#like does she even like me? does she care about me? she claims she does and then does this like wth

[wendichester]

I’m slowly going through your stories - I love every single one of them, they’re amazingly written. And I was wondering if you could write one about Dean teaching Sam’s partner drive? She’s Sam’s age and claims that she doesn’t need to know when she has the two of them.

Thank you so much 🩷🩷🩷

⋆｡° ✮ stick shift,

summary. dean teaches you how to drive!

pairing. dean winchester x sam's gf!reader

wordcount. 501

notes. i was actually meaning to write dean teaching reader to drive, so this one came in handy ehe hope you like bubs! 🩷

“You realize this is unnecessary, right?” you say, arms crossed as you lean against the Impala. “I have two perfectly capable chauffeurs.”

Dean scoffs, tossing you the keys. “Yeah, and one day, Sam and I might not be around to drive your ass.”

Your stomach tightens at that, but you mask it with an eye roll. “Not exactly a vote of confidence, Winchester.”

“Get in the car.”

With an exaggerated sigh, you slide into the driver’s seat. The leather is warm under your fingers as you grip the wheel, the scent of whiskey, motor oil, and Dean's cologne lingering in the air.

Dean settles into the passenger seat, stretching out like he owns the place—because, well, he does. He taps the dashboard. “Alright, sweetheart, let’s start with the basics. Foot on the brake, turn the key.”

You do as you’re told, and the Impala rumbles to life beneath you. It sends a thrill through your chest—not that you’d admit it.

Dean watches you like a hawk. “Now shift into drive—slowly—and ease off the brake.”

You move the shifter, hesitant but determined. The car lurches forward, and you instinctively slam the brake, jerking both of you in your seats.

Dean lets out a dry laugh. “Jesus. You tryna kill me before we even hit the road?”

“Sorry!” you wince. “She’s touchy.”

“She’s a ‘67 Chevy, not a goddamn Prius.” Dean gestures forward. “Try again, nice and easy.”

This time, you press the gas more carefully, and the car rolls forward smoothly. A grin tugs at your lips. “Okay, that wasn’t awful.”

“There ya go,” Dean says, sounding almost proud. “Now, let’s take her out.”

You pull onto the road, gripping the wheel like your life depends on it. Dean watches you, surprisingly patient, arms folded across his chest.

For a few minutes, it’s fine. You’re actually doing it, driving the damn Impala. Then—

“Shit, stop sign!”

You panic, foot slamming the brake too hard. The Impala screeches to a halt, and Dean lets out a grunt as he’s thrown forward.

“Son of a bitch,” he mutters, rubbing his chest.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?!”

“I did!”

“Well, maybe don’t scream at me!”

Dean levels you with a look, then sighs. “Alright, alright. Look, you’re doing fine, but let’s try not to give me whiplash, huh?”

You glare at him, cheeks burning. “I don’t know why I’m even doing this.”

Dean tilts his head. “Because one day, you might have to get behind the wheel. Maybe Sam’s hurt, or we’re in trouble, and you gotta get outta Dodge.” His voice is softer now. “You need to be able to take care of yourself.”

You chew your lip. That’s the real reason, isn’t it? Not because Dean thinks you’re helpless, but because he refuses to let you be.

“…Fine,” you grumble. “But if I wreck your car, that’s on you.”

Dean grins. “Don't test my patience, sweetheart. Go on,”

You roll your eyes and press the gas, this time a little more confident.

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @taurus0queenie33 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @krabog ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @lyarr24 ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @rulesareshadesofgrey ⋆ @nervoussystems ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @sunnyteume ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @angelblqde ⋆ @mostlymarvelgirl ⋆ @whisperingdaze ⋆ @funkenniffler ⋆ @bossyblondie ⋆ @lieutenantchaos ⋆ @iluvnewtie ⋆ @dyhsversion ⋆ @lovewolfspirit ⋆ @kayleighwinchester ⋆ @s0urw00lf ⋆ @cursednevermore ⋆ @img14 ⋆ @onelonelybitch ⋆ @americanvenom13 ⋆ @iluvdeanwinchester ⋆ @idk6505 ⋆ @devilslittlehelper ⋆ @cloverleaf20 ⋆ @giggles1026 ⋆ @idontwannabehere7 ⋆ @beakaleak32 ⋆ @ocelotlist51 ⋆ @lelapine ⋆ @pwin098 ⋆ @lacysretribution ⋆ @globetrotter28 ⋆ @aerinu ⋆ @i-love-gvf ⋆ @bejeweledinterludes ⋆ @chi_raz

[hotchnersangel]

YOUR LOVE IS MY OXYGEN

Aaron Hotchner

You and Aaron had been in a relationship for a few months and it was getting to the point where conversations of your relationship were becoming serious and really authentic and genuine. After a case, Aaron is sat in your living room, watching the tv, some silly reality tv show he claimed to despise- yet, he always kept watching them with you, even opting to put them on without prompts from you. Simply because he knew you loved watching them.

