#look it took me all week to play with this but it was super worth it

[azuhrasims]

@ice-creamforbreakfast and @surely-sims nailed it so hard on their CC collab, the Poppy Set!

Mrs. Mary Margaret Infamy knew instantly that this set was made for her. This is the kind of set that makes Mary Margaret go out and pose on a beach with her cat eye glasses (also by ICB), and her Testpa (by Surelysims), in all of her vintage postcard glory.

After all of that hard work, she went home to smoke a few dozen more packs of cigarettes and scroll her favorite social media influencer, Trashleen.

(If you saw me swap out a vertical picture and insert a horizontal one, no you didn't! Okay, you did, I just can't make up my mind on which formatted better. Then I added the not-so-secret BONUS (is it really?) sexy at home Mary Margaret with her fluffy robe, fluffy shoes, fluffy bear rug, and homemade curlers by @peachibunnii )

[kannouo]

Ticklish?

fandom: obey me pairing: demon brothers & dateables x gn!reader warnings: suggestive on asmo's part summary: in which they find out you are ticklish. prompt by anon: The brothers + dateables reaction to the MC being ticklish because ik most of them are menaces about it A/N: lol rest in peace. good fucking luck mc. also i swear to god i know there's more to satan's character than his love of cats it just fits guys pls forgive me

LUCIFER

• Lucifer likes to appear as this super-serious macho man figure who, although he has his moments of going along with his siblings' antics, isn't a very playful guy. He's unlikely to find this out because he was trying to tickle you. Rather, it'd be by complete coincidence.

• When he offered to teach you to dance in the privacy of his room as classical music played in the background, you weren't expecting his hand on your waist to bother you as much as it did. Try as you might, you can't hide from him how you're biting your lip and stifling a giggle.

• "Is something funny to you?" He asks, unamused. You shake your head.

• "No, sorry. It just... tickles a bit."

• The only reaction you get in the moment is a hum and a nod. You're admittedly a little suspicious, but mostly grateful the dance lesson continued normally until you were able to return to your room.

• He's so unbothered by this new information, in fact, that you may even dare to think he'd all but forgotten about it when a few weeks pass by. Little did you know, he remembered. He was just storing it away for later use.

• Even the student council's representative of the human world was not immune to falling into Satan and Belphie's schemes, it seemed. After a failed attempt to capture a pic of a sleeping Lucifer, you find yourself trapped between him and the wall as he looms over you. You desperately hope that, just maybe, Satan or Belphie would come to your rescue — but alas, you had been left abandoned in the lions' den.

• "Bold of you to attempt to sneak up on me in such a vulnerable state," he clicked his tongue, agitated. "I'd assume you would know better by now."

• "I'm sorry, I—"

• "'Sorry'? Yes, you will be." He closed in on you.

• The shrieks that emanated from Lucifer's room that night could only be described as unholy as he unleashed his brand-new punishment on you. Out of everyone in the House of Lamentation, you hadn't expected the mighty first-born to be the one to tickle you half to death, but it was effective. If that was what was waiting for you, you were more than willing to give Satan and Belphie the cold shoulder the next time they suggested a new, ingenious prank to play on Lucifer. Sorry guys. It's not worth it.

"Come on, MC, this'll be our best work yet," Satan trails after you you down the hallway, clearly not keen on letting the matter go. He had taken the liberty of convincing you of the Anti-Lucifer League's newest escapade, as Belphie apparently refuses to be of any help. "We've planned it all out. It won't go wrong this time. I swear." You turn to look at Satan, catching a glimpse of Lucifer a short distance away over the fourth-born's shoulder. All it took was a knowing smirk and a mildly threatening gesture with his hands for you to turn pale. "MC?" "...I'm good, Satan, thanks."

MAMMON

• Unlike his older brother — Mammon would absolutely find this out on purpose.

• He's the spiritual eldest when it comes to playing around with his siblings, so he's experienced in tickle-fighting. You, unfortunately, only realised this while wrestling with him, when he suddenly starts tickling your sides to gain the upper-hand. It works, and now you're flailing around beneath him.

• "Hah! Take that!" You hear him laugh triumphantly above you as you struggle to force his attacking hands away from you. "Ya give in?!"

• "Yeees! You win, you win!"

• After your rather humiliating fake-wrestling defeat, he only gets more annoying with abusing your weakness as the days go by. As he learns all of your worst spots, he gets more and more bold, until not one day can go by where you aren't tackled and tickled to tears by the Avatar of Greed.

• Eventually, you're going to have to set some ground rules with this guy, because he just will not stop. For weeks after that initial incident, you find yourself constantly on edge no matter where you are, because he could be anywhere. Just planning the next tickle.

• Sure, it can be fun at first, but he always manages to take his play-fighting just a little too far. You don't have the same tolerance as his brothers, being a human and all, and he needs to remember that.

• Being tickled by Mammon is nowhere as unfair and torturous as it is with Lucifer though, mostly because unlike his older brother, Mammon is ticklish too. This means you can fight back and potentially even gain the upper-hand. It's unlikely you'll win in a chase, however — no matter if you're the one running or if he is — he's just too damn fast.

• He's the definition of being unable to take what he dishes out. Not only does he cry 'uncle' as soon as you land on a weak spot, but he'll be super pouty and embarrassed afterwards too. As if he wasn't the one who initiated it.

"Mammooon..." You poke his cheek, trying to provoke any sort of response. He huffs and turns his head away, but still doesn't say a word. "Mams... Babe..." "That ain't fair," he finally speaks, his cheeks tinging with red. "Ya can't call me that when I'm tryin' to be mad at ya." You can't help but smile at the demon before you. "I'm sorry for tickling you, Mammon." "Yeah? Well... I think I'm owed some compensation for that. 5,000 Grimm, at least!"

LEVIATHAN

• Levi wouldn't find this out on purpose. Or, rather, at all. At least not on his own.

• He freaks out and backs away every time his hand manages to accidentally brush against yours when he hands you something. He apologises profusely and feels like the absolute perverted scum of the earth when he happens to bump into you in the hallway. He refuses to hold hands with you beyond intertwining your pinkie fingers together, because anything more than that is too lewd for him.

• So yeah. He's not going to tickle you. Not even accidentally.

• He only ends up finding out when he catches you and Mammon having a tickle fight in the living room one day, to which he promptly leaves before either of you can notice him. Both to quell the jealousy bubbling in his chest, and to avoid Mammon roping him into his shenanigans.

• After that, he... does nothing, really.

• See, here's an interesting fact about the Avatar of Envy: He's ticklish too. Very ticklish. And his siblings, especially Mammon, tease him for it all the time. He absolutely hates it and it's just not funny to him. So even if he was able to touch you without taking 6000 points of damage to his psyche, he still wouldn't tickle you, because he understands how it feels.

• Instead, you could say that you two form an alliance of sorts. You defend him when one of his brothers (MAMMON) starts chasing him — using your pact if you have to — and he allows you safe refuge in his room if somebody is after you. His door has a lock on it after all, and knowing the consequences of trying to force their way inside the resident hermit's safe abode, your pursuer is unlikely to look for you in there.

• He might make fun of you a little for it, but that's the most he'll do. He won't lay a finger on you. Good guy Leviathan.

You restlessly chap on Levi's door, moving back and forth on your toes as you desperately hope for him to let you in. The seconds count down before your attacker will find you, when finally... Click. The door unlocks and you grab the handle, swinging it open and nearly hitting Levi in the face in the process. "Sorry, sorry!" You profusely whisper-yell apologies as you shut the door behind you. He locks it, and you can finally breathe a sigh of relief. "Thank you... You saved me..." Levi's cheeks burn red at your words. "Y—yeah, well... don't make a big deal out of it, normie. If you're staying in my room, then you're playing games with me too while you're here, okay? So... make yourself useful or I'll kick you back out!"

SATAN

• Maybe this is just me, but have you ever had a cat on your lap that just won't stop moving around and it sort of tickles? Yeah.

• A simple date to a cat café went from good, to better, then to worse in a very short span of time. Most of the kitties were awake and lively, wandering around and allowing you to pet them. So when one of the cats jumped up on your lap, both you and Satan were ecstatic, cooing endlessly at the little ball of fur that had made itself at home on your legs.

• The only problem was, the cat seemed to be unable to find a comfortable spot. You were trying to stay still, you really were, but the cat's paws constantly moving against your thighs made you really need to move around in your seat. Satan noticed how you had to force yourself to stay put by gripping onto the table in front of you, and he also noticed how you were biting the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling like an idiot, but he didn't say anything at first.

• The first time Satan tickles you, it comes completely out of nowhere. To you, at least. Some exams were coming up and you agreed to let him tutor you, but the material was just so boring, and Satan's delivery of it certainly wasn't helping to keep you engaged...

• You were abruptly brought back to reality by a sharp jab to your side. You jumped and looked around, as if searching for the culprit, only to see Satan, with his eyes narrowed at you. "Pay attention."

• "I was!"

• "No you weren't," he poked you once in the side for each word to enunciate his sentence, and then grabbed you by the waist to prevent you from escaping. "Are you going to listen to me now?"

• "Ye-ees!"

• "Are you sure?"

• Satan's kind of a dick about it, to be honest. He'll tickle you to convince you to do things with him. You don't want to partake in his newest prank against Lucifer? Uh... yes you do, remember?

• He's also a hypocrite. He is ticklish but he hates it just as much — if not more — than Levi. So if you do it back to him, he'll shove you off or yell at you.

"Fi—fine! Fine!" You yell, and Satan's attack on your sides ceases. He looks down at you with an eyebrow raised. "You'll do it?" "Yes!" You nod furiously. If getting him to stop meant agreeing to prank call Lucifer, you suppose you'll just have to do it. "Now get off!" "Good," he smiled and moved off of you from where he had you pinned. "Now, about the plan I had prepared..."

ASMODEUS

• ...You know the deal. There is going to be a struggle keeping these headcanons SFW.

• He can find out one of two ways: the first being that he was doing your makeup and somehow found out by brushing too close to your neck or jawline, the second being that you two were leading up to... other activites.

• We'll be going with the former for my own sake lol. He realises what your reaction was for after the first time you tilt your head away from him, and can't help but tease you for it right away.

• "Oh darling, how did I not know this before? Are you keeping secrets from me? ♡"

• Somehow, Asmo ends up being one of the worst for how he takes advantage of this. He will tickle you anywhere at any time and for any reason.

• If he thinks you're not paying enough attention to him, he'll tickle you so you're forced to focus on him. If he sees you using makeup wipes on your poor, delicate skin, he'll tickle you as a "warning" to never do that again. Eventually he just starts making up reasons.

• You can tickle him back, but he enjoys it and will try to use it to lead into sex. So, unfortunately, that won't work to dissuade him.

• Don't think for a moment he's embarrassed or ashamed of his behaviour in public settings, because he isn't. He has no qualms with tickling you in a restaurant with strangers around, and doesn't care how much attention you end up attracting. It's hell.

• He's another boy you're going to have to set boundaries with at some point just because of how frequent it is. The tipping point came when he squeezed your leg in the middle of a student council meeting and you hit your knee so hard on the table you were convinced you broke something.

• He'll back off if you tell him to. You just need to actually tell him to, otherwise he won't realise how much it bothers you.

"Oh, sweetie, I'm sorry..." Asmo pouts as he gently rubs your aching knee. "I didn't realise you'd react like that." You huff and turn your head away from him. "Don't turn this on me." "I'm not!" He shakes his head and leans forward to look you in the eye. "I swear! I just didn't know that'd happen. Can you forgive me, honey? I promise you I won't do it again. I can't have you bruising that beautiful skin because of me..."

BEELZEBUB

• Beel, similar to Levi, isn't likely to find out on his own. For different reasons, though.

• Beel isn't afraid of physical touch, but he is scared of hurting you. He's so big and you're so small. He's fully aware of his strength, and even if he has good control over it, he tends to treat you like how one would handle a delicate China plate. It's not that he doesn't touch you at all, but he's so careful when he does that he probably won't even unintentionally find out that you're ticklish.

• The only way he'd find out is if he stumbled across you in the midst of a (usually very one-sided) tickle fight with one of his brothers. In which case, he will usually step in to save you.

• As the second-youngest, he's used to being teased in a similar manner by his older siblings. So if he sees you pinned down, he'll intervene so you can catch your breath and get away.

• If you run to him for protection, much like Levi, he'll take you back to his room and won't let anyone else except Belphie inside until it's safe to assume whoever was after you has given up. You don't have to, but if you thank him by bringing him a few snacks from the fridge later, he'll be happy.

• Such a sweetheart and probably won't ever tickle you. He really doesn't want to upset you.

• The only time I can see him tickling you is if you're having a bad day and he decides you need cheering up. He'll be sat next to you, staring intently at your frowning face as the gears turn in his head. He doesn't know what your day was like or why you're so peeved, but he knows he wants to see you smile again.

• He'll scoot closer, trap you in a hug with one arm and use his free hand to (very carefully) tickle you until you give in. He'll apologise, but as long as that smile is back on your face, he's satisfied.

• "Do you feel better?" He asks, a sweet smile on his face as he pats your head. And you have to admit, you do.

You could swear you saw Beel's eyes sparkle as you offered him the box of chocolates in your hands. You were saving them to eat yourself at some point, but... seeing as Beel valiantly defended you from Asmo earlier, you figure he at least deserves this. He manages to pry his eyes away from the chocolates to look at you. "...Why?" "Because you saved me from Asmo earlier," you explain and hold the box of chocolates closer to him, urging him to take them. "This is my 'thank you'." Finally, he takes the box from you. "...You didn't have to." Despite his words, he opens the lid and starts devouring the chocolates inside so quickly that you don't even have time to remind him to take the wrappers off.

BELPHEGOR

• There are a few scenes in-game where he tickles or tries to tickle the MC, so yes, he'd absolutely find out very quickly.

• Belphie is not only a little shit — he's also spoiled and likes getting his way. So, like Satan, he'll tickle you to convince you of things. Usually it's when he doesn't feel like doing dinner duty or cleaning his room, or if he can tell you're hiding something from him.

• The first time he tickles you, it's because he had an assignment due the next morning. One he had procrastinated on for weeks. You had reminded him time and time again to start working on it as the deadline approached, but he ignored you, and the situation he's in now is, quite frankly, his own fault. So even as he whines to you about how sleepy he is and tries to butter you up so you'll do it for him, you don't give in.

• That is, until he has an idea. With an exaggerated pout on his face, he moved up behind you and wrapped his arms around you in a hug, lazily slumping against your back. Just as you were about to scold him, you felt him start to ruthlessly tickle your sides.

• With his body weight on you, there was little you could do. And even as you fell to the ground, he simply followed you, taunting and teasing you the whole time. When he thinks you've had enough, he hovers above you with a smirk on his face.

• "So? Do you feel like doing it now?"

• Little fucker. He cuddles with you later to "thank" you, but you're still salty about it.

• Like most others on this list, you can get him back. He's the baby of the family so of course he's ticklish. Expect him to use dirty tricks to win any tickle fight you initiate, however. Like "giving in" only to immediately attack once you stop, or using the fluffy end of his tail to catch you by surprise.

• Beel tends to come to his rescue a lot as well, so beware of that.

"I—I give! I giiive!" You smirk in triumph as the youngest demon brother surrenders beneath you, and you let up your tickling assault. You roll off of him, fixing your ruffled hair. "See? That's what happens when you challenge me," with your back turned, you're too busy congratulating yourself to notice Belphie slowly sitting up behind you. "Anyway, you need to— AH—!" You shriek as you're tackled down to the bed again, cursing as Belphie grins down at you, his eyes gleaming with a sadistic light. "Belphie! That's cheatING—!!" And so, it starts again.

DIAVOLO

• Diavolo likely finds out in a similar fashion to Lucifer. Only it might be at a ball rather than in a secluded area.

• He's confused at first. He knows what tickling is, but being extremely sheltered, he's never received much affection like that in his life. As a result, it takes him a moment to put the pieces together. Once he does, he smiles fondly down at you and apologises, and that is that.

• ...For now.

• What he didn't show right away was just how giddy this discovery made him. What an adorable trait to have! And one he had to see more of. He'd missed out on tickle fights his whole life — he had to wonder what they were like?

• He made a mental note to experiment with this information the next time you came around to the palace. And that he did.

• Literally yells "tickle fight!" before pulling you close and going to town. You have to yell for him to be gentler, because inexperienced as he is, what should tickle actually kind of hurts at first.

• "Ah, I'm so, so sorry," he relaxes his fingers a little, no longer digging into your skin. "Is this any better? My sincere apologies."

• His apology would seem a lot more genuine if he didn't continue to tickle you while saying it.

• That, and he doesn't quite understand the concept of a tickle fight. What he's doing to you is more like a tickle beat-down. It's so one-sided it's almost comical. Unable to fight back or escape, Barbatos has to come and tell him to stop before you piss yourself.

• This was fun! He decides completely on his own. We should do this more often! He says, as you are gasping for breath on the fucking ground.

• After this first experience, he incorporates more minor tickling into your daily lives. Instead of trapping you like the first time, he'll sneakily poke you while walking by, and then look back at you with a wave and a completely innocent smile on his face.

"MC? Apologies, you seem to be in the middle of something. It won't take long," Diavolo smiles as he enters the empty student council hall. Indeed, you are in the middle of sorting some letters, but it isn't as if you can deny an audience to the Demon King. "I have a question for you. It appears... as if you've been avoiding me lately. Why is that?" You blink, trying to discern if he was serious. The look on his face said yes, he was. "...Diavolo, whenever we sit next to each other, you keep reaching over to tickle me." He meets you with a surprised expression as if this is somehow news to him. "I did not know it was such a problem," He confesses. "Very well, then. I'll stop. If I do, will you start sitting beside me again? I quite miss it."

BARBATOS

• He already knew. Lol.

• He officially "finds out" for the first time when he just happens to walk in on Diavolo tickling you half to death and saves you from his grasp. In reality, he already knew this was going to happen and planned to show up just in time to clean you off of the floor once Diavolo had his fun.

• You're thankful he showed up, though. If not for the fact he rescued you, then for the tea he served you afterwards to ensure you wouldn't have had an entirely terrible experience that day.

• As for what he does with this information? Well, not much. At least, it doesn't seem like it to you.

• Barbatos knows how to be sneaky with how he uses this to hear you laugh throughout the day. He'll brush his hand against your skin while reaching for something, "accidentally" touch your back and make you jump while walking by you, and it will always seem unintentional. At first, that is.

• Red flags start to raise when these accidents seem to happen multiple times, every single time you're around him. He knows when you're starting to get suspicious too, and that's around the point he stops even trying to pretend like it isn't intentional. He'll keep doing it, but flash you an infuriating, coy smile after each time.

• Now it's war.

• If this is the game he's playing, you might as well participate.

• The only problem being... it's Barbatos. He knows when you're planning something and exactly how you're going to execute it. You can't even land a hand on the bastard.

• And even if you did somehow manage to (AKA he lets you), you genuinely have no idea if he's even ticklish. He won't react to anything you do to him, but he also won't give you a straight answer if you bluntly ask him if he's ticklish or not. He just looks at you with that signature poker-faced smile. And with that, he turns and walks away. YOU NEED ANSWERS.

• Eventually you become convinced that he isn't actually ticklish at all, but he lets you think he could be because he enjoys seeing you so determined to catch him off-guard.

"B—Barbatos!" You jerk your body away as his hand "somehow" manages to pinch your side while reaching for the utensils drawer next to you. He smiles. "My apologies, it was an accident." He says, and you call bullshit right away. With a newfound desire for revenge, you latch onto his side and start to tickle, but frown when he doesn't react at all. In fact, he simply opens the drawer and takes out a few of the cutlery inside like he initially intended to do, as if you aren't even there. He meets your eye with another, slightly more amused smile, before turning and leaving the room. You stand there, dumbfounded. Though... you could've sworn you saw him flinch a little when you first touched him.

SIMEON

• Simeon is also ticklish and is another example of someone who knows how it feels. He's not likely to tickle you often.

• That's not to say he doesn't find it amusing or cute — he absolutely does — but his first thought when the back rubs he gave you with the intention of being soothing turned ticklish wasn't that he should take advantage of it, rather that it's just something new he now knows about you.

• Simeon won't ever intentionally tickle you because it's, well, mean. He'll only do it if he gets "permission", meaning if you do it to him first.

