#it's the only kind i don't have to readjust at all; even the exact same shape without padding rides up

[sol-flo]

also kinda sad i don't breast boobily more often because i know exactly the kind of cup that fits me perfectly and have nothing to do with this knowledge. many such cases

[eldritch-spouse]

Livius slipping into the body of an actress with a catty attitude at a red carpet/awards ceremony, fully intending to cause a scene. He gets obsessed not with the actress but with her stressed out assistant.

She is fretting, readjusting the actress's dress and putting on some last minute adjustments to her look before she's on the carpet, and begging her not to stir any shit up at the event.

I know you and an the other two nominees for best actress don't get along but please be civil ma'am.

TW: Gore; Non-consensual demonic possession.

His plan was simple.

Cause a scandal.

Sometimes he does this kind of thing for fun, other times, he has the pleasure of doing it as a service from a formal agreement. You'd be surprised how many celebrities fish contacts to reach his Ring, to reach Lavineum the Envious. Really, him and Rinx have crossed paths on the surface more than once. Sometimes even Cero is looming by.

People just can't resist a bit of a hellish push to success, can they?

Every week, there's a new pretty face around the corner, some halfwit thinking they're going to make it big, a loser, a pawn, a dolly- People who let it all get to their heads and then, suddenly, one day, making a deal with an unfathomable force seems acceptable.

It just so happened that Livius' current patron is one rival of the gorgeous 32 year old whose body he's currently snug inside, wearing Ms Isabella like a glove. She wasn't particularly hard to get a hold of, most of these movie stars are pretty air-headed. He had her silent and dormant in less than a full minute.

He looks at himself in the mirror, combing over her extravagant dress that's honestly bright enough to kind of bother his sight. The woman's raven locks flow from her shoulders, and he twirls a lock the exact same way she does when in deep though. A practiced smile falls on that screen-friendly face as he switches through a few of her usual expressions.

Piece of cake. She's not very nuanced to Livius, as insulting as it may sound.

When the click of someone entering the room is heard, Livius straightens, then adopts Isabella's usual impatient stance, arm on her left hip, an intense gaze cast to you, the woman assisting this actress. Honestly, he doesn't know how well you get paid, but it can't be enough to justify dealing with Miss "I'm fluent in three languages and so much better than you-" on a regular basis.

" ... Ma'am? " You squint.

" Yes, what is it? " He snaps back the same tone you're probably used to hearing by now. The woman's slight Italian accent flows easily on the tongue.

" I asked you to sit down please, we still need some last minute adjustments. "

Livius glances at you once more before doing as told.

You're very pretty. It's almost odd that he's possessing the celebrity here, yet you have such a sweet little smile and eyes so full of hope that you could easily make it out there in the same areas as the woman you're working under. Maybe that's why she's so rude to you at times. Livius sits in the lush little chair in front of several mirrors and forgets that perhaps he's been staring at you for a little too long, because you shiver eventually.

He needs to be cautious, his gaze isn't like the vacuous glare this woman spares most people, it's something a lot more invasive and whole. When Livius stares, he sees.

Before you can ask if everything is alright, he diverts. " Go on, we don't have all day. "

And the way you jump has him muffling a smile. " Y- Yes, of course! "

As you get closer, the demonlord gets to sense your smell, your perfume rather, but there's a hint beneath that can only be yours alone. He'd be able to gouge it better if not for his host's own disgustingly overpowering, acidic crime of a perfume. Nevertheless, he's much too still while you work, observing every little thing you do. How your fingers twitch, where you lean to, which way your head tends to tilt, the expression you make when you're concentrated.

In fact, he likes that frowning puckered lip look so much that he subconsciously puts it on himself. And you notice, of course.

" Hahah... " You pause, heat rising on your cheeks. " I know, it's silly. You got me. "

Livius is very glad you took it as a joke rather than the amateur slip up it actually was.

When you continue, he schools himself a bit better, forcing himself to relax a little so he's not hyper-focused on studying you. He ponders on the steps he'll take to complete his deal, the most amount of damage he can make to this woman involves flickering through some of her insecurities, her lowest moments and most repugnant thoughts. The core of what makes her human, her disgusting sinuous vein.

Unfortunately, it's more than a little difficult to remain focused with you so close to him. As you shift the woman's luxurious necklace, he feels your small fingers brush against the expanse of her neck, a pleasant tingle up her scalp, the scent of you largely demanding of his attention. You're the type of person he could hold onto forever. It's a shame he's in the middle of a task, because Livius would much rather dwell inside of you at this moment.

This increasingly loud hum begins rocking his chest as the demonlord sways, enjoying the care and sighing while digits adjust earrings. And everything is right in the world, no thought spared to what time and day it is. Until...

The touch vanishes, the extra warmth recedes, Livius is bereft and irritated.

" E- Excuse me, ma'am? "

His eyes snap open.

Livius had been rumbling for a while. Oopsie.

He gets to see your eyes flicker from him, so full of confusion and doubt, to the wide mirror directly behind Isabella. And what you see there makes the color drain from your whole body. Your fear is palpable and thick, like the lump in your throat as you struggle to get in enough air to scream.

Scream like a wild animal, at the top of those itty bitty lungs.

What a wonderful melody. There are other ways he'd like to make you scream, now that he thinks about it. You're just a lot of fun, for some reason.

" Is something wrong? " He mirrors some of your own terror.

All you do is point at the mirror, taking a step back and trying -Failing- To steady your breathing.

He doesn't need to look back to know what's happened. You're seeing him. The actual him.

Instead, said mirror just bursts into a million shards, the force with which it's broken sends pieces flying through the room, your pitiful self cowering and shielding your face as you gasp and sob in shock.

" Oh my... " He starts, knowing damn well that more than a few of those shards have embedded themselves in Isabella's back. She must look like a porcupine, hah.

Livius turns around and pretends to care about the situation, thumbing over the mess he made, watching her bleed just a bit more from the brand new razor-thin blades that cut their way into her digits.

He hears you gasp tremulously somewhere behind him.

Livius allows her visage to distort, senses his sharp grin crawl up cheeks that straighten and elongate to accommodate it, his eyes force her skin to stretch with unpleasant zips of flesh as her eyelids fail to transform in time. He's getting a touch too excited.

" I don't think they'll mind too much, right? " He mocks, Isabella's attractive accent melting into his standard ragged demonic tenor.

The first thing that spins back is her neck, then her body, Livius stretching within the human's physical limits. When her arms and legs elongate, her form expanding into something strained and twisted, Livius sighs in momentary relief.

" Oh God... " You sniffle, legs unsteady, held up only by the opposite wall's support.

" Oh God... " Livius mimics fondly, loving the sound of it.

A click echoes, the room is now locked firmly. You seem to be silently making peace with certain death.

" You know- " The demonlord begins, swatting locks of bothersome curly hair away as he leisurely walks towards you. " In all these years you've worked for me, I realize I haven't gotten to know you all that well. "

You only shake and brokenly gasp when Isabella's bloated, clawed fingers make contact with your shoulder.

" Isn't that a shame? "

Livius chuckles at the small whimper you let out when he pulls your figure closer to his, swaying both of your forms calmly.

" But we still have a bit of time, I reckon. So why not tell me a bit about yourself, hm? "

It's not as if you're leaving the room until you humor him anyway.