It was a routine, you watch, he finds something to complain about and you give him a kiss and suddenly he can stand it again.

Today was no different, Aaron was on the sofa when you went to sit besides him, now in comfier clothes. You sit on the edge of the sofa, Aaron side eying you to catch your attention but you don't look at him. He sighs, again another move to try and encourage your attention. Though, you refuse to give into his antics and you watch the show kick off into drama.

Another sigh escapes Aaron's lips, slightly louder now but you ignore him again, which he evidently did not like as you feel the couch dip and hands slide under your thighs and your back as he pulls you softly across the sofa and into his lap.

"Is that what you wanted?" You smirk at him amused as he gives you a faux cold glare. "Seriously? All that fuss for me to sit on your lap?"

"Yes, maybe if you had just done it there would not be so much 'fuss'." He muttered into your hair, pressing a kiss to your crown.

You move back, looking over his face directly and smiling at him. You love every detail about this man. The way his hair eventually loses its gel throughout the day and returns to become fluffier and more enticing to you hands to run through it. The way his eyes crinkle when he smiles and his eyes always dart to catch yours when he makes a joke or sees something funny, making sure you saw or heard it too. The way his eyes softened when he stared at you, whether it was during more intimate times or just in general, he made sure you were always taken care of before even himself. Every small detail about him, his heart, his body, his personality.

You even loved how he fake hated reality tv to encourage you to kiss him, he could just ask but it became an unspoken tradition by now.

You continue watching the show until one of the stars cause a fuss and create drama and Aaron sighs. "Seriously, I don't understand how you can enjoy this."

You stay silent knowing he will keep talking.

"This is crazy, it's the same thing over and over. Jenny kisses Alex and Maura gets upset. It's the same situation as Olivia and Jaques getting together when she was still with Liam."

You smirk at him, noticing that he does pay attention to the goings-on.

"For gods sake, look at George and Lana's body language, clearly they don't even like each other- I bet they just want the money. You know what, we could go on this and just try win the money because I'm sure as hell we would win considering we are in an actual relationship and these absolute degenerates are all faking their relationships so they get lots of money." He huffs after he lets out a rant, you staring at him as he can't depart his eye line from the tv.

"I'm actually angry just watching this." He scowls at the tv before turning to see you smiling delicately, you eyes roaming his face. Immediately upon seeing your smile, he grins at you. "What are you looking at?"

"Nothing just my boyfriend." You shrug, continuing to look at him.

"I like it when you call me that." He replies, pressing a kiss to your cheek. Both your heads turn as you continue to watch the show once again and you look at Aaron once more, just wanting to stare at him for the rest of your life.

"I love you." You blurt before you could even process what you said. You widen your eyes as you see him do a double take with a wide smile on his face.

"Sorry what?" He asks amused and you bite your lip, laughing in shock.

"I didn't mean to say that." You admit but shake your head, "Not that I don't mean it, I just-" You ramble but his hand lifts to your cheek.

"Say it again."

"I love you." You repeat.

"Again."

"I love you." You say again, giggling this time.

"Again."

"I'm in love with you." You grin softly, looking at him nervously as you see a twinge of pink caress his cheeks.

"I hate that you've just ruined my plans." He says with a grin but you look confused so he carries on. "I scheduled you to receive some flowers this weekend, I planned a whole thing out to tell you that."

You blush and look to your hands then back into his eyes. "Really?"

"Yeah, but somehow I think it's very endearing that you couldn't hold it in." He grins kissing just below your eye now, then moving to your cheek, then forehead.

"Loving you is like breathing to me honey, I don't even have to think about it to know it keeps me alive."