• He enjoys seeing you smile and laugh, but he doesn't ever want to go too far. Most of the tickle fights you initiate are won by him — don't let his appearance and sweetness fool you, he's still much stronger than you are — but they also don't last long. He'll stop, apologise, and offer to make up for it with anything you want.

• "Sorry, sorry," Simeon smiles as he helps you back to your feet, brushing your hair out of your face. "Are you alright? Come on, let's sit down together. No more tickling, though."

• He... tries to be a protector of sorts if Solomon or anyone else is after you. I can't say it works out well for him though, and whoever was after you just ends up with two victims instead of one.

• Bless him for trying. At least you're not suffering alone.

• When you come around to Purgatory Hall, depending on your friendship with Luke, you two may have playful tickle wars that go on. He won't interfere, but Luke does tend to use Simeon as a shield or claims that you're "bullying" him. Simeon never takes it too seriously and you can usually continue your playful tickle-attack uninhibited.

You lay, breathless and sweaty on the floor. You stare up at the ceiling as you pant for air and slowly sit up, wiping at your forehead. You turn to the man sprawled out on the floor right next to you, the both of you having just endured the same tickle-attack by Solomon. "...Are you alright?" Simeon slowly turns his head to look at you and meets you with an exhausted smile. "Yeah, I'm fine... you?" "...Yeah." You sigh. Silence fills the air for a moment, interrupted only by your heavy breathing. "...Wanna get him back?" As angelic as Simeon still is... even he can't refuse that offer.

SOLOMON

• This shady sorcerer absolutely finds out on purpose.

• After one too many times where you've outright banned him from the kitchen to prevent some kind of national tragedy, he decides he's owed some kind of penance. So the one time you allow him in the kitchen while you cook — under strict supervision — he sneaks up behind you and...

• "Solomon!" You squeal, nearly dropping the ingredients in your hands as he hugs you from behind and uses the position to start furiously tickling you.

• "What? Why are you laughing?" He asks cheekily. "You better be careful. You don't want to ruin dinner, right?"

• After the first incident, it gets much, much worse.

• He'll tickle you at any time, anywhere, whenever he feels like it. It doesn't matter how busy you are or how important what you're working on is, he will interrupt you out of nowhere to tickle you until he's satisfied. Prick.

• He thinks it's funny to tickle you in inconvenient or inappropriate settings, too. If you're sat in front of or next to him in class, you can expect him to start repeatedly poking you or enchanting a few items to tickle you as you desperately try to hold back any reactions because then you'll be the one embarrassing yourself.

• He's also ticklish, but will go to great lengths to avoid you ever figuring that out. Probably drinks some kind of potion that dulls his sensitivity before seeking you out to tickle you just in case you try to get revenge on him.

• Of course, you can still catch him when he's unprepared. And when you do, it's war.

• At least Purgatory Hall is never boring with you two around.

You stare down Solomon as you face one another at opposite ends of the dining table. He's grinning at you, and every now and again tries to rush over to where you are, at which point you circle the table to keep the distance. "You can't keep going forever." He taunts. "Watch me, motherfucker," you curse, but it's true. You're already out of breath. He tries to charge you again and you react quickly, hurrying back around to the other side of the table. Just as you do, however, he changes direction. You're unable to turn around in time and he catches you, damn near lifting you up into the air with how he grabs you. "Solomon! Stop it!" "You started it," he argues. "Now suffer the consequences."

[jamiebluewind]

Eclipse the kitten update

(please don't glitch tumblr it's the tenth time I've tried!!!)

Previous post

Welp! Winter's boy has a respiratory infection. It was causing him to wheeze so to the vet we went! Luckily it wasn't a diaphram issue (which had us worried because of his umbilical hernia). His hernia also came up normal on his x-rays.

(X-rays left out because might bother people, but I can send them on request)

He's on meds several times a day and taking them like a champ, but had to be put in a pen with limited free playtime (because nothing will stop Mr Indestructible from running around the house with all the grace of a car with no breaks). We DID get a reply after just a week from a really nice person who was going to give us one (shocked us let me tell ya because it was BIG dog sized). Unfortunately, they left it outside for us to pick up and someone else just... took it. Right out of their yard. And since all we had was a small cat carrier to keep him in (which was kinda cruel for more than a day or two tops), we ordered a cat playpen that we got for a decent price. We kept looking until it got here, but no luck. Still! It's a nice playpen and we have it set up so he doesn't have to jump if he doesn't want to (plus more vertical to enjoy later on). Sarah's mom also let us borrow her water fountain!

We went to a new vet as ours was booked up (and he had already been wheezing a day). Everyone basically fell in love with him instantly. He left with a little toy from the tech, they gave Winter a jar of honey (one of the people in the office has bees and they wanted to give her something for caring about a kitten that most wouldn't have despite him having a treatable condition), and they've been checking in on how he is recovering (very well since I first typed this actually). He's basically got an entire vet office wrapped around his little paw.

Also, the non-profit we're taking him to for his surgery had a cancelation and his got moved up to the 12th! Counting down the days yall.

Because I gotta kinda mention it, this hit us where it hurts. Between the vet visit and testing, the pen, and the estimated cost for the surgery and followup, it's gonna cost us more than $2k (as long as nothing ELSE goes wrong). We're lucky that we're all super careful with our money, but there's only so much we can save up with three people below the poverty line. Still worth it though. I mean, look at this doofus

He is so stubborn that we can't leave scratch posts upright because he keeps doing THIS! XD

I'm linking Winter's paypal, but I 1000% understand if you can't help out. Still, a reblog and a word or three mean a LOT to all of us so if you got a minute, I'd love some new post additions to show Winter.

(Truth be told, the only reason all the updates are posted on my tumblr is because I'm the longest winded out of the three of us and I take like 5 billion pictures. XD )

Speaking of, there WOULD be a bonus pic of him and his sister (Melanite, aka Miel) playing under my chair as my cat (Danny) looks on from a safe place, but tumblr kept glitching when I added it.

Edit: surgery update

[akookminsupporter]

ARE YOU SURE?!: SEVENTH EPISODE

MY IMPRESSIONS

Preface: This is not an analysis post, and honestly, I don’t want to overanalyse their interactions or everything they said and did—many others are already doing that. My intention with this post is simply to share my thoughts on the episodes, my impressions, and perhaps my conclusions.

I’m writing this as I watch the episodes for the second time.

Ah, I don’t want this to end! It feels like these 6 weeks flew by. 

Jungkook feeling hot in a cold place is so me. 

Jimin looks great with his natural hair colour. I like Jimin’s grey hair, but his natural colour will always be superior, especially with the length he had in this episode. 

Jimin and Jungkook trying to remember if Jimin had ever gone snowboarding with Jungkook before is funny because they were really trying to figure out if it was true, but at the same time, it shows just how many things they’ve done together that it’s natural for them to think snowboarding might have been one of them. 

Jungkook’s look of confusion when Jimin said he’d actually gone snowboarding with Jungkook’s friends, without Jungkook, is also funny. But also, Jimin went snowboarding with Jungkook’s friends—without Jungkook? And it's worth noting Jimin said “Jungkook’s friends”, not “our friends”. We know Jimin is close with several, if not all, of the 97-line members, but it’s nice to know they’re close enough to hang out without Jungkook. If Jimin was talking about those friends, of course.

I don’t know, but something tells me Jimin really likes ‘Standing Next to You’. Though I can’t be sure.  I also can’t be sure, but I have a hunch that Jimin really likes the song ‘Hate You’. Just a feeling. 

I don’t think there’s been an episode where I haven’t mentioned that Jungkook’s biggest ship is with food, hahaha. Why is Jimin always looking for Jungkook in supermarkets? Hahahaha. 

Jungkook being a bit baffled about why Jimin was listening to one of his best songs is honestly offensive, hahaha. Jimin’s slightly defensive reply about whether there was a problem with him listening to the song, and Jungkook’s equally defensive response just wanting to know why he was listening to it, is peak Jikook comedy. 

Look, I think every Jikooker out there has said a thousand times that the world needs an official song from Jimin and Jungkook. But seriously, the world needs an official song from Jimin and Jungkook. Their voices blend so well together. Their harmonisation is glorious, and their voices are differently similar—if that makes sense. They really should record a song or even an album together. 

That hotel is incredible. Someone invited me there. I love hearing Jimin and Jungkook speak in satoori. Honestly, that hotel room is amazing. It looks like an apartment. I can’t even imagine how much a night there costs. It’s moments like these that remind me that these guys are millionaires and their agency has loads of money too, haha. 

Of course, Jungkook cut his own hair. Of course, he did. That’s so Jungkook. Jin would be proud too, hahaha. The staff taking photos of Jungkook because he looked cute with his new haircut is just too cute, haha. In the photo the staffer took, Jungkook looked super young! The power of the bowl cut, hahaha. 

Okay but Jimin’s luck… something always seems to happen to him at every location on this show, hahaha. 

Was Jimin really the loser of that game considering he initially wanted to eat the gimbap? Also, when did Jungkook lose a game that he had to take a bite of the gimbap? 

ohh, didn’t Jungkook say in Connecticut that he wanted to play card games when they went to Jeju but they didn’t? Is that why he bought the stack of cards? I choose to believe that’s the reason. 

And then we get to them and their first… bath together. Jungkook started by asking if they were going to bathe there, and Jimin then said they should turn off the camera, which makes sense, but then, did they bathe together? I mean, actually, wash with soap and everything? Interesting. The camera is turned on who knows how many minutes or hours later, and you can see other products or bottles that weren’t there initially, as well as what I presume is a sweater...? After that, it’s just Jimin and Jungkook being Jimin and Jungkook. Those two are hilariously weird in the best possible way. 

Have I ever told you how much I love Jimin’s tattoos? Especially the ones on his back. 

Ah, Jungkook making sure Jimin felt the same cold breeze as him is just too cute. 

Look, I’ve seen a lot of people describe what happened in that bath—or whatever it was—as Jimin and Jungkook matching each other’s freak, but honestly, I’d describe it as men being men. It’s moments like these that remind me they’re just guys, hahaha. Only a guy would put themselves through that kind of torture for no reason. Yes, yes, I know there are supposed benefits to cold baths, but come on, they didn’t really need to do that. 

Okay, so apparently Jimin told Jungkook to hug him once so he could feel how cold it was. My question is, was that necessary? 

THE V! JIMIN’S V LINES! Oh my god. The V, the tattoos, the blonde hair. The man is the complete package. 

Seriously, guys. Men! 

Jungkook’s body is… WOW. He’s got a swimmer’s body. He’s muscular, low on fat, and still looks slim. With a very slim and enviable waist. It’s not fair. The guy has too many attributes already, hahaha. Jimin is a lighter version of Jungkook, but he also has muscles and those V lines—definitely worth mentioning. 

I don’t know if the staff could hear them, but what they “imagined” those guys were saying in the sauna seems pretty accurate, haha. 

Hey, Jimin said when they left the sauna that they should wash up before going to dinner, but didn’t they already do that when they turned off the cameras? I don’t understand.

Jimin and Jungkook suddenly trying to do the ‘Dynamite’ choreography makes total sense. It's Jikook after all.

Going to dinner in your pyjamas is the dream, hahaha. They really have the same sense of humour. They laugh at the tiniest things the other does, and you can tell they genuinely find it funny.

 Jimin and Jungkook basically travelled to three different places just to eat. There’s no better way to spend the agency’s money, hahaha. Good for them.

Something I’m still not sure about is whether Jungkook loved being in Sapporo. I don’t know, it didn’t seem like he mentioned it much in these two episodes. Let’s hope it’s clearer in the last one.

Maybe it’s just my imagination, but did Jimin drop a hint to Jungkook about giving him a massage, or did I put on my tinhat and miss it?

Jimin and Jungkook must be unbearable in private. Seriously, that’s something I’d love to see, them with their friends, without cameras. What are they like?

Okay, so Jimin first said he needed to brush his teeth, and then we see Jungkook with a toothbrush in his mouth saying ‘Come brush my teeth with me’. Did he say that to the camera, I mean, to us? But then suddenly Jimin appears. Where was he, on the floor? Jimin and I share the same level of laziness when it comes to getting something, Hahaha. Taking a photo together while brushing their teeth. Okay. They really kept memories of everything.

Washing up again?! Didn’t they already do that? Twice, apparently?! How could Jungkook forget that in a matter of hours, I’m sure?!

Aww, Jungkook saying goodnight to the cameras is just too cute. They’re such good boys. I remember in the last episode, Jimin mentioned that Jungkook has the ability to annoy people or something like that, and no one knows it better than Jimin. It’s incredible how patient he can be with Jungkook, hahaha. Of course, Jimin isn’t a saint either, because he can also annoy Jungkook at times. They really click.

Jungkook feeling hot in a cold place is so me. He’s my spirit animal, haha. And him looking for something to eat right after waking up is a MOOD.

Okay, but was Jimin fighting with some insect in the bathroom? Hahaha. Jungkook continuing to eat as if nothing’s happening is a mood.

Mmmm, did they shower together again? Interesting. Jungkook’s priority was definitely the food he bought and couldn’t eat.

Was that whole conversation about being excited correct? I mean, the translation, and if it was, why did it seem like they were talking about something else? Why do many of the things they say seem like they’re talking about something different? Why are they like this? Jimin and Jungkook bickering in the sweetest, funniest way has been one of my favourite things about the show.

Model Jimin! Jimin looked particularly stunning in the car on the way to the slopes.

There’s a popular edit of Jimin that says he doesn’t hold or grab things, he hugs them. I think the edit is mainly about Jimin hugging flower bouquets, but I think it applies to everything, including snowboards, hahaha. He’s just too cute.

I think, I think Jungkook was happy about going snowboarding, I think, I’m not entirely sure.

The juxtaposition of Jimin and Jungkook learning to snowboard and ski is just too funny.

It’s good to know Jimin doesn’t discriminate about the ground he falls on, hahaha. Jungkook really just needs a short time to learn something. Honestly, it’s unfair. Jimin is also excellent at picking things up quickly. That also seems unfair.

MY CONCLUSIONS ON THE SEVENTH EPISODE.

I loved it! Not surprisingly.

I know I’ve repeated this a lot, but I love the format of this show. It’s more relaxed. More chill with the vibe and nothing else. It’s much more domestic, more every day in a way. I know I’ve said this a lot in all my posts, but I love how relaxed Jimin and Jungkook are. I love that, even though they were technically working, they were actually relaxing. They were on a proper holiday because it felt like a normal holiday, with no pressure or expectations, just playing, enjoying cool activities, and eating. Eating a lot.

I love and especially appreciate that AYS has shown us a slightly different side of Jimin and Jungkook’s dynamic. More playful and even more every day, I think. It’s lovely to see how comfortable they are with each other, and even though they didn’t go into depth about it and probably won’t in the future, you understand why they chose to enlist together. They really get each other. They’re really similar. And that’s important.

I really love that they managed to do so many things on this show. That they had multiple holidays and, most of all, that they had them in the middle of their busy schedules. I’m glad they had those moments to laugh, enjoy, and just be happy. And I’m glad they created all those memories together.

I can’t wait for the last episode, but at the same time, I don’t want next Thursday to come because it will mean it’s all over and, like them, we’ll only have the memories we made watching them create their own memories.

As a fan, not only of Jikook but of Jimin and Jungkook, I’m infinitely grateful to them for doing this for us. I’m sure they deserve the sky and the stars; it’s the least the sun and the moon deserve, after all.

If you’ve made it this far, I’m sorry and thank you—I just couldn’t stop writing ajajajajaja.

[underground-secret]

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

Description: Sam is abducted by a family of cannibalistic hillbillies while he, Dean, and reader are investigating several decades' worth of missing people.

Warnings: Cannon violence, talk of kidnapping and crime, cannibals, cursing, detailed blood talk, again all cannon violence and so forth. Dean and reader bickering like friends or idiots in love you decide 😊

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld , @okayiamkassandra , @fablesrose , @ada--44 , @bonkydarnes , @star-yawnznn , @crazyunsexycool , @onlyangel-444 , @seninjakitey , @mystic-mara , @mxltifxndom , @stilesxreid , @chaotic-luvrs , @tiggytaylor

Word Count: 10,711

The Benders

(Masterlist, Previous Ch, Next Ch)

“I know you’re just doing your job, but the police have been here all week already. I don’t see why we have to go through this again. The more he tells the story, the more he believes it’s true,” Mrs.McKay points out, positioning herself closer to her son. Even in the dark living room, the curtains closed to block the bright sun, they looked alike, with similar big brown eyes and dark brown hair.

“Mrs.McKay, we know you spoke with the local authorities,” Sam acknowledges, looking quite intimidating in his Sheriff get-up, the large brown jacket adding to it all. I’m glad I don’t have to be stuffed into those jackets, they don’t look super comfortable or flexible, and having to wear a khaki button-down was restricting enough. Somehow button-downs always wind up being tight for me in the chest area, this time no different. “But, uh, this seems like a matter for the state police, so….” Dean adds.

“It’s okay if it sounds crazy, we’d rather get the full story,” I finish. The young boy looks at his mother for approval before answering, “I was up late, watching TV. When I heard this weird noise.”

“What did it sound like?” Sam asks.

“It sounded like…” he hesitates for a moment, either scared or worried we won’t believe him, “a monster.” His mother rolls her eyes and purses her lips, crossing her arms across her chest she says, “Tell the officers what you were watching on TV.”

“Godzilla Vs. Mothra,” Evan answers. A wide, beaming smile places itself on Dean’s face, “That’s my favorite Godzilla movie,” he excitedly tells the kid, “It’s so much better than the original, huh?” He’s so cute when he gets all excited like this.

“Totally,” Evan nods, his eyes wide in that sweet childish way. “Yeah,” Dean nods to Sam, “He likes the remake.” A small laugh escapes my lips, of course he would take any chance he could get to poke fun at his brother. “Yuck!” Evan exclaims, causing me to laugh more. Sam glares at his brother, clearing his voice he gets us back on track, “Evan, did you see what this thing was?”

“No. But I saw it grab Mr.Jenkins. It pulled him underneath the car,” he answers, looking a little scared again. “Then what?” Sam pushes.

“It took him away. I heard the monster leaving. It made this really scary sound.”

“What did it sound like?” I ask carefully.

“Like this…whining growl,” he answers and I make a mental note.

Sam nods, “Thanks for your time.”

I sip my Shirly Temple, a perfect mix of cherry syrup and soda. Meanwhile, Sam sips a beer before me, and Dean plays darts just behind me. Surprisingly he didn’t really touch his beer, I figured by now he would be on his second, but no he was just a little more than halfway done with his first. I wonder if it has to do with our conversation the other day, not that I didn’t trust him when he drank. I hope he knew that. I just didn’t like drinking, and bars weren’t my favorite place but as long as I was with others then I was fine.

I push my hair behind my ears and with it push those thoughts out of my head, “Okay, so, local police haven’t ruled out foul play because there were signs of a struggle,” I inform, looking down at the research papers that Sam had circling him.

“Well, they could be right, it could just be a kidnapping. Maybe this isn’t our kind of gig,” Dean says, another dart swooshing past.

“Yeah, maybe not. Except for this–” Sam points out, rearranging the papers so that he could push his Dad's journal closer to me and subsequently Dean, “Dad marked this area.” Dean looms closer, standing right behind my chair with his hands on the back of it; his hands dangerously close to my exposed arms or more specifically, shoulders. It isn’t a big deal I remind myself, it was perfectly normal in fact. I took off my cardigan because it had gotten warm in here so naturally with the short-sleeved dress I was wearing my arms were exposed.

He leans forward slightly, peering at the book from above my head, his body heat radiating around me. “Possible hunting grounds of a phantom attacker,” Sam continues.

“Why would he even do that?” Dean asks.

“Well, he found a lot of local folklore about a dark figure that comes at night,” Sam explains, “Grabs people, then vanishes. He found this too–” he turns to a different page, “this county has more missing persons per capita than anywhere else in the state.”

“Alright, that’s weird. But if that’s the case how aren’t there more leads on any of these especially if there’s a pattern?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” Sam answers truthfully.

“Don’t phantom attackers usually snatch people from their beds? Jenkins was taken from a parking lot,” Dean points out.

“Well, there are all kinds. You know, Spring Heeled Jacks, Phantom Gassers,” Sam reminds, “They take people anywhere, anytime. Look, I don’t know if this is our kind of gig either.”

“Yeah, you’re right, we should ask around more tomorrow,” Dean plans.