[iraprince]

Hi Ira! If I remember right, you mentioned that you bought an arm mount for your tablet for use at your desk. Do you have any recommendations? I'm trying to get a "dream office" list together and honestly my neck would appreciate a break from all the shrimping I do while I draw. Have a lovely day! 💜

i can definitely recommend the one i use, because i love it and have had no problems with it, but as a heads up i've never used any other arm mounts before so i can't give any accurate insight on whether it's better/worse than others!

that being said, i'm using a gas spring mount, and especially if you have or intend to get a large/heavy screen tablet, i really recommend it. the way the gas spring arm works is basically when setting it up you can adjust the amount of like, pneumatic force/resistance offered by the central support of the arm to be exactly matched to the weight of the tablet monitor (this sounds technical but is really easy, u just follow the instructions in the setup manual), and then basically the tablet will just Stay wherever you move it -- barely requires u to apply any force at all, and no fiddling with loosening and tightening a bunch of knobs whenever you want to make an adjustment, which has been the experience i've had with cheaper arm mounts for stuff like microphones etc!!! i'm sure there are non-gas-spring mounts that are somewhat easily adjustable, but my experience with the gas spring one so far has been that it's SO easy that i don't even have to think about it. i move mine a lot so i can sit different ways, angle the tablet surface based on the level of detail i'm working at, etc and it's also really nice to be able to just swing it completely out of the way and tuck the tablet away to the side when i'm done drawing digitally and want to free up my desk; if the arm was sticky or rigid or required Any extra steps to readjust stuff i think i would get annoyed really fast.

(if my office was not such a fucking disaster rn i would take some pics so you could see how i have it set up and some of the ways i can move it around. unfortunately it is a fucking disaster. maybe i'll get a chance sometime and i'll loop back to this!!)

it also feels really sturdy, there's an extremely tiny bit of wobble when i'm drawing bc i have a tendency to push really hard sometimes and that made me a little nervous on the first day but i don't even notice it now (and the wobble seems to just be from general/necessary flex in the arm overall, not a certain joint or component of the clamp being loose or lacking integrity). i would definitely recommend looking at reviews and carefully picking something solid; u will make urself miserable if you're not confident that your arm can Hold your very expensive and precious tablet, or if the clamp is wobbling on your desk or whatever. also, MEASURE THE SIDE OF YOUR DESK and try to find dimension info to make sure the clamp on whatever arm you're getting will actually fit!! i have a weird desk that has a kind of thick inset bit on the underside/edges, and a lot of standard clamps do not fit over it; i was lucky enough that the one that came with my tablet was adjustable enough to fit, but it would really suck to order an arm and then find out it's incompatible with your desk.

i can't seem to find a listing for the exact mount i use -- sticker on the side says huanuo. i got it bundled with my huion when i bought it, so here's just a link to a similar bundle; it looks a little different than the one i got, but this amazon listing for a gas spring mount from the same brand looks the same, so i think i just got a version that doesn't have the cable management loops on the bottom.

ANYWAY that's about all i can think to say -- like i said, this is the only arm mount i've ever used, so if anyone else wants to chime in with info or experiences abt other varieties that would be great!! i hope this is helpful, gl getting your dream office together :D

[localicecreambiter]

Writing Warm-up: 7th times the Charm

I haven't written anything substantial in a long while so I decided to crank out a little thing for some practice. I didn't proof read so forgive the mistakes and terrible writing flow

my first actual loz piece

---------------------

"What can I do to help?"

It was always the same question. The same tone. The longer he knew the other, the more sure he grew that Link wasn't even aware it was something he did. The Hylian was just helpful by nature; a heart pure and true is what Ravio always said. Too nice for his own good.

So when a group of self proclaimed heros knocked on his dear friend's door, asking for Link to help on another quest, Ravio couldn't say he was surprised.

Lorule was a land buzzing with magic, despite the (previously) lack of triforce. It was a kingdom filled with strange monsters, items, and people. So to say the Lolian was magically inclined would be an understatement. Identifying Hyrule's magic had been challenging initially. Despite the similarities, there was a distinct difference in magical presence that threw the merchant off at points. Just as their lands mirrored not exactly the same, the magic reflected in kind. While he tended to get confused, there was no denying the glaringly obvious: these heros held the exact same magic Link harbored.

It was something unexplainable, not through words, at the very least. Call it a gut feeling, but he just knew.

Wisdom had always been drawn to courage anyhow.

The small cottage atop a hill in central Hyrule had never felt so empty as Link saddled his adventuring bag. His excitement betrayed the cool persona he attempted to keep, fidgety digits readjusting his bag strap every few seconds. They would make eye contact every so often as the party trotted along the pebbled road, greenery edging his vision. That was the toughest part about being friends with a hero: the guy had responsibilities set upon him by the goddess. No matter how much Link grumbled and complained, cursed and forsaken, he always did his duty at the end of the day.

It was one of the numerous things that set them so far apart.

He shook his head, vowing he had let go of that insecurity years ago. He wasn't 14 anymore, he wasn't the failed hero of Lorule. He was a merchant, and a friend of the hero of Hyrule. He wanted nothing more, nothing less. So when Link swung around to offer one last goodbye, pride swelled inside the cowardly rabbit.

"Try and make it back in one piece, pal." He tried for a smile, lip quivering with emotion. "Sheerow and I will always be rooting for you back home, so don't let us down buddy."

Link only shook his head, smirk doing nothing to hide the fondness on his face. "Yeah yeah, no promises. Make sure my house doesn't burn down… And don't pawn off my stuff." The pointed look was playful, they both knew he would never dream of it.

They could stand there and banter all day, but Ravio knew Link had more important places to be.

"I'll see you later." Not a question, nor an offer, but a fact. The merchant could do nothing but nod for fear he'd lose his composure. There was always some uncertainty when leaving for an adventure, but if Link was anything, it was reliable.

He always made it home without fail.

And as the portal closed, he was reminded of how fast things can change in a single moment.

There was always a constant, and as he turned to make the trek back to the empty feeling cottage on a hill in central Hyrule, he hoped silently Link would be that constant.

The odds were six to nothing. A reassuring ratio.

The Lolian smiled, he could live with those odds.

Link would be home before he knew it.

@kaite--s i figured you'd wanna see this since we've been discussing (but seeing as you lurk in the ravio tags as much as I do im sure you would have found it eventually)

[honoredbastard]

I COME BACK WITH THOUGHTS/THEORIES ON ITADORI AND HIS RELATIONS- I THINK.

anyways, so i'll just point this out: i'm not good at speaking my thoughts in an organized manner. i absolutely suck at it, i speak on how my brain brings up the thoughts so i might ramble, get over my head in a thought, etc. i can't control it so i apologize in advance for the jumpiness of the texts. i will spell a lot of things wrong and not everything will be correct, as i read translations and on a manga site. don't worry it's not illegal, i believe.

MANGA SPOILERS AHEAD.

i apologize for my absence! last week or two weeks ago the tower to my computer completely broke and will not turn on. i tried to repair it and follow my fathers instructions but nothing worked. even cleaned off the fan and went through countless nights readjusting things. it's not my cords either so to help me out my father is working extra shifts to get me a new pc. so in the meantime i'll do small posts like these but not full writing/head canons until i have a computer tower lol. a family member was kind enough to allow me to have their phone while we work throughout this issue.

now onto the actual topic:

kenjaku and itadori's relationship. ( family wise ).

for context in the most recent chapter, 160 "colony" kamo shows up in sasaki's home and talks to her about the culling game and a barrier. but that's not the point, the point is as he's guiding her to the barrier inside her "dream" at the end he says "oh right. i almost forgot to tell you. thank you for getting along with my son." and then she is awakened inside the barrier, in her pajamas beside iguchi. when sasaki and iguchi look at the barrier and gather themselves they bring up kamo.

sasaki asked iguchi if he mentioned his son and he says no. this leaves sasaki in a state of confusion when itadori flashes in her mind. she says his name aloud like she finally connected the dots. now. why am i bringing up this whole kenjaku thanking sasaki for being his "son"'s friend. it throws me off because why didn't he thank iguchi?

did he not think iguchi meant their friendship? because sasaki was the one uninjured and still counted itadori as a friend? does iguchi not consider itadori as a friend anymore?

because we haven't seen these two at all since the incident. that raised many questions in me. as well "how can itadori be related to kamo?" and itadori is related to choso.