[strawberry-nugget]

Co-parenting with Kirishima is so messy

You loathe this time of the week. The anxiety that paces to your nervous system, the blood rushing to your veins when your phone rings and a certain name pops up and you wish it wasn't your typical Wednesday night. You, somehow, wish you were in your hometown, every single time, far away from all this madness that's called co-parenting. It's draining, to say the least, to have to always be there, to have to rely on someone who isn't even there most of the time, because you're forced to do so, by law.

For your daughter it's different.

Your phone ringing means one thing and one thing only; daddys here. That alone as a fact makes her scream with absolute joy; oftentimes it makes her run around like she's mad, because even at four years old she knows exactly what it means. Daddy is coming to pick her up. and as much as you'd like to share the same joy with her as you once would, you don't want to see his face. Ever. Yet you have to, twice a week.

Her bags are already packed even before he arrives. He’s always late, always always, always late for hours to no end and youve considered letting your lawyer know, in case you get full custody, but you know you can't do this to her, take her father away from her or take care of her on your own. The fact that he's even participating in all of this amazes you. Plus you just don't wanna get on his bad side in this ordeal. 

So you compromise. The very thing you'll always do. 

Today, much like every other week you experience the excruciating thing that is your anxiety

Kirishima rarely parks the car outside; he says it's not easy to find a parking spot, that he can't be bothered with it -he is picking amira up after work- claiming he wants to get home as soon as possible. He's tired, that's all, and you're happy you don't have to interact with him face to face. 

Unfortunately today is one of those days that he takes that extra mile and parks his car, rings your doorbell and probably hears your daughters scream of joy at it, and gets up to your apartment. 

"It's me" He says when you ask, in an almost -almost- disgusted tone coating your voice, 'who is it'. 

"Yeah give me a second"

You wish he'd forgotten your floor, or the doorbell to your house, but he hasn't, and it's not even a minute later when he lets you know he's there. He knocks the door before he enters, even though you've left it slightly open the second you opened the downstairs door for him. 

A sign he's welcome in. Barely. 

Amira screams when he enters. You on the other hand, roll your eyes. He pouts his lips and raises his eyebrow in response. You want to punch him, the way he still makes you so nervous is almost unbearable… does he perhaps want to punch you too? Is it unbearable for him too? Probably not, you think and swallow your pride before mastering the courage to utter a greeting. 

"Hello" 

"Ayeee girl"

You don't have enough time to consider how awkward it is to just stand there and look at each other because your daughter pours herself into his arms -as you turn to look away- it's only then he utters more than one actual word. 

"How's my baby doing?"

"I'm good daddy" Amira replies as her father  puts her down and drops to a squat in front of her. He's too gentle, too nice, it's almost making you forget how you've struggled, at one point, to get him to be in her life. 

He brushes the stand of hair that's strayed away from her middle part and sticks to her forehead, so nicely, so tenderly, but her lower lip is quivering as shes looking at him with big bug eyes -they're slowly watering too- and you know your baby is about to burst into tears. 

Which she does, as you expected, only a minute later. It's a common phenomenon; whining when her dad visits, crying because she's missed him, because she doesn't understand why she can't see him every single day. You loathe that. This feeling you know too well, missing him, wanting to see him more but not being to. You hate it with all your might that your daughter has to feel that way about him too. It feels like a never ending circle if misery, and you wonder, way too often, how much you're to blame. There's a heavy weight of responsibility that you carry on your back when you think about that. 

Unexpectedly, you're snapped to reality when she runs to you for comfort. Not him. She's up in your embrace in no time and Kirishima kisses his teethteeth, annoyed. 

"Why are you crying baby?" She doesn't reply to you, only burries her head into your shoulder further "daddys not going away, you're going to stay with him for a few days as always"

She sniffles more and hangs tight onto you when she feels Kirishima's hands wrap around her so he can snatch her from your arms. She's never denied him like that. 

"Did she wake up with a tantrutm?"

"No she was too happy before you came in"

"And why she's acting like this now?"

"She's a child"

He can't argue with that. Amira is known to be whiny and sad when she has no other way of expressing her emotions. No matter how hard you try to help her communicate her feelings, she ends up coming back to it- just like you. You wish she hadn't gotten that part of your character, but oh to all that's unfortunate, she did. 

"Are you crying because you missed daddy baby?" You ask her voice softer than a feather against her tiny ear 

"Mhhhm" She sniffles

"Do you want to hug him?"  She nods yes into your shoulder but her hands linger their grip on you for more than a second when Kirishima takes her in his embrace. 