“Right,” Sam says as he pulls out his brown leather wallet, “I saw a motel about five miles back.”

“Whoa, whoa, easy,” Dean says, holding his hands up, “Let’s have another round.”

“We should get an early start,” Sam counters, placing a twenty on the table.

“You’re very responsible,” I point out.

“Someone has to be,” he smirks, sassy as always.

“Yeah, you really know how to have fun, don’t you, Grandma?” Dean remarks. I turn around in my seat to peer up at Dean, he meets my eyes looking down at me, “I’m pretty sure you could still have fun at a motel,” I say, confused. I mean motels were fun, sort of, as long as there were no bed bugs and it was like a game of ‘how poorly designed will this be!’ Dean cocks an eyebrow, a devilish smile on his face, “‘That so?” he eyes me, teasing me.

The implications of my sentence hit me…I laugh nervously, “No...I mean…cause, like, I didn’t me…I mean–” I stammer but his smile only widens. I whip my head towards Sam for help but he’s also smiling, “You’re on your own with this one,” he shrugs. I turn back, slowly, to Dean to find him still staring, “You know what I meant” I say.

“Do I?” he counters. My face feels all warm, I hear Sam’s chair move and the collecting of papers. He was leaving me! My nervous laughter continues as I try to come up with something but it’s broken letters that leave my mouth instead, I stand up abruptly, tugging down the skirt of my dress as I do so, “I’m gonna go…”

He removes his hands from my chair, and I grab my cardigan, throwing the soft material on. I meet his gaze again but this time he’s just smiling softly. “Wait for me, sweetheart, gotta take a leak,” he says, finished with his teasing. “Ok,” I answer, and he heads to the back of the bar. If I hadn’t embarrassed myself I would have commented on his gross choice of words, but I did so instead I down the rest of my sweet drink.

Hardly two minutes later Dean is back, he throws his jacket on and swings an arm around my shoulder pulling me into his side as we head to the front, “So, about that motel…” he tries to continue his teasing.

“Dean!” I groan, “Stop, alright I get it was funny, whatever, it’s over now.” He laughs, swinging open the door for me. I roll my eyes, he was never going to let this down.

The chill Minnesota air cools down my warm cheeks as I exit the bar, Dean following behind, “No, no, I think you were on to something, sweetheart,” he muses and I can hear that stupid smile on his face. I turn around swiftly, facing him, “I am going to beat you up,” I threaten despite the smile on my face. His stupid, cute, smile drops all of a sudden, his eyes somewhere over my shoulder. I frown, “What?”

He doesn’t answer, his eyes focused behind me, he moves around me and I spin around immediately noticing the cause of his changed demeanor. There’s no Sam. He’s not by the car at all, and if he went back into the bar we would have seen him. I follow Dean to the Impala, my tall boots clicking against the asphalt, he picks up something from the roof holding up his Dad’s journal which Sam had in his possession when he left. That’s not good.

I pull my phone out of my cardigan pocket, immediately scrolling down to Sam’s contact. Dean opens the car door, peering inside before shutting it and shaking his head. I click call, waiting impatiently with the phone to my ear, it rings a couple of times before going to voicemail. “Frick,” I redial his number and this time it goes straight to voicemail, was it shut off? Why would he shut it off?

I shake my head at Dean, this was bad.

Dean moves away from the car asking a drunk couple by the bar, but they have no answer. I call his phone again as if this time would be different, but it isn’t.

“Sam!” Dean suddenly yells, frantically calling for his brother. “Sammy!”

“So, what can we do for you, Officer Washington and Officer Greene?,” Deputy Kathleen asks, looking at our fake IDs. She didn’t seem so amused as she looked at us with those piercing grey eyes. “We’re working a missing persons,” Dean answers, worry still etched on his face.

“I didn’t know the Jenkins case was being covered by the state police,” she acknowledges, perhaps growing suspicious.

“No, we’re here about another missing person. ‘Could be related though,” I reply. Dean adding, “It’s my cousin. We were havin’ a few drinks last night at this bar down by the highway. And I haven’t seen him since.”

“Does your cousin have a drinking problem?” she asks logically.

“Sam?” he scoffs, “Two beers and he’s doin’ karaoke.”

“He wasn’t drunk. And the time frame in which he was left alone was far too short for any wanderin’ off, if by chance he was intoxicated more than my partner here witnessed,” I inform, adding on. Dean looks at me with a little surprise, as if I wasn't capable of being serious and professional which was stupid because I knew more about criminology than he did and as of right now we had to look at this in that frame of light. Kathleen nods, moving to her computer and turning it halfway so that we could see too, “Alright. What’s his name?”

“Winchester. Sam Winchester,” Dean answers.

“Like the rifle?” she asks somewhere between skepticism and amusement. “Like the rifle,” he confirms.

She types away, pulling up his police record, and she scans the file before clicking on Dean’s file (thank god there were no pictures with it). “Samuel Winchester, so, you know that his brother, Dean Winchester, died in St. Louis. And, uh, was suspected of murder.”

Memories of that hunt creep into the back of my mind. The slimy remains of its shedding, his hands on my neck, losing my abilities to iron…Dean’s awkward laugh knocks me out of my thoughts, “Yeah, Dean. Kind of the black sheep of the family…Handsome, though.” I try hard not to throw a look at him, even now he still has to be cocky. “Uh-huh,” she hums, not amused. She types something else in, bringing up more results on the computer, “Well, he’s not showing up in any current field reports.”

“Oh, I already have a lead. I saw a surveillance camera by the highway,” Dean informs.

“Uh-huh, she hums, “The county traffic cam?”

“Right. Yeah. I’m thinking the camera picked up whatever took him…or, whoever” he corrects with a smile.

“Well, I have access to the traffic cam footage down at the county works department, but—well, anyhow, let’s do this the right way,” she goes to a filing cabinet and pulls out some paperwork, “Why don’t you fill out a missing persons report and sit tight over here,” she hands Dean a clipboard. “Officer, look, uh, he’s family. I kind of–I kind of look out for the kid. You gotta let us go with you,” he reasons.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do that,” she answers.

“Sam’s my responsibility. And he’s comin’ back. I’m bringin’ him back,” he says again, this time more demanding than pleading. But she shakes her head, “I’m sorry” she repeats moving away from us.

“The first 72 hours of a missing person's case is the most important!” I call out and she stops in her tracks, “We know Sam didn’t just run off, so we can eliminate the statistic that in 48 hours he will show up,” but still she doesn’t turn. “In this case, 72 hours would be lucky, you know considering the fact this county has had no leads and has yet to find a single person related to the serial kidnapping going on,” she turns and stares at me with a frown.

“So for all of our sakes and our jobs, let’s say a safe 48,” I continue, “I’m sure you’re well aware that the second you go over that time the chances of you finding the person, let alone alive, is extraordinarily low. It is currently,” I look at the clock on the wall, “9:36 am,” I meet her eyes again, “So in less than 30 minutes we will be down 13 hours. Now I don’t think I have to do the math for you to understand how badly you are screwed,” I challenge, “Now, how long do you think you have before the feds get involved? ‘Cause I’m sure that will look just great for you.” I know I’m being harsh but I’m also being entirely serious.

She sighs, nodding, “Okay.”

Dean picks at his nailbeds as we wait on a bench across the street from the County’s Work Department. The bright sun shines down on us making his dirty blonde hair glow. I place a hand over his, he needs to break this habit, “We’ll find him,” I say softly. He shakes his head, “You said it yourself, every minute that goes by the chances of finding him–”

“But we’ll find him,” I cut him off. Maybe being positive about this wasn’t the most logical thing, we don’t know how big of a lead we have yet and if it’s nothing then we really are screwed. I know the odds are not in our favor, but to remind him of that wouldn’t help either.

“Greg, Kayla,” Kathleen says from behind, using our fake first names. We turn to her, getting up from the bench we were waiting on, “I think we’ve got something,” she hands us printouts of traffic cameras. “These traffic cameras take an image every three seconds. As part of the Amber Alert program,” she explains, “These images were all taken around the time that your cousin, Sam, disappeared.” But it's just images of a dark road with no one on it but the soft light of street lamps illuminating the pavement.

“This really isn’t what we’re looking for,” Dean voices.

“Just wait, wait—next one,” she insists. He turns to the next image, tilting it to show me the image of a rusty run-down truck driving down the road, “This one was taken right after Sam left the bar. Look at the back end of that thing. Now, look at the plates.” He turns the page again, this time the image is a close-up of the back of the truck or more specifically the not rusty or old license plate. “Oh, the plates look new. It’s probably stolen,” Dean points out, confirming my thoughts.

“So, whoever’s driving that rust bucket must be involved,” she adds and I'm ever so glad this lead was something. Maybe we could let other officers know to be on the lookout for it.

Suddenly there’s the horrible noise of a loud grumbling and whining engine passing by, I cringe at the screeching noise, looking up to find a beat-up van stopped at a red light. “Hear that engine?” Dean asks.

“Unfortunately,” I mumble, trying to resist the urge to cover my ears. He looks at me, meeting my eyes, “Kind of a whining growl, isn’t it?”

My lips part. He was right. He didn’t need to say any more for me to understand exactly what he meant, it’s what Evan heard. And if we assume that the rusty truck on the cameras is involved, they might even make a similar noise considering they're just about the same on the beat-up level.

The squad car rolls down the highway, Kathleen in the driver's seat pointing to a passing traffic camera, “Okay, the next traffic cam is fifty miles from here, and the pickup didn’t pass that one, so…”

“So, it must’ve pulled off somewhere,” Dean finishes her sentence, adding, “I didn’t see any other roads here.”

“Well, a lot of these backwoods properties have their own private roads,” Kathleen points out. I sigh, “That’s not very helpful,” now we have to figure out how to narrow it down with no other information. Dean grumbles something, looking out his window while I keep my eyes trained out the windshield trying to think of our next move.

Kathleen clicks something on the little tablet on a stand, in the corner of my eye I see her look at us strangely. I drop my eyes to the tablet, picking up on enough words to know it was trouble for us, I unbuckle myself swiftly, thanking my past self for choosing to sit in the middle and that this was a squad car meaning there wasn't the gate between the back and front. I lean forward my hips hitting the end of the center console as I practically weasel myself between the passenger and driver seats, my hands flat on the front of the console. My hair curtains my face but even so I can feel both their gaze on me, just like I wanted.

I don't know how much she was able to read the document but it doesn’t matter now as I carefully lift my pointer finger, hands still flat on the console, towards the tablet letting just a little spark of energy leave my finger and interfere with its programming. I push my hair out of my face, her eyes drop to my chest which was practically pushed out and perfectly visible in this position, I laugh lightly, “Sorry, I thought I saw something.”

I lean back, sitting on the edge of my seat putting my arms on the end of the console near me but close enough that it frames my boobs perfectly. Her eyes had been following my movement back through the rearview mirror, even girls were guilty of staring. Her eyes finally drag up to my face and I smile sweetly at her in the mirror, tilting my head a little for extra measure, her eyes drop down again before she blinks looking away from the mirror. She blinks again shaking her head as if it would shake the image away, “Look, I don’t know what you’re trying to pull but I ran your badge numbers. It’s routine when we’re working a case with state police. For accounting purposes and what have you.”

I curse internally, so much for a distraction. “And, um,” she continues, her eyes dropping to my chest just one more time, “uh, they just got back to me,” she pulls the car over to the side of the road, “It says here both of your badges were stolen. And there’s a picture of you both,” she turns the tablet. Dean looks at her shocked before dropping his eyes to the screen, his face falls with confusion as we both stare at the same thing, “It’s blank,” he points out and I have to hold back a smile at my work. She turns the tablet towards her, confused, she hits the thing and of course it doesn’t make a difference. “Well it was a picture of a heavier African American male and a (different ethnicity than you) female,” she explains instead.

“I lost some weight,” Dean chuckles awkwardly, “And I got that Michael Jackson skin disease.”

I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose, did he really think that was going to work?! Kathleen takes off her seatbelt, “Okay, would you both step out of the car, please?”

“Look, look, look,” Dean spews quickly halting her movement, “If you wanna arrest us, that’s fine. We’ll cooperate. But, first, please—let me find Sam.”

“I don’t even know who either of you are. Or if this Sam person is missing,” she counters.

“Look into my eyes and tell me if I’m lying about this,” he reasons. But she scoffs, “Identity theft? You’re impersonating officers.”

“How much do you care for your people? Those who live in the county?” I ask her. She doesn’t answer, doesn’t even look at me. “You can bring us in now, sure, but there’s still someone out there kidnapping and likely murdering people. And we are your best chance of finding them, we got you this far.” She purses her lips, shaking her head firmly.

“Look, here’s the thing,” Dean tries, “When we were young, I pretty much pulled him from a fire. And ever since then, I’ve felt responsible for him. Like it’s my job to keep him safe. I’m just afraid if we don’t find him fast—please,” his voice breaks, “He’s my family.” He was putting it all out there, he wasn’t the emotional type let alone with a new person like this, but he was more than worried

“I’m sorry. I have to take you in,” she says her gaze elsewhere. But then she frowns, sighing, her shoulders dropping in defeat, “After we find Sam Winchester.” She fastens her seatbelt and Dean looks at me confused but I just shrug, maybe it was better if we didn’t question it.

Despite Kathleen's clear distrust for us, she did suggest stopping for coffee before continuing our search. I cradle my to-go cup between my palms, the sun perfectly warm on my skin and the wind in perfect time with a cool breeze now and then. “Hey, Officer? Look, I don’t mean to press our luck,” Dean starts.

“Your luck is so pressed,” she retorts and her remark makes me laugh. She throws me a sharp glare and my smile drops, burring my face behind my cup as I take a sip.

“Right. I was wondering…why are you helping us out, anyway?” Dean asks, “Why don’t just lock us up”

Kathleen frowns, rounding the car as she answers, “My brother, Riley, disappeared three years ago. A lot like Sam. We searched for him, but…” she sighs, “nothing…I know what it’s like to feel responsible for someone.” The memories seem to flash in her pupils, her gray eyes hardening again. It was like seeing her in a different light, I think in the rush of this hunt we, or rather I, forgot that she was more than her badge she had her pains and losses like us. I make a mental note to apologize later for my previous harshness, I know I could’ve been kinder and that’s true with or without this newfound information.

“Come on,” she beckons, opening the driver's door, “Let’s keep at it.”

****

We drive close to the edge of the forest on the lookout for private roads, but tree after tall tree there is nothing. “Wait, wait, wait,” Dean suddenly says, “pull over here. Pull over.” And despite Kathleen's questioning gaze, she abides, pulling the car over and onto the soft grass beyond the shoulder.

We get out of the car, getting closer to the tree line. “You guys stay here, I’ll check it out,” Kathleen commands leading us into the forest.

“No way,” Dean scuffs.

“Seriously,” I reason, “You have no idea what you're walking into, you could use our help.” I mean did she really want to walk in alone?

“Hey,” she stops before us, preventing us from going further, “You’re civilians. And felons…I think. I’m not taking you with me.”

“You’re not goin’ without us,” Dean answers firmly. She stares at us as if to see how serious we are when finally she sighs, annoyed, “Alright. ‘You promise you won’t get involved? You’ll let me handle it?”

“Yeah, I promise,” Dean half shrugs. I nod, “Promise.”

“Shake on it,” she challenges, extending her hand. Dean and I raise our hands for a shake, but jokes on her for a promise to be serious you need to pinkie promise. She raises her other hand to extend to mine at the same time. She's firm with it when cold metal clinks against my wrist immediately followed by another clink against Dean’s. We’re cuffed to each other. I stare at our cuffed hands confused, the joke was supposed to be on her, not on us. And it certainly was on us. “Oh, come on,” Dean grumbles.

Holding on to the links between each cuff, she dragged us back to the car; no amount of dragging my feet was helping. She uncuffs me twisting both my hands behind my back, holding firmly with one hand as she puts the other cuff through the door handle pulling it back up and on my wrist; leaving Dean and I both trapped to the door handle. It was hard to be totally mad when it was quite clever. Now satisfied with her work, she walks back into the forest, “This is ridiculous. Kathleen, I really think you’re gonna need our help,” Dean calls after her.

She lifts a hand, beeping the car locked as she throws back a, “I’ll manage thank you.” I watch her leave until I can no longer see her past the tree line, I still can’t believe she tricked us. “That was an interesting show you put on before,” Dean says, leaning against the car door, apparently not too concerned about our current position. “What do you mean?” I ask, meeting his eyes.

“What do I mean?” he mocks, “Oh I don’t know maybe the,” he places his free hand below his chest lifting an invisible boob, “‘I thought I saw something’” he says in a girlish voice. I give him a pointed look and with my free hand I hit his chest, he drops his hand laughing. “One, I did not sound like that! Two, I was not doing that, and three! I was tryna save us, she had pulled up incriminating evidence and I figured I could distract her enough to buy us time.”

“Well she still got us,” he points out, green eyes dropping to our cuffed wrists.

“Yeah I know, it was more of an in-the-moment thing and it worked better in my head,” I reason.

“You got the distracting part right though,” he responds, his voice slightly lower. Maybe it was the stupid bickering or the fact he had teased me last night that brought up enough confidence to ask, “Are you insinuating you were looking too?”

His eyes snap up to me his cheeks looking warm, “What?! No, no, I wouldn’t…I–no.”

I smirk though my cheeks burn hotter than the sun and my heart is rapid against my ribcage, I open my mouth to say something clever when I hear the screeching of tires, “Never mind that” I say quietly instead. With my free hand, I hold the cuffs using very little energy to unlock them. I smile triumphantly, discarding the cuffs to the grass. “You’re lucky I don't just leave you here,” I point out.

He looks taken aback as he scuffs, “You wouldn’t.”

I purse my lips, “But I could’ve, I really could’ve.” He scuffs this time with more humor as he rolls his eyes, “Right. Let’s go.” He leads the way, walking quickly into the forested area.

We pass by wagon wheels strewn across the overgrown grass, followed by a rundown barn. Dean carefully opens the creaky barn door, exposing the dark inside to the shining sun. The barn reeks of sweat, and a combination of human and animal waste. The light creeps in behind us revealing at least four cages with thick metal bars, the cage wasn’t too wide and couldn’t have been more than three feet tall. Either way, it was solidifying the idea that this had to be the correct place because why would cages like these be in a rundown barn? And…there were figures inside said cages, very human figures. “Sam?” Dean calls out as we approach. Then they become more than dark figures, Sam smiles from his crouched-down position. “Are you hurt?” Dean asks even though he didn't look harmed, sweaty and dirty, yes, but not harmed.

“No,” Sam answers. Dean grins putting his hands on the bars, “Damn it's good to see you.” 

“How did you get out of the cuffs?” A now familiar voice asks. Dean and I seem to turn around at the same time, and I’m taken aback by Kathleen’s appearance. Her dark hair was down, cascading down her shoulders only making her blue eyes more entrancing, the khaki button down she wore as uniform was gone leaving her in a dirty white t-shirt, black splotches on it as well as some on her skin accompanied by a bloody bruise in the corner of her forehead. 

“Oh, she knows a trick or two,” Dean answers with a playful smile, “Speaking of which, you should do it again.”

I force a tight-lipped smile. “Right.”

I approach the door of the cage where Sam is held, the thick, heavy lock resting in my hands. The lock looks like it belongs in a medieval dungeon, its surface cold and unsettling. As I clutch it, an eerie emptiness spreads through me, a hollow sensation that chills me to the core. The memory of an iron bar around my neck flashes through my mind. I drop the lock as if it burned me, stumbling back. I rub my hands down the sides of my legs, trying to erase the lingering coldness. Gradually, the tightness in my chest eases, replaced by the familiar warmth of my abilities flowing through my veins. “What’s wrong?” Dean and Sam ask in unison, Dean’s hand suddenly gripping my upper arm.

“Iron,” I manage to get out around the cotton that seemed to fill my throat, eyes focusing on the barn floor. He curses under his breath before he steps in front of me, blocking me from the other's view. He squeezes my upper arm silently asking me to look at him, I meet his eyes the familiarity of him easing the leftover panic. “‘You okay?” he asks quietly enough for only us to hear. I nod and he doesn’t push me to confirm it verbally, he gives a quick nod in response and squeezes my arm once more before his hand drags down my arm before leaving altogether. Suddenly I miss his touch even though I know I shouldn’t. It’s a strange thing when your brain and heart want two different things. My mind pleads for logic, bringing an end to our casual touches to save my heart the grief. But then my heart wants nothing more to latch on to the feeling and exceed just a little more hope. He moves to the lock himself, studying it, “These are gonna be a bitch” 

“Well, there’s some kind of automatic control right there,” Sam points to a control panel on the other side of the barn. 