because kamo's technique is explained ( vaguely. we are aware he can create barriers, take over bodies, and has incredible cursed tools. chapter 134. this is also where choso makes his connection ( i believe. ) to itadori yuji as his brother. but because we saw this with todo many thought itadori just had another unconsious technique that allows the person who is hit create false memories and believe of a completely made up relationship with itadori without his knowledge. but alas, i was wrong. ) and we're given more hints shown than told ( imo ) i tried my best to make sense out of the situation and what he said. i think my conclusions are pretty solid, so continuing on.

we're given very little history on itadori, his past, and family. at the start of the manga we know that itadori's only family he knows is his grandfather and that he is ill in the hospital. at the very very beginning we learn that itadori is your average cute, fluffy, laid back but strong and goofy protagonist. in smaller words: itadori is kirby but even cuter and dumber.

my first impressions of him is a pineapple. if you're confused to this saying: it's calling a person prickly on the outside but sweet on the inside. and this is true, itadori's grandfather seems prickly and cold on the outside but he genuinely cares for itadori.

he raised itadori for all we know and did that with his all in assumption. but this ends up backfiring onto itadori, because he cares so much for his grandson - he ends up leaving a " curse " on yuji.

help people. save them.

itadori takes this to heart as his grandfathers speech is his last one. when he looks over to his grandfather the man is dead and now yuji is left alone. then the following events occur.

at this point in time i assumed itadori was an orphan ( he technically is if we're connecting the dots. his parents has not been shown, he doesn't speak of them, they aren't in the picture. we can conclude either they disowned itadori or died before he could make complete memories of them. )

but when we are shown in chapter 143 itadori's parents we see this "woman" jin ( yuji's father ) and his grandfather talking about has the same scar pattern. this scar pattern is either stitching ( assuming that is how kamo keeps the top of the opened skull from coming off. this is also how kamo revealed his cursed technique / body of sorts ( the brain, assuming that is kenjaku in his cursed technique and not the body / puppet he is controlling " getou suguru " ) to gojou. )

this is the only way i find kamo being able to assign itadori as his son. why is that you might be asking this dumbass here.

we do not have the full story, exact date, location, and full context of the memory/dream itadori is having. this cannot be fake either because kamo would than have no reason to call itadori his son. or is there? anyways.

take a leap of faith with me. imagine that before itadori is born ( he seems no more than a few weeks or days old in this memory. hence why i am thinking my conclusion is pretty solid in theory. but yknow gege, there might be something different. ) anywhooo.

TW. D3ATH/IMPLYING ANTI LIFE ATTEMPT

kamo had to have taken over yuji's mothers body after an accident OR after she gave birth to yuji. his grandfather is interrupted by her before he can finish his sentence but it seems to be leading to the conclusion that either kaori ( yuji's mother ) died while giving birth to yuji or kaori could not conceive and tried to take her own life or cause an accident that would take her life. ( i read a fan translation for this part but im pretty sure i also read the official translation today too and it added up to the same. )

i believe in the first idea, but since kamo's cursed technique wasn't explained in detail i don't know the conditions of his body technique. does the original host of the body have to be dead? can he regenerate body limbs ( i highly doubt. getou lost an arm during his fight with yuta. overconfident dick. reminding me of an ex ANTWAYS. i forgive him for being overconfident smooch. he learned. OFF TOPIC but continuing on i promise.

this is being continued from the cut off point. i'm so upset so it'll just be summarized. i can't believe this shit lol i took three hours just to finish it for it to literally cut off the bottom half.

continuing on in a sadge mood. kamo must not have the complete ability to take over a body. after all getou took his only arm he had as he was dying and choked his own body to his full ability. getou was willing to die ( possibly, you never know he could be alive if he killed his own body. moving on. ) just to have the chance to save his friend from being swallowed by a damn box.

so there has to be a chance that kamo cannot fully take over the previous persons complete consious and memory of their body. if getou still had his other arm after losing the fight to yuta, he could've choked kamo with both arms. in theory kamo wouldn't be able to control the right arm and die to the previous host choking him to death.

so why wouldn't the other hosts do it? after all, kamo did say it was his first time experiencing such a thing. assuming kamo has lived throughout many bodies in his 150+ lifespan none of the previous hosts could take control of their body.

i believe getou was completely influenced by gojou and his six eyes. there is no way gojou would even try to speak out to his friend unless he had an inkling or saw getou still in there. helpless and without the ability to save himself from the cage he's in.

being used and puppeteered in his own body by an external force. laughing in the world he could not. putting getou into a constant misery and defeat that he couldn't escape his hell. the one he tried so hard to fight and get out of. even if it was the wrong path.

gojou was the last person to witness getou dying. he had to watch getou bleed out after their conversation because he couldn't bring himself to kill his friend. the one he spent his whole jujutsu student life with. so for gojou to say such a thing to getou despite all that he did had to break getou out of his misery and give him that small sliver of hope that he could do something. of course he failed, but i doubt that's going to be the end of that.

the only way i see kamo being related to yuji is if he took over kaori's body before the pregnancy. assuming that when kamo takes over a body he becomes one with said body and is that person for however long he lives in said body. my only thing is, can he take over a persons body whilst they are alive? i would go more in depth like i did the last time but i am extremely upset about my work being erased so that's the end of this part.

thank you for reading! i have one more thing for you though.

the last time we see sukuna in a manga page after the shibuya incident is where he is on his throne and in his domain. this is after yuji is stabbed by yuta and is presumed "dead" at the time. he seems to be interested in yuta and i can think of 2-3 things. I would love to hear your theories too so don't be afraid to barge into my dms like the koolaid man.

A - sukuna is interested in Yuta because of his ability to use the reverse healing technique ( only a few sorcerers know this. sukuna being the first. shoko being the second one to be told that she has this power and then gojou. ) because of this he sees potential in yuta as well or has added this boy into his plans. after all, there is very few that can make sukuna make an expression that isn't an RBF. aka megumi and possibly gojou. I was looking at the page of him stabbing yuji and noticed we only see the entry point of where the blade enters. it's smaller because some got chunked off so its a possibility yuta used this to his advantage when "killing" yuji and instead hit an artery that could kill him but quickly healed him afterwards. or just his heart. the ideas.

B. Rika, Yuta is able to completely control Rika as shown. Even though he claims he is on the weak side, these two combined seem like an unstoppable force. He may be interested in Rika as she is a curse that has been put on someone that can fully control it. Not many people is shown to be able to control their curse. As we haven't met many.

this was enti and that's the last of my post! thank you for reading and it was a fun one. even though i had to restore this shit. anyways, i'd love you to add or fix up my ideas and tell me your thoughts and opinions! Thanks a bunch!

^ this is for pure humor

[ashintheairlikesnow]

this is not intended to be critical at all but calling former pets "rescues" and safehouses "shelters" seems kinda dehumanizing to me?? like it's playing further into the pet thing. what are your thoughts on that? to me it kinda seems like lib workers don't believe in the pet system but they do believe the people they're helping /were/ pets, cuz that's the language they use

CW: Lots of pet whump and dehumanization stuff here plus institutionalized/societal whump

Ooooh, let me rub my hands together and dig into this, and I mean that as the highest compliment for the question.

Because, in effect, that is actually a big problem with it being this heavily entrenched system that has been around for generations in theory (even if the way that WRU does things specifically is only about 25 years old in my personal BBU rules, which do not apply to anyone else's story!).

Like, people mostly DO think these people have been dehumanized into having to not so much be reminded that they are not pets, but taught how not to be one. The safehouses run by former pets themselves (Jenna's house, for instance) are actually better about this.

Even the people trying to help are still people who exist within the framework of this system, and have faults and failures, one of which is verbiage. The reason everyone uses 'rescue' is to avoid saying 'pet', but in the end it's better... but not great.

Nat usually calls them safehouses but often people use 'shelter' interchangeably, especially because every safehouse is 'officially', according to their documentation, a homeless shelter or something similar. So it becomes a habit to say shelter publicly that starts to bleed into private, too.

Lib workers also often have ingrained biases that come with learning the same things everyone else does, and they come out in unconscious ways.