From then on, she's happy. She finds her smile again when Kirishima plops onto the couch with her and they tickle each other. It feels like you're watching two puppies play fight but you don't smile, you only feel bitter. At least, Amira, will be enjoying her self until-

"Sunday morning, is it good?"

Kirishima looks at you, dumbfounded "is what good?"

"I'll come pick her up on Sunday with my dad. It's quite a few days. So I'm asking. Do you have anything to do?" There so much hesitance in your voice, you're surprised you're not stuttering. 

"I don't. Do you?"

"Yes she does!" Amira replies before you can even open your mouth 

"Really?"

"Yes daddy! She's going on a date and she bought a pretty dre-"

"Okay you bigmouth", you laugh it off "That's not any of daddy's business"

"Oh because he doesnt love you. Right?"

"Ah, yes?" 

You avoid looking at him, utterly embarrassed. You should have listened to your mother when she said that kids do repeat what they hear, even if you tell them not to. Now you're left with Kirishima looking at you like you've committed a crime while sighing. 

"So who are you going on a date with"

You feel your throat tighten. A breath catches in your chest, and your first instinct is to deflect, to dodge, to act like the words never left Amira’s tiny, traitorous mouth. But Kirishima is staring at you, waiting, his expression unreadable—half amused for the better part of it.

“None of your business,” you say quickly, to shut this whole thing away, but your daughter doesn’t seem to be done at all.

“Mommy was on the phone all night,” she adds, turning to her father with wide, doe eyes. “She was smiling a lot too!”

Kirishima raises an eyebrow, his lips twitching as if he’s about to smirk but stops himself. He leans back on the couch, stretching his legs out, his arms still loosely around Amira. You hate it— that they so loosely resemble each other at a part in your house. You hate him and mini him can’t keep their mouths closed ever.

But Amira is just a child.

“Oh?” Kirishima hums, tilting his head at you like he’s waiting for more.

You roll your eyes so hard you might sprain something. “Amira, baby, did you get your favorite teddy? You almost forgot it last time.”

She gasps like you just reminded her of the most important thing in the world, scrambling off the couch, away from her fathers hands and disappearing into her room. The second she’s gone, Kirishima’s smirk fully blooms with mischief.

“A date, huh?”

“Drop it,” you mutter, crossing your arms over your chest. Kirishima stares and you see it; his eyes linger at your chest and you know what he’s thinking of.

But he’s not going to ruin this for you.

“Why?” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, studying you like you’re something to figure out. “I’m just curious.”

You scoff. “Since when do you care?”

His jaw tenses for half a second. “I don’t. Just didn’t think you were the dating type anymore. Being celibate and all…”

Your fingers curl into your palms, nails pressing into your skin. You hate how easily he gets under it, how easily he pulls reactions from you without even trying. You want to jab at him — with something across the lines of ‘And I didn’t think you were the fathering type, being a pro hero and all’. But you settle for something milder, a comment on his dating life as well.

“I thought you were dating left and right though?”

“Yes but Amira never finds out” he argues “why would she know that you’re going on a date?”

Furiously you lean over to him, you hate him,M so bad, you could just…. Pour all that poisonous speech you’ve been suppressing over him. He does not tell you how to parent Amira, especially when he

“Ditched me and her to go be with your new girlfriend! I had to beg to get you to do this regularly! I’d rather she had a regular father! I wanna give that to her since you can’t!”

The words slip out before you can stop them. They’re harsher than you meant.

His face shifts—just slightly. A flicker of something behind his eyes. Annoyance? Guilt? You don’t know. He exhales through his nose, looking away for a moment before shaking his head.

“Low blow,” he mutters.

You don’t say anything for a while and it’s truly better— you’d rather avoid seeing him any time that you can.

So the silence is alright. It’s fine. Daunty!

Then Amira’s tiny footsteps come pattering back into the room, her teddy bear clutched tightly in her arms. She jumps onto Kirishima’s lap again like she belongs there, grinning up at him. “Got it, Daddy!”

And just like that, the moment of silence and intense awkward staring is gone.

You clear your throat, strolling around the kitchen to grab Amira’s things. Ever so reluctantly you hand them to Kirishima, who’s already up from the couch with your daughter in his arms. Like he’s scared to overstay his welcome now. 

Good.

“She’s got everything. Don’t be late on Sunday.”