“Have you seen ‘em?” Dean asks.

“Yeah. Dude, they’re just people,” he answers voice dipped in disbelief. Our hunts rarely ended up being people; with something like this, they must be seriously messed up. “And they jumped you? Must be gettin’ a little rusty there, kiddo,” Dean remarks as he walks over to the control panel.

“I bet they’re rednecks, and that’s, like, an entirely different breed of human,” I comment.

“How do you know their rednecks?” Kathleen asks as if she’s still suspicious we’re in on this.

“I wouldn’t know anyone else who would keep captured people in a barn in the middle of nowhere, in cages no less. I feel like that has psychotic redneck all over it,” I explain like it’s obvious.

“What do they want?” Dean asks as he clicks different buttons on the panel.

“I don’t know,” Sam answers, “They let Jenkins go, but that was some sort of trap. It doesn’t make any sense to me.”

“Well, that’s the point. You know, with our usual playmates, there’s rules, there’s patterns. But with people, they’re just crazy,” Dean points out.

“Well, there are certain patterns with humans too, especially criminals,” I explain, “They most likely get off on the thrill of the hunt. They let you go. Give you false hope, and get you running. But like you said it's a trap. You’re just prey to them, they might even have actual traps hidden around as extra measure though it doesn’t matter when they catch you anyway. It’s kind of a whole dehumanizing act too, cages and the hunting like you’re animals.”

All three pairs of eyes stare at me, “What? I thought that was evident,” I shrug defensively.

“...Anyways, ‘see anything else out there?” Sam asks.

Dean creeps open the other barn doors, different from where we came in from, “Uh, he has about a dozen junked cars hidden outback. ‘Plates from all over, so I’m thinkin’ when they take someone, they take their car, too.”

Kathleen scurries closer to the bars of her cage, hands clutching the bars, “Did you see a black Mustang out there? About ten years old?” She looks desperately at Dean. “Yeah, actually, I did,” he answers and she frowns, her chest depleting with hope, “Your brother?” he asks, taking a good guess. She nods, shoulders dropped, something passing in her eyes, “I’m sorry,” he apologies, “let’s get you guys out of here, then we’ll take care of those bastards,” he points to the control panel, “this thing takes a key.”

“Then please say one of you, by chance, happened to see the key,” I add.

“No, I don’t know,” Sam answers. I nod, “Right. That’s fun and awesome, we get to venture into the home of serial killers.” I turn on my heels, heading back the way we came, hearing Dean’s steps right behind me. “Hey,” Sam suddenly calls out. We stop, turning around, he adds, “Be careful.” 

My lips curve up into a half-smile, “We will!” I answer enthusiastically. “Yeah,” Dean responds in the only way he knows how. I don’t think he understands that people care and worry about him, especially when he sees himself as the protector I wish there was a way to help him unlearn that and if one already exists I want to know it.

****

I pull myself up, my hands holding firm to the window sill, we were lucky to find an open window. Scooting myself into the dark room, I turn back leaning out the window to take the flashlight from Dean. He lifts himself up and in with ease, taking the flashlight back from me. He flicks it on, scanning the room with the light, revealing shelf after shelf of specimen jars. I move closer to one of the jars, a severed hand with a star tattoo by its thumb floating in the alcohol. “You know what they say, people with tattoos taste bad,” I mumble.

“Who says that?” Dean whispers in disbelief.

“Cannibals,” I whisper back, “They say it makes the flesh taste all weird. They also say the hands are the worst to eat, ‘not a lot of meat there.”

“You think these guys are cannibals too?” He asks, flashlight shining over the various jars and bottles.

“I don’t know, maybe,” I shrug, if they weren’t then I wonder why they would keep only some body parts but get rid of the others. He nods slowly to the possibility, flashlight gliding over a wall of Polaroid pictures each with the same two boys with long noses, beards, and hats, standing beside a dead body. “I’ll say it again, demons I get. People are crazy,” Dean says pointing to a particular photo, one with them holding Jenkin's corpse. I wonder how late we were, maybe we could’ve saved him too.

Carefully I creep my way to the closed door, opening it slowly just a crack, I peek out viewing the hallway for anyone. I wait one, two, three beats before opening the door more, signaling to him that the coast was clear. I exit the room first, Dean close behind me, I motion towards the old wooden stairs in question and he nods taking the lead once more. He creeps up the stairs careful not to step on something that looks like it would creak, I follow behind walking on my tip-toes for extra measure. The stairs continue up one more level but we stick with the second floor. Reaching the landing we stepped into the living room, the room was grey and dark with no furniture around just a big empty room. I step deeper into the room, the wallpaper is peeling and the room smells like mildew. The only pleasant thing was a soft tune coming from a room nearby, instrumental but not quite classical, a hacking sound interrupting the melody every few seconds.

Suddenly something in the room clacks together, hitting each other repeatedly. I turn quickly to the noise, guard up. Dean moves away from the object he must have hit as he mutters, “What the–.” A windchime of bones hang from the ceiling down by the window, the bones were clean and white–clearly well taken care of, some bones slightly longer but they were mostly smaller bones. I watch as he brushes it off with a slight shiver before moving to a different part of the room picking up a miscellaneous plank of wood. He notices me staring and motions with his head to follow, he leads us to the next room close to the kitchen towards the hacking. We reach the archway and he peeks in before making a hand signal for me to stay where I am as he riskily moves to the other side of the archway.

Perhaps stupidly I take a quick peek before resuming my place flat against the wall, taking a moment to go over what I saw in the quick glimpse. An older man at a kitchen counter, his back to us, nothing reflective in front of him that's visible from this angle, cluttered room, windows bordered up, a bag of tools positioned behind him with at least a meat cleaver in it but guessing by the shape there were more objects- maybe more knives, the meat he was working on wasn’t visible but the likelihood of it being human remained pretty high.

I look over at Dean, some jar full of teeth in his hand, his face scrunched in disgust. “What are you doing?!” I mouth. He puts the thing down on a little stand that stands across from him, and he opens his mouth to respond when the floor creaks behind him, he turns quickly and I try to see behind him with wide eyes but he’s too tall to see anything from this position. I look to the floor instead, trying to look for another pair of feet. I hear him say something softly with his hands raised, but from where I am I can’t hear. Between his own feet, I see small bare ones, perhaps belonging to that of a child.

Then before another beat passes the child says something and Dean is pushed up against the wall with a groan, a choked noise escaping him as he lifts a hand to his abdomen. The girl smiles wickedly, but before her lips can part, I launch myself at her, wrapping my arms around her from behind and pinning her arms to her sides. “DA–” she manages to get out before I clamp a hand over her mouth.

She thrashes against my grip, knocking me against the little table. Objects rattle behind me, but I hold firm. Dean pulls the knife out of his stomach as he slides down the wall, blood staining his shirt. I force the girl forward, her large matted hair obscuring my vision. She kicks wildly, nearly breaking my hold.

“Okay,” I breathe, “Okay, it’s alright, go to sleep.” I focus, letting my abilities surge, the familiar energy coursing through my veins. It flows down my arms into my fingertips that grip her. 

I reach into her mind, a violent sea of chaotic thoughts and emotions screaming back at me. Her fear and anger lash out like storm-driven waves. I step into it, the wind of internal screams and panic parting for me. I step in deeper, my steps gentle. I echo the words I said out loud to her, my voice soft like a lullaby once lost. The storms begin to quiet. Her physical struggles begin to slow as she subcomes to my soft insistent voice. Her thoughts slow, the waves turning to ripples until they are still. I creep out of her mind, gently lowering the unconscious child to the floor and leaning her against a nearby wall. It was the best I could without harming her and I would not harm a child.

Quick footsteps adjourn down the staircase. I reach Dean, kneeling in front of him, replacing his hands around the wound. He watches me carefully, quietly, eyebrows pinched together slightly. I know I must work quickly. With a breath, the purple glow of my powers seeped into the deep stab wound. Slowly the torn flesh and tissue knit back together, “You’re either gonna have to hurry sweetheart, or stop,” he warns. It was a deep wound and it would take longer than what we had, “But stopping would be stupid, and dangerous especially since you’ve already taken the knife out which you should never do ‘cause it only makes you bleed out more,” I answer quickly. I can practically feel the roll of his eyes without having to look. 

A floorboard creaks a foot away. I curse under my breath, reluctantly pulling away from Dean and standing up just as a hard hand grips my shoulder. I turn quickly, throwing a punch, my knuckles hitting a hard face. The man stumbles just slightly, loosening his grip on me. A fistful of my hair is pulled, forcing my neck back uncomfortably as my scalp burns. A choked grunt leaves my lips as the person uses my hair to drag me away, with a snap of his wrist I’m thrown to the floor. I land on my hands and knees hard, “Bitch,” the man spits. I get up with a single laugh. He charges at me. I throw a hand out, energy shooting from my hand. He goes flying hitting the wall hard, his stupid baseball cap falling off as he slides to the floor. His long face drops, fear filling his dark irises, he scurries to sit up. “W–w-witch!” he yells with a shaky pointed finger, getting the attention of his partner. The other long-faced man stares at us, distracted, giving Dean the leverage to push the man off of him followed by a punch to the face.

I return my attention to the accusing man. I return my arm to my side, and with a small shrug and a smile I answer, “Guilty.” His face seems to pale, and with a newfound determination, he picks himself up. “Do you really wanna do that? You can stay down,” I offer him. But he snarls and suddenly I’m thrown to the side, a separate body on top of me, my upper arm scraping against the wooden floor. I grunt as the person turns me over and lands a smooth punch to my nose, I catch a glimpse of Dean straddling the guy I had been dealing with serving punch after punch. They had switched people and it worked. Warmth trickles down my nose as I lift my legs around the man and in one fair sweep turn us over. I land punch after punch until a weird metal noise echos against the walls followed by a heavy drop. Stupidly, I look over. Dean’s on the floor unconscious, the tall man who was in the kitchen standing over him with a pan. The dots connect quickly as the man below me pushes me off and stands up with a stumble. I follow his lead and stand up too, wiping the back of my hand below my nose, dragging away blood.

All three men stand together. The one I was just dealing with speaks, “You’re partners down why don’t you be a good girl and give up.” My skin curls, my spine chilling, “Why don’t I rip out your eyeballs and feed it to you’re friends over here, ‘m sure they’d enjoy it,” I reply. The man laughs, “Oh,” his dark teeth exposed, “ I like you.”

My lips curl in disgust, “The feeling is not mutual.” The man in the middle with the pan, the oldest, nudges the man who lost his hat. Silently he moves away, into another room. Now left with two men, I wait for them to make a move as charging them would be stupid and I’d likely be overpowered in seconds. The man returns with a butcher knife and a fire poker. He hands the knife to the other, all three now armed with weapons. The knife and pan weren't much of a worry, not compared to the fire poker. Fire pokers were made from iron, a material made to withstand heat, and apparently witches too. I eye the weapon hoping they could not smell the fear on me like Hannibal.

The two younger men come forward, rushing me. I duck out of the way of the butcher knife, nearly cutting my cheek in the process as I kick the man with the fire poker in the chest. He stumbles and I grab the arm of the knife holder pulling him closer before kicking him in the balls. He bellows as he falls to his knees. The fire poker soars in front of me, one of the little hooks catching on the top of my shirt. He pulls it back, the material ripping slightly and biting into my skin. I turn my attention to him, brows furrowed. He seems to regret his decision as I take a step closer to him. His grip on the fire poker is loose as he takes a step back. I follow after him, easily hitting his wrist. The poker clinking to the floor. Heavy footsteps shuffle behind me. I throw a hand up, flicking it back. Sending the knife man flying. All the while I keep my eyes on the man in front of me. I tilt my head slowly. He throws a punch. I catch it. Twisting his arm until it's behind his back, I walk him a few steps in front of me before throwing him to the ground. 

Suddenly, the eldest man is hitting me across the face with the back of his hand. I stumble back, a familiar memory flashing in my mind. I blink rapidly pushing the memory away just as I’m hit on the side of my face. The pan is suddenly hard against my stomach. I land on my butt with a choked noise. He motions and suddenly the knife man is holding down my arms and the poker man is holding down my ankles. I struggle against their hold. Energy surges in my veins, eyes wide. The fire poker has replaced the pan. He lifts it above his head. Energy is at my fingertips. The fire poker is stabbed through my thigh, through the jeans. A scream erupts from my throat. The energy disappears at once. The room tilts. Everything disappears.

Deep voices flow in and out. The room in blinks. My head spins. Heavy, so heavy.

Heavy eyelids open. Hardly awake. Glimpses of Dean across the room, tied to a chair, his eyes just a bit more aware than mine. 

“Come on. Let us hunt ‘em,” one of them says. My head lulls back, catching a glimpse of the poker sticking out of my leg. My eyes shoot open, suddenly more aware of the predicament. “Yeah, they're both fighters. Sure would be fun to hunt,” the other one adds. Pain surges to my thigh as I sit up straighter, rope binding my hands behind my back and rope to keep my ankles to my chair–matching Dean from what I could see. Their tall frames acted as a wall between us. The eldest laughs a hideous laugh. 

“Oh, you gotta be kiddin’ me. That’s what this is about? You–you yahoos hunt people?” Dean comments, his voice gruff. I huff, “This is one of those times I hate being right.”

Suddenly, the little girl from before, now awake, walks past me knife-drawn. I trace her movements with my eyes. She comes close enough to drag the blade across my cheek in a straight line. I clench my teeth to keep from giving them gratification. She pulls away, seemingly satisfied as blood drips down my cheek, “You having fun there?” I mock. She spits at my feet, all retaliation for invading her mind. The eldest turns his attention on me, stalking closer, “You said you’s one ‘em witches?” he asks.

“Sure,” I reply plainly.

“Thought we burned all of ya at the stake.” 

“Guess you missed one,” I muse instead of giving a history lesson to correct his statement. 

“Why don't you show us a trick?” He tests, eyeing me.

“How about I kill you instead.”

“You ever killed before?”

“I can make an exception for you lot,” I answer. He chuckles before turning to Dean, “What ‘bout you boy, you ever killed before?”

“Wh–” Dean laughs uncomfortably, “Well, that depends on what you mean.” 

“I’ve hunted all my life,” the eldest starts, “Just like my father, his before him. I’ve hunted deer and bear—I even got a cougar once,” he sighs almost dreamily, “Oh boy. But the best hunt is human. Oh, there’s nothin’ like it. Holdin’ their life in your hands. Seein’ the fear in their eyes just before they go dark. Makes you feel powerful, alive.”

“You’re a sick puppy,” Dean replies.

“You need therapy…” I add, “And jail time.” He ignores our commentary to continue his demented story, “We give ‘em a weapon. Give ‘em a fightin’ chance. It’s kind of like our tradition passed down, father to son. Of course, only one or two a year. Never enough to bring the law down, we never been that sloppy.”

“Yeah, well, don’t sell yourself short. You’re plenty sloppy,” Dean interjects. Not so much ignoring it he asks, “So, what, you two with that pretty cop? Are you cops?” he asks.

“If I tell you, you promise not to make me into an ashtray?” Dean teased. The eldest tenses. The man whom I had scared before walks over to him and punches Dean square in the face. “Only reason I don’t let my boys take you right here and now is that there’s somethin’ I need to know,” the father informs ever so kindly. He turns his back on Dean and stalks his way towards me. “Yeah, how ‘bout it’s not nice to marry your sister,” Dean mocks from behind him. The father doesn't flinch even as I laugh at Dean's joke. Suddenly, he grabs the fire poker sticking out of my thigh, moving it around inside as he keeps eye contact, silencing my laughter. I try not to give a reaction, clenching my teeth until it feels like I might break a tooth. But in one movement he pulls the poker from my leg, my nails digging into the chair, a rugged scream erupting from my throat. The room rattles. Blood gushes from the wound, soaking my jeans. Something on a mantel clatters to the floor. He grabs hold of my chin, forcing my face up. “There it is,” he murmurs, voice gravely, as he peers into my pupils that are no doubt purple. He lets go of my face roughly, he adjusts the fire poker in his hand and I expect him to shove it back in, instead, he moves to the old fireplace near me. I force my powers inward, containing them, I would not be a toy for someone. 

I turn my head towards the man, desperate to track his movements, my chest heaving–breath uneven. With a steady eye, he holds the poker over the fire, waiting for the tip to get hot, “Tell me…any of the cops gonna come lookin’ for you?” he asks, the warm glow of the fire illuminating the side of his grimy face. “Oh, eat me,” Dean responds gruffly, “No, no, no, wait, wait, wait, you actually might.” One of the goons walks over to Dean and holds his head in place as the father walks over, the hot fire poker at his side. “You think this is funny? You brought this down on my family?”

“Buddy,” I breathe, cutting him off, “You brought this upon yourself.”

“Alright, you wanna play games?” he mocks, “We’ll play some games.” He looks at the others as he announces, “Looks like we’re gonna have a hunt tonight after all, boys,” a horrible smirk on his face. He turns his attention to Dean, “And you get to pick the animal. The boy or the cop?”

“Okay, wait, wait—look, nobody’s comin’ for us, alright? It’s just us,” Dean answers, all humor gone from his voice. But his response doesn’t satisfy the father, “You don’t choose, I will,” he threatens as he places the hot poker on Dean’s chest, right near his shoulder. A deep piercing scream erupts from his throat. I try to lunge at the man despite my restraints, the other goon comes around to hold my shoulders. The father removes the poker. The screaming silents as Dean curses him out, “Ah, you son of a bitch!” He holds the poker hardly an inch from Dean’s eye, “Next time, I’ll take an eye.”

“Alright, the guy, the guy! The guy!” Dean yells. The goon holding his head lets go, and the father moves the poker to his side again before pulling a necklace from beneath his shirt, a key dangling from it. He pulls it from around his neck and throws it to the man behind me. He releases my shoulders as he catches it, “Lee, go do it,” the father orders, “Don’t let him out though. Shoot him in the cage.” Lee walks to the door, the key clutched as he picks up one of the many guns by the doorway. “What? I thought you said you were gonna hunt him. You were gonna give him a chance!” Dean shouts at the man. But the father ignores him, “Lee, when you’re done with the boy…shoot the bitch too.” Lee nods and leaves.

“Better clean this mess up before any more cops come runin’ out here,” the father explains. I struggle with my restraints again, I would not be useless even as my body works hard to heal the gaping hole in my thigh. But the battle against the simple ropes is fruitless, it's tied too tight and adrenaline is only bringing my energy levels so far. I don’t want to be useless, I could manage the ropes off and get up and fight.

The father spins around, eyes on me. He grabs my chin again, forcefully moving my face as he studies my eyes. “I think we’ll keep your eyes,” he remarks and it feels like a mockery of my previous threat. In a clean movement, the fire poker is shoved back in. It rips through the minute works of healing my body had managed. A scream chokes in my throat. My abilities out at once. “Lo–” a distant gunshot cuts him off. He stands away from me, his face dropping. “You hurt my brother, I’ll kill you, I swear. I’ll kill you all. I will kill you all!” Dean yells. The father ignores him as he calls out for his son, “Lee!” No answer comes. “Lee!” he calls for him again and again no answer comes. He turns to his other kids, “Jared, you come with me. Missy, you watch ‘em now.” Jared works quickly, grabbing two riffles before handing one to his father. And just as quickly they leave. Missy moves closer to Dean, knife drawn and held dangerously close to his eye.

****

I force my eyes to remain open and focused on the ceiling as I lean my head back. We heard multiple gunshots but it was impossible to know who they hit or if they hit at all. And I was growing tired. I may have my tetanus shot but I’m bleeding out…slowly.

The floorboards creak outside the room with particularly placed footsteps. Missy looks between us before scoffing and walking out of the room. Just out of sight, there's shuffling, something clinking to the floor, a door rushed closed, and the dragging of furniture. Seconds later a familiar tall figure steps into the room, “Sam!” Dean laughed. He was battered and bruised but not terribly hurt. He eyes us, our condition, but doesn’t comment on it as he moves to Dean, easily cutting off the ropes. He rises from the chair, hand pressed to his marked shoulder, hunched over just slightly. 