And it's true - a lot of people do think about it that exact way! This is actually what happens to Peter in the "readjustment house" he is placed in when Karen has her three removed from her - part of his problem adjusting is that the people who are helping him both push him too much too fast but simultaneously speak to him similarly to how everyone else did. They want him to stop acting like a pet but they talk to him like one at the same time.

They mean well but also their way of speaking to him actually only encourages Peter to cling to it instead of putting in the work to grow.

One of my little sort of world-building daydreams has been that there have been waves of pet lib movements, some failed and some that are seeing more success, and that the newer movement is trying to push to stop using this kind of terminology but struggling to get a foothold since all the paperwork and systems and everything is already set up this way.

[hazel-writes]

Summary: You arrive on the Finalizer and are faced with a not-so-warm welcome.

Notes: Hey y’all! This fic was originally posted on AO3, so the pre-chapter notes here on Tumblr will be a bit different. Just a heads up, I am still in the process of re-working the first half of this fic so that it is up to par with the second half. The chapters get progressively longer and better as you go on, so hang in there!

Word Count: 1,700

Warnings: none :)

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Say, it's only a paper moon

Sailing over a cardboard sea

But it wouldn't be make-believe

If you believed in me

• It’s Only a Paper Moon ~ Ella Fitzgerald •

This couldn’t be the same sky I’ve looked up at all these years.

But you knew it was… and that terrified you.

Your footsteps were silent as you hesitantly made your way down the metal ramp of the small, gray shuttle that led the glistening black floors of one of the most feared ships in the galaxy: The Finalizer.

Massive windows revealed an endless expanse of space before you, and you couldn't help but stare in awe. It was strange seeing the sky like this — no sun or clouds present — all of the stars unobscured in an abyss of utter blackness. They always seemed two dimensional back on Lothal, thin as the parchment you used to sketch them on. The stars, planets, moons — they only existed on paper.

Until Now.

Here they were, spread across your vision, permeating your senses from all sides. You looked around to see if anyone else was having a similar reaction to the speckled darkness that surrounded you.

Nope, guess it’s just me then.

You shifted your focus down to your feet: your shoes, which were a natural earthy brown, stood out against the inky floor. The artificial lighting strained your eyes and you found yourself missing the natural sunlight that warmed your body back home. Here everything felt constricted, claustrophobic. And what bothered you the most was that everyone else seemed complacent, comfortable even, in the sterile box that was the Finalizer.

You finally forced yourself to focus back on the moment at hand. A uniformed woman approached you. She had a long, sculpted face with black hair pulled into a tight bun at the base of her neck.

“Welcome to the Finalizer,” she stated, with no inflection at all. “I will be showing you to your accommodation, where you will be further briefed on the terms and conditions of your stay here with the First Order.”

The way she said ‘terms and conditions’ made it seem like you were signing away something worth a whole lot more than just a temporary internship.

The woman, who you secretly nicknamed Ms. Stoney in reference to her cold, hard stare, led you down a series of hallways, each one identical in nature. You found yourself lost after the first few turns and made a mental note to pay more attention to the directions the woman was giving you.

Eventually, you found yourself in a hallway with six identical doors. Ms. Stoney pointed to the one on the right side at the very end of the hall.

“That is yours,” she solemnly directed. “You will find further instruction posted to the inside of your door. Until you are given orders to do so, don't travel about the ship, contact anyone outside of the ship, or speak to others without direct permission.”

Just then, a stromtrooper turned the corner to walk down the hallway you and Ms. Stoney were standing in. As he walked by, he nodded in acknowledgement.

"Hey!" you said, responding to the polite gesture eagerly; you were desperate for some normal human interaction.

Ms. Stoney whipped her head towards you in a piercing glare.

“Oh, sorry… I forgot.” You smiled sheepishly at her, bringing your shoulders up towards your ears. Back on Lothal, your father would always tell you how important first impressions were. You could almost hear him sigh from all the way across the galaxy.

The woman rolled her eyes with a huff. “Do you have any immediate questions?”

Finally, you thought. Your brain had been buzzing with questions ever since you arrived. Where would you be working? Who would you be working with? Why was it so kriffing cold on this ship? From the looks of it, the Order wasn't short on credits or resources, so you'd think they would be able to acquire a heating unit or two, right?

“Yes, actuall-” you started, eager to acquire some answers, but not before being interrupted again.

“Great, you can ask General Hux them when you meet him later this afternoon. I’m sure he will be happy to help." In the meantime, stay in your room. Your luggage will be brought in shortly.”

And with that, she spun on her heel, briskly walking away from you like a protocol droid, minus the good manners.

You stood there in silence and sighed. You were used to dealing with unfriendly people back home. Oftentimes your dad would have to accommodate for the occasional unfriendly customer at the shop where he sold his paintings and you would carefully watch how he handled each situation. He never raised his voice and always made sure to return a scowl with a smile. Not expecting such a response, the customer’s reaction was always the same: a flustered scoff and a frustrated beeline towards the nearest door. You adopted this method of effectively handling difficult people in your own life, this moment with Ms. Stoney included.

Who knew that a basic gesture of human kindness — one as simple as a smile — could have such a large impact?

Apparently not even you.

—————————————

You inhaled a deep breath and opened the door to your new room. It was small and cold. You didn’t mind the size; you were used to that back home. You did, however, mind the temperature, which made you to shiver and pull your sleeves over your hands. The black, windowless walls of the room made you feel even more claustrophobic than you were in the hangar. There were only a few items of furniture in the room: a surprisingly large bed, a sleek black desk, and an armchair that looked like the cause of some major future back pain.

You spotted two doors, one that led to a small refresher, and the other to a closet. Upon further inspection of the closet, you found it filled with pristine black and grey attire. A twinge of homesickness pierced your heart as you thought back to the light, comfortably rugged clothes you had grown accustomed to on Lothal.

Maybe this was a mistake…

You looked back at the entrance to your room before remembering what Ms. Stoney had told you: You will find further instruction posted to the inside of your door.

As you moved closer, you found two sheets of paper taped to the door. On one was a map of the Finalizer, and on the other was a list of the week’s “activities”. You looked closely at the rest of the schedule for the day and found three things written:

6:00 - Dinner is served in the cafeteria

7:30 - Collect ID from Block D Reception

8:30 - Meet with General Hux to receive further instruction regarding your internship

Items one and two on the list could be accomplished easily enough… But number three?

That made you nervous.

————————————

The hours passed too quickly and you found yourself staring, eyes full of dread, at a clock reading 8:15.

What was this meeting with General Hux about, anyways? I wasn’t prepared for this… not on my first day at least.

You thought back to when Ms. Stoney told you how happy General Hux would be to answer all your questions. There was something in her tone of voice that made it seem like he would be the exact opposite.

Oh well. You took a deep breath. I’ll do my best, try to act professional, and, if all else fails, simply try to smile in the face of terror.

You changed into a black turtleneck and gray trousers, tied your hair into a bun not nearly as tight as Ms. Stoney’s, and readjusted the braided bracelet on your wrist — a gift from your best friend, Cheyenne, who was back on Lothal.

With a deep sigh, shoulder roll, and a quick tip of your head, you walked out of your room and into the adjacent hallway. Studying the map that was provided to you, you began your trek to the General’s office.

As you navigated the seemingly endless hallways of the Finalizer, you passed a menagerie of stormtroopers, officers, and droids. The atmosphere was rigid and brisk — everyone seemed to have an urgent purpose, an important life-or-death matter to attend to.

It was a stark contrast to the slow, free-flowing lifestyle of Lothal; most people there recognized that with each new day came new challenges, making life unpredictable. But instead of responding to this uncertainty by attempting to control the uncontrollable, Lothalians tended to adapt, mold themselves to accommodate any given situation. They were humble this way.

And here, where change was seen as something that challenged the draconian stability of the First Order, you came to learn that the malleable lifestyle you grew so accustomed to on Lothal was considered the equivalent of a death sentence here on the Finalizer.