Kirishima nods, adjusting Amira in his arms as he marches towards you. His expression is unreadable again, but there’s something about the way he glances at you before heading toward the door—like he wants to say something but thinks better of it.

“Bye Mommy” Amira says and you scooch over, to place a wet kiss on her cheek. 

“Bye baby, love you.” You wave “Bye Eijiro”

“S’yahhhh”

Only Amira keeps waving her hands enthusiastically. He doesn’t look at you. 

You don’t watch them leave. You just close the door behind them, press your forehead against it, and let out a slow, shaky breath.

You hear Kirishima’s footsteps fade down the hallway, followed by the soft jingle of Amira’s fuzzy keychain for her backpack. You don’t move from the door until you hear the front door to your apartment building shut.

[graceisinthelibrary]

No. 6 for the prompt?

I'm sorry this took a while, but work came in between me and my keyboard.

The prompt was "Food is burning on the stove" and I hope you like it!

She smelled it in her sleep. The awful stench reached her in the depths of her hectic dreams. She wrinkled her nose. Sneezed and found it hurt. Food was burning on the stove… but why? 

Audrey stirred and found her body was hurting too. So it wasn’t just her head and the smell… It wasn’t food. No one had invaded her kitchen, claiming the aga to cook something. Who would anyway? Helen was forbidden to get near the pots and the others only used it for heating water. 

As she opened her eyes, she groaned, because even moving her eyelids hurt. 

“There you are…” Mr Farnon’s voice, calm and soothing as if he were talking to one of his patients, reached her through the fog that refused to leave her brain. She blinked and frowned. He was closer than she had expected. His hand touched her forehand and his blurry face smiled at her. “How are you feeling?” 

“Did a house hit me head?” 

“I’m afraid it was a plane,” he quipped, trying to sound funny. However, it made no sense, he didn’t make sense. With her eyes closed again, she tried to unravel the mystery of his words and went back to the day before…or whatever day it had been. As the realisation that she didn’t know what time or day it was, dawned on her, she suddenly felt scared. What happened? 

“Mr Farnon…” 

“I’m here.” But why? Was he watching her, perhaps guarding her? 

“Drink something. You must be thirsty.” 

Her throat ached indeed. It was raw, soar, and as she swallowed the cold water, administered by him with loving care ran down her throat, it felt soothing. Fighting the urge to sink back in her pillow, she struggled to sit up and leaned against the head of her bed. Siegfried pushed a pillow into her back to make her more comfortable. Her vision became clearer, revealing that she was in her room at Skeldale. Rain was hitting the window. The clock on her bedside table said it was late afternoon. Now that she was sitting upright and the fog in her brain slowly vanished she noticed that it wasn’t food that was burning somewhere. 

“Why does my hair smell like smoke?”  

“Can’t you remember?” 

“I think I were out with Mr Bosworth…” It had been dark, rainy, a typical spring night in the Dales, and she had been in a horrible mood to be out in a muddy field when at home a pleasant fire and a sherry were waiting for her.

“A plane had crashed on the field,” Siegfried reminded her. “You had to go out to evaluate the situation.” 

“You were angry with me…” she disclosed. “We argued about it…” It hadn’t even been her shift and Bosworth’s eager insistence she should assist him had led to an argument with Siegfried. 

Gradually it all came back and the memory took her breath away. They had never argued like this before. Usually they resolved their conflicts with banter, with respect but that evening the atmosphere had been anything but playful. Of course, she had known his protest for going out in the middle of the night to a crash site had come from a place of worry. Yet, what he had voiced were his usual complaints about her never being at home… he had told her she was neglecting her duties and, worst of all, Jimmy. Helen and James had been at the Drovers, which had left Siegfried alone with the toddler who was fast asleep. Siegfried was perfectly able to look after the boy who once he was asleep rarely woke up and she had told him just that. 

Annoyed, she had to go with Bosworth and as a result missed out on a quiet evening by his side, she had shot back that he was a spoiled old man who couldn’t adjust and was just thinking about his own comfort. She had stormed out of the house and Bosworth had picked her up. 

The plane, as it had become clear soon, hadn’t been German. The debris had been cluttered all over the field, the tailpiece had been on fire. The pilot had still been sitting in the cockpit, covered in blood, but still alive and conscious. Audrey had talked to him, trying to unfasten his seat belt, but the mechanism was stuck. That’s why he couldn’t bail out in the first place. Feeling Bosworth would be useless for the task of getting the soldier out, she had ordered him to rush off to the next farmhouse to use the telephone. They needed the cavalry and fast… what had happened then? 

