Female!Reader)

Dream A Little Dream Of Me

Masterlist

I walk in a bar and found Sam sitting there, drinking. This took me by surprise as he rarely does this so I walk up to him. "There you are. What are you doing?" I asked him, relieved, as Sam turns to me. "Having a drink." He replied. "It's 2 in the afternoon. Drinking whiskey?" I said.

"I drink whiskey all the time." he grumbles. "No, you don't." I said and he turns to me. "What's the big deal? You and Dean get sloppy in bars, and both of you would hit on people all the time before enough two got together. Why can't I?" Sam snapped and I was taken aback by this.

"What's going on with you?" I asked him, worried, and Sam shakes his head, and doesn't say anything for a few moments. He looks completely lost. "I tried, (y/n)." he mutters and I give him a confused look. "To do what?" I asked him. "To save Dean." He replied and I look down, let out a heavy sigh then take the seat next to him. 

"Could I get a whiskey, double, neat." I said to the bartender and Sam turns to me. "I'm serious, (y/n)." He said. "No, you're drunk." I remarked. "I mean, where Dean's going...what he's gonna become. I can't stop it and neither can you." He said, looking close to tears. "I'm starting to think maybe even Ruby can't stop it. But really, the thing is, no one can save Dean." Sam said and I frown.

"Well, he has been telling us that." I said. "No, that's not what I mean. I mean, no one can save him because he doesn't wanna be saved. I mean, how can Dean care so little about himself." Sam said and I shrug. "I don't know. I wish I knew." I said just as my phone rings.

"Hello?" I answered. "(Y/n), did you find him?" Dean's voice asked. "Yeah, I found him at the bar." I said and Sam looks over at me. "Good, I need you guys to come back now." Dean said, in a panicked voice. "What's wrong?" I asked. "It's Bobby..." he replied and my eyes widen in fear.

Later, we were at the hospital to see Bobby lying in his bed. "So, what's the diagnosis?" Sam asked the doctor. "We've tested everything we can think to test. He seems perfectly healthy." The doctor said. "Except that he's comatose." Dean growls as I give a look of sadness to Bobby.

"Mr. Sniderson, you're his emergency contact. Anything we should know? Any illnesses?" the doctor asked Dean. "No, he-he never gets sick. I mean, he doesn't even catch cold." Dean replied.

"Doctor, is there anything you can do?" I asked the doctor. "Look, I'm sorry, but we don't know what's causing it...so we don't know how to treat it. He just...went to sleep, and didn't wake up." He said and the boys and I share a look and then we look over at Bobby.

We make our way to the motel Bobby was staying at and enter the room. "So, what was Bobby doing in Pittsburgh?" Sam asked. "Unless he's taking an extremely lame vacation..." Dean said as he closes the door and we walk into the center of the room.

"I mean, he must have been working a job, right? They continue to walk around the room." Sam said. "Well, you think there'd be some sort of sign of something, you know?" I said as Sam opens a drawer, but it's empty. Dean and I do the same, and that too is empty. The room looks completely clean.

"Research, news clippings..." I said as Sam turns to the closet. "Or a frigging pizza box or a beer can." Dean said as he walks away from the dresser he was looking in, and Sam walks over to the closet. "How 'bout this?" Sam said and we walk over to him as he moves the clothes out of the way and on the wall behind them hangs all of the news clippings, maps and pictures we were looking for.

There's pictures of roots, mushrooms, seeds and a map where Bobby has written Pittsburgh in big letters and underlined it. There's postists with adresses and numbers. There's a piece of paper about a plant.

"Good old Bobby, always covering up his tracks." Dean chuckles. "You guys make heads or tails of any of this?" Sam asked and Dean takes one of the papers about a plant and reads the title of it. "Silene capensis, which of course means absolutely nothing to me." Dean said and I noticed a newspaper clipping. "Here." I said as I take a newspaper clipping and skim over it. 

"Dr. Walter Gregg, 64, university neurologist." I read. "How'd he bit it?" Dean asked me. "Um...actually, they don't know. They say he just went to sleep and didn't wake up." I said and Dean takes the clipping from me, reading it himself. "That sound familiar to you guys?" Dean asked.

"Alright, um...So let's say Bobby was looking into the doc's death. You know, hunting after something--" Sam started to explain and Dean looks up at him. "That started hunting him." He finished and Sam nods. "Alright, Sam  stay here. See if you can make heads or tails of this." Dean said as he points to the closet. "(Y/n), come with me." He said and I nod.

"What are you gonna do?" Sam asked him. "Look into the good Doctor myself." Dean said as he walks to the door. Sam and I share a look before I shrug then follow Dean out 

"So you're Dr. Gregg's lab assistant?" I asked the woman, Miss Sanders, as we walked into the office, which was cluttered with books and boxes. "That's right." she replied. "Well, his death must have come as a shock to you." said Dean. "Yeah, it did." she replied as Dean and I look around the office, while Sanders stands behind us.

"But, still, go in your sleep, peacefully...That's what you wish for, right?" she asked as we look over at her. "Yeah. Right." Dean mutters as I look at a book on the Doctor's desk. "Dr. Gregg uh...studied sleeping disorders?" I asked her as I pick up the book and hold it up for Sanders. "Dreams?" I said, questioning, as Sanders looks at me, confused.

"I don't understand. I went over all of this with the other Detective." she said as I put down the book and Dean and I look at her, curious. "You already spoke to another Detective?" Dean asked. "Yes. A very nice older man with a beard." She replied and Dean and I share a quick glance before I turn to her. "Well, we'd love to hear it again if you don't mind." I said and she looks between us.

"Thing is, I'm sort of busy. Maybe we could do this later?" she said and Dean and I share a look before Dean shrugs.

"Sure. Yeah. Just bring you down to the station later this afternoon." he said and her face falls. "Get your statement on tape, do it all official-like." said Dean and Sanders sighs. 

"Look, okay, I didn't know about Dr. Gregg's experiments. Not until I was cleaning out his files." she said, which took me aback. "His experiments, uh...? The ones he was conducting on sleeping?" I asked her. "No one knew, okay? Not the university, not anybody. I already spoke with a Lawyer and he told me I can't be held liable for anything." She replied.

"Maybe you couldn't, but that was before the new evidence came to light." Dean said and Sanders furrows her brow. "New evidence? What new evidence?" She asked. "We're not at liberty to say." Dean said and Sanders sighs. 

"Look, I'm just a grad student, this was a gig to cover tuition." she said. "Maybe so. But, uh, still this...this could go on your permanent record. Unless you hand over the Doctor's research to us. All of it." Dean said to her

"Look, I don't know what the RA said, but, ah, I was growing ferns." Jeremy said as we walk into his home. "Take it easy, Phish, that's not why we're here." Dean scoffs. "Really? Oh, thank God. Okay." Jeremy said, relieved, while i hold up the file in my hand.

"We wanna talk to you about Dr. Gregg's sleep study." I said and Jeremy nods. "Yeah. Dr. Gregg just died, right?" He said and we nod. "You were one of his test subjects, right?" Dean asked him. "Yeah." Jeremy said as he opens his fridge and takes out three beers. He holds them up a bit, motioning as a question. He then holds two out to me and Dean.

"Unless you two are on duty or whatever?" Jeremy asked and Dean and I share a look before Dean looks to the door for a second, and then decides to go for the beer. "I guess I can make an exception." Dean said as he takes the bottle.

Jeremy holds out the other bottle to me and I shake my head. "I'm good, thanks." I said. Jeremy nods then sets the bottle down and grabs the bottle opener. He opens his bottle as Dean opens his. They hold up their beers to each other and then take a swig.