You re-emerged from your thoughts and found yourself nearing your destination. You rounded a corner, checking over the map you were provided with a furrowed brow.

As you attempted to concentrate on the various lines and names written on the small piece of paper, a strange feeling washed over you. It started as a small shiver, before turning into a slight prickle at the back of your neck. You swatted your hand behind you, thinking a small bug landed on you, only to remember that you were on a spaceship far above any planet where bugs would be located. You shook your head, trying to concentrate harder on deciphering the map, only to have the prickling become more intense, almost invasive.

Kriff, am I going insane?

The not-so-friendly tingle intensified enough that you decided to turn and face the invisible menace that seemed to creep its way up your spine. You moved so abruptly that a few passing stormtroopers tilted their heads towards you in curiosity.

Embarrassed at your moment of irritation and confusion, you averted your eyes and started to turn your head back in the other direction — but before you could, something caught your attention.

Or rather, someone.

——————————

Masterlist || Next

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firsts

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia Pairing: MomoJirou (Momo Yaoyorozu/Kyouka Jirou) Words: 2182 Summary: In which Kyouka and Momo share a late-night conversation, leading to something much...greater. Fantasy AU Links: FF is here! AO3 is here!

even though she might never read this bc she doesn't know i write fanfic, s/o to my beautiful gf who helped me through my first year of college and the countless late-night talks we had that inspired me to write this.

"Do you miss home?"

The question is unexpected. Kyouka turns and sees Momo cuddled in her fur blanket, wrapping it around her as tightly as she can to protect herself from the bitter bite of the winter wind. Her nose is red from the cold, its color slowly spreading to her cheeks. As she exhales, her breath materializes momentarily, before it disappears as quickly as it appeared. Her eyes, those warm, brown eyes, shimmer in the silver moonlight, like pools of honey, as she stares straight up into the night sky, fixated.

Kyouka averts her gaze and stares down at the oversized cloak she wrapped around her body. She buries her chin and mouth in its thick fur, curling herself into a smaller ball, bringing her knees closer up to her chest.

"Yeah," she finally says, "I do."

"…How often?"

Kyouka takes time to think. It's strange how her feelings suddenly dissipate once someone asks about them. "I—mm—it's hard to say, really. Sometimes I miss home a lot, other times I don't—up to the point where I don't even think about it."

She hears a soft hum. Kyouka turns her head again, and finds Momo in that exact position. "Do you miss home?" she asks.

Momo moves. She does what Kyouka did, tucking her chin and mouth in her blanket, bringing her knees up against her chest. The bard can hear the faint clink, clink of the knight's armor.

"I do," Momo begins, "but I find it kind of…stupid."

Kyouka raises an eyebrow in slight surprise and interest. "Why do you think that?"

The bard watches as Momo's eyes become unreadable—Kyouka catches hints of somberness and cynicism, but nothing…concrete.

"Because, you know, I don't come from a far place." She laughs. It sounds…degrading, and it sends shivers down Kyouka's spine. "I only live in the neighboring district. I don't come from across the continent like you, or Izuku. Even Iida and Shouto live farther away compared to me, and they only live in the next towns over. I think, if we were to be honest, I don't think I really have a right to be homesick."

The bard is at a loss for words. She sits there, letting the information simmer inside, digesting it slowly. It feels like forever until she finally says, "I…I don't think it's really about who deserves to feel that way or not. I mean, if someone died one way, and someone else died another, in the end, both of them died. Things like this is—mm—is something I think can't be measured by who does and doesn't deserve something. Y-you know?" She turns her head and sees Momo staring at her blanket. The knight seems far away and distant, clearly lost in thought.

Kyouka's body begins to heat up from anxiety. "U-uh, I don't think what I said made sense but—"

"It did." Momo raises her head and gives Kyouka a soft, warm smile. Tension leaves the bard's body, melting away like ice. "It did, don't worry."

"…Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"What do you miss about home?"

"What do I miss…?" Momo repeats the question, but in a way that sounds pensive rather than asking for clarification. A moment passes and she breaks out into laughter. It sounds so rich, so full of life, so unlike her previous one. This one sounds more like Momo, Kyouka thinks to herself.

"My definition of home isn't…orthodox, I guess you can say. I don't think about the place I live in now. I think about the place I used to live in."

"Did you move estates?"

"No, I didn't. I've been living in the same house ever since I was born. But it was different back then. Mother was alive, Father was always there and smiling. The staff laughed with joy whenever they served us. The hearth was always alive as the sun set, keeping the cold at bay. I would sit in between Mother and Father, sharing in their warmth as we watched the flames dance in front of us. They wouldn't wear their armor. They looked like…regular people. They weren't renowned heroes of Yuuei's army, nor were they folk heroes. No titles, no family name to uphold—we were just…people. Like the ones who walk in the market every day."

The nostalgic smile on Momo's face melts away. Something heavy settles in the air, and Kyouka suddenly feels colder.

"It's not the same as it used to be," Momo says softly, "but I wish it was."

Silence settles between them.

It's suffocating. The bard's throat feels like it tied itself into a knot. She struggles to find air and words, no thought coming to mind. Slowly, she turns away, feeling as if she had asked a question she shouldn't have.

"Sorry," is all she says.

Kyouka hears a sigh. "It's fine," Momo says, "it's not your fault."

"Still, I probably shouldn't have asked in the first place."

A weight rests on Kyouka's shoulder. Strands of wild, black hair tickle the side of her cheek. Something rich and vibrant, like perfume, hits Kyouka's sense of smell, filling up her lungs and chest with something…warm, sweet, like caramelized sugar.

"I think talking about it made me feel a little bit better about it," Momo says, her voice carrying soft vibrations that run down Kyouka's arm.

Subconscious tension leaves the bard's body. She relaxes, and gingerly, places her face on top of Momo's head. They stay like that, wrapped up in their blankets and cloaks, sharing what little warmth they can with one another. They stare at the sky together, in silence, watching the stars wink at them from their place in the heavens. Kyouka recalls the vague shapes she memorized diligently when she was a child, sitting underneath the night sky with her parents as her mother sang songs of myths and legends and her father plucked his lute.

"—ka? —ouka? Kyouka?"

"H-huh? Wh-wha?" She blinks, and notices Momo lifted her head to stare at her quizzically.

"Are you okay?" the knight asks.

"Y-yeah. I was just…lost in my thoughts, sorry."

Momo nods understandingly, the look of concern melting off of her face. "I'm guessing you didn't hear what I said, then," she says with a playful smile.

Kyouka feels her cheeks burn with embarrassment. "N-no. S-sorry."

"It's fine, don't worry." Momo readjusts herself and places her head back on Kyouka's shoulder. "I asked what you missed about home."

"The food," she says without hesitation. "I mean, I know that the food here is, comparatively, way better, but the food from back home has something else that…this place doesn't have for me, yet. And—and I think it's the fact it's missing warmth. N-not like literal warmth; you know, more like the emotional kind. And I think it's because of this lack of warmth that I miss my parents' stories."

"Their…stories? Like, the stories they told during their travels?"

"Yeah. They'd recite epics and poems and songs and myths and legends from memory when I was a kid. They would sing and dance, and I would learn their craft. And while I learned how to play lute, they would recount tales of when they sailed across the sea and traveled throughout the continent in troupes and adventuring groups, performing in streets and pubs. It was all so normal and so mundane compared to the other stories they would tell me, but I always thought their stories were the most fantastical of all."

Momo laughs again, this one soft and delicate like an aria. "They sound like amazing people," she says quietly.

Kyouka feels her face flush. It's not in the usual, embarrassed way, however; this is something full of pride, full of honor. For the first time ever since she came to Yuuei, Kyouka finds herself taking pride in her roots. For once, there is no shame about her lack of training, money, nor luxury. For once, she doesn't feel the need to hide herself, her stories, and her talent.

For once, she actually feels proud to be who she is.

"Yeah," she says with a small smile, "they are."