“I think there were a small fire…” She looked at Siegfried, hoping he could fill in the gaps. 

“There was. A fire and an explosion. I don’t know how, but you managed to get out the pilot. You dragged him across the field into a ditch, and then the fire reached the tank. You were lucky.” The last three words stumbled from his lips. His voice broke as he lowered his head and hid his face in her blanket. His shoulders were shaking as he sobbed into her bedlinen and she placed her hand on the back of his head and caressed it. 

“Oh Siegfried, I’m sorry…” She whispered. The details of the night were still hidden in a mist. But the smell of her hair, the smoke consisting of kerosene and mud helped to put the pieces back together. 

Somehow she had cut the seat belt with a pocket knife Siegfried had given her after she had taken on the warden job. It had come in very handy and apparently it had saved the pilot and her own life. 

“Whatever for?” He asked, lifting his head. He wiped his face with the back of his hand. 

“I were mean….before I left. But I was so angry for having to go out…and you were…” 

“Selfish? Degrading? Abhorrent?” 

“I dismissed your worry…and I were wrong.” Obviously, she had. Her lying in bed with her body protesting against every move, proved she had misjudged the situation. She had never been in a more dangerous situation, not even during the Great War. 

“I was scared to lose you and when the phone rang I knew it wasn’t Rudd’s bloody sow who needed help…” He chuckled, but new tears streamed over his face and she reached out to touch his cheek. She gently caressed his beard, found it much softer than she had imagined it. Then she snatched a hanky from the drawer and gave it to him. 

“I never meant to scare you.” 

“Never mind me,” he replied after he had blown his nose. “I was selfish and abhorrent while you saved a man’s life. Bosworth wants to put you forward for a commendation. If he had a say in the matter, you would receive an OBE.” It was the first time he smiled. 

“He’s so daft,” she said and the chuckle hurt her chest. She coughed. 

“You inhaled a lot of smoke… and something hit your head when the plane went off.” 

“I was lucky,” she repeated his earlier words. 

“I was lucky,” he said and grasped her hand. “I got you back in one piece.” 

“You took me in when I needed a home, don’t you think you’ll get rid of me so easily now,” she joked, hoping to make him smile. She succeeded and lovingly stared at the wrinkles around his brown eyes, wondering if they had become deeper overnight. “I’ll always come back to you,” she added, more serious this time. “Always.” Their eyes locked and he led her hand to his lips. 

“And if not it’ll be the end of me.” 

“There are much easier ways to say ‘I love you’,” she pointed out, squeezing his fingers. 

“I love you,” he whispered and leant in. His eyes, asking for permission, rested on her mouth. Her lips parted and she met him in a soft kiss. They took it slowly, explored, gauged, cherished this moment of truth and commitment. 

“I love you, too,” she mumbled against his lips, her eyes filled with happy tears, and her headache seemed gone. She felt light like a feather and kissed him again, this time deeper and longer. 

Lost in each other they didn’t hear the knock at her door or how Helen opened it. Jimmy, now walking, giggled as he stepped in and Helen gasped as Siegfried and Audrey broke apart. 

“His Lordship has arrived,” Audrey chuckled and Siegfried moved aside to allow Jimmy a good look at his Godaunt. 

“We can come back later,” Helen offered as Jimmy tore himself loose from her and ran over to Audrey. 

“Or you could discreetly vanish and bring us a cup of tea and something for little Jimmy here,” Siegfried suggested instead and heaved Jimmy onto the bed. 

“Alright…” A little wary Helen nodded and decided to do as asked. She would reserve her questions for later. 

[mizuena-dreams]

Puella Magi at 25:00

Or, a Puella Magi au for N25 that’s been bouncing around my head for a while.

Kanade - a Puella Magi who wished for her father to live. Notably fragile in combat, she tends to fight from a distance and relies heavily on her healing magic to keep going. She is the founder of the Nightcord Puella Magi group. Her weapon is a slingshot, though she struggles to aim with it accurately.

Witch Form: Für Elise, the composer witch with a dedicated nature. Hoping to save someone she lost, she sings writes and conducts endless songs in her labyrinth. Caught up in her music, she often forgets to defend herself; as such, one could easily defeat her by letting her song continue too long and striking at the right time.