Both boys cross over to me. Sam kneels, cutting away on the rope. Dean removes his hand from his shoulder, the burn mark looks worse up close and would undoubtedly leave a scar. I’d have to heal him. “Gonna have to pull that out, sweetheart,” he remarks. I frown, “That’ll make it worse.”

“You’re not better off this way,” he points out and I know he’s right…unfortunately. I give him a single nod, grounding my teeth as I await the pain. “It’s gonna hurt,” he warns. He wraps his hands around the poker, eyes tracing my face as he pulls it straight out. I groan, biting down on my teeth hard enough to break one. “I am going to rip his throat out and shove it up his ass,” I grumble through clenched teeth. Blood drips down the tip of the poker before he drops it to the floor, blood gushing from the wound.  I take several breaths in and out, in an attempt to calm myself, and with a single thought, I make a roll of gauze, alcohol pads, and a large medical bandage form in the palm of my hand. I handed the small packets to Dean, “For your forehead,” a small cut and dried blood stained the corner of his forehead no doubt from being hit with a pan. 

“You’re not gonna heal your leg?” he asks as I wrap the gauze over the hole in my thigh, blood immediately soaking the bandage. I shake my head, focused on the task and not the pain, “‘Take too long, we’ll have a healing party later.” He seems to accept the answer as he helps me out of the seat, restraints gone. Sam’s hands circle my waist as I steady myself upright, both boys aiding me in the endeavor to walk. We shuffle out of the room that could only be remembered as a part of a torture house. Something bangs on a passing door, hitting the door repeatedly. I spared the noise a glance, it was likely Missy trapped behind the door which would explain where she went and the shuffling before Sam found us.

The porch steps creak beneath our feet. Kathleen emerges from the barn, a thin layer of sweat sticking strands of her dark hair to her face. She walks over to us, meeting us in front of the cannibal house. “Where’s the girl?” she asks, eyeing our condition with careful eyes. “Locked her in a closet,” Dean answers, looking behind the cop and to the barn, “What about the dad?”

She pauses, lips parted, her expression hardening, “Shot. Trying to escape.” She doesn’t have to say anything more for us to know she’s half lying. There’s no doubt he’s dead, the blood splatter on her shirt proving that fact, but during escape was up in the air—not that it matters much to us. He’s dead. Good riddance. 

****

Sam nurses a bottle of water, slowly sipping the contents. He’d gone too long without water and food, we’re lucky Kathleen had at least a bottle in the trunk of her car. Kathleen had moved away from us to call for backup, her figure lingering a couple of feet away.

I gently place a hand over the burn mark near Dean's shoulder, his hand immediately holding my wrist, “You should really work on yourself first,” he points out. I hum in recognition, warmth igniting from my hand and seeping into his skin. He takes a deep breath like his lungs are filling up with air for the first time. “It would scar and a burn mark is harder for the body to heal than just some regular wound,” I reason, the gentle hues of sunset reflecting in his eyes. “There’s a hole in your thigh. That’s not a regular wound,” he argues. I smile, knowing he’s right, “Well I wouldn’t finish by the time we left meaning the chance of the wound reopening is high.” He sighs, “And… the car’s at the police station.”

“Exactly,” I nod, lifting my hand from its place on him. The burn mark was gone, his skin clear and smooth like nothing had happened. “So, state police and the FBI are gonna be here within the hour,” Kathleen suddenly says from behind me. I move to the side of Dean, my hands clasped behind my back as if I hadn’t been touching him. “They’re gonna wanna talk to you. I suggest that you’re long gone by then,” she adds.

“Thanks,” Dean replies, “Hey, listen, I don’t mean to press our luck, but we’re kind of in the middle of nowhere. Think we could catch a ride?” 

She gives him a pointed look, “Start walking. Duck if you see a squad car.” 

“Sounds great to me. Thanks,” Sam says quickly, not pushing it further. “Oh, I, um, I’m sorry for acting like a jerk earlier. I know I could’ve been way nicer,” I apologize, thinking back to my harsh words. “It’s fine, I get it, I would’ve done the same,” she replies and I hope she really does accept my apology.

 “Listen, uh…” Dean starts, “I’m sorry about your brother.” Kathleen swallows roughly, “Thank you,” her eyes tear up, “It was really hard not knowing what happened to him. I thought it would be easier once I knew the truth—but it isn’t really,” she pauses, her words hanging in the air, “Anyway, you should go.” The boys nod and I wish there was more we could do for her as we walk away.

****

“Never do that again,” Dean warns, breaking the silence that had enveloped us on our walk. “Do what?” Sam asks, oblivious. “Go missin’ like that,” he elaborates. 

Sam laughs, “You were worried about me.”

“All I’m sayin’ is, you vanish like that again, I’m not lookin’ for ya,” Dean deflects, poorly. “Sure, you won’t,” Sam muses. We all knew it was a lie, Dean would go looking for Sam till the end of time. “I’m not,” Dean argues. Sam chuckles, “So, you got sidelined by a thirteen-year-old girl, huh?”

“Oh, shut up,” Dean shoves his brother. “Just sayin’, gettin’ rusty there, kiddo,” Sam teases, using his brother's words against him. I laugh, “He’s got a point.”

Despite himself, Dean laughs too, “Both of you, shut up.”

[newtthetranswriter]

Music can be relaxing... most of the time

Word Count: 1122

Paring: Kuroo x gn! Reader (it’s not super important part of the fic just felt like adding it)

Summary: The bus ride to the summer training camp was more chaotic knowing that Karasuno was going to be joining this year. After Kuroo’s failings to calm everyone y/n has a genius idea, only for Lev to fuck it up with his choice of music

Warning: Cursing

A/n: All imma say is I said what I said. Feel free to take it up with management, oh wait I’m management. Anyway enjoy or don’t, but as always remember to hydrate or diedrate.

    It was finally time for the week-long summer training camp with the rest of the Fukurodani Academy group, so it was time for Nekoma’s volleyball team to begin the bus ride to Shinzen. Normally it was a quiet trip but with the excitement of Karasuno joining this year's camp, the boy’s had decided to goof off for the majority of the trip.

    There had been a few attempts from Kuroo to get the rambunctious group to sit down and shut up, but after being ignored every time, the captain gave up. Seeing their boyfriend’s annoyed face at their younger classmen’s energy, Y/n tried to think of a way to calm the group without and convince them to conserve their energy for the upcoming practice matches. Remembering that listening to music typically helps people relax, Y/n quickly pulled out their phone and set up a new Spotify playlist.

    After adding a few songs and putting in the description that each member of the team was to add three songs, Y/n sent a mass invite to boys. Upon hearing the chorus of phones buzzing and checking his own, Kuroo looked at Y/n slightly confused. “Why did you send a playlist in the team chat?” He asked, curious as to what their plan was.

   Looking around and seeing that the whole team had stopped goofing off and were all looking to their manager as if asking the same question. “Music can help people relax, so I figured if we all contributed a few songs to this playlist we could all listen to it and save our energy for the training camp.” They explained, earning a few nods and sounds of agreement. After about two minutes everyone made it known that they had made their contributions. Y/n then hooked their phone up to the small speaker Kenma had brought with him, and hit shuffle on the playlist, letting the bus fill the sounds of each player's favorite music.

   As time passed it was clear that Y/n’s plan had worked well. Half the team had passed out, while the other half were just scrolling on their phones quietly. Kuroo took a moment to lean closer to Y/n and whisper quietly to them. “Thank you, I thought I was gonna have to help Yaku hide Lev’s body for a moment there.”

   Y/n just chuckled. “No problem, it’s my job as your guys' manager to make sure no murders happen while traveling. Now you should—” Before Y/n could finish their next sentence a very familiar song started playing over the speaker, and it wasn’t one Y/n was fond of. “Ok who the hell put Taylor fucking Swift in the playlist?” Y/n had turned to look down the bus’s aisle to look at the group of boys.

   Everyone who was still awake remained silent before Kenma pointed at the lanky first year who was asleep against the window across from him. Almost as if sensing all eyes on him Lev jolted awake. “Why is everyone staring at me?” He asked groggily while looking around.

   The first to break the silence was Yaku. “You messed up big time buddy, I hope it was worth it.” The short third year said, patting Lev’s shoulder over the seat. Lev just looked at his upperclassmen confused. Figuring Lev was not going to figure it out on his own, Yaku pointed towards the front of the bus where Y/n was still leaning into the aisle. “You pissed off the manager.” It was a simple sentence but as soon as Lev made eye contact with Y/n, he understood how fucked he was.

   “But wait what did I do? I fell asleep after the music started.” He asked, hoping to find a way out of his impending doom.

   The people who had previously been asleep had also woken up as it was silent on the bus except for the sound of the bus moving. They were confused at first until they heard their normally calm manager let out an exasperated sigh, before speaking. “The number one rule for any playlist I have is absolutely no Taylor Swift. I will not budge on it ever, her music is trash and she is overrated. If you want to listen to her go ahead but it better be with headphones and I better not hear it.” Y/n explained, their voice sounded calm but the look in their eyes said on wrong move and Lev’s body would need to be hidden.

   “Okay but I thought she was like an Bi icon or something, and aren’t you also bi? I thought you would like her.” Lev clearly misread the look on Y/n’s face, and thought there was any room to argue.

   “Lev you are a newer member of the team but I kindly have to remind you never tell me that taylor fucking swift is bi icon again. That is one of the straightest cis women I have ever seen and any one who thinks otherwise needs their eyes checked. AND also I’m not bi, I’m queer which is different and if I was why would that mean I like her trashy music. She’s a sell out and the picture of capitalistic greed.” Y/n answered, before Lev had a chance to respond Y/n faced forward signaling the end of the discussion. 

   After taking a moment to process what was just said to him Lev looked to his teammates for anysort of clarification they could give him about what happened. “I know that look and the only answer is to never bring up Taylor Swift in Y/n’s presence again or they may actually kill you.” It was Yamamoto who answered Lev’s unspoken question.

   “Tora if I hear that name one more time I will not hesitate to shave off that stupidass mohawk.” Y/n said before starting the music again, having checked the playlist for any of the cursed music.

   Yamamoto just silently nodded before going back to looking at his phone. The rest of the team followed suit knowing that any further chaos would likely cause the Captain and Manager duo to actually murder the whole team before they even reached the training camp. Lev looked around one last time before figuring out what the rest of the team already knew, don’t piss off Y/n because they are scarier than Kuroo and Yaku combined.

   Kuroo on the other hand just chuckled to himself, placing a kiss on his partner’s forehead. “I thought you were supposed to prevent murders, not threaten to commit them.” He just received an eye roll as the two silently agreed to relax for the rest of the bus ride.

[bluemoonscape]

I’m not a super active member of the LiS fandom but with the dumpster fire we have going on with the DE early release I’ve been thinking about a few things.

I’m going to refrain from judgement of LIS: DE until I’ve played it through. I like the gameplay and the way it deals with Max’s PTSD. Admittedly if there’s not a Pricefield reunion by the end, my opinion is probably going to take a hit because come on. There has to be a Pricefield reunion. Everything comes back to Chloe.

But I do think the breakup was at least somewhat acceptable and within the realm of possibility. Do I agree with the narrative of Chloe being a free spirit? No. That’s not who she is. But I really can’t see Max and Chloe’s lives being all sunshine and roses after the original game like many fans like to portray. Chloe still has her baggage and now it’s doubled. Max just had the most traumatic week of her life. She was sexually assaulted. You don’t just get over that. I can’t see Pricefield staying apart forever, but I like the idea that they needed at least a break. They need to be their own people before they can find each other again, and then, fingers crossed, they find each other.

As for the “Bay ending is the true canon” shit crawling out of its drain hole again, just—no. No. The LiS franchise is built on the ability to make your own choices, to have autonomy over your life. Bay and Bae endings are both canon because they both represent a different interpretation of the narrative. Yes, Bay is letting go. It’s letting go of the one thing you have to let go of and can’t. But Bae means something too. It’s about autonomy. It’s about telling fate that you can’t take this from me. The moment Max rips up the butterfly photograph is the moment she took her life back. She was able to look at a girl deemed broken by the rest of the world and see with clarity that you are worth it, you are worth it, you deserve to live and have a future and I will not trade you. I always found beauty in that moment of telling someone who doesn’t believe in the value of her life that her life means more than a whole town to someone. It’s dark and it’s morally gray and that’s okay! It’s fiction! And it is a beautiful message just like the Bay ending.

[melanieph321]

Hola linda, cómo estás? Me está encantando el reto de los 10 días jajaja. podrías agregar algo obsceno de Dusan Vlahovic? ❤️❤️

Sí, claro ❤️

10 DAYS OF REQUESTS

(DAY 6)

Dusan Vlahovic x Reader - Take A Chance

+18

Summary - Dusan asks Reader to go out with him. But you turn him down not once but twice.

Enjoy! 🙈

"Why are we here again?"

"Because we're single and need boyfriends."

"I'm not single?"

"And I don't need a boyfriend."

"Please guys, we've been over this."

A night out with your friends always began with the same old bickering of which bar you should go to and what people to talk to at the selcted bar.

It was getting old.

Not to mention, super annoying.

Especially since you've sworn to cut out brainless men from your life. Of course, this didn't leave you much to choose from. Nevertheless, no more men, and no more lazy hookups. Too bad your best friend India thought otherwise.

"Women should at least be getting laid three times a week, single or not." She stated, the three of you scoping out for the hotties upon your entrance to a buzzing location.

"So we're here to get laid? Why didn't you just say so?" Hailey frowned. However, by saying we, she really didn't mean herself. As of last month, Hailey was in a happy relationship with a guy named Frank. You liked Frank, who knew how to make a great cup of coffee.

"Because Hailey, that's what guys say, not girls." India emphasized, resulting in the three of you laughing your way over to the bar.

It was a fancy new place, opened not too long ago. You had actually been asked to come here before. However, the person who asked you out was a complete asshole, resulting in you declining his offer more than once.

"Y/N, is that you?"

Speaking of the devil.

"Well, well, well, guess you've changed your mind about me?" Dusan smirked.

He was one of those guys who always found a reason to mention their net worth sporadically in the middle of a conversation. Same for the price of his latest investments. Like a watch or a brand new Jeep.

Dusan Vlahovic was a wanna be Wolf of Wall Street kind of guy. Except, Dusan played professional football for a living, which might count as an explanation for his out of touch for a woman's desire, considering that he often had hundreds of them throwing themselves at him during a night out like this.

Everyone but you, of course.

"You must have smelled my new perfume." He chuckled cheaply. "It's the new Dior fragrance. I'm actually their newest brand ambassador."

"Cool." Your friends expressed. They were clearly taken aback by Dusan's God complex. The way he stood tall and erect, like a rooster in the morning. He had slick back hair, with a few wild hairstrands irritating his eyes.

Overall, he was gorgeous. Your type, even. However, his personality was honestly so arrogant that it had become unbearable to reject him as many times as you had. Unfortunately, he was always given a new chance to ask you out, considering that the two of you lived in the same apartment building not too far away from this very bar.

"You girls should come over to our table." He suggested. "My friends and I are happy to put your drinks on our tab."

India and Hailey shared a smug look. You, on the other hand, let your eyes roll into the back of your sockets. Dusan caught your moment of dread, winking his eye at you before leading you and your friends to his table.

The three of you were quickly introduced to Dusan's mates, four guys, a copy paste when it came to their swayed shoes and unbuttoned shirts. They also wore watches, shiny bedazzled watches that most likely told the time. But how would one know with all that bling blinding the eye at every glance.

"So...." Dusan said as he slid into the seat next to yours, resting his arm on the back of your chair. "Does this count as our first date?"

You snorted. "Keep dreaming."

His eyebrows rose with interest, your habit of rejection another game for him to play. After a few drinks shared between you, Dusan took it upon himself to tugg your chair towards him, for the two of you to sit closer together.

"Just looking after you, baby. We wouldn't want you to get too tipsy and fall off your chair, now would we?"

"What do you think you're doing?"

"You're such an asshole." You said, but noted the slurring of your words. Perhaps you did have too much to drink? That's what you get for trying to keep up with India, an avid drinker since your university days.

"Guys, I've got to go. I'm sorry."

"Hailey, no!"

You and India jumped out of your seats to persuade your friend to stay. However. Hailey's night was over. She had a warm bed and a boyfriend waiting for her at home. You longed to return home yourself. To wash away your sins and tuck yourself into your very own cozy bed. However, you couldn't leave India, who unfortunately took an interest in one of Dusan's friends. The two of them were bound to go home together. You just had to stay until they did. In the meantime, you had Dusan, persistently mumbling temptations in your ear.

"I'll take you to Paris someday."

"Oh, yeah, and what would the two of us do in Paris, France?"

"The usual." He shrugged. But then a dangerous smile widened his lips. "But once we are done being tourists, I'd take you back to our hotel room, five stars, of course...." You rolled your eyes. "There I'd have my way with you in the elevator, making you scream my name before we even arrived at our room."

"The elevator, you say?"

"Yes, the elevator." He purred, his voice deep in your ear, his lips close enough to carress the pulse beating in your throat. "I'd have my fingers so deep in your pussy that if I wanted to I could make you a squirter, even if you told me that you aren't one."

"I—." Out of all the tasteless endearments Dusan could have whispered in your ear, this one definitely took the prize. But at the same time, your legs crossed under the table, smothering the flaring heat between your legs.

It must be the alcohol you convinced yourself. Yes. Your terrible ability to consume alcohol without stumbling after two shots was really deceiving your mind tonight. How else would you explain the fact that you let Dusan take you home while India and Dusan's friend disappeared in an Uber together at the end of the night?

The alcohol worsened your judgment of Dusan, convincing you that he wouldn't take advantage of the situation.

"Fuck, I think I'm going to throw up."

"You are? Fuck, my apartment is closer than yours."

He really played his cards well, convincing you to step out of the elevator two floors below yours. However, you were grateful to reach a bathroom in time for you to empty your guts. Too bad your top got ruined in the process.

"Here, let's get you out of this."

You even let the asshole undress you, watching him throw your vomit stained clothes into his washing machine. You then waited patiently for him to return to the bathroom with a clean shirt for you to wear to bed.

His bed.

"Why are you even doing this?" You asked, watching Dusan as he tucked you in.

"What? Help you?" He frowned.

"Yes, and flirt with me so desperately even though you can get any ine of those girls in the bar we just left."

Dusan hid his smile while he fluffed the pillow beside your head. He then maid you raise yourself to sit so he could tuck it comfortably behind your back. "There." He said, complecant, leaving his hands to rest on each side of your head.

You were close.

Too close for comfort considering the smell of vomit on your breath. Who would want to kiss you now? Certainly not Dusan.

Yes. It was indeed embarrassing to admit that a microscopic part of you wanted Dusan's lips against yours. Maybe the alcohol enhanced your attraction for him. However, your stomach was already fluttering as the two of you sat close together in the bar, Dusan's deep and rich voice whispering in your ear.

"God, Y/N." He scoffed.

"What?" You perked up, afraid that he didn't like what he saw as his eyes were upon you, studying you like a puzzle.

Dusan shook his head, a sly smile on his lips. "You really believe that I left the bar without the girl that I wanted."

"Well, didn't you?"

"No Y/N. You're the girl that I want."

"I am?"

"Yes." He chuckled, raising his hand to pinch your cheek. "I've been dying to have you for months. Ever since we first road the elevator together. All I've wanted is for you to take a chance on me, but every time you've turned me down."

"I'm sorry." You squealed. "I really don't know...." That was a lie. You were done with brainless men. You said so yourself. Dusan, however, perhaps wasn't one of them.

Who are you kidding? Of course he was. He looked eager to kiss you despite the vomit on your breath.

"Dusan?"

"Yes?" He watched you lick your lips, the swipe of your tongue making his dick twitch below his pants.

"I want you to..." You were shy to say the words.

"Yeah?"

You perked up, adjusting the way you sat in his bed. "I really want you to...."

"Y/N, if you don't tell me what you want from me, I might go crazy." He laughed.

You emphasized the words, making sure not to slur on any of them. "Dusan, I want you to make me squirt. Please make me a squirter—."

You barely finished the words. The last thing you saw was Dusan's eyes widening before his head ducked under the covers.

"Dusan." You squealed, his lips tracing softly down your legs, causing you to throw your head back with laughter. "Please baby, not so fast."

"Baby?" Dusan's hair was tousled as his head popped out from under the covers, a boyish grin occupying his face. "You called me baby."