The weight on Kyouka's shoulder is lifted, and the bard turns to see the knight staring at her. Kyouka takes in the way the moon shines down on Momo, silver moonlight gleaming off of her plate armor, causing those brilliant brown eyes to shimmer like gems. The knight's wild black hair sways in the soft wind, individual strands dancing as she continues to stare at the bard, and Kyouka swears she's looking at a goddess, like the ones her parents would sing of. There's something about Momo that makes her seem…ethereal, other-wordly, as if she was plucked from the heavens and planted gently on this mortal realm.

Kyouka's lungs ache because she forgets how to breathe. She releases the breath she's been holding for so long, exhaling softly, but it hitches in her throat when she feels something cold kissing her warm cheek. She reaches up and grabs onto Momo's hand, wrapping her fingers around the cold knight's.

"And you," Momo begins quietly, "you're just as amazing."

"No," Kyouka says with a breathless laugh, "you are."

Momo returns the same laugh, and it's only then does Kyouka realize how close they are to one another. She can feel the knight's warmth, her scent, her forehead pressing against hers…with every passing moment, they get closer and closer, their noses brushing against one another, lips sharing the same breath—

Kyouka feels her heart beating in her skull, her chest. It's erratic, pumping blood and adrenaline throughout her body, warming her face and ears, coloring her cheeks, pushing her closer and closer and closer and closer—

Their lips touch, and suddenly Kyouka doesn't know how to function. She feels entranced, as if she's under a spell, as if she lost control of everything. Her heart beats faster than ever, rattling inside of her ribcage, its beat reverberating throughout her body. Her lungs forget how to breathe again, but she doesn't care, not when she's kissing—oh gods, she's kissing Momo, she's actually kissing Momo, and her lips are chapped, but so, so soft, and they're moving against hers, and Momo moves her hand to pull her just a little bit closer, and—

They break away. Kyouka sucks in a breath through her nose, the cold air doing nothing to cool her down. Her heart is rampaging in her chest, and she swears she might pass out at any moment, because by the gods she just kissed Momo—

"Are you okay?" Momo asks, her warm breath buffeting Kyouka's lips as she pulls back her hand.

The bard blinks, remembering where she is, before saying, "Y-yeah. I just—wow." She pulls back a little more and runs a hand through her hair, laughing breathlessly. "Wow."

"Is…that a bad 'wow?'"

"N-no! I'm just—wow—I'm just—that's…I've never done something like that before. I'm just kind of—blown away, is all. I-in a good way, of course." Kyouka clears her throat, embarrassed at her blunders. "A-are you okay?"

Momo smiles, and tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "More than okay. If I'm being honest I've, mm"—she turns away, her cheeks turning as red as Ejirou's hair—"been wanting to do that for a while."

Kyouka feels her face heating up. "Y-you have?"

"I—I know it's strange I just—couldn't help feeling that way. You just…make me feel safe. I don't know how else to describe it. There's just something about you—I don't know if it's your songs or your voice or just your mere presence—but I just feel so…so safe every time I'm with you. Like nothing could go wrong. Like…like you're home." The knight looks up, almost sheepishly, and quietly asks, "Does that make sense?"

A crooked smile tugs on Kyouka's lips. "It does. Because I feel the same way whenever I'm with you, too."

"Do you?" Momo's eyes widen with surprise.

"I do," is all the bard says before she twines their fingers together.

"…So what now?"

"What do you mean?"

"What do we do now? Are we…you know…."

The suggestion makes the tips of Kyouka's ears burn. "H-honestly, I don't know. But what I do know," she continues, squeezing Momo's hand in hers, "is that I want to stay by your side. And I don't want to lose you."

The knight smiles, then nods. "I want that, too."

Nothing else is said between them after. They continue sitting there, just as they had been throughout the night, but Kyouka notices differences. They're closer together, their hands are locked together, and there is something burning in Kyouka's chest, like an ember, sitting underneath her heart.

The bard doesn't know what love feels like. But as she sits next to the knight, holding her close, Kyouka wonders if this is the beginning of something similar.

The thought makes her smile.

it's been a hot second since i last wrote anything, so i'm really sorry if i'm rusty. i guess you can say that this is a continuation of the first MomoJirou fic I wrote a while back, but I wrote them kind of independently from one another. I remember mentioning a whole fantasy AU I was writing for BNHA, and while my motivation for that has kind of wavered, im on summer break from college now. so maybe i'll be able to put smth up for that? im just not sure what course i want to take for that story. it sux.

but anyways, i hope you enjoyed this oneshot. if you want more of these two in this particular universe, please let me know! i'd love to flesh out the whole fantasy au with just these two to give me some sort of foundation for the bigger project.

thank you for reading! i love you!

[littlesupernaturalwords]

Run And Don't Look Back Chapter Eight

Summary: Running from her past she finally settles down in a new town. But as it turns out, helping the wrong person will throw her even deeper in the life than she had ever been before.

Word count: 4 171

Warnings: angst, arguing, anxiety, MOC!Dean

Series Masterlist��| Masterlist

Jane watched in silence as Dean prepared their breakfast. He had his back to her, but she could still clearly hear the soft melody he was humming. That made her smile a little; he was a true hunter and she could see it just from his hard demeanor, but he had a soft side, a side which he had showed her and kept showing her like an old friend. It was strange. He didn't know her and yet he and Sam took care of her like she was a part of their family.

"If you wanna keep staring, you should probably say something," Dean said suddenly. "Or it's just creepy." Jane blushed and quickly ducked her head. She hadn't realised that Dean turned around and noticed her gaze, too caught up in her thoughts. Dean shook his head with a smile and brought their plates to the table before sitting down.

Jane's eyes widened at the sight of the plate in front of her. "You don't expect me to eat all of it, do you?" she asked.

Dean laughed. "Suit yourself," he told her and stuffed his mouth with a piece of bacon.

Jane took a fork in her hand. The eggs were incredible; not too salty, moist, but not too much, and she finally had to admit that the sandwich Sam had made her was, well, less than average. Not that she would have apreciated anything at that moment in her emotionless state. Jane hadn't even realised how hungry she actually was and was suddenly glad for the large portion. They ate in silence, occasional glances their only interaction through the meal. Jane didn't mind; despite their little disagreement in the Library, Dean had been nothing but nice to her, taking care of her like they were long time hunting pals and the silence was comfortable. She stole another glance at him. Dean reached for his mug and let out an annoyed groan when he didn't find it at its normal place, the coffee forgotten in the library.

They finished at nearly the same time, Dean with a satisfied sigh. Jane chuckled and shook her head at the sight.

"What?" Dean asked, his eyebrows raised.

Jane shook her head again. "Nothing, just-" A smile overtook her features. "You remind me of my brother," she said softly, the smile not leaving her face.

Dean tilted his head slightly. "You have a brother?" he asked in surprise. Jane didn't blame him, she hadn't told them much about herself. Nothing, to be exact. But she owed them and didn't feel like she had to hide things from them anymore, at least not everything.

Her smile faded with her next words. "Had," she answered, lowering her eyes. The memories she had made with him never made her sad, but the acknowledgement that he was gone always made the old grief come back.

Dean let out a sharp breath. "Sorry about that," he said sincerely as a shadow covered his features. She knew that look. The look that belonged only to someone who had lost a loved one. And from how hard is expression got she guessed it wasn't just once. Jane remembered the shadow that had covered his eyes after they had finished dinner the day before; the pain of losing someone and the regret that comes with it. She felt her chest tightening as well as her heartbeat quickening as anxiety washed over her again. She took a long deep breath and didn't stop even once sharp pain from her broken ribs shot through her; she didn't know what made her so anxious, but it didn't matter. Whether it was the mention of her brother or just the events of the morning setting in, she had to calm down. The last thing she needed was to have a panic attack in front of Dean.

"So," Jane said to distract herself, her voice a little shaky. Dean raised his eyes to her face, the dark look gone. "What are you planning? A case maybe, or some research...?" she asked innocently.