"Now, Dr. Gregg was testing treatments for a, uh, "Charcot-Wilbrand syndrome? Which means...?" I said, continuing the interview, while Dean was enjoying his beer. "Um..I, uh..I can't dream." He said and I give him a confused look. "I had this bike accident when I was a kid and banged my head pretty good and I haven't had a dream since. Till the study. You know. Sort of." He explains.

"What'd the doc give you?" Dean asked. "It's this yellow tea. It..it smelled awful, tasted worse." Jeremy replied. "What did it do?" I asked. "Just passed right out. And uh, I had the most vivid, super-intense dream. Like a bad acid trip, you know?" He said and Dean chuckles while I shake my head. "Totally." He mutters and I elbow him in his arm then he clears his throat.

"I mean, no." He said, firmly. "That was it. I dropped out of the study right after that. I didn't...like it. To tell you the truth...it kind of scared me." Jeremy said and Dean and I look at him, thoughtful.

Dean and I were sitting by Bobby's bed, watching for any sign of him waking up. I let out a heavy sigh then lean my head against Dean's shoulder. He takes my hand in his and goes to kiss the top of my head then leans against mine.

Sam enters a few minutes later and we raise our head then turn around to look at him. We share a look before Sam walks further into the room. "How is he?" Sam asked and Dean rubs his hand over his chin as he turns back to Bobby. Sam walks to stand by the foot of the bed, with files in his hand.

"No change." Dean said as I nod towards the files. "What you got?" I asked him then Dean and I get up and walk over to Sam, to see what he brought with him.

"Well, considering what you guys told me about the doc's experiments...Bobby's wall is starting to make a hell of a lot more sense." He explains. "How so?" Dean asked and Sam holds up a picture of a plant from the folder. "This plant, Silene capensis, is also known as African Dream Root. It's been used by shaman and medicine men for centuries." He said and I sigh a bit. 

"Let me guess. They dose up, bust out didjeridus, start kicking around the hackey." I said and Sam slightly shakes his head. "Not quite. If you believe the legends, it's used for dreamwalking. I mean, entering another person's dreams, poking around in their heads." He said. "I take it we believe the legends." Dean said and all three of us share a look. "When don't we? But dreamwalking is just the tip of the iceberg." Sam said and he picks up a paper from the folder that contains info on the root and a drawing of it.

"What do you mean?" I asked him. "I mean, this Dream Root is some serious mojo. You take enough of it, with practice, you can become a regular Freddy Krueger. You can control anything. You could turn bad dreams good, you could turn good dreams bad." He said and all of us look at Bobby for a moment then back at each other. 

"And killing people in their sleep?" Dean asked and Sam nods. "For example. So let's say uh, let's say this doc was testing this stuff on his patients, Tim Leary-style." Sam explains. "Somebody gets pissed at him, decides to give him a little dream visit, he goes nighty-night." I said. "What about Bobby? I mean, if the killer came after him, how come he's still alive?" Sam asked. "Don't know." Dean and I said as we look back at Bobby, sadly.

"So how do we find our homicidal sandman?" Dean asked Sam as we walk out of Bobby's room. "Could be anyone." Sam said. "Yeah?" Dean and I said. "Yeah." Sam said. "Anyone who knew the Doctor and had access to his dream shrooms." I said. "Maybe one of his test subjects or something?" Sam asked. "Possible. But his research was pretty sketchy. I mean...I don't know how many subjects he had or who all of them were." Dean said and Sam scoffs.

"What?" I asked him and Sam sighs, loudly. "Any other case, we'd be calling Bobby and asking him for help right now." Sam said and Dean looks like he just thought of something. He grabs us by our arms to stop us and he looks up at us.

"You know what, Sam? You're right." he said. "What?" Sam and I said, confused. "Let's go talk to him." Dean said and I raise an eyebrow at this. "Sure, I think we might find the conversation a bit one-sided." Sam said, confused. "Not if we're tripping on some Dream Root." said Dean.

"What?" We said.

"You heard me." Dean said to us. "You wanna go dreamwalking inside Bobby's head?" I asked him. "Yeah. Why not? Maybe we could help." Dean said "We have no idea what's crawling around in there." I said.

"How bad could it be?" Dean asked. "Bad." Sam and I said in unison. "Guys, it's Bobby." Dean said, looking between us, and I sigh. "Yeah, you're right." Sam scoffs. "One problem though. We're fresh out of African Dream Root, so unless you know someone who can score some it..." I said and Dean thinks for a moment then rolls his eyes.

"Crap." he mutters.

"What?" Sam asked.

"Bela." Dean said.

"Bela?" Sam and I said then I realized what he was meaning. "Crap." I growled as Sam rolls his eyes. "You're actually suggesting we ask her a favor?" Sam asked Dean. "I'm feeling dirty just thinking about it, but yeah." Dean said and I scoff. "Just great." I muttered.

Dean and I were sitting in a motel room, looking through the files and waiting for Bela, while Sam had fallen asleep on a nearby desk. Dean and I just went over the notes when we hear a Sam making noises in his sleep, like happy moaning noises.

Dean and I exchange a look before Dean calls out to Sam. "Sam! Wake up." Dean shouts and Sam sits up then he wipes his face with his arm. "Dude, you were out. Making some serious happy noises." Dean said while Sam still has his back to us.

"Who were you dreaming about?" I asked him, smirking. "What? No one. Nothing." Sam stammers. "Come on, you can tell us. Angelina Jolie?" I asked. "No." Sam said. "Brad Pitt?" Dean asked and I snorted at this while Sam turns around, almost looking at us. "No. No. Dude, it doesn't matter." He said and I shake my head. "Whatever." Dean and I muttered as Sam mutters under his breath.

"I called Bela." Dean said and Sam sits there. "Bela? Yeah? She-What'd she...you know, say? She...gonna...help us?" He stammers, quickly. "Shockingly, no, which puts us back to square one." Dean grumbles.

"We've been trying to decipher the Doctor's notes. Unfortunately, he has worse handwriting than you do." I said to Sam. "You gonna come help us with this stuff?" Dean asked as we look over at Sam as he was still in his chair. Sam looks around and then down, still keeping his back to us. "Yeah, yeah. Just give me a sec." He said as he moves around a bit in his seat, moving his hands around.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door and we turn in its direction. Sam stays in his chair as Dean gets up to open the door. Dean opens the door just inches, looks annoyed and opens up the door, walking with it. "Bela. As I live and breathe." He said as Bela enters, wearing a trenchcoat.

"You called me. Remember?" She said. "I remember you turning me down." Dean said and she smirks. "Well, I'm just full of surprises." she said and I roll my eyes. "You're full of something." I muttered. "I'm sorry?" Bela asked and I look up at her and give her a fake smile. "Nothing." I said.

"Hey, Bela. What's going on?" Sam asked and I furrow my brow at him.

"I brought you your African Dream Root." She said as she hands over a jar of it to Dean. "Nasty stuff, and not easy to come by." she said as she puts her bag on the TV and goes to open her coat. "Why the sudden change of heart?" I asked her. "What? I can't do you a little favor every now and again?" She asked me. "No, you can't. Come on, I wanna know what the strings are before you attach them." Dean said as Bela takes off her coat and sets it aside.

"You said this was for Bobby Singer, right?" she asked him and Dean nods. "Well, I'm doing it for him. Not you." She replied. "Bobby? Why?" I asked, suspiciously. "He saved my life once. In Flagstaff." She replied and Dean throws a look my way then Sam's way, both of us just shrug. He looks back at her, still not responding to her statement.

"I screwed up and he saved me, okay? You satisfied?" she shouts. "Maybe." said Dean as She looks at him, who's now looking at the jar, and at Sam.