"I did." You smiled.

"I like that. Keep calling me that."

Another fit of laughter escaped your mouth as Dusan's head returned under the covers. His pursuit to make you a squirter started off with a couple of soft kisses to your thighs. He then moved on to reveal the soft hair covering your pussy, parting the small strands with his tounge. He did so until his tounge knocked against the bud of your clit, making you moan his name as your head flattened against the pillow, digging you deeper into a sea of utter excitement.

"Dusan."

"Fuck Y/N, you're so wet already." He started teasing you with his fingers, driving you closer to the eruption of your soul.

"Please, don't stop." You pleaded, spreading your legs with width for Dusan's fingers to sink deeper into you. He came up to kiss you, his fingers remaining inside, pumping in and out of you like a well-oiled machine.

"Dusan, please. I'm not clean." You turned your face away from his lips. However, Dusan kept returning for more, threatening to pull his fingers out of you.

"No, please. Don't." You begged, pathetically so.

"Then let me kiss you." He laughed. But didn't kid when it came to wanting your lips against his own. He was good at it too, finding a rhythm in the way that his fingers moved inside of your pussy to match the way his tounge moved inside of your mouth.

That must have been it. A combination of Dusan's fingers and mouth, a rhythmic machine that sent unbearable vibrations down your spine. Vibrations that turned into a violent twich of your pussy walls clenching around his fingers that kept penetrating your reaching edge.

"Dusan, please. I'm gonna...."

"Yes, baby. You're almost there."

"I'm gonna...."

"Yes, sweetheart. Hold on to that feeling for me."

You arched your back with the ripping sensation. A violent feeling of pleasure and pain bottled up into a narrow pipe of anticipation.

"There you go. Good girl."

A loud whimper left your mouth when you exhaled, the orgasm leaving you like a fever dream. Dusan tugged his fingers out of your pussy, holding up his drenched hand to show off the results.

"Congratulations, you're a squirter."

Your hands covered your face, embarrassed yet, happily satisfied.

DON'T MISS - 10 DAYS OF REQUESTS

(DAY 1)

(DAY 2)

(DAY 3)

(DAY 4)

(DAY 5)

[in-my-feels-probably]

Hey it’s me with the sick dog, but I was hoping to request like a super fluffy fic like established relationship, super domestic and just fluffy. Maybe watching a new horror movie or something. I don’t mind who but i’m partial to Remus, Sirius and Theo Nott

Timeless

Request: I was hoping to request like a super fluffy fic like established relationship, super domestic and just fluffy. Maybe watching a new horror movie or something. I don’t mind who but i’m partial to Remus, Sirius and Theo Nott

Hi! I hope this makes your day a little better, I tried making this pretty fluffy. I’m happy to write you something else if this isn’t what you were looking for, but hopefully you like this! I hope you have a good day, and thank you for the request :)

(Warnings: none? let me know if i missed anything)

—

Sirius had always loved the simple things.

He had grown up around magic all his life. As he got older, he realized just how much he relied on it. But he also knew just how much it had hurt him over the years, often being way more trouble than it was worth. When he met you, you were like a breath of fresh air. He loved how differently you had grown up compared to him. When you graduated from Hogwarts, you moved into a flat together on the outskirts of London. 

It was a community far enough from the city that you could safely still use your magic without being seen, but you also didn’t have to rely on it. Anything you needed wasn’t hard to get—all you had to do was take a short walk into town. It took Sirius some getting used to, but he eventually fell in love with your little home away from the life he had always known. 

He relished in the domesticity and simplicity of the life you had together, and it eventually felt natural to him.

One of his favorite muggle inventions you showed him was the TV. He sat on the couch for nearly a week after you moved in, cycling through all the movies and shows you had mentioned to him over the years. He also loved the movie theater, and it became a staple on your date nights in town. When you were too lazy to go out and do something, but you still wanted to spend time together, you’d have a movie night. Sirius would go around the corner to the little diner run by a sweet old couple and pick up food for you to eat while you watched your movie. 

It was your night to pick the movie this time, and Sirius came in the door just as you had put it on.

“Etta and George say hello,” Sirius said, tossing his keys on the counter before placing the food on the coffee table, taking a seat next to you. “And Etta wanted me to tell you that she thought you looked really pretty last week when we came by the diner.”

You could feel your heart warm as you leaned into his side. “That’s so sweet.”

“So, what are we watching?” He asked as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, settling into the couch. 

“It’s called Halloween. Remus knew I've been wanting to watch it, so he came by earlier and let me borrow his copy—remind me to bring it back to him sometime by the way. Anyway, it’s supposed to be pretty scary. Is that alright with you?”

“Think I can’t handle it, darling?” Sirius asked, a grin on his face. “You don’t think I’m brave?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “I think you’re very brave. I also think you’re very prone to screaming like a child when something surprises you. Remember when James was over last week and you didn’t know he was here? You nearly jumped out of your skin when he came out of the bathroom.”

“I just wasn’t prepared for another man to be in my flat, let alone waltzing out of my bathroom like he owns it. You can understand my surprise, darling. It wouldn’t have happened under any other circumstances.”

“I see,” you mused, pressing play as you turned your attention to the TV. “So, you aren’t gonna be hiding your face in my arm by the end of the film?”

Sirius smirked, shaking his head at your teasing. “I think I’ll make it without resorting to that. But thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“My pleasure.”

—

Sirius barely made it twenty minutes in before he was already shifting uncomfortably next to you, a grimace on his face. You hid your smirk behind your sleeve, keeping your eyes on the screen. 

“I’m gonna kick Moony’s ass,” he muttered under his breath, so quiet you could barely hear him. “Masochistic bastard.”

“Want me to turn it off?” You asked, reaching for his hand.

Sirius gladly accepted, squeezing your hand tight. He just shook his head, continuing to watch the movie. At every intense scene or flashes of gore, you could feel him squeezing your hand tighter. By the time you made it halfway in, you couldn’t feel your fingers. When the movie was finally over, he let out a sigh of relief. He relaxed into the couch, his grip on your hand easing. 

“Never again,” he said as he turned to face you. “We’re watching Grease next time. I don’t have to worry about my heart bursting out of my chest watching Grease.”

You chuckled, running your hand up and down his forearm. “You made it, though. And you didn’t cry, not even once.”

“Very funny,” he pouted, but he made no move to pull his arm away from your touch. 

“I’m just teasing,” you smiled, leaning into his side. “I’m proud of you. You watched the whole thing, even though you weren’t enjoying it. It was very brave. Thank you for indulging me.”

“Thank you for letting me nearly break your hand. Are you alright, by the way? I didn’t mean to squeeze that hard.”

You chuckled, nodding. “It’s fine, love. It doesn’t even hurt.”

—

You talked as you finished your food, a random shitty soap opera playing on the TV in the background. It was one you both pretended not to be interested in, even though you both secretly had become quite invested in the plot more than a few episodes ago. 

“How long do you think Etta and George have been together?” Sirius asked, finishing what was left of his fries.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, leaning over to steal a fry. “The diner has been there since I was a kid. There used to be a little record store on the corner, and I’d always pass the diner on my way. They’ve been together for quite a long time, I think.”

“Do you ever wonder what we’re gonna be like when we’re their age?”

You smiled, nodding. “Sometimes. Hopefully we’re still in love, and not sick of each other. That would be a shame—you’re too pretty for frown lines.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, and Sirius let out a chuckle. He playfully nudged his elbow into your side, feigning offense. Suddenly, he yawned, reaching a hand up to rub at tired eyes. 

“Sleepy, love?” You asked, motioning for him to lay down. 

Sirius pivoted to swing his legs over the arm of the couch, resting his head in your lap. You ran your fingers through his hair, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead.

“I wouldn’t mind ending up like Etta and George. Running their business, still together and in love. That’s years and years of happiness. We could have that. Our little flat and our diner on the corner. It's simple. Peaceful. I could get used to it—couldn’t you?

Sirius smiled, nodding. “Yeah…yeah, I could.”

It was quiet for a moment as you continued running your fingers through his hair, brushing it away from his forehead. Sirius kept his eyes closed, a content smile on his face. A warmth spread through your chest as he nuzzled his head into your lap, his cheek pressed against your thigh.

“I bet Etta doesn’t make George watch scary movies,” Sirius said unexpectedly, pulling you from your thoughts. 

You rolled your eyes, trying and failing to fight a grin. “I bet Etta has never heard George scream like a little girl.”

“Fair play, darling. Fair play.”

—

A/N - Hi! Thank you again for the request, I hope you liked this :)

[nihilnovisubsole]

i think i followed you Back In The Day, seven years and seven blogs ago, for something related to mass effect (zaeed? maybe? who could say) and it's wild to come back to this site years later and find you thriving, surviving, growing-- playing ffxiv! love that game. curious how you'll feel about some side characters in shadowbringers, but i won't spoil which ones.

i do have real questions, though; writing tools. not pens or software, but personal structure tools and/or guidance. what does a beat sheet look like, for you? do you have a favored way of outlining or note-taking on your own thoughts when putting a story together?

and... i'm really curious how you hold a big story together in your head while you work on it in pieces, especially for something like dangerous crowns. there's this larger story i've been chasing around for a while, and I can't quite wrap my head around how to write the political/espionage plot for it without feeling like i've actually written a children's pantomime. the best i've got so far is "research real life events and use those as my outline" but after a point it becomes hard to keep track of all the variables of who knows what about whom, who is planning x when y, etc, etc. the characters don't need to know all that-- and may never know some things-- but i feel like /I/ need to understand what's happening on the macro level so i can move the world around them appropriately.

short version: how do YOU wrap your head around writing complex plots?

hey, anon! i started endwalker this week after a long... uh... glamour detour, so don't worry about spoiling things. i spoil myself for a lot of stories on purpose anyway. let's just say i've been attached to one too many characters who got killed.

anyway. writing. i've always handled plots the same way: clear documentation. if i don't note it down, i'm not going to remember it. i've used the same table outline since around 2014. it varies in detail for different projects, but the core format stays. i know it's kicking around in my blog archive somewhere, but it's worth reposting once in a while because people like to ask about it. here's what it looks like, featuring plot points cribbed from an endeavour episode:

i used this format for an outline at work a while back, and the team found it easy to follow, which was a big day for my ego. keeping track of plot structure is even more chaotic at work because we have multiple writers who all need to stay on the same page. we have very meticulous notes on what the player should know at which point, when we're introducing new information, and what we know, but shouldn't tell. we're also not above leaving notes like "this character has to convey X," "this character has to learn Y here," or "this is a clue that they're planning Z." it can be super on-the-nose. all that matters is that it makes sense to you. because you're right - if you get too lost, you can write yourself into logic holes of tremendous proportions. ask me how i know!

[as a sidenote, researching real-life events as a starting point has really grown on me in the past few years. my lead on coh3 had me do it. he said we were dealing with real people's history, so we couldn't be cheap or play fastball - we had to be accurate to pay it respect. even if you're not writing historical fiction, it just gives you insight into how people behave.]

i would argue that the plot of dangerous crowns is actually not that complicated, maybe to its detriment. there's kind of a genre struggle going on. at voltage, we were taught romance fans came for the relationship beats and valued them above all else. in fact, leadership told us players got irritated - which meant less sales - when the plot was too complex and took time away from the making out. political thriller fans, by contrast, expect relentless twists, high stakes, and harsh consequences, and sometimes see the relationships as superfluous.

but whatever. the point is, when you look at dangerous crowns' structure, it's a pearl necklace: a chain of anchoring events. the "pearl" scenes are where Big Plot happens. they're the reason you want to write the story, and probably the ones you have the most vivid daydreams about. the scenes in between are the string. not flashy, but important because they connect the pearls. they build tension and add logic, cohesion, and context. take the opera and hector's failed assassination. those are pearl scenes. that's a burst of drama i really wanted the story to build up to. i also had other flashbulb visions. livia by the fountain questioning herself, marcus' macbeth moment, the temple riot, things like that. so the question was, how could i believably travel between these pearl scenes? how could i make these big showcase moments connect smoothly?

if you're having trouble holding the story together in your head, i would ask, "what are your pearls?" what are the anchor points? outline those. it might not look like a necklace yet, but you'll sort of see it taking shape. and then, once you can see where your heart's-desire milestones are, you'll have a clearer idea of what can't fire until you set it up first. two other neat things can happen here. you could find the rhythm of your pacing, or realize you have a lot more plot meat than you thought you did. even if you don't, you have some road. and if you can't think of the string, sometimes you just have to start writing the pearls and see what comes to you.

good luck!!

[emberdew]

Be More Ghost Chapter 4: Three Player Game

Summary:

A Be More Chill AU where Danny gets a Super Quantum Intel Unit Processor (or Squip) to help him become cool and win over Valerie, but things don't really go as planned.

Masterpost | AO3 Link | Word Count: 1,906

It’s a three player game so when they make an attack you know ya gotta friend who's gonna have your back!

Danny, Tucker, and Sam sat in front of the computer in Danny’s room, all three intently focused on the screen and rapidly tapping buttons on their game controllers. Ever since the new Doomed expansion came out a few weeks ago, the teens had gotten into the habit of meeting up to play together after school as long as there wasn’t a ghost attack happening.

As Sam’s powerful character, Chaos, landed a finishing blow on the boss they were fighting, Danny leaned back and looked over to his best friends.

“So, what do you guys think about what Kwan said?”

Sam looked at him, incredulous. “It’s obviously a scam.”

“A really weird scam,” Tucker agreed.

“But what if it is real? I just give the jock who bullies me six… hundred… dollars…” Danny really wanted it to be true, but he had to admit it was far-fetched. “No, you’re right. I’m doomed to be a freak for the rest of my life. Afterlife?” Danny leaned back farther in his chair and dramatically covered his face with an arm.

“Halfterlife?” Tucker suggested. Danny just groaned in response.

“Danny, you don’t need some weird technology to teach you how to be cool. Being cool is overrated anyway.” Sam leaned over and flicked Danny’s arm.

“Plus guys like us are cool in college!” Tucker said. “High school may be hell now, but at least we have that to look forward to.”

Danny didn’t feel reassured. “If I can even get into a college with my awful grades. I can’t exactly put ghost hunting as an extracurricular on my college application.”

“You are in a ghost hunting club now though,” Tucker teased.

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” Danny rubbed where his shoulder was still sore from where Valerie had shot him earlier that day. “How would I even get six hundred dollars anyway?”

Danny shot up in his seat as an idea sprung to mind. “What if I stole my aunt Alicia’s beanie baby collection and sold them on eBay?”

Tucker looked at him for a long moment. “Okay, there’s several things wrong with that plan.” He held out his hand and started counting. “One, your aunt lives in Arkansas and it would take way too long to fly there on a school night. Two, beanie babies are worth like nothing on eBay. Three, didn’t you learn from the yard sale debacle with Technus last year not to sell other people’s stuff?”

Danny sunk down in his seat, defeated. “Oh yeah.”

“I have a better plan.” Tucker turned and raised his eyebrows at Sam. “What if we converted to Judaism?”

“You know what?” Sam stood up and slammed a wad of cash in Danny’s palm. “Here’s some bar mitzvah money. Congrats on becoming a man.”

“Wouldn’t it be a boo-mitzvah?” Tucker joked.

Danny ignored him and shoved the cash in his pocket gratefully, knowing better than to refuse Sam when she gave away money. They’d had that argument a thousand times and Sam always won, so he didn’t even bother anymore. “Thanks, Sam. That’s really gender-affirming.”

“You’re welcome.” Sam gestured her game controller towards the computer screen where the ‘Proceed to next level’ prompt was flashing. “Do you guys wanna keep playing?”

“Sure, let’s do another round.” Danny leaned forward in his seat. Tucker nodded in agreement and Sam pushed the confirm button.

They had made it about halfway through the level when a knock came from Danny’s door. Danny was too engrossed in the game to notice at first.

“Danny?” Jack called.

Danny sighed and paused the game, then got up and opened the door. Unsurprisingly, his dad was dressed in his usual bright orange jumpsuit.

“What is it?” Danny took a step back as Jack entered his room.

“The Mansons called. They want Sam to come home right away for dinner.” From out of nowhere, Jack pulled out a gun prototype that was sparking with electricity. “Before you go, want a demonstration of my newest invention? The Fenton Ghost Freezer 2.0 is ready for action!”

“No thanks, Dad!” Danny shoved his dad out the door and closed it.

Sam groaned. “Ugh, I forgot my parents are meeting with some business partner about a trip we’re going on this week. Dinner with them is going to be dreadful.”

“That sucks, sorry Sam.” Danny knew how much Sam hated having to go to fancy dinners with her parents.

“Yeah, well, at least I’ll get out of school for the next few days.” Sam stood up and grabbed her spider backpack off the back of her chair.

“Lucky!” Tucker said.

“Yup. Anyways, cya dorks later!” Sam waved and walked out the door.

“Cya!” Danny closed the door behind her.

As soon as the door shut, Danny turned to Tucker. “Okay so I know it’s probably stupid but what if we went to Payless just to see if Kwan’s story checks out?”

“If it does, would you be too cool for…” Tucker hesitated and looked down at the controller in his hands, “video games?”

“Of course not!” Danny sat back down next to Tucker and put a hand on his shoulder. “You know, you are my favorite person.”

Tucker looked up, brown eyes shining in delight.

“I’m your favowite person?” Tucker asked jokingly.

Danny laughed and nodded. He hoped Tucker didn’t notice him blushing. “Yeah, dude. We’re a team, and we’re gonna get through this high school shit together.”

“Yeah! Team Phantom can conquer anything.”

“That’s right.” Danny picked up his controller. “Before we go, wanna play one more level?”

“Heck yes!”

___

Several minutes later, the two boys high-fived after completing the level.

“Okay, time to go to the mall.” Danny got up out of his chair.

“Yup!” Tucker stood up and Danny held the door open for him.

The two boys walked down the stairs and into the kitchen. Danny’s dad was too busy working on an invention at the kitchen table to notice their arrival. Danny cleared his throat and Jack looked up.

“Hey, kids!”

“Hi. Um. We’re gonna go get dinner at the mall.” Danny tugged at Tucker’s sleeve and started walking towards the door.

“Alright, be back by curfew!” Jack called.

Danny nodded and walked with Tucker out the door.

“Should we fly?” Danny asked.

“Sure!”

Danny and Tucker turned into a nearby alley and Danny went ghost, his white transformation rings lighting up late afternoon dimness.

“Grab on, Phantom Airlines is departing now.”

Tucker laughed and hugged Phantom from the back. He felt a slight coolness on his cheeks as he blushed- he cursed the cold ectoplasm coursing through his ghostly body that made him blush green- when he felt Tucker’s warm arms wrap around his chest. Phantom’s legs switched to a spectral tail as they took off towards the mall.

They flew in comfortable silence for the short trip to the Amity Park Mall. The city below them was also quiet and peaceful as the sun started to set on the horizon. Phantom was glad it seemed like there wasn’t going to be any ghost fights this evening.

He touched down gently at an empty edge of the mall’s parking lot and Tucker covered for him as he detransformed in a flash of light partially behind a tree.

Inside, the mall wasn’t very crowded at this time of day on a school night. Danny saw some A-Listers hanging around as they passed the food court, but none of them noticed as Danny and Tucker walked by on their way to Payless.

As they passed Sam’s favorite goth store, Danny regretted not waiting for her to be free to come with them.

“Sam would probably think this is a bad idea, right?” Danny asked. Tucker was looking in the window of the games store they were walking by.

“Oh for sure. I’m not even one hundred percent sure about this but I’m here for you, man.” Tucker elbowed Danny affectionately.

“Thanks.”

Danny felt the buzz of a ghost shield as he crossed the entrance of the Payless Shoes store. He remembered his parents had installed one there after the Box Ghost had terrorized the shoeboxes there a few too many times. The store was pretty much empty when they walked in- with the only sign of life being the bored-looking cashier behind the counter.

Danny stepped past the racks of shoes and tapped the countertop to get the cashier’s attention. The cashier’s haircut and sullen face reminded him a bit of Johnny 13. He looked up at Danny with a flicker of recognition.

“Let’s see the money.”

“What?” Danny was pretty sure that’s not how a normal store interaction was supposed to work.

“It’s from Japan. It’s a gray oblong pill- quantum nanotechnology CPU,” the cashier recited. “The quantum computer in the pull will travel through your blood until it implants in your brain and it tells you what to do.”