Dean let out a barely audible chuckle as a slight smile appeared on his face. "I don't do research, Sweatheart," he told her.

Jane smiled at that. "Okay, I can relate to that." The pressure on her chest lessened, but she could still feel her heart beating rapidly.

"And we won't go hunting until you're healed," he continued seriously, his smile disappearing completely.

Her face mirrored his as frustration took over, replacing her anxiety. "Dean, I'm-"

"No, you're not fine," he interrupted her. Jane fought the urge to roll the eyes, but still let out a deep sigh. When was he going to stop treating her like she was completely broken? He was being unreasonably stubborn and she was not just going to obey everything he said; they might had saved her, but she wasn't a child. "Show me your arms," Dean said suddenly, pulling her from her heated thoughts.

"What?" Jane asked with furrowed brows. She could clearly hear her heartbeat in her ears as she pressed her lips to a thin line. But it was neither anxiety nor frustration which led to that - it was anger. That kind of anger that made andrenaline take over to prepare for a fight.

"Show me your arms," Dean repeated, firmer this time, and extended his hand towards her. Jane had no idea what he wanted, and bit back her tongue not to shout at him. She obeyed, stretching her arms in front of her. Dean took hold of her wrist and gently rolled up her sleeve. Jane hissed in pain as the fabric moved across the cuts and burns, but stayed still, not willing to prove whatever point he wanted to make. Dean did the same with her other arm and lowered her hands on the table. Jane let out a barely audible sigh; she hadn't realised how much energy it had cost her to keep them up with how weak her muscles were. She let her eyes wonder over her injuries and felt her anger disappear. They weren't serious, but it would take time for her to heal and she was well aware of it, just Dean was. Memories of her arms strapped to a chair, bleeding, flashed in front of her eyes. She tore her gaze from her limbs and looked at Dean again.

He had been watching her face, seeing how her features changed once she'd seen her bare arms. She no longer clenched her jaw and her shoulders lowered slightly. He didn't like that he had reminded her of what she had endured, but he also realised how stubborn she was; she needed to see it for herself.

"Once your arms heal, you'll get the walking sticks back," he said, leaving no room for argument, "but not before that, you understand?"

Jane clenched her teeth in frustration again. Dean was right, partly, but her stubbornness didn't want to let her just admit that. Who did he think he was to just order her like that?

"Jane," he adressed her firmly. Her eyes snapped up to his face. His features were hard and she thought that it should have scared her, but it didn't. No, it gave her a sence of comfort; Dean looked so much like her brother. He had always been furious when she had been hurt, but the anger hadn't been towards her. He had only wanted to protect her. And in the moment she realised that, she knew this argument was a losing battle.

"Fine," she said at last, anger leaving her completely. She hadn't noticed that her heart was beating slower or that her limbs had become heavier, but the weight of it dropped on her like a blanket.

"Which means you're stuck with us for a while," Dean commented. Jane only hummed in reply, suppressing a yawn. Dean didn't seem to be more happy about it than her, she realised when she noticed his tone. He was looking at her arms with a sad expression, the shadow covering his face once more. Jane quickly pulled her sleeves down and drew her hands back. She let out a long breath to take hold of her emotions before speaking again. She was tired, her whole body growing heavy, but pushed it aside.

"You may as well show me the rest of the Bunker then," Jane said, sounding more irritated than she'd ment to, but at least she caught Dean's attention. She forced herself to smile at least a little. "As you said, I'm gonna be stuck with you for a while."

They shared a long look. Jane found herself smiling more, relaxing under his gaze. He cared about her and it wasn't just because she was a damsel in distress, just as she began to care about him. She felt every injury on her body ache and throb, but it didn't matter at the moment; she was with Dean and everything would be okay.

Jane was sitting on a wooden box in the Garage, watching as Dean washed his car. Or his 'Baby' as he had referred to it. Her earlier faintness had left her during the time Dean had been showing her around the Bunker, but she still felt how tight her skin was, the scabs threatening to open by any wrong movement. Her right knee throbbed and ached even though she had readjusted it in the brace, leaving her shifting in her seat, trying to find a comfortable position. She didn't really register what Dean was doing, too lost in her thoughts. Her lack of information was like a parasite, slowly eating her alive until there was nothing left. She shifted on the box again.

"Dean?" Jane spoke after long minutes of silence. Dean raised his head to look at her and hummed in response, not stopping whatever he was doing on the car.

Jane swallowed, trying to sort her thoughts. "What happens with Heaven now that the angels are all on Earth?" she asked. It had been worrying her for months, but she had never gotten anywhere near answering the question and only became more worried. Dean wiped his hands with a cloth, walking around the car. He rolled the sleeves of his shirt down and tossed the cloth to the side without giving it a second look, his eyes on Jane.

"You sure you wanna know that?" he asked her. His face was unreadable.

Jane's forehead wrinkled with confusion. "Why shouldn't I?" She felt her own heartbeat quickening, but paid it no mind.

Dean leaned on the Impala with his back and crossed his arms on his chest. "Like you said yesterday, we're always in the centre of things. Maybe you shouldn't get involved in this." He clenched his teeth, his lips pressed together tightly.

Jane found herself opening her mouth while no sound came out before she got herself together. "Dean," she said firmly, hoping he would know she was being honest, "what I said last night, I- I was scared," she admitted. "After what Crowley did to me..." Jane took a deep breath, forcing herself to distance from the memories. She looked into his eyes. "But that doesn't mean I shouldn't get involved." Dean opened his mouth to say something, but Jane didn't let him. "I know I have no idea what I'm getting myself into. But I grew up in this life. An- and as long as angels are down here, people are in danger. More danger than usual. So yes, I want to know that. I need to know it," she finished, slightly out of breath. Her heart was pounding and her hands were shaking, but she didn't once break the stare with him. Dean sighed with a shake of his head. He was not happy with her response and it was clearly visible as he ran a hand through his hair.

"Not all angels are on Earth," Dean said after a moment. Jane furrowed her brows and leaned slightly forward in anticipation. "The duchebag that made all this mess named himself the new God." He continued in a stronger voice. "He's recruiting angels, making an army of them. There's a portal upstairs, but it keeps moving around."

"So you never know where it is," Jane said absent-mindedly, her eyes down. She raised her head. "So who was it then? What's his name?"

"Metatron, the-"

"The Scribe of God," Jane finished for him, her forehead wrinkled.

Dean nodded. "Yeah."

"But- but what about the other angels, the ones that didn't join him?" she blurted out. Dean raised his eyebrows. "I- I mean, not all angels allied with him, right? Why would they join the person who made them fall in the first place?" Jane spoke quickly, trying to get out all of her thoughts before anxiety took over her again. She could already feel it rising in her chest.

"Yeah, well, they're trying to get back up, but-" Dean shook his head. "This is about all they know right now."

Jane's eyes widened. "What?" she bursted out. "So they know who did it and know that there is a way back to Heaven, but that's it?"

"It's not like they're not trying," Dean said, slightly taken aback by her sudden outburts. Jane shifted in her seat and bit back a hiss of pain. "We know Metatron has an inside man in the other camp, but- yeah, that's it."

"And what about your angel friend?" Jane asked. Dean raised his eyebrows. "Sam told me about him last night," she explained. It wasn't that she wanted to meet him, quite the opposite; she tried to stay as far from all angels as possible.

Dean took a deep breath. "Well, I don't know what he told you, but Cas is doing everything he can to take the son of a bitch down," he said. She nodded in understanding. Cas. Somehow, knowing his name made her feel worse; it made the whole situation more real. For a few heartbeats, silence fell on them.

Jane took a deep breath, barely noticing the pain from her broken ribs anymore. "So," she said softly, taking hold of her emotions, "what do we do now?" The sooner this whole mess was over the better for everyone.

Dean straightened up and slowly walked towards her. "We'll figure it out," he said, "but you stay out of this."