"So when do we go on this little magical mystery tour?" She asked and I stand up. "Oh, you're not going anywhere. I don't trust you enough to let you in my car, much less Bobby's head. No offense." Dean said as he walks over to the closet. He turns on the lights and opens up the safe, where the Colt is, and he puts in the jar of Dream Root with it. Bela, Sam and I watch him.

"None taken." Bela said as Dean closes the safe, locking it. He walks into the room again, where Bela is looking a bit annoyed now. "It's 2 am. Where am I supposed to go?" She asked.

"Get a room. Ah, they got the Magic Fingers, a little Casa Erotica on pay-per-view. You'll love it." I said to her and she glares at me. "You..." She growls and she takes her bag in a huff and walks to the door, retreiving her coat on the way. Sam jumps out of his chair calling after her. "Nice to see-.. Seeing you..." Sam exclaims as she slams the door behind her, ignoring him. "Bela." He mutters while Dean and I turn to Sam, a bit confused.

*3rd Person POV*

Sam walks over to the beds with three glass cups of the liquid containing the Dream Root. Dean and (y/n) were sitting on the bed, waiting for him. As Sam comes over, he hands Dean one of the cups and (y/n) the other cup and then sits down on the other bed.

"Uh, should we dim the lights and synch up Wizard of Oz to Dark Side of the Moon?" (y/n) asked. Dean snorts while Sam looks over at her, with a smile. "Why?" he asked and (y/n) looks at him, disappointed. "What did you do during college?" She asked him and Sam looks at her with his usual huh reaction to such questions.

(y/n) rolls her eyes as Dean goes to drink the liquid but Sam stops him. "Wait, wait, wait. Can't forget this." Sam said. Dean puts down the cup and looks over at him as he pulls out a little brown envelope from his shirt pocket. He pulls something out and as Dean and (y/n) reach out their hands, Sam puts it in it.

"Here." he said as the two look at the object. "What the hell is that?" Dean asked Sam. "Bobby's hair." Sam replied and Dean and (y/n) gives him a disgusted look. "We have to drink Bobby's hair?" (Y/n) asked, repulsed. "That's how you control whose dream you're entering. You gotta drink some of their uh...Some of their body." Sam explained and (y/n) crinkled her nose.

"Well, guess the hair of the dog is better than other parts of the body." Dean remarks and they put the hair in and Sam exhales, getting ready to drink what seems to be a very disgusting drink. They raise their cups a bit. "Bottoms up, boys." (Y/n) said to them. "Yeah." Sam and Dean said and they put their cups together in a toast and then drink it all up.

The three of them grunt, trying to swallow, which seems to be a little hard. They smack their mouths a bit, due to the awful  taste. They look quite disgusted and nothing seemed to have changed.

"Feel anything?" Dean asked and Sam shakes his head. "No. You feel anything?" (y/n) asked Dean as she looks over at him then he shakes his head a little. "No." He said and he holds up the cup and looks in it. "Maybe we got some bad shwag." Dean said when they hear thunder from outside and rain pattering on the window. Sam looks over, a little confused.

"Hey, when did it start raining?" he asked as Dean and (y/n) look over at the window as well. Dean gets up and starts walking to the window, that's covered with white curtains. As he comes up to it, he pulls the curtains apart to look outside, and sees that the rain is actually not coming from the sky, but from the ground.

"When did it start raining upside down?" He asked then he turns around to Sam and (y/n) and sees that they're now standing in the a house. They look around a bit and see that the window, Dean was just looking out through, is gone and instead there's a fireplace. The entire bedroom part of the motel have turned into a living room.

"Okay, I don't know what's weirder. The fact that we're in Bobby's head or that he's dreaming of Better Homes and Gardens." (y/n) remarks and Dean let's out a playful scoff. "You're telling me." Dean said as they look around. "Wait. Wait a sec. Imagine the place without the paint job." Sam said as he begins gesturing to everything he's talking about. "More cluttered, dusty, books all over the place." He said and they begin to move around the living room. 

"It's Bobby's house." Dean said. "Yeah." said Sam and (y/n) looks around. "Bobby?" She calls out in a hushed whisper as the trio look around.

"Bobby?" Sam calls out as he looks up the stairs. Sam looks towards the door, while Dean and (y/n) were still in the living room. "Guys?" Sam calls out and the two turns around to Sam. "I'm gonna go look outside." He said and Dean shakes his head. "No, no, no, stay close." He whispers. "Dude, I'll be fine. Just, look around in here. Look, we gotta find him." Sam said.

"Don't do anything stupid." (y/n) said and Sam nods and walks to the door, where it's still raining outside. Sam comes out and sees everything in bright technicolor and the sun is shining. The house is bright blue, with flowers all around, and birds chirping can be heard. Sam walks out on the porch, a confused look on his face.

While Sam takes this in, the door suddenly slams shut behind him. Sam turns around at the sound and goes back and tries to open it but it's locked. "Dean! (y/n)!" He shouts then he walks over to the window next to the door and bangs on the wall while looking in. He sees Dean and (y/n) through the window, still looking around the house with their backs to Sam, but they don't seem to react to neither Sam calling their names or him banging on the wall. "Dean! (Y/n)! Guys!" Sam shouts walks down the porch out of view.

Dean open the doors to the kitchen and he and (y/n) walks in, looking around cautiosly. They move through the kitchen towards the hallway on the other side. "Bobby?" Dean calls out as they walk out into the hallway, where there's two doors. One across from the kitchen and one on the left.

"Bobby!" (y/n) said then they turn around as if they heard something and look down the hallway in the other direction, where there's another closed door. "Who's out there?" A scared voice calls out from the door behind them.

Dean and (y/n) turn back to the door that was on their left when they entered the hallway. They walk over to the door and see long scratch marks on it. Dean touches them as he goes for the doorknob. "Bobby, you in there?" Dean whispers. "Dean?" Bobby calls out. "Yeah. It's me. (Y/n)'s here too. Open up." Dean said.

Bobby opens the door and looks behind Dean and (y/n). "Hey." (y/n) said and Bobby moves towards the kitchen and looks around, like he was making sure something wasn't coming. He's scratched up on his cheek and nose. Dean and (y/n) walk up next to him.

"How in the hell did you find me?" Bobby asked them. "Sam, Dean and I got our hands on some of that Dream Roof stuff." (y/n) said. "Dream Root? What?" Bobby said, confused. "Dr. Gregg, the experiments?" Dean said then Bobby, who's still looking around, throws them a terrified glance.

"What the hell are you talking about?" he asked then the lamps begin to flicker. "Hurry." Bobby exclaims, scared, and he runs for the closet again. Dean turns around and grabs him. "Woh, woh, woh, woh, woh. What's going on?" Dean asked him. "She's coming." Bobby said, panicked.

"Okay, you know this is a dream, don't you?" (y/n) asked him. "What are you, crazy?" Bobby said, terrified. "It's a dream, Bobby! None of this is real!" Dean yells but then they hear a door opening. Bobby's eyes widen in fear then he points behind the couple. "Does that look made-up?" He asked them.

Dean and (y/n) turn around and sees a woman coming out into the hallway. She's wearing a white dress and there's blood on it and her. Suddenly the closet door slams shut and Bobby turns around, rattling the doorknob to make it open. Dean and (y/n) look at him and then when Bobby turns around, the couple look back at the woman.

She looks rather normal except for a few cuts on her chest and neck. Even her hair is styled in a regular fashion. She doesn't look happy though. "Bobby, who is that?" (Y/n) asked him as Bobby has tears in his eyes now, but not from being terrified. "She's...She's my wife." Bobby said and Dean and (y/n) share a look before the looked between Bobby and his wife.