“How did you know that’s why I’m here?” Danny was starting to get creeped out by this guy.

“Just look at you.” He motioned towards Danny. That was fair, Danny thought. “Do you have the four hundred?”

“Four?”

“Is that a problem?”

Danny thought about Kwan’s sales pitch. “There’s a guy at my school charging-” Tucker grabbed Danny’s shoulder to stop him. Danny looked at Tucker for a second, confused, and then realized why. “Oh, right. Yes, I have four hundred.”

After taking the cash, the cashier led Danny through a curtain to the back of the store. The guy traced a finger past the shoeboxes that lined the walls of the narrow room until he stopped, pulled out a box, and presented it to Danny.

It looked… like a normal shoebox. With a confused glance up at the cashier, Danny opened the lid and saw it was filled with small gray pills. The cashier plucked a pill from the box and held it up with two fingers.

“For your information, this is untested, illegal technology. I take no responsibility for what you might do with it. Or what it might do to you.”

Danny considered the tiny pill in the cashier’s hand. “What it might do to me?”

The cashier ignored him and continued. “You have to take it with Mountain Dew to activate it. Don’t know why. There’s just something about Mountain Dew.”

“Okay…” Danny grabbed the pill and shoved it into his pocket.

“And this is important-”

“Excuse me?” A girl’s voice said. The curtain to the room opened and Ashley appeared.

“We’re sold out!” The cashier shouted. Danny winced.

“Of… shoes?” Ashley pointedly looked at the shelves lining the walls.

“Oh, right. Shoes. Yes, we do have those.” The cashier turned to Danny and ushered him through the curtain and out of the room. “Get out of here.”

“Wait, didn’t you say there was something important I needed to know?”

The cashier, who had already been hovering near Ashley, turned back to Danny. “Oh yeah. All sales are final.”

Danny heard the cashier and Ashley discussing some new shoes as he and Tucker walked out of the store.

“Should we grab some food?” Danny asked.

Tucker looked up from his PDA. “Sure, I could go for some chili fries.”

As they started heading toward the mall food court, Danny kept checking his pocket to make sure the mysterious pill was still there.

[the-guilty-writer]

The Big Game and Revelations

Agent Rossi-Reid

Anthology Masterlist

David Rossi x daughter!reader,  Spencer Reid x reader, Criminal minds x BAU!reader

Summary: A fun night out with the team turns into a case, which turns into a disaster, which turns into Rossi-Reid’s own personal Hell.

A/N: Ah, yes… this one should be interesting and after the Super Bowl I couldn’t pass up the opportunity. I did try to get this out on the night of the Super Bowl but I fell asleep trying to finish it. I think it was worth the extra week it took to write it though.

CW: Rewrite of S2E14 and E15 so it’s heavy, very minor suicidal idealation.

---

You were actually excited about the Super Bowl this year for one reason and one reason only… 

The Chicago Bears were playing.

And you had a bet with Derek Morgan. The two of you had pooled a week's worth of paperwork each… and the loser had to do all of it.

Of course Derek had his love for Chicago and team spirit on his side.

But you had Peyton Manning.

And Spencer Reid.

Before placing the bet, you had pulled up all the statistics and you and your husband spent your day off deciding mathematically, who would be the most likely to win Super Bowl XLI. Ultimately, the formula that Spencer had come up with predicted the Colts would come out on top. The next day you didn't hesitate to challenge Morgan, and with his competitive spirit and hometown honor on the line, he couldn't resist the bet.

A hopeful blow to Morgan's ego wasn't the only reason you had wagered with him, though. With a whole week of paperwork off your plate, you'd be able to take the Friday after Valentine's day off so you and Spencer could take a mini vacation.

Spencer knew this was the plan the moment you'd given him the stack of papers filled with player stats. He was looking forward to it too.

The entire team, with the exception of Gideon, was at a local bar. You and Spencer were sitting at a table with a few people you'd met, Spencer impressing them with his extensive knowledge of Star Trek. Morgan was on the dance floor, Penelope was shamelessly watching him, JJ was kicking ass at darts. You saw Prentiss bringing drinks toward a table, noticing that Hotch had even brought Haley for the occasion. Quietly, you excused yourself to go say hi to them.

Besides, it was good for Spencer to be left without you sometimes. The last few cases you’d spent more time with other members of the team. Part of that had to do with the nature of the cases, but part of it also had to do with the fact that Gideon had asked you to watch over Emily. You weren’t sure if it was as Agent Gideon who trusted your evaluation of another agent's abilities, or Uncle Jason who knew that you really needed more friends; but it meant that you’d worked with her on a few consults and even been paired together on a case.

The shift in dynamics had forced a shift in Spencer. You could see that slowly, but surely, the confidence in him at work was growing, and you loved to see it. It was in the little ways he would tease Morgan back now, or that he didn’t hesitate to bother Prentiss while she was in the middle of paperwork. Even though the ordeal with Nathan Harris had been tragic, watching Spencer take a role of someone older and wiser, yet still compassionate and still himself, showed you how much he had grown since you’d first met him.

“How are they treating you at the BAU, Emily?” You heard Haley say as you approached them.

“She means, am I being nice to you?” Hotch said.

“Actually, everyone has been incredibly nice.” Emily smiled.

“I think it’d be nice if the boss covered all our drinks tonight,” you said as you walked up beside Emily.

Haley laughed and Hotch cracked a smile. “For everyone but you, (Y/N),” he said.

You faked offense, bringing a hand to your chest before turning to the Hotchner. You knew she always got a kick out of your theatrics. “Haley, do you see how he treats me?”

Haley laughed again. “You be nice to her,” she scolded Hotch playfully. He pouted and she laughed again. “I swear you two bicker like siblings.”

Hotch was about to say something when Garcia interrupted. “Look at him move.” The 'him' in question was Morgan, and the move in question was… questionable. He hadn’t even noticed the Bears had lost. “He’s like a cat.”

“More like a dog!” You and Emily said at the same time. Both of you grinned. Gideon had truly created a monster by making the two of you work together.

“He did not ask them to dance. They asked him,” Garcia defended.

“Okay,” Emily said. “Okay, he’s a cat.”

“An alley cat,” Haley commented. You nodded in agreement.

“Come on, Haley, let’s go show them how it’s done,” Hotch said as he grabbed her hand.

“I’m game if you are!” Haley looked at you as Hotch led her away. You faked a retch, making her giggle.

“That’s so sweet!” Emily sighed a bit.

“It gets a little gross after twelve years,” you told her. “Especially when I had to listen to him pin nonstop for the first two years they dated… "Oh I never thought she’d love me, why do I have to go on a case for twenty four hours away from my love, oh why, why, why’…” You tried your best to mock young Hotch in love.

“So you and Reid won’t be gross in another eight years?” Emily asked.

You watched Hotch spin Haley around on the dancefloor, both of them simply enjoying the presence of one another. The way they moved with one another had nothing to do with acts of lust (unlike Morgan who was… being Morgan), and everything to do with knowing a person inside and out. Hotch leaned in to whisper something to Haley and she threw her head back with laughter. Her laugh made him smile.

In all the years you had known Aaron Hotchner, no one could make him smile like Haley Brooks did.

“Maybe a little,” you said, just low enough that no one could hear you over the music.

“Hey,” JJ said as she approached from behind. You could already tell by the tone in her voice what was coming next.

“We have a case, don’t we?” you said.

JJ sighed. “Yes. We do.”

---

The case was odd, to say the least. With so much evidence, the team should have been able to put a profile together easily, but things just weren’t adding up. The religious obsession combined with the technology, the dominant and submissive team dynamics that weren’t constant, the obvious organization with, what seemed to you to be, a disorganized system.

You were out in the field with Morgan when you got the text that there was another crime scene. Morgan was on the phone with Garcia. “Yeah, baby girl. Tell him we’re on our way.” He whipped the car around. 

When you arrived on the scene, you got straight to work, but just like before, nothing seemed to make sense. The religious ramblings were beginning to irritate you. You understood them enough, but you didn’t have extensive knowledge on different analysis on the passages over the centuries or know the actual wording in Latin like Spencer did. But Spencer wasn’t anywhere to be found.

“Hotch,” you called to him. “Where’s Spence?”

“I sent him and JJ to go interview someone who might know something,” Hotch told you. The vagueness of it all told you that it was probably nothing- that it was a stretch.

But hours later, the distress on Hotch’s face and the strain to keep his voice steady made it obvious to you that it wasn’t a stretch. “Hankle?”

“Hotch, what is it?” Morgan’s voice was filled with concern as well.

But when Hotch answered, he wasn’t looking at Morgan, he wasn’t looking at Gideon or Emily; he was looking at you. “JJ and Reid went to interview him. He’s the unsub.”

---

The drive to the unsub’s house was a chaotic collage of names and tactical plans, of kevlar and lights and sirens. But you hardly remembered any of it. Your mind was on Spencer.

There was always a chance that he and JJ were fine; that they realized he was the unsub and parked out of cell service, waiting for the rest of you to arrive. But there was also a chance that they weren’t fine.

When you arrived on scene, your brain kicked into a different gear- it wasn’t wife gear, but it also wasn’t Agent Rossi gear. It was a strange inbetween that you had never felt before- a collected calm caused by panic. You went with Morgan and Prentiss to the barn, only to find yourself on the wrong side of JJ’s sidearm.

“JJ,” Morgan called. “It’s Morgan, Rossi, and Prentiss. Don’t shoot.” JJ lowered her gun and Morgan did the same, approaching her. “It’s okay. Are you hurt?”

You approached JJ alongside your other two team members. Your mind was cloudy and clear at the same time, your body shaky but still. In JJ’s frazzled state she continued to talk, ignoring Morgan’s question- the one you wanted to know the answer to- where was your husband?

When Prentiss got her to slow down, telling you that they had split up and Reid took the back, you didn’t hesitate to follow Morgan out into the cornfield. There were obvious signs that someone had been dragged and then the trail stopped. You could see it in your head like a nightmare- Spencer being drug through the vegetation and thrown into the back of a vehicle.

Somehow you ended up in the house with the rest of the team, hearing, but not truly listening to what they were saying. You stood at the window, the flashing blue and red lights highlighting the streaks in the grass. The whole world was slow and blurry, but not from tears; it was from shock. You recalled the first time you ever got shot- it wasn’t bad, but the sudden impact of the bullet and the instantaneous pain that followed made it feel as though your brain had disconnected from your body. But that sensation had ended in a few minutes… this one felt never ending. That was, until, Gideon asked the question.

“Where’s Reid?”

“Gone,” you answered before Morgan could.

Your head came back to you, the shakiness of your hands stopping, something building inside you like a dormant volcano- destined to explode, but no one would see the signs until it was too late. You looked at the team. They were lined up in a semicircle, each of them looking at you with a different adverse emotion- Morgan, resentment; Prentiss, pity; Hotch, anxiety; Gideon, disbelief; and JJ; guilt.

“Spencer’s gone.”

---

You didn’t sleep that night, but Morgan was adamant that you take breaks, drink water, and provided you with many gentle squeezes on the shoulder when he walked by. Prentiss sat down with you and together, the two of you began unpacking the journals before going through them. She was less about sympathetic looks and more about action. It was a good combination for you at the moment.

The rest of the team on the other hand was… Well, JJ avoided you at all costs. Gideon didn’t actively avoid you, but he couldn’t seem to look at you and when you spoke he always left the room. Hotch up and left- driving all the way back to DC to get Garcia and then all the way back. He could have had any other agent do it, but he did it himself. You weren’t sure if it was because he didn’t trust anyone at the moment, or if it was because he needed to run.

When Gideon got the call that Hotch and Garcia were on their way, all of you gathered in the room downstairs, surrounded by boxes and journals and things that would hopefully lead you to finding Doctor Reid. That’s how you had to think of him right now; not as Spencer, your husband, of Agent Reid, your colleague, but of Doctor Reid- just some smart guy with three PhDs. You knew that it was distancing yourself from the situation, but you couldn’t help it. If that’s what you had to do, you would do it.

“Welcome to our nightmare,” JJ said as Garica walked through the door.

It might just be a nightmare to you, but it’s worse than Hell for me. You swallowed your anger and told the voice at the back of your head to shut up. You had a job to do. She shouldn’t have let them split up.

Morgan and Garcia got started in the room full of computers, JJ went to take a break, and Gideon and Emily went to do some more searching upstairs. You sat down at the table and went through more of the journals. The entries weren’t long, but there were a lot of them.

Spencer would get through these in less than an hour.

“(Y/N),” the voice was strong, but more gentle than you were used to. “You should take a break.”

“I don’t need a break, Hotch,” you told him, looking up to meet his unblinking eyes for just a second.

He didn’t argue. He knew better. “I’ll be back to check in later.”

You went back to the journals.

---

Night had fallen and it felt like you were no closer to finding Doctor Reid than you had been when the sun rose. Most of the journals were religious ramblings, and Garcia was working as hard as she could on the computer system, but it still wasn’t matching up. The profile was still a mess. The whole thing was a mess.

“Rossi,” Morgan said. You didn’t respond. He plucked the journal out of your hand. 

“Morgan-”

“I’m going to check the perimeter.”

“Okay?”

“Come with me,” he said.

You hesitated. “Okay, lead the way.”

You followed Morgan out of the house and into the night. He walked ahead of you, flashlight in hand. You had to admit that the fresh air was relieving, helping clear any residual fog from your brain. You scanned the sides of the house, the broken boards that needed to be repaired, the roof that needed new shingles, and the gutter full of leaves. Your eyes trailed downward, landing on something strange, something new…

“Morgan!” You called. You jogged over to the cellar doors, drawing your sidearm on the way.

Morgan ran up next to you. “Hey guys, I think we’ve got something!”

Hotch and Prentiss were quick to join you. No words needed to be spoken- Hotch would go in first, then Morgan, and you and Prentiss would stand guard outside. The two men entered the cellar, glocks drawn. You listened carefully, but you couldn’t quite make out all their words.

When Hotch and Morgan came out of the cellar, both of them looked disturbed.

“Anything?” Emily asked.

“We found Hankle’s father,” Hotch said. “He’s dead.”

---

It felt like time was moving at the speed of light and standing still all at the same time. You continued to be able to catch small bits of information- JJ and Prentiss were going to look into Hankle’s Narcotics Anonymous meetings, Hankle’s father had been dead for six months, Garcia was making progress on the computer system- making the day fly by and slow down all at the same time. Around noon, your brain failed you and you fell asleep at the table for just a few hours. By the time you’d woken up, the rest of the team had figured out that Hankle was living as three different people and he had a serious drug problem.

You sat in the room full of screens with Garcia, feeling absolutely like the most useless agent in the world. Of course all the progress had been made while you were asleep. You were hardly paying attention to what Morgan and Garcia were talking about when you heard Penlope’s signature “Oh my god,” and looked over to the screens.

For the past twenty four hours all you’d wanted was to see Spencer- but not like this. Never like this.

You gathered around the computers with the rest of the team, trying to keep your face as still as possible. You wanted so badly to be able to focus on what was going on- analyze the situation, the words, the background, in an effort to find out where Spencer was, but your mind couldn’t work. Not while watching this.

Then the feed cut- all the screens going blank- and any hope of finding evidence to rescue your husband was gone. You heard Morgan punch the door as he stormed out of the room. The sound brought you back to reality, and you followed him out of the room.

“Morgan,” you called to him, but he kept walking, all the way out onto the front porch and into the front yard. “Morgan!”

You and Morgan were both known to have hot heads when things got personal and rageful, but your emotions came out in loud and painful words; Morgan’s came out in kicking down doors and breaking down walls. You just stood and watched as he took a piece of wood that was laying in the yard and smashed it down on the ground, causing it to splinter into pieces. His back heaved with heavy breathing, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d be scared of him. But you did know better.

“Derek,” it was more gentle this time, and the other agent turned around to look at you. The fury and frustration now replaced with an expression of agony.

He walked up to you quietly, shaking his head just a bit. “How are you doing this, Rossi?”

You closed your eyes tight, and tears pricked at the corners. The pure pain in Morgan’s voice finally causing all the pent up emotion inside to come out. “I’m not,” you admitted.

Spencer had been in plenty of dangerous situations before- stuck in an ER with a known killer, on a train with a psychotic man with a gun, in a mansion with a bomb- but this was the first time he was somewhere completely alone. You trusted that Hotch and Elle and Morgan would help protect him.

But no one could protect him now.

Every feeling you had shoved inside came out at once, and you collapsed in a fit of sobs. Morgan caught you before you could hit the ground, pulling you so tight to his chest you almost couldn’t breath. You cried so hard it hurt- it hurt your head and your eyes and your chest and your heart. Morgan was whispering something to you, but you couldn’t hear him over the explosion of emotion you were experiencing.

When the dam gates closed and the tears stopped flowing, you gently pushed Morgan away and wiped your eyes. “I need to help get him home.”

“Then let’s bring him home.”

---

It felt strange that the team was inhabiting the house of a killer- eating at his table, using his bathrooms, sleeping on his couch- but sometimes to get in the mind of an unsub, you had to do strange things. One of those strange things was using his appliances, including his coffee maker. The entire team was running off caffeine, and you were no exception. Just as you turned the corner towards the kitchen, you heard voices, and paused.

“It’s funny,” JJ said. You didn’t think anything about this was funny. “I keep thinking, the one thing we need to crack this case is uh… well, Reid.”

You wanted to scream.

“Yeah,” Morgan responded quietly.

“You think Reid and I should have stayed together at the barn, don’t you?”

Everything in you wanted to walk into the room and confront JJ… tell her upfront that they should have stayed together and it was her fault that Spencer was missing. But you couldn’t move.

“JJ, go get some rest.” You could hear Morgan’s exhaustion… but you could also hear his anger.

“I can tell that’s what you’re thinking so-”

“I just wanna get Reid home safe.”

“But if I had his back like I was supposed to, he’d be here now.” The defense in JJ’s voice made your blood boil.

“JJ, what do you want from me?”

“I just… I want someone to tell me the truth!”

“The truth is one of you is here and one of you isn’t,” Morgan said, frustration coming through. “You gotta figure the rest out for yourself.” He walked toward where you were standing, just out of sight. When he saw you, he didn’t say anything. He just looked at you with sympathy before walking away.

You walked into the kitchen, avoiding looking at JJ as you made your way to the coffee pot. It was empty. You stared at the pot as it brewed, then poured it into your empty mug, not bothering to wait until it was cool before taking a sip. Maybe if you burned your tongue you could keep yourself from saying rageful words. You went to leave the kitchen when-

“(Y/N)?” JJ said.

You shut your eyes tight for a moment and turned, looking at the blonde, but not saying anything.

“What?” You shook your head slightly, keeping your face as straight as possible.

“I-” JJ swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

You looked down and took a deep breath. “Don’t apologize to me.” You looked JJ dead in the eye, holding yourself in as much control as possible. “Apologize to Spencer.”

Without another word, you turned and left; not feeling any better, but not feeling any worse.

---

You continued working with Prentiss. Hotch and Gideon were working together- an oddity. But so was a member of the team getting kidnapped. There was a sudden sound of shock coming from the room filled with computers. You and Prentiss both shot up from your seats and quickly filed into the room where the rest of the team was staring at the screens.

Spencer’s chair had fallen over, and he laid on the floor, unmoving. You’d seen enough people who were sleeping, dead, or dying to know the difference, even on a screen. And Spencer was dead.

You’d had this nightmare before, and in every single one you instantly crumbled to the ground in a fit of sobs, fighting whoever tried to touch you or calm you down. In your nightmares, the grief was so overwhelming it robbed your body of air until your head was so light that you couldn’t think- as if your body’s survival response to such overwhelming sadness was to make it so you couldn’t think long enough to be sad at all.

But now that it was real, all you could do was stand there- eyes glued to the screen, mouth slightly agape, blood draining from your face. The feeling was impossibly numb. Your mind not processing anything, refusing to believe what you were seeing. There was no survival response to overwhelming sadness; because all the will you had to survive was gone.

You remembered a quote from Dante’s Inferno- the one book Spencer had ever made you read to him since the original was in Italian- “L’inferno e freddo”: Hell is cold.

And you were frozen.

“Guys.” You heard the voice, but your brain was still in a state of limbo. Only the sudden appearance of a man on the screen, giving Spencer CPR, was enough to snap your body from the frost.

And then Spencer was alive.