Mafuyu - the seemingly perfect Puella Magi who has been fighting for longer than anyone is aware of. Made a wish long ago for a purpose in life; now, she spends her nights protecting people from the witches in her city. Her magic focuses on buffing her combat skills, but there are rumours that she can also access snow and ice magic. Her weapon is a long bow.

Witch Form: Punch Judy, the marionette witch with an empty nature. This witch does nothing for herself; her familiars jerk her around on strings, forcing her to play along with their whims. Left to her own devices, she would not even move. If one cuts the strings that hold her up, she will clatter away into nothingness.

Ena - a notorious prickly Puella Magi whose one wish was for her art to be admired. Unfortunately, the granting of such wish left much to be desired as the one person who she wanted to look never did. As a result, she is stuck fighting witches and trying her best to maintain her artistry. While her usual weapon is a mace, she also the ability to conjure up anything she can think of in the moment.

Witch form: Jonquil, the self-portrait artist witch with a needy nature. “Look at me, look at me!” the witch cries; desperate for attention, she sends images of herself outside into the human world, but no one ever looks. To defeat her, simply bring a picture of a cat that has more likes than her latest offering.

Mizuki - a vibrant Puella Magi who, despite her friendliness, fought alone until she befriended Ena. Her wish is a secret to never be discovered, but she still worries about the others finding out. Leans heavily into the magical girl aesthetic, to the point where one wonders if she takes it seriously at all. Her magic involves illusions that she can turn into solid walls to defend herself, and she fights with a naginata.

Witch form: Lili, the croquis witch with an avoidant nature. Hopelessly enthralled with all things cute, this witch adorns herself with accessories as to hide and express herself - it is rumoured that no one has seen her true appearance and lived. Though she cares deeply about her appearance, she abhors mirrors. To defeat her, simply claim to know her secret, and she will flee.

[shorthaltsjester]

Imogen Temult, Exaltant Hope of the Red Storm

Heroes and Monsters by Penny & Sparrow // Critical Role Campaign 3

[freakinator]

vagueing but i think certain ppl need to realize that you can be both manipulative And traumatized 😭

[vaguely-concerned]

I've been trying to figure out a dynamic between neve and rye that I find more compelling, because right now there's not much of anything there for me to sink my little teeth into. but I think I've landed on something delicious with the idea that especially after minrathous gets fucked, rye looks at neve and sees myrna -- someone he feels he keeps letting down horribly no matter how hard he tries not to and can't quite achieve the approval of/connection with that he wishes so it's better to just pull away completely and disengage rather than stay in that unshifting shame. neve is (very understandably) measured and distant with him after what happened, and he's flashing back to his student days of myrna gazing at the perpetually hungover heartbroken heap of a person of him on the other side of her desk every time he missed the deadline of a paper or project like '...can we at least both agree that this is. a bit disappointing. especially considering your potential.' (and him all smudged black eyeshadow and numb ruefulness being like 'sure that's a very kind way to put it myrna thank you'.)

aside from the 'if I let him get too deeply into this he'll go the way of brom and it'll be all my fault (again)' element, neve thinks rye is dismissing her and her city/being a bit callous in the same way he was after varric's death (listen. how fucking wild must rook's reaction to losing a beloved mentor seem to the rest of the crew who aren't seeing the blood magic paper doll ghost varric the whole time, especially those who got to see them interact. you WOULD think 'there's something wrong with this guy. putting the job first is one thing just not seeming to react at all is another this is fucking freaky', wouldn't you, especially after seeing the warmth in that dynamic in action beforehand.) perfect storm of two people who grit their teeth and turn inwards in pain deciding that not talking about it is their best bet (NEWSFLASH: IT ISN'T) lmao

(rye spent his last year of watcher training on a mostly joyless bender and then got it together enough to finish the eternal orb project last moment in a fevered near-sleepless week instead of the half a year that was intended. emmrich is both astounded and distressed to hear this. "a week? but -- but that is an astounding accomplishment rook!! and also why in the maker's good light would you ever do that to yourself?" ("well you see there was no one to stop me from doing it like that but me. and under those conditions these things tend to happen".) rye was working through/looking up stuff around transitioning and doing every kind of OTHER high level watcher research through that whole time, but ultimately he's an excellent watcher and a terrible student, at least under traditional methods. adhd from here to the fucking moon. touched by something akin to divine inspiration in moments of high tension that pulls all the threads into one coherent unbreakable cord, a bit of a frayed mess in most other settings. in our world he'd be dropping out of a masters program at the very last hurdle in this moment maker bless and protect him)

[maxgicalgirl]

I’m not going to lie I’m like really stuck and don’t know what to do with my feelings about All Of This. I dont have therapy until next week and they don’t have space to move me up and I dont really have anyone else to talk through how I feel ? I dont know what to do.