"Why Bobby? Why did you do this to me?" His wife asked as they're now standing in the kitchen, by the living room, and Bobby's wife is standing in the doorway leading to the hall. At her words, Bobby turns around. "I'd rather died myself than hurt you." Bobby said, tearfully. "But you did hurt me. You shoved that knife into me. Again and again. You watched me bleed. Watched me die." She shouts as Dean and (y/n) come up behind Bobby and grab ahold of him.

"Bobby, she's not real." Dean said but Bobby doesn't respond to Dean, his eyes are on his wife. "How could you?" His wife asked as Bobby is close to crying now. "You were possessed, baby. You were rabid. And I didn't know what I know now. I didn't know how to save you." Bobby replied.

"You're lying. You wanted me dead. If you'd loved me, you would've found a way!" She screams. "I'm sorry." Bobby whimpers then Dean and (y/n) grab hold of him again, more forceful this time. "Come on." (Y/n) said as her and Dean drag him into the living room and as Dean and (y/n) begin to slide the doors closed, Bobby's wife runs for the doors, screaming.

Meanwhile, Sam was walking by a line of washed sheets, drying in the wind. When he turns around, Jeremy shows up with a bat, swinging, hitting him hard in the chest and shoulder. Sam falls to the ground, holding his shoulder and Jeremy stands over him. "Who are you?" Sam asked. "Who are you? You don't belong here." Jeremy said. "You're one to talk. You're in my friend's head." Sam said.

"You got a poor choice in friends. This is self-defense. He came after me. He wanted to hurt me." Jeremy said. "Maybe because you're a killer." Sam growls. "You should be nicer to me. In here...you're just an insect. I'm a god." Jeremy warns.

Back inside, Bobby's wife is jumping and banging on the doors to the living room, screaming. "We're telling you, all of it. Your house, your wife, it's a nightmare." (Y/n) tells Bobby as her and Dean were standing by the doors, keeping them closed. Bobby is standing across from them, just looking at them, while his wife continues to bang and scream. Dean finally grabs a wire to tie around the door handles.

"I killed her." Bobby cries. "Bobby! This is your dream that you can wake up. I mean, hell, you can do anything." Dean yells as he ties the doors together just as Bobby walks up behind him. "Just leave me alone. Let her kill me already." He begs.

(Y/n) grabs hold of him, trying to get him to wake up, to snap out of it. "Look at me. Look at me. You gotta snap out of this now. You gotta snap out of this now! You're not gonna die. Dean's not gonna let you die. I'm not gonna let you die. You're like a father to us. You gotta believe us, please." She pleads and they look at each other for a moment.

Bobby looks once at the door his wife is still banging on and screaming behind, and then he look back at (y/n). "I'm dreaming?" He asked. "Yes. Now take control of it." Dean yells. Bobby looks towards the door, and then he closes his eyes tightly and suddenly all the banging and screaming stops.

(Y/n) lets go of him and walks over to the doors. Dean removes the cable and slides the doors open, revealing an empty kitchen. Bobby's wife is nowhere in sight. "I don't believe it." Bobby whispers and Dean and (y/n) turns around and look at him. "Believe it." (Y/n) said, breathing heavily. "Now would you please wake up?" Dean asked.

Outside, Sam is still on the ground and Jeremy is standing over him. "Sweet dreams." Jeremy said and he raises the bat and Sam pulls up his arm to take the impact. Jeremy swings the bat down hard.

At that moment, Bobby wakes up with a force, sitting up in bed, while at the hotel Dean, (y/n) and Sam wake up with a force, sitting up on their beds, panting. The trio are panting and Dean looks down at his cup. Then they look over at each other.

Bobby is sitting in bed, looking over the papers from the investigation while Dean and (y/n) were sitting on the bed next to him. "Hey, Bobby. That, uh...That stuff, all that stuff with your wife?" Dean asked and Bobby looks over at him. "That actually happen?" Dean asked.

"Everybody got into hunting somehow." Bobby replied and the two frown. "I'm sorry." (y/n) said. "Don't be sorry. If it weren't for you two, I'd still be lost in there. Or dead. Thank you." Bobby said. "You're welcome." (Y/n) said as Dean only responds with a twitch of his lips. Sam comes in after that, seeing the guys sharing a look.

"So, uh, stoner boy wasn't in his dorm. My guess is he's long gone by now." Sam said and Bobby scoffs. "He ain't much of a stoner." He said as he picks up a picture of Jeremy, looking at it. "No?" Dean asked. "No. His name's Jeremy Frost. Full-on genius. Hundred-and-sixty IQ. Which is sayin' some, considering his dad took a baseball bat to his head." Bobby explains and Dean nods at that.

Bobby picks up another paper and hands it to Sam. "Here's Father of the Year." He said and Sam sees that it's a copy of a drivers license for Jeremy's dad, Henry David Frost. "He died before Jeremy was 10." Bobby said. "Looks like a real sweetheart." Sam said, sarcastically.

"Injury gave him Charcot-Wilbrand, he hasn't dreamt since." Bobby said as Sam puts the paper back on the little side table. "Till he started dosing the dream drug." Dean said. "Yep." Bobby said.

"How'd he know how to dig up your worst nightmare and throw it at you?" (y/n) asked Bobby. "He was rooting around in my skull. God knows what he saw in there." Bobby replied. "Yeah. How'd he get in there in the first place? Isn't he supposed to have some of your hair, your DNA or something?" Sam asked and Dean and (y/n) nod. "Yeah. Before I knew it was him, he offered me a beer. I drank it. Dumbest frigging thing." Bobby said and (y/n)'s eyes widen then she looks over at Dean, who realized he's done the same thing and tries to make it a bit lighter.

"Oh, I don't know. It wasn't that dumb." Dean said then he gives a nervous laugh. (Y/n) runs her hand over her eyes as Sam and Bobby both looks at him with this comment. "Dean, you didn't." Sam said and Dean looks between them. "I was thirsty." He said and Sam scoffs then looks at (y/n).

"I didn't take it." She said. "That's great, now he can come after either one of you." Sam said as he points between Dean and Bobby. "Well, now we just have to find him first." (Y/n) said. "We better work fast and coffee up. Because one thing we cannot do is fall asleep." Bobby said.

Two Days Later

Dean's behind the wheel, Sam is sitting next to him while (y/n) is in the backseat. Dean is clearly pissed over the whole situation. "I mean, this Jeremy guy's not a frigging ghost. Where the hell could he be?" Dean asked, angrily.

"Dean, you sure you don't want me or (y/n) to drive? You seem a little...caffeinated." Sam said and Dean looks over at him. "Thanks for the news flash, Edison." Dean growls. "Baby, calm down." (Y/n) said, in a calm voice. "Calm?! I am calm!!" He yells then his cell rings. He tries to get hold of it but it's turns out it's a bit hard and he mutters indistinctly. He finally gets it up.

"Tell me you got something." he said into the phone. "Strip club was a bust, huh?" Bobby remarks. "Yeah." Dean growls. "That was our last lead." Bobby said, shrugging. "What the hell, Bobby!" Dean yells. "Don't yell at me, boy. I'm working my ass off here." Bobby said, sternly. "Sorry, I'm sorry. I'm just..I'm-I'm-I'm tired." Dean said, more calmer. "Well, who ain't?" said Bobby.

"What's Bela got?" Dean asked him. "What do you got, Bela?" Bobby asked her as she looks over her spirit board. "Sorry. Sometimes the spirit world is in a chatty mood, and sometimes it isn't." She replied, shaking her head, then Bobby turns back to his phone. "She's got nothing." He informs Dean. "Great! Well, I'm just gonna go blow my brains out now!" Dean yells, angrily, then he flips the phone closed and throws it in his lap. He hits the steering-wheel grunting angrily. 