Your vision blurred as your eyes watered, relief filling your body. But it was only temporary. The next thing you knew, Hankle was speaking.

“Choose one to die.”

“What?” You weren’t sure if Spencer was still in shock from dying and coming back to life, or if he was truly asking.

“Your team members,” Hankle said. “Choose one to die.”

“Kill me,” the words came out of Spencer's mouth like a plea.

Spencer, no. Your chest tightened, your breathing taught. Just say a name, Spencer. Please don’t give yourself up to him.

“You said you weren’t one of them.”

“I lied,” Spencer said. It didn’t matter thought- the math worked somehow.

“The team has seven members. Tell me who dies.”

Just say a name, Spencer… any name.

“No.”

Hankle pulled Reid’s revolver from his pocket, pointing it straight at your husband’s forehead. “Choose, and prove you’ll do God’s will.”

“No.” Hankle pulled the trigger. The chamber was empty. A tear streamed down your cheek.

“Choose.”

“I won’t do it,” Spencer’s voice was barely audible over the video feed.

Another trigger pull, another empty chamber.

“Life is a choice.”

“No.”

Choose to live, Spence.

Trigger. Empty chamber.

“Choose.”

“I…” This time Spencer was slower to answer. He was going to choose. He had to choose. If he didn’t, he was dead. “I choose Aaron Hotchner.”

The entire room seemed to become still with shock for a moment, before everyone turned to look at Hotch- you included. The expression on his face wasn’t hurt, or at least you didn’t think so. Hotch had been so avoidant of you the past 48 hours that you weren’t sure that you could read him in this situation. He continued to watch the screen, but you continued to look at his expression.

“He's a classic narcissist,” Reid explained Hotch’s sin. “He thinks he's better than everyone else on the team.”

The wheels turned in your head, and as Hotch furrowed his brow, you could see that the wheels were turning in his head as well. He left the room quickly, and you followed after him. Hotch grabbed the Bible sitting on the table, flipping through it rapidly. You didn’t ask why.

The rest of the team filtered into the room and Hotch looked up. “I’m not a narcissist,” he said. It wasn’t defensive. You’d seen Hotch defensive before, and it was nothing like this.

“Come on,” Gideon started. “Look, you can't think anything from that. He’s not in his right mind-”

“No, stop, stop,” Hotch cut Gideon off and looked around at the rest of the team. “All right, everybody right now- what's my worst quality?”

Silence.

None of you wanted to answer that question. 

“Okay, I’ll start,” Hotch said. “I have no sense of humor.”

“You’re a bully,” JJ said quietly.

“I’m a bully,” Hotch agreed.

“You can be a drill sergeant sometimes,” Morgan said, avoiding eye contact.

“Right.”

“You don't trust women as much as men,” Prentiss said boldly. You wondered how long she’d been wanting to say that.

Then Hotch turned to you, meeting your gaze for the first time since Spencer had gone missing.

“You avoid difficult emotions,” you told him. “Instead of confronting them.”

“Okay, good.” Hotch kept his eyes on you for a moment before turning back to everyone else. “I’m all these things, but none of you said that I ever put myself above the team, because I don't, ever.” That was true. It always had been. “Reid and I argued about the definition of classic narcissism, and he knew that I would remember that, and he also quoted genesis, chapter 23, verse 4. Read it.”

JJ read the verse outloud. There was more discussion about narrowing down where Spencer might be. You hung onto every word, but you had just called Hotch out on something that you were doing yourself. You’d been burying yourself in work to avoid dealing with the terror and the pain that stirred inside you.

So instead of fighting to let you be in your normal point position when the team raided the cabin, you stayed at the back with JJ. Instead of avoiding her, you worked next to her in silence; both of you sharing a silent and desperate hope that Spencer was okay- that he was alive. When the team spread out, you stuck close to Prentiss, knowing you would need the support if something went awry and not being ashamed that, at the moment, you didn’t trust yourself to stay as steady as you needed to be.

And when Hotch helped Spencer to his feet, you let the tears stream down your cheeks. Holstering your gun, you let yourself go entirely- the relief crashing through your body. You breathed heavily, the cold air causing condensation to form. Morgan put a hand on your arm to keep you upright, and you let him.

You allowed the thoughts that had flooded your mind for the past two days to rise to the surface; that Morgan was probably the only other person in the world who shared what you were feeling right now- disappointment in Hotch for letting Reid and JJ go off in the middle of nowhere on their own, resentment about Gideon nearly getting Spencer killed, and rage at JJ because this never would have happened if one of you were with him instead.

“(Y/N),” Spencer’s voice as he said your name was barely a whisper, but to hear it in person made it real- it made everything real.

You pulled him into a hug, tears free flowing down your face. Spencer wrapped his arms around you tight, pulling you in so your bodies were as close as they could possibly be while standing upright. He buried his head in your shoulder. You leaned your face against the side of his head, pressing your cheek against his curls.

He let go of you slowly, as if you were the one thing keeping him tied to earth, your eyes locking only for a moment before Gideon walked over. You let Spencer lean on you, keeping his hurt foot off the ground.

“Let’s get you out of here,” Gideon said. “Come on.” Gideon went to support Spencer on the other side, helping him forward just a few steps before-

“Please.” Spencer looked at Gideon, but not at you. “Can I have a second alone?”

You looked at Spencer, but he didn’t look back at you, so instead you looked at your mentor. He gave Spencer a sympathetic look before locking eyes with you for just a second and walking away.

You let go of Spencer gently, your hands brushing before your bodies lost contact. He turned away without looking at you and began to limp towards Hankle’s body. You turned as well, looking over your shoulder as you walked. Prentiss was the one to help you this time- resting a gentle hand on your back to ground you.

You let her lead you back toward the SUVs, but you didn’t quite know where you were going; your mind was still full of Spencer. Then again, your mind was almost always full of Spencer- but not in this way. Never in this way.

“He’s going to be okay,” Emily said gently.

You let out a heavy breath. The clearing where the vehicles were parked was lit up by flashing colored lights. An ambulance had arrived, as had a coroner’s van. Officers were talking quietly, Hotch was pacing as he talked on the phone, JJ sat in the open trunk of an SUV staring out into the distance.

It was all over, but somehow you felt like things had only just began. 

“How do you know?” you asked her, breathing out as you did. It sounded helpless, but that was how you felt.

Emily put a hand on your shoulder, looking into your eyes. “Because,” she said- her voice was gentle, but her words were confident. “He has you.”

---

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[ashwithane]

happy 5th anniversary, fire emblem three houses!

i didn’t have time to do anything super elaborate, but i’m glad i could at least make some simple drawings of how i looked when the game released vs how i look now. i tried to give them a similar vibe to the in-game portraits haha

rant below about my feelings right now because there’s a Lot to say! content warning for mental illness and childhood trauma 🫠🤙

as you can see in the drawings, i’ve come a long way in the past five years. when three houses first released, i was a deeply insecure high schooler who never dared to speak up or express themself. i struggled with self worth issues and had long since begun developing ocd symptoms as a result of the fear i had that there was something wrong with me, something i couldn’t possibly know or change but that everyone would see if i made a single wrong move.

throughout high school, and my adolescence as a whole, i had a hard time connecting with people. but when i played three houses, i connected with the story, the characters, the ability to replay it again and again and always try something new, change characters’ classes and find new paired endings and discover the little details i hadn’t noticed before. i was playing three houses the weekend after covid lockdown was announced, and i remember talking to one of my friends about this cool game i’d just started my second playthrough of. we laughed and talked about the game, figuring that lockdown would only last a few weeks, and then things would be back to normal.

lockdown was difficult for me, as it was for most people. but at the same time, not going to school in person meant i could afford to let my guard down. i could afford to unmask, and discover who i was when i didn’t spend every moment in fear of what others would think. and so when lockdown ended, i started college still timid, but somewhat more familiar with who i was inside.

and then, one day, a thought hit me out of nowhere.

“am i trans???”

and thus began the journey of self-discovery that was my first summer after college. i started using the name ashe, started using any pronouns and later switched to just they/them. i also finally got up the courage to tell my parents i wanted to get tested for autism, and came back with that diagnosis to explain almost everything i hadn’t had the words to understand before.

recently, my mental health has gotten worse. i got diagnosed with anxiety at the same time i got my autism diagnosis, but nobody told me i have ocd as well until earlier this year. things took a nosedive for me over this past school year—i stopped taking risks, barely left my college campus, barely allowed myself to put effort into social connections out of fear that i’d be forcing people to put up with me. but through therapy and medication, i’ve been working through those feelings, and the fears my brain internalized as a result of the way i grew up: feeling like something was wrong with me, but not knowing what. today, i feel pretty good! i’ve been having more and more good days, so i’m overall optimistic about what my future holds.

to bring this back on topic, fire emblem: three houses has gotten me through countless tough times, and has been immensely helpful in figuring out who i am. so in honor of the anniversary, i’d like to give a special thank you to the characters who have been the most important to me over the past five years.

ashe: i’ll start with the obvious. ashe is the character i stole my name from, so of course he will always hold a special place in my heart. in addition to that though, ashe’s earnest personality and commitment to doing the right thing is immensely inspiring to me. he proves that it’s possible to make mistakes and grow from them, that your life isn’t over after one misstep. ashe has taught me to never give up on doing the right thing, and being the best version of myself i can be.

felix: this list would not be complete without the scrunkly of all time! obviously i find felix to be a very compelling character and fun to write, but his significance to me goes beyond being a writing muse. i’ve often thought that i wish i’d had a friend like felix when i was younger, and even now—someone who would drag me into situations i found stressful and encourage me (in his own rude way) to have confidence in myself. someone who would have stood up for me against the people who treated me like i was lesser. felix inspires me to fight for what i want, his shield symbolizing the ability to make your own choices for what and who you defend. he reminds me that there’s no glory in being a martyr, and so i shouldn’t make my well being a second priority. i love you felix and i’m sorry i put you through the horrors regularly (but not sorry enough to stop).

marianne: it’s probably concerning to say i see a lot of myself in marianne. her journey is incredibly inspiring to me, especially now as i see that the past five years have taken me along a similar path to hers. marianne starts out thinking she’s too different from everyone else to deserve a life like theirs, and condemns herself to crushing loneliness all to avoid the possibility of her hurting the people she loves. and yet she learns to live for herself, realizes that her mere existence doesn’t cause any harm, and learns to embrace her right to enjoy life. i hope to have the same strength she does, so that one day i can reach that point as well.

linhardt: no joke, i realized i was neurodivergent because of linhardt. so many of his lines and support conversations made me go “ha, he’s so autistic/adhd coded!” i made these comments repeatedly, but i also kept noticing all the little ways in which i related to him. linhardt was one of many autistic people who made me go “huh, i do that too! what do you mean that’s not normal???” his character also serves as a reminder that it’s okay to take a break once and a while, and that looking after myself doesn’t mean i don’t care about others.

if there’s one thing left to say, it’s thank you. thank you to ashe, felix, marianne, linhardt, mercedes, sylvain, ignatz, hapi, yuri, hell—my oc rowan, all the characters i’ve connected with and loved so deeply over the past five years. thank you fire emblem three houses, not for being the only reason i am where i am today, but being a major part of it nonetheless. and if anyone’s still reading, thank you for making it this far, and happy timeskip! 🎉

[troublesjunkyard]

So I was super tired! Like, so tired I could barely keep my eyes open. So I rested my eyes at 4:19 pm (Because I wanted to talk to my mom when she got home at around 4:30.) and then went to bed around 4:40.

I then got woken up by Puppy Chaos opening my door at around 5:00. So I shooed him off and locked my door, (With the chain lock.) but he continued to open my door. (As much as the chain would allow.) I finally got him to stop opening my door around 5:30 - 5:40 and went back to bed.

But then I got woken up again by my mom having a loud argument over the phone with her mom. (And I mean loud. I could hear her with my door shut, and music playing on a speaker right next to me. [I don't remember if my AC was on at the time. That's really a 50-50 in the equation.]) I fell back asleep a few minutes after waking up because I just tuned out the argument.

But I then woke up around 9:30 to my mom yelling at Tucker for being a dick to Puppy Chaos while she was feeding them. (Because I [tried] to go to sleep early so I didn't feed them like I was supposed to.) And thus ends all the nonsense I was woken up to.

...

I then woke up on my own at around 10:30, so I went back to sleep. But then I woke up again at around 11:30, so I went back to bed. And again, I woke up at around 12:30 am, and again, I went back to bed. Again, I woke up at around 1:30, again, I went back to sleep. I woke up at 2:12 and was pretty pissed; it hadn't even been an hour this time! well, I went back to bed anyway. When I woke up at 2:25 I just gave up entirely.

I wasn't even sleeping in hour blocks anymore, so why bother? I wanted to sleep all night to try and fix my sleep schedule, that way I would have a good sleep schedule when I start work. (Even if I don't start for another week and a half.) But my body said "No! Fuck you!" so I just stopped trying.

I then got up and decided to do a couple of chores. I unloaded the dishwasher and took out the trash.

And we're about to sell a bunch of our shit, so I cleaned some of the stuff. I cleaned the dining room table and the two chairs that go with it, the living room TV, the TV stand, and the two TV trays.

The TV stand was so dirty! I wiped it over with one paper towel to get the bulk of the dust off and then proceeded to use 7 Clorox wipes to clean off the rest of the dust. It has shelves/sections, so I used one Clorox wipe for each section, (5) but one needed two Clorox wipes to clean off, (6) I then used one more Clorox wipe to wipe down all five sections to make sure it was clean. (7) The last Clorox wipe came up with some dirt, but it didn't look like it was just dumped in a mud puddle like the other six did.

Also, I didn't want to sit down while cleaning the TV stand, (It's low to the ground.) so I crouched down instead; but my body had different ideas. My kneecaps move a lot more than the average person, and I can literally grab my kneecap and move it almost completely out of its socket. (My legs needs to be straight and limp/relaxed to do this though.) But while I was crouching, my left kneecap decided to move itself and lock up. (When this happens, I just have to straighten my leg and it will pop back in place. But it's painful to move my leg when it's like that, and it's painful when my kneecap snaps back into place.) I ended up falling on my ass when I was trying to straighten my leg from the crouched position I was in. But hey, me falling on my ass allowed me to be able to straighten my leg.

I also have a wound on my... chest that's super infected, and a line of 3 months worth (Maybe a bit longer than that.) of dust got onto the wound when I fell and the TV stand opened up the wound. So yeah, that's definitely not gonna get any more infected than it already is. :/

After all that went down, and I put the TV and TV trays in the office, I ended up making my mom a cup of coffee because I heard her 4:00 am alarm go off. So that's how my day is starting off...

Anyway, how are you doing, Trouble?

Damn your sleep schedule is more fucked up than mine was...

And fixing sleep schedules can be really hard especially when your body isn't playing along. My sleep schedule is more separated in several blocks and some small naps but back to the point.

I'm okay (*^▽^*)

Very exhausted, much stressed but soon I've got some weeks off so-

A small light on the end of the tunnel for me hooray!

I hope you can sleep better the next time. I'll try to send you some of my tiredness /j (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

[kirby-the-gorb]

reply roundup!

had to put these on hold for a while for personal reasons </3 they're likely to still be infrequent, but in honor of kirb2k!

(my notes would only load back to mid september so I missed a couple weeks sorry :c but be warned that this is a long one! it's 3 entire months' worth!)

also, reminder that kirb2k ends tomorrow!!! preorders, commissions, and auctions will all close at noon pst on sunday december 17th! everything is linked in the pinned post or filed under the tag kirb2k!

first is one more birthday kirb from my friend @sleepy-sheep-wizard:

Realized halfway thru that I don’t know what Kirby looks like off the top of my head, so I got funky with it. Happy birthday, thank you for being a good friend

thank you again friend <3 getting funky with it is truly in the spirit of just drawing a little guy for fun, I love his little hat in particular.

on [mirror] @shapeshifterwithafez said: uuuh is Scherben bringen Glück/ Shards bring luck a universal saying? sounfs clinky as a direct translation. anyways in germany we say that shards of stuff you broke brings luck so I hope the luck finds you or smth sorry for rambling ^^

I'd never heard this saying before, but I think it's very sweet! thank you for sharing it with me :)

on [pipefight] @hauntedppgpaints said: goalies with a skate blade and their stick in hand

big hockey vibes for real yeah lol

on [pink] @gaydiation-poisoning said: ...I wanna eat that pink

honestly same, it's sooo pleasing

on [rain] @hive-heart said: Everything alright, daily kirby guy?

not really but sitting by the window in the rain is a good thing lol thanks for asking <3

(also the person who tagged that same post myhouse.wad made me laugh)

on [photo] @ceylonsilvergirl [added] a picture of their cat and said: get adored idiot!! see the hate in her eyes? I’ll make her love me yet!!

me @ my partner's cat

@violet-dragongirl said: oh! I have been meaning to ask! Have you played Kirby and The Forgotten Lands? I assume you did but just wanted to say that I did about a week ago and I loved it and thought of your art! ^.^ And if you haven't, yes, Carby is super adorable and amazing :3

I have! I got it very shortly after it came out, I had a really good time with it. I've been slowly replaying it recently with my partner, they were kind of fond of kirby just by proxy but since we started playing they adore bandee now and say he never gets enough screen time XD I'm glad you also had fun!

on [mice] @ceylonsilvergirl said: girls like swarms of things, right?

idk bro my wife wasn't so big on it when I got a gig housing 30 mice, but maybe she's weird. I liked them. (sadly one of the best paying jobs I've ever had up until the owner lost it and abandoned them with me, yes I still took care of them for the rest of their little lives) (and yes I also got my wife's okay before I took them on in the first place)

on [covid] @mordantivore said: reading posts from when the era of covid safety was declared anathema and ended is haunting. we were so desperate to find ppl willing to help us stay alive. there are fewer of us now bc “allies” are worthless & more of us have died

yeah. fuck. I'm lucky that the people in closest proximity to me are at least moderately careful, but me and my wife and partner are usually the only ones wearing masks anywhere we go except sometimes the employees and I know they don't always wear them when they're out without me.

on [swim] @northeasternwind said: Jdjdjfkg imagining Kirby being way more bouyant than your average human so them gotta exhale REAL HARD or attach nega-floaties (sinkies?) like weights to dive

lol yeah they probably gotta try So Hard to actually get under the water. (I think diving weights/ballast is a thing that humans use too? I've never gone diving, having my face underwater stresses me out -n- )

on [float] @nickiemoot said: he has to go now. his planet needs him. *slide whistle*

I can only hear this as that one similar part from one of the asdfmovies, it delights me

@vampiricarus said: if you see this just know i love your art so much

aww thank you! <3

anonymous said: just wanted to say I love Kirby and I love your art! I’m always excited to see it on my dash. thank you for bringing a little joy to my life :) I need it once in a while like I’m sure a lot of others do too! Keep up the good work :))

thank you! drawing a little guy brings me a little joy too, I'm glad it can do the same for others <3

on [drain] @ceylonsilvergirl said: I’m sorry you’re having a rough time. Existing is hard work sometimes. A lot of the time

fuck dude it sure is <3 especially when my body keeps trying to shut down lol

on [mud] @why-are-all-the-fun-urls-taken said: Hey man are u doing ok

I am not, thanks for asking <3

on [tummyache] @hobgirl said: :o kirby the gorb why would you do that!!!!! why!!!!!

I didn't want it to go to waste!!! everyone is dumb sometimes!!!

on [wizard] @eau-the-agony said: not enough appreciation in the wizarding world for garlic salt spell. its all kung pow penis tgis and ketamine ape that. not enough of the small joys which carry us through the horrors like a dinky garbage raft

you are so right. the small joys are the most powerful of all.

on [wizard] @beepbeepdespair said: somehow didnt know garlic salt was a thing until this moment. now i really want some. i think i just found a kg of it online for 12 quid??

I am so pleased that you now have the knowledge of Garlic Salt Spell, I hope you got to try it out for yourself :D

on [zelda] @chaos-squared said: Good job!! I’ve had it for longer yet still haven’t completed it ;w;

nothing wrong with that! I only finished it as quickly and thoroughly as I did because I was basically bedridden for all of october, as long as you enjoy the time you do spend with a game it doesn't really matter how much time you spend or how far you get.

on [brave] @gudetamalover said: me tomorrow afternoon when I get all four wisdom teeth out

I'd already had several other oral surgeries on account of Weird Teeth before I got my wisdom