[glindyupland]

I just think it’s silly that so many people complain about Villain Amaya as “wasted potential” and that “we were robbed” like-

My pals, post canon fan fiction is right there. The desire to free her husband is right there. Either by touching an evil book while being too eager to remember the obsidian oil, or being possessed by contact (ie what she believes is true loves kiss) when trying to reason with him in the dungeon.

We don’t need a rewrite, we can have a continuation. Both can be true. Amaya is a complex character, she can handle it.

[wishesofeternity]

"Antiochos’ and Stratonike’s activities in the eastern part of the [Seleukid] empire are largely shrouded in mystery, but, as Engels has argued, Antiochos was far from idle since he embarked on a large building programme and was active in securing the frontier. There is some evidence to suggest that his new bride accompanied him for much of this period. We can perhaps identify Stratonike’s presence with her new husband in the Upper Satrapies through the gold coinage minted in Susa and Baktria in c . 287. The two gold coin sets are of the same type, the obverse features the laureate head of Apollo facing right and the reverse features Artemis in an elephant biga facing left with the legend ΒΑΣΙΛΕΩΣ ΣΕΛΕΥΚΟΥ in exergue.

Figure 1: Coin of Seleukos I from Baktria Depicting Apollo on the Obverse and Artemis with Elephant Biga on the Reverse (Houghton and Lorber 2002, SC I no. 163).

Figure 2: Coin of Seleukos I from Baktria Depicting Apollo on the Obverse and Artemis with Elephant Biga on the Reverse (Houghton and Lorber 2002, SC I no. 257).

The reverse image of Artemis in the elephant biga is within the same design type as a large range of other coinage issued by Seleukos I celebrating the success of his elephants and thus his eastern campaigns. The appearance of Artemis is however unique to these coin types. This suggests the emphasis on the close links between the twin gods, Artemis and Apollo, depicted on the obverse and reverse of this coinage . Since there appears to be as a close link between Apollo and Antiochos as there is between Zeus and Seleukos, the presence of Artemis could be seen as a symbol for Stratonike. This would create a series of parallels: Seleukos/Zeus, Antiochos/Apollo, and Stratonike/Artemis. The first two reflect what we see for these two kings at the list of priests of Seleukid kings in Seleukeia in Pieria . Additionally, it may be notable that the sister-wife ideology [...] appears to be evident later in the reign of Antiochos.

As all of the Apollo/Artemis cointypes were produced on high value gold coinage, this suggests that it was issued in order to commemorate a significant event. While the type was similar to other Seleukid coinage, the shift from Athena to Artemis was clearly discernible and unique. The arrival of the new joint-King and Queen in the region to take up residence would have been a suitable moment for the issuing of the new coin type. This advertisement of their new rule certainly falls in line with Seleukos’ wedding speech which confirmed their new roles."

-David Engels & Kyle Erickson, "Apama and Stratonike – Marriage and Legitimacy", "Seleukid Royal Women" (edited by Edited by Altay Coşkun and Alex McAuley). The pictures of the coins are screenshots from the book.

[fuzzbuns]

Arlecchino discourse is really awkward because both sides are so convinced they are right and that the other side just lacks media literacy but 9 times out of 10 the take in question is also wrong and it leaves me scratching my head a little bit….

[poughkeepsies]

my hospice assignment is truly a test from some higher power cause for an entire year i have to show up there for two hours every week and listen to this caregiver conversationally say the most insane off the wall shit and not open my mouth to respond

[starry-eyer]

i see anti-jonerys

i block

[viksalos]

it's like actually hilarious that now that i'm learning to communicate with my graduate advisor, *she's* actually better at figuring out when i'm struggling mentally and helping me to calm down and find support, than certain "friends" who now seem to be threatened by my increased self-awareness and expertise on certain topics to the point that when i COME TO THEM struggling and asking for help, they fixate on their own insecurities and berate me for it rather than... fucking helping me or anything

[jentlemahae]

-