Suddenly, minutes later, Dean turns the car on a sideroad instead of continuing on. When they get to a clearing in the woods, he shuts off the engine. "Alright, that's it. I'm done." He said and he slides down a bit in his seat, resting his head on the back of it. "What are you doing?" (Y/n) asked him. "Taking myself a long-overdue nap." He replied.

"What? Dean, Jeremy can come after you." Sam said, worried. "That's the idea." Dean replied. "Excuse me?" (Y/n) said, shocked. "Come on, we can't find him, so let him come to me." Dean said. "On his own turf? Where he's basically a god?" Sam said, questioning. "I can handle it." Dean said. "Not alone, you can't." Sam said and be reaches over and pulls out some of Dean's hair.

"Ow!" Dean exclaims and touches his head where Sam grabbed some hair. "What are you doing?" He asked as Sam hands some of the hair to (y/n). "Coming in with you." Sam said. "No, you're not." Dean said, firmly. "Why not? At least then it'll be three against one." (Y/n) said and Dean doesn't have a response at first, opening and closing his mouth.

"'Cause I don't want you two digging around in my head." he said. "Too bad." Sam said and goes for the items to make the liquid and Dean just looks at them for a moment.

They're both asleep, leaning on the doors of the Impala. Sam wakes up first, clearing his throat. "Guys." Sam said as he hits Dean on his arm and Dean wakes up forcefully. "Jeez. For the love of God." Dean exclaims then looks around a bit, looking extremely tired, while Sam wakes (y/n) up.

"What are we still doing here?" Dean asked as (y/n) rubs her eyes and looks around. "I have no idea." Sam said just as a sound can be heard from outside the car. "There's someone out there." (y/n) said then they get out of the car, looking around.

As they walk in front of the car, music can suddenly be heard. Dean looks behind him and then when he turns around, a corner of the clearing lights up, and there sits (y/n), a different one, on a little blanket and a picnic basket. She was wearing a flowing summer dress, her hair was done up and she was wearing make-up.

Dean just looks at her and she smiles up at him. "Hey. You gonna sit down?" She asked him. Dean doesn't move, he just looks at her. She has a glass of red whine in her hand and she reaches for another glass in the basket.

"Come on. We only have an hour before we have to pick (son's name) up from baseball." She said and holds theglasss for him, giving him another smile. Sam and the real (y/n) were standing a bit behind Dean, taking this all in as Dean just looks at her. He looks over at Sam and (y/n). "I've never had this dream before." He said then he turns back, away from Sam and (y/n). 

(Y/n) takes a few steps towards him. "Stop looking at me like that." Dean said. "Dean? Is this what you want?" (Y/n) asked as she nods towards the dream scene. "Dean. I love you." Dream (y/n) said and she smiles.

Suddenly, her entire scene shakes and both her, the picnic, the light and the music disappears. Dean looks around and Sam and (y/n) turn around, doing the same. "Where'd she go?" Dean asked and (y/n) places her hands on her hips. "Right here, you dummy." She said, sarcastically, while Sam is looking into the woods and suddenly Jeremy comes out from behind a tree.

"Guys." He shouts and he takes after Jeremy, who runs off. Dean and (y/n) quickly follow Sam and they run into the woods. Dean looses track on Sam and (y/n), but keeps running in the same direction.

Suddenly he stops and turns, looking around confused. "Okay." he mutters as the woods have turned into wallpaper and Dean is standing in a hallway with doors on both sides.

Sam and (y/n) were still running through them, in pursuit of Jeremy. They come to a clearing, where they stop, panting, looking around. "Dean?!" (Y/n) calls out but no response.

Dean is walking down the hallway towards a door at the end of it. Before he reaches it, it suddenly opens up slowly. Dean stops, watching. The door glides open more, revealing a motel room. A clicking noise sounds out as Dean enters the room. As he comes in, he sees that the motel room looks exactly as the one him, Sam and (y/n) are staying in.

Across the room from the door, sits a man on the chair by the desk. Dean walks further into the room, watching him. "Jeremy?" He asked. The man keeps clicking the on and off button for the lamp on the desk, his back to Dean. He clicks the lamp back on and he turns his head back towards Dean. Dean sees that the man is himself.

Dream Dean slowly stands up, and turns to Dean, who swallows at the sight of himself. "Hey, Dean." Dream Dean said. "Well, aren't you a handsome son of a gun." Dean said as he smiles. "We need to talk." Dream Dean said as Dean nods and begins to walk in a circle, as does Dream Dean.

They're walking in the same direction just across from each other. "I get it. I get it. I'm my own worst nightmare, is that it? Huh? Kind of like the Superman III junkyard scene? A little mano-y-mano with myself?" Dean jokes. "Joke all you want, smart-ass. But you can't lie to me. I know the truth." said Dream Dean.

They stop walking, now having changed places. Dean standing by the desk, Dream Dean by the door. "I know how dead you are inside. How worthless you feel. I know how you look into a mirror...and hate what you see." Dream Dean said. "Sorry, pal. it's not gonna work. You're not real." Dean said, smiling. "Sure I am. I'm you." Dream Dean said.

"I don't think so. 'Cause see, this is my siesta. Not yours." Dean said and he raises left hand. "All I gotta do is snap my fingers and you go bye-bye." He said and he snaps his fingers once, and nothing happens. Dean snaps again, noticing nothing's happening, and Dream Dean just watches him. He snaps them three more times and then lets his hand fall to his side. The smile gone, but his eyebrows are raised at this.

Dream Dean gives him a nod and looks at him, clearly saying see. "I'm not going anywhere. Neither are you." Dream Dean said and the door slams shut behind him, and locks. All the smiles are gone from Dean's features, taking in the seriousness. "Like I said..." Dream Dean said as he raises his right hand, in which he now has a pistol-grip sawed-off. "...we need to talk."

A bang was heard, and Sam and (y/n) wake up, gasping. They look over at Dean, who's still asleep. "Dean." Sam said and he hits him on the arm. "Hey." Sam said as he hits him on the arm a couple of times. "Wake up." (Y/n) said as she places her hand on his shoulder.

Dean turns but it wasn't Dean, it was Jeremy. Sam only has a second to respond and take in that it's Jeremy and not Dean, and then Jeremy hits him hard in his stomach with the tip of the bat he used earlier in Bobby's Dream. "Sam!" (Y/n) screams as Sam grunts and opens the door.

Sam falls out through the door, face first, still grunting over the pain. Jeremy comes around the front of the car, the bat resting against his shoulder. (Y/n) goes to open the door but it wouldn't open. "No, no, no, no...." she mutters as she tries to open it.

"Boy, you just don't know when to leave well enough alone, do you?" Jeremy said as he walks towards Sam, who's reached the back of the Impala still on the ground, he closes the door Sam fell out through and continues walking up to him. Towering over Sam who's now turned over, looking up at him, still moving backwards.

"You're a psycho." Sam spat at him. "You're wrong." Jeremy said. "Yeah? Tell that to Dr. Gregg." Sam sneers as (y/n) slams her fist repeatedly against the window.

"The doc? No, no. The doc's the one that got me hooked on this stuff and then he took it away." Jeremy said as Sam is lying still on the ground, looking up at him. He leans on the Impala, raising the bat, holding it like he's about to swing, looking down at Sam. "But I needed it, and he wouldn't let me have it." He said as (y/n) goes to roll the window down.

"So you killed him?" Sam asked him. "I can dream again. You know what that's like, not being able to dream? You never rest, not really. It's like being awake for 15 years." Jeremy said as the window was rolled all the way down and (y/n) starts to crawl out.

"And let me guess. That makes you go crazy?" Sam asked as he noticed (y/n) getting out. Jeremy leans down towards Sam, holding the bat out at him. "I just wanna be left alone. I just wanna dream." Jeremy said as (y/n) got out and starts to stand up and walk, cautiously, towards Jeremy.