"Dean-"

"No," he stopped her and shook his head. "This isn't something I'm gonna argue with you about, Jane. You will stay out of this." His tone was firm, not leaving any place for debate. Jane's eyes drifted between his own. He was now standing right in front of her, towering over her and making her feel even smaller than usual. Her anxiety grew as her throat tightened. Something wasn't right.

"Why are you so protective of me?" Jane asked, her voice barely above whisper.

Dean didn't answer. He only crouched down and slid his hands under her to pick her up. Jane let him, biting back her tongue so she wouldn't cry out in pain, but kept her eyes on his face. He didn't look at her once, not even when he set her down in the Library with Sam and walked away without a word.

Dean stayed in his room for the rest of the day. He kept himself busy: he made his bed, cleaned and oiled his guns and even made the laundry. But no matter what he did, his thoughts always came back to her words.

Why are you so protective of me?

She was clever, Dean had to admit that, but also stubborn. And not the good type. That kind of stubborn that was going to get her killed.

Dean sighed and ran a hand over his face. Every time he closed his eyes he saw her small form how they had first found her. He saw how bloody she was, beaten up, her whole body covered in a sheen of sweat as she burned up with fever. He saw her head hung down on her chest, her normally shiny red hair oily and tangled, sticking to her wet skin. And then he saw the screw in her knee and utter rage took over him.

They should have killed Crowley. He should have killed him when he had had the chance. He would have sliced him, stabbed him, drawing out the pain, enjoying it, until he would have finally sank the First Blade in his heart and watched how life left him, the light in his eyes disappearing. But he hadn't and now Jane was dragged into this whole mess because of him.

He gripped the bottle he was holding tighter. He wanted to kill. He wanted to go out and savour the moments. No, he needed to. His hands started shaking. He needed to see the blood pouring out of their bodies, until nothing but cold corpse remained. He needed to feel their bones snapping in his hands. He needed to hear their breath hitching as he choked life out of them. He needed-

The bottle in his hand cracked, his fingers closing into a tight fist with the momentum. Dean shuddered before looking down. The bottle he had been holding was on the floor, shattered into pieces, the leftover beer spilled between them. There was blood dripping from his hand. He opened his fist and a few small sharp pieces of glass fell down. Dean flinched as he picked out all the shards from his flesh. He didn't bother with bandages or desinfection, only washed his hands with cold water and watched as blood slowly left his fingers until the water ran clean.

There was noise in the hallway. Dean slowly crossed the room and opened the door slightly, just so he could see outside. He watched as Sam opened the door to Jane's room and picked up something from the floor. It glistened when light from the hallway landed on it and Dean immediately recognised it as a blade. No, an angel blade. Dean didn't wait to see any more and silently slipped from his room. Sam didn't notice as Dean soundlessly passed Jane's room and headed for the Library. He just wanted to see her, wanted to make sure she was okay. At least that's what he told himself as he absent-mindedly scratched the Mark on his arm.

He spotted her right after he came through the door. She was sitting at one of the tables with her head laid down on an opened book. Her arms were on the table, stretched in front of her, the long sleeves of the hoodie covering her hands and he could only make out the tips of her fingers, clenching the fabric gently. She hadn't changed from her boy shorts she had slept in last night and Dean could see goosebumps appearing on her bare legs.

He came to her and brushed a few loose strands of hair out of her face, the rest of her hair braided. She looked peaceful. Her face was relaxed, her lips slightly appart, the bruises slowly fading into a barely visible yellow colour. A sound made his head turn towards the door.

Sam stood in the doorway, yawning. "Hey," he greeted his older brother quietly, "I didn't know you were up," Sam said and yawned again, running a hand across his face.

"I'm gonna take her to bed," Dean said.

"Yeah, um, I was just gonna-" Sam started, but yawned again.

Dean smiled. "It's okay, Sammy, I've got her," he said. "Go to bed."

Sam nodded and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, yeah, I'll do that," he muttered before turning around. "G'night, Dean."

"Night, Sammy," Dean called after him. He waited until he heard door closing in the distance before he crouched down to pick her. He set her hands in her lap and frowned when he noticed what she had been reading; angel lore books were one thing, but reading them after the conversation they'd had made him feel uneasy. He would have another talk with her in the morning. Dean slid his hands under her small body and picked her up, pressing her to his chest.

Jane moaned in her sleep and Dean thought she would wake up, but she only snuggled closer to him, her fingers curling in his shirt. He stayed still for a moment, making sure she was still asleep before he carried her to her room and gently laid her down on the bed. He covered her with blanket. There was an angel blade on her night stand, but Dean knew better than to move it; he himself slept with a gun under his pillow.

Jane stirred and her eyebrows furrowed as she let out a quiet whimper. Dean knew what she was going through. He knew all about nightmares and memories keeping him from sleeping. But he couldn't protect her from that, no matter how hard he wanted.

But he could protect her from what she was slowly but surely trying to get herself into and he was going to stop her even if it ment tying her up in the dungeon.

Dean softly laid a kiss on her forehead.

He wouldn't let another kid die. Not on his watch. Not again.

The hallways of the Bunker were empty, bathing in comforting warm light. Jane was standing in front the doorway to the library, the room seemingly empty. She looked down at herself and frowned; there was not a single scratch on her skin, her body back to its healthy weight and her skinny jeans and black button up recognizably hers.

She was having another dream, another vision.

Jane took a small step into the room, then another. The Library was filled with the same warm light as the hall, but she paid it little attention; there had to be a reason why she was seeing this, but there was nobody else in the room with her.

"Sam!" she heard Dean shout from the War room. Jane quickly crossed the Library and came to a stop on top of the three stairs leading to the other room. Dean was there, a mug of coffee in his hand. He was wearing an ugly gray robe and Jane would have laughed at him for it if they were in a different situation, but let it slide. He looked around the room and took a few steps towards her, searching the Library with his eyes. "You here?" Dean shouted in search for his brother.

As if on cue, the main door to the Bunker opened. They both shot their heads up and saw Sam coming through the door.

"Hey," Sam greeted his older brother, "good morning." He was carrying something in his hands as he moved down, but Jane couldn't see what it was through the railing.

Dean looked at his watch. "You've been outside already?" he asked in disbelief just as Sam came down. Jane moved closer to them, her footsteps echoed around the room, but neither of them seemed to notice.

Sam walked closer to Dean with a white box in his hand. "Yeah," he breathed with a smile. "Woke up, went for a run – beautiful sunrise," Sam said and Jane giggled when she saw the face Dean made. "Anyways, cleaned up, went and got breakfast-" he raised the box he was holding, "- grabbed you real bacon and eggs, extra grease." He put the box on the table. "Not even gonna argue"

"Mm, perfect," Dean hummed in appreciation and sat down. Sam took off his jacket, tossing it on a seat next to him, and followed suit. Jane smiled at the relaxed atmosphere of the ordinary morning. "Wait," Dean said suddenly, his whole body tensing. "You went running?"

"What?" Sam asked with a sly smile. "Why do you look so worried?"

"Let's see," Dean answered, slightly irritated. "There's Cas, who I told to haul ass here. That was days ago. He's still out there." He paused for a second, looking down. "Um, there's you."

"Me?" Sam's eyebrows shot up. "I feel great."

"I'm sure you do," Dean replied quickly, "but, Sam, you went through the Trials." Sam let out a low unamused chuckle and scratched the back of his head.

"Trials?" Jane whispered to herself. So he wasn't so overprotective only of her but of his brother too. She didn't know whether she should find that comforting or not. Dean continued as if he hadn't heard her.

"Okay, that put a big strain on you. I just think it's better if you took it easy," Sam's eyes flashed blue and Jane could swear she felt her heart stop, "you know, and didn't act like you were-"

"Possessed by an angel," Sam finished for him. But he didn't sound like Sam. He straightened up to his full height, his face showing no emotion.

Dean whipped his head to look at his brother, but didn't seem surprised. Jane's gaze drifted between the two men, her heart beating rapidly in her chest, before the scene started to fade.

Colours blent together, swirling round her, becoming darker and darker until blackness swallowed her whole.