"Sorry. Can't do that." Sam said. "That's the wrong answer." Jeremy said and (y/n) jumps on his back. The two struggle a bit and Sam tries to get up but he was pulled flat against the ground. He begins to breathe heavily as he sees that he is now tied to railroad spikes, unable to move.

Jeremy and (y/n) struggle and fight a bit until Jeremy yanks the bat out of her hands and swings it at her head. She falls to the ground and then was tied up, similar to Sam. "I'm getting better and better at this. Stronger and stronger all the time." Jeremy said as (y/n) struggles in her binds while Jeremy stands by Sam's feet, now examining the bat.

Sam looks to the side, and Jeremy looks down at him. "But you, your friend and your brother? You're not waking up. Not this time. I'm not gonna let you." Jeremy said as Sam looks up at him and (y/n) gives a look of fear at this.

"I mean, you're going to hell and you won't lift a finger to stop it." Dream Dean said as he and Dean begun circling each other again. "Talk about low self-esteem." He chuckles. "Then again, I guess it's not much of a life worth saving, now is it?" Dream Dean said as Dean mutters to himself. "Wake up, Dean. Come on, wake up."

"I mean, after all, you've got nothing outside of Sam and (y/n)." Dream Dean said and they stop circling each other. They're now back in their original positions. Dean by the door, Dream Dean by the desk.

"You are nothing. You're as mindless and obedient as an attack dog." Dream Dean said and Dean smiles a little. "That-That's not true." Dean said. "No? What are the things that you want? What are the things that you dream? I mean, your car? That's Dad's. Your favorite leather jacket? Dad's. Your music? Dad's. Do you even have an original thought?" Dream Dean asked and Dean scoffs, not wanting to admit to anything. "No. No, all there is is, Watch out for Sammy. Look out for your little brother, boy! Or​​​​ Watch out for (y/n). Keep an eye out for my daughter. You can still hear your Dad's and (father's name)'s voices in your head, can't you?" Dream Dean said as he motions with the weapon to his head.

"Clear as a bell." he said and Dean smiles. "Just shut up." Dean mutters as Dream Dean takes down the weapon. "I mean, think about it...all your dad ever did was train you, boss you around." Dream Dean said as they're now standing face to face. "But Sam...Sam, he doted on. Sam, he loved. Hell, he even loved (y/n) and she wasn't his kid." Dream Dean said.

"I mean it. I'm getting angry." Dean growls. "Dad knew who you really were. A good soldier and nothing else. Daddy's blunt little instrument. Your own father didn't care whether you lived or died. Why should you?" Dream Dean asked and Dean snaps.

"Son of a bitch!" He shouts and he pushes Dream Dean hard, and he hits the wall above the desk, landing on it. "My father was an obsessed bastard!" Dean screams, angrily. Dream Dean tries to get up but Dean kicks him down on the desk again. He holds the weapon as a bat and hits Dream Dean once and then pins him to the wall with it.

"All that crap he dumped on me, about protecting Sam. That was his crap. He's the one who couldn't protect his family. He--" Dean yells then he steps back and swings the weapon again, hitting Dream Dean twice. "He's the one who let Mom die. Who wasn't there for Sam. I always was! He wasn't fair! I didn't deserve what he put on me." Dean yells as he pins Dream Dean again.

"The same goes for (father's name) l was always there for (y/n)!" He yells and he backs away from Dream Dean. "And I don't deserve to go to hell!" He screams and he shoots Dream Dean twice in the chest.

Dean lowers the weapon and looks at Dream Dean, who is dead. There's bloodspatter on Dream Dean's face and his eyes are closed.

Jeremy alternates between hitting Sam and (y/n) repeatedly on their legs and knees, both with the bat and with his feet. Sam and (y/n) were grunting through the assault, not able to move.

Dean approaches Dream Dean on the desk, looking at him. Suddenly Dream Dean's eyes flickers open and they're completely black, as when a demon possesses a human. Dean widens his eyes at that as Demon Dean sits up, looking into Dean's eyes. "You can't escape me, Dean. You're gonna die. And this, this is what you're gonna become!" He said in a hard angry voice.

Jeremy is now standing over (y/n), the bat hovering above (y/n)'s chest. "You can't stop me. There's nothing I can't do in here." Jeremy said as (y/n) pants. "Because of the Dream Root." Sam said and Jeremy looks over his shoulder at him. "That's right." He said. "Yeah? Well, you're forgetting something." Sam said and Jeremy turns to Sam.

"What's that?" he asked as Sam looks up at him. "(Y/n) and I took the Dream Root too." Sam said and he smiles. "Jeremy!" A male voice yells. Jeremy turns around and sees his father, Henry, standing at the edge of the woods. "Jeremy!" Henry shouts. "No. No." Jeremy mutters as Henry begins walking towards him.

"Dad?" Jeremy said, confused. "You answer me when I'm talking to you, boy." Henry shouts and Jeremy backs away from Sam, (y/n) and Henry. He no longer has the bat in his hands. "No." Jeremy said and suddenly Sam shows up and hits Jeremy across his face with the bat and continues to hit him as (y/n) gets up and looks on with worry until her and the boys wake up. They look over at each other and then look away. 

Dean was on the phone with his back to the door while (y/n) sits on the edge of the bed, her leg bouncing. Dean closes the phone and when he hears the lock being unlocked, he turns around and sees Sam and Bobby entering. "Hey, you guys seen Bela? She's not in her room. She's not answering her phone." Dean said as they close the door and come in.

"She must've taken off or something." Sam said. "Just like that? It's a little weird." (Y/n) remarks. "Yeah well, if you ask me what's weird is why she helped us in the first place." Bobby said and Dean and (y/n) look over at him.

"I thought you saved her life." Dean said and Bobby furrows his brow in confusion. "What the hell are you talking about?" He asked. "The thing in Flagstaff." (Y/n) said and Sam turns around and looks at Bobby. "That thing in Flagstaff was an amulet. I gave her a good deal, that's all." Bobby said and the trio gets confused at that.

Sam turns around and looks at him, confused. He turns back to Bobby. "Well, then why did y-?" Sam started to ask until Bobby gives him a look. "You three better check your pockets." Bobby said and Sam reaches into his pockets, as does Dean and (y/n).

"Not literally." Bobby said and Dean stops what he's doing and slowly looks at (y/n) then up at Sam and turns to the safe in the closet.  No, no, no, no." Dean mutters as he walks and goes over to the safe and opens it up. It's empty.

"The Colt." (y/n) said as Dean looks over at them and slams the safe shut. "Bela stole the Colt." Sam exclaims. "Damn it, kids!" Bobby yells as Dean looks at everyone. 

"Pack you crap." he orders a Dean walks over to his bag on the couch. "Why? Where are we going?" (y/n) asked and Dean turns to her. "We're gonna go hunt the bitch down." he replied.

Later, the trio are standing by the open trunk, Dean is zipping his bag closed and Sam and (y/n) puts their own in there. "Hey, Sam. (y/n). I was wondering. When you guys were in my head, what did you two see?" Dean asked. "Uh, just Jeremy. He kept us separated from you. Easier to beat our brains out that way, I guess." Sam said and Dean scoffs. 

"What about you? You never said." (y/n) said and Dean shakes his head. "Nothing. I was looking for you two the whole time." Dean said as he takes the keys out the lock to the trunk and closes it and they get into the car.

Sam sighs as he sits down in the backseat of the car and (y/n) in the passenger seat.. Dean looks thoughtfull for a while. "Guys." Dean said and Sam and (y/n) look over at him. "Yeah?" They said but Dean doesn't look at them and he clears his throat.

"I've been doing some thinking. And...Well, the thing is...I don't wanna die." Dean said. Sam and (y/n) expression softens, then saddens. "I don't wanna go to hell." Dean said and Sam swallows, not answering right away. He nods his head softly while (y/n) bites her lips then reaches out to Dean. She takes his hand in his then strokes the back of his hand with her thumb.

"Alright. Yeah. We'll find a way to save you." She said and Dean looks over at her, and then looks away nodding. He looks back at Sam then (y/n), a little smile on his lips. "Okay, good." He said and the two nod at him, reassuringly.

@rach5ive @kitsun369 @itzabbyxx @cevans-winchester @ellie-andthemachine

[dinnfameron]

No WIP, No Wednesday

I've been tagged by @mostlyinthemorning @stereopticons and a few others who I'm forgetting about in various WIP and no-WIP things in the last couple days.

While I DID spend most of the last week plotting an original novel in the form of index cards taped to my coat closet door, I don't actually have any words I can share.

But! I planted a tree today!

Some of you may know about Greg, the gingko biloba sapling who has been living on top of my dryer for the last 3 years.

He's finally in the ground! *\o/*

So here is the story of how I met Greg:

First, let me go back to the 1950s, when my great-grandfather planted a gingko biloba tree in his front yard. They're not native here, but there have been a few at the county courthouse for as long as anyone can remember, and he grew his tree from a seed he'd taken from there.

(This is where I tell you that gingko fruit looks like persimmons but smells like old milk and feet. 0/10 as a food for humans. Never, ever eat these or breathe near them.)

My mom and her sisters lived next door to my great-grandpa, and they played under the tree as kids. When my grandparents bought a new house a couple of miles away, they decided to grow a gingko from a cutting of my great-grandpa's tree.

When we moved into the house that I grew up in, my mom planted a gingko from a cutting taken from my great-grandpa's tree too.

What's so special about a gingko, you ask? Well, their leaves (which turn a stunningly rich yellow-gold in autumn) all fall on the same day. It's a beautiful sight. Like I've literally had dreams about gingko leaves falling.

Apparently, there is a gene in my family that makes us really fuckin' love when this happens or something, hence why we've planted this one type of tree all over the county for generations.

When my mom moved into a smaller house a few years ago, she mentioned to my grandpa how sad she was to not have a gingko, and she wondered if she could try to grow another from a cutting of HIS tree, or if she should ask the owners of my great-grandpa's old house if she could take a cutting from their tree.

My mom was working at the courthouse at the time, so my grandpa asked if she could get some seeds from those trees, and he would try to grow them like his dad had done.

Most gingko trees purchased at nurseries are grown from cuttings grafted onto the roots of another tree. Growing a tree from seed is a much slower process, but after like a year, my grandpa ended up with several healthy saplings from the seeds my mom got for him.

He kept one, gave one to my mom, and gave the others away. Like my mom, I have happy memories of playing under a gingko as a kid, so I was given Greg.

Then, having the ADHD as I do, I routinely forgot to plant him for three straight years. He did well on the dryer at first, but lately, he's been in crisis. I'm really hoping he bounces back now that he's in his forever home.

I forgot to take a picture of Greg in his new dirt house, and now it's dark outside, but here is a google image search result that looks roughly like he did before he went in.

(Except all his leaves are gone because winter happened.)

I was wondering whether Greg will have fruit (which, yuck) or pollen (which, ugh) and so yes, I did google "how to tell if my gingko sapling is a boy or a girl," and I know that wasn't very LGBTQ+ of me. But it turns out that gingkos don't reach maturity for about 20 years, so it sounds like it probably won't be my problem! Sucks to suck, whoever lives here then!

Anyway, best wishes to Greg in his new home, and maybe I'll have actual words to post at some point in the future.

[system-of-a-feather]

(more programming / TBMC / RAMCOA talk; nothing too heavy, same as last post, we just put it under the cut for ourselves cause these topics don't benefit most parts to engage with and thus we kept it off our own notifications)

But honestly, lately with how far into recovery we are and how much on and off fusing with XIV has stabilized me a lot more and made me a lot more clear with who I am and all that shit, I've largely been thinking a lot on the shit I've been through and all the parts I've been, cause at this point, I'm really trying to reconnect with my scattered subsystem parts.

Less so "scattered" and more so long lost because - for those that don't know / havent followed - like nine months or so ago an old version of myself that went by Data just kind of imploded under a lot of stress, pressure, trauma, and self destructive loops that were set off by the way we were healing and what not.

It was honestly really fucked up and a really unfair cause we were genuinely trying really hard to be "a good part" but programming and shit kept had us between "literally dying and at complete overload" or "doing shit that hurts ourselves and the system" and so we'd always just end up doing shit that caused problem and honestly, we had done everything we could to remove ourselves in that form from the picture in a healthy and failed multiple times - and so it was honestly kinda super fucked that when trying to stop existing, we instead shattered into like 4 or 5 parts

But in the end of it, I was a part that existed as a complete - for lack of better words - "burn out" and very extreme "turned off" response to the programs that were being regularly triggered prior to self implosion and it was a huge mess at first, but it ended up with me becoming the host of that subsystem and really? As much hell as it was, the implosion and generation of another subsystem really I think disconnected a lot of the experiences we had as Data and managed to shut down a number of parts to actually let me develop beyond just a "burnt out" state.

And in hindsight? It really worked because while I'm still Data, still part of that heavily and completely fucked programmed original part, I was "generated" in a state of literally being unable to deal with anything and as a part to cope with that and with space, really became a more developed part who is centered around the ability to cope and deal with what we were programmed to do and to.... NOT do that.

And now that I'm a lot more stable and full of a part, I honestly can go back and collect and look back at our experiences of how things have happened and how each part felt and worked and put things back together. At this point I hold almost everything Data originally did. I can look back and replay things and understand things and understand where everything came from, but I'm *not* Data - I'm Chunn (everyone in the brain says I should start spelling it Cheng or at least claim that as my secret Chinese name because its pronounced the same but I like the Chunn spelling so they can fuck off /hj)

And in that sense, the thing Data wanted so bad - to not be here and to not be in the way and to have anything but chronic stress and trauma responses and to just not cause problems for everyone in a desperate attempt to feel safe again - while it's not at all in the way he wanted or imagined it to be, he - we - got it. I don't resemble him much at all anymore, and that's sad in it's own way, but at the same time, is that not the very wish itself? To be ourselves but in a form we created and not in the form someone else created us for?

Anyways, these days it's kind of funny cause I basically serve a roll for the system that is the OPPOSITE of what we were programmed to do and while other parts are not as "impacted" as I was, I do end up sitting here and looking at the "less impacted" parts and go "Okay well that came from this shit I did and you don't notice it but that behavior of yours is intended to synergize (negatively) with what I was programmed to do so I'm going to tell you that I don't want to participate in that"

Cause as much as we were the overtly programmed part, I'm really realizing that it neither started nor ended with me and it really is oddly nice to be able to look at that and help in detangling this garbage.

And not to go into the details for safety reasons, but recently our therapist asked a question to Riku / Fei as to why we were doing XYZ and not another thing that would be more in character for them - and at the time they came up with some round about reason and explanation to which I had to ask, when they were thinking about it the next day, ".... is it not just because [feeling and condition that I know was an active major trigger]? Because you know you can state that and that is a perfectly valid and healthy thing to say. You are allowed to think that." and the genuine level of which they seemed to very hesitantly state it to themselves as if they were afraid to Set Something Off - it just really clicked something with me.

Cause that would have been me. That would have been me that would have been set off. That would have been me that would have changed that thought into a borderline / active crisis and/or mess that would be far more stress than just compliance to the programming. And in this moment, not only was I NOT being Set Off by it, but I was encouraging them to try it again despite many many many years of reinforced "if you do that you will regret it"

And it's really kind of nice to see. I can't think as original Data would, I barely can comprehend just how stuck that version of me was - they were so deeply intertwined in the programming its unfathomable even though it was me and I have the memories of it. Thus, I can't say "Data would be happy and proud to see where we've come", but I would like to think - even in the hell they were in - that theyd be comforted to know where we ended up.

But I digress. I felt like sharing this most of today cause man have we come far.

[punsmaster69]

14/NOV/20XX

paps is feeling much better, but it's probably for the best that he doesn't jump straight into his usual routine immediately.

undyne refuses to train with him until she's sure that he's completely healthy again.

he's pretty upset about that, but he's not letting the time go to waste.

paps and frisk are up there hanging out in his room.

they're doing a puzzle, i think.

said it would be,

"QUITE THE UNDERTAKING."

they've been planning this for a while, apparently.

——

those two've been up there a while.

haven't seen either of them in about three hours.

wasn't kidding about it being an undertaking.

...

maybe they're just really bad at that puzzle.

——

"knock, knock."

"...Why's he saying it out loud?"

"HE JUST DOES."

"IT'S SO THAT HE DOESN'T HAVE TO 𝘈𝘊𝘛𝘜𝘈𝘓𝘓𝘠 KNOCK."

"...knock, knock."

"YOU CAN COME IN!"

sprawled out over the floor was probably a couple thousand puzzle pieces, a few piles of them, and about half of a picture.

"...wow."

"It's taking forever."

"YOU DON'T HAVE TO STAY IF IT'S BORING YOU, FRISK."

"Wouldn't still be here if I wasn't enjoying it. I'm in this for the long haul!"

"seems like a.. unique form of torture."

"SANS, WE USED TO DO THESE ALL THE TIME TOGETHER!"

"you did most of 'em."

"NOT TRUE! YOU HELPED."

"OH, WAIT! DID YOU COME IN HERE FOR SOMETHING?"

"just checkin' in. need anything?"

frisk looked between two identical pieces.

"A bigger brain..."

"WE'RE DOING ALRIGHT, I THINK."

"ok. good luck on your torture."

"IT'S NOT TORTURE!!"

——

"knock, knock."

"FRISK, CAN YOU PLEASE MOVE THAT PILE?"

"OKAY, YOU MAY ENTER NOW!"

"heya."

"brought some appy slices."

"APPLE SLICES ARE A SOPHISTICATED AND MATURE SNACK! DO NOT CALL THEM-"

"Thanks for the appy slices, Sans!"

"....THAT."

"seems like you got out-ruled. you gotta call 'em appy slices now."

"I WILL NOT."

"i take it you don't want any, then."

"WAIT! I DO!!"

"gotta use the right name."

he sighed.

"SANS, COULD I PLEASE JUST HAVE THE.."

"APPY"

"SLICES?"

"...THAT STUPID GRIN ON YOUR FACE IS EXACTLY WHY I DIDN'T WANT TO!!"

"it's just like when you were a babybones..."

"What? You took care of Papyrus as a baby? I knew you were older, but I figured it was by like, two years."

"nope. seven."

"Wait, that means..."

"...Papyus, you're-"

"DON'T SAY IT."

"he's old."

"AM NOT!"

"ancient. decrepit."

"NO!!"

"he's falling apart as we speak.."

"GET OUT!!!"

he took the plate of apple slices, pushed me to the door, and closed it behind me.

——

.....

they're still up there.

how they have the attention span to do that for so long is a mystery.

every time i bring water or snacks up, it's looked like they're getting closer and closer to being done, though.

——

the absolute pain radiating off of frisk and paps upon discovering there was one piece missing...

it was devastating.

......

turned out, the piece was just in the box.

anyway, the finished puzzle's neat.

it's a big townscape, with a bunch of tiny details and scenes and whatnot.

pretty cool.

pretty big, too. sorta taking up a lot of the floor.

but they don't wanna destroy it just yet, so they're just..

sitting around the finished product.

waiting for the sadness of packing it up to dissipate, i guess.

"you could just glue it together."

"THAT COMPLETELY RUINS THE POINT OF A PUZZLE!!"

"THE POINT IS THAT YOU HAVE TO PUT IT TOGETHER TO SEE THE IMAGE!"

"NOT JUST HAVE THE WHOLE THING."

"Sucks to get rid of it, though."

"....IT DOES.."

——

both sat and stared at it for a while.

frisk eventually made the first strike, tearing up a corner and shattering the pieces everywhere.

"Nothing lasts forever!! Puzzles be da-"

"Danged!!"

"..sure. whatever that means."

following suit, paps started ripping pieces off as well.

"NYEH!! THERE!"

"..Yeah, Nyeh!"

"NO, NO. PUT MORE FORCE BEHIND IT!"

"Nyeh!!"

"MORE!!"

"Nyeh!!!!"

"PUT YOUR ALL INTO IT!!!"

"NYEH!!!!!!!"

"PERFECT! YOU SOUNDED VERY COOL!!"

——

that puzzle apparently really tuckered paps out.

(although, maybe it's partly because he's just barely getting over his cold.)

didn't even have to read to him before he went right to sleep.

[alarrytale]

I’ve realized I’m holding onto the love I had for Harry from years ago at this point. When he was doing all the skits and interviews on Saturday Night Live, Ellen, James Corden….he was so damn charming, charismatic, hilarious and real. Evert bit of him sparkled and he was truly an entertainer and something to see. He had so much more talent than just being a singer - that was the cherry on top. He had everything and I couldn’t wait to see what he’d do next. The sparkle in his eyes, his unbridled enthusiasm and love for entertaining had no boundaries - he was a natural. There was no one like him, and you could see his beauty both physically and in his soul.

It’s all so different now. He’s hardly recognizable. I know the industry, his management and being closeted has completely broken him. All these pictures we see of him now wandering around cities alone or with his team. It’s so sad. Everyone keeps talking that something big is brewing, and they dissect clothes and dates and codes they feel he’s communicating. I almost feel like he’s so broken at this point, he really is just wandering around. He’s lost all his joy- you can argue that we don’t see him in private, but I think this is him across the board. He doesn’t do anything fun anymore, even all his recent music videos are dark, while trying to look like he’s having a great time. I hope he’s ok. I hope we see the old Harry again. I hope someday things will change and he can be the amazing person he was and who he was supposed to keep being before all this shit happened to him. I don’t know how much longer he can go through the same routine - album release, stunt, endless pap photos, grueling world tour.

It’s really sad.

Hi, anon!

I'm sorry you feel this way 🧡. All i can do is tell you that he's on a break between albums and tours, and that's usually the most difficult time in fandom. I do agree that H is jaded and struggling with the closet, but he's not lost his spark, personality or charm. We just don't get to see it now that he's not promoting an album or on tour. I don't think H is aimlessly wandering around being sad. I think is making himself more visible to gear up for album promo that's coming in Q4.

It's no use projecting your own feelings onto him. "Old Harry" was just as tired, sad and done with stunting as current Harry. Harry loves to be an artist and an entertainer, and he radiates joy and love when he gets to do those things. It's just been awhile since he has. He's looking healthy, he's not working at a gruelling pace, he's smiling and he even went publicly to an event with Louis. It's the best things have been for him for some years.

I think you need to be prepared for more of the same this go around though, so you can expect stunt songs, sad and depressive songs masked as happy songs, stunting with women or him be linked to women in the tabloids. But you can also expect a fun, charming and happy man, loving on and entertaining his audience, helping people to come out and wearing nail varnish. He's not lost his joy.

You need to figure out if the good still outweigh the bad for you. But i don't think you should make that decision while fandom is in the biggest Harry drought we've had for years. Take a break if you need to, but things really aren’t as bleak as you make it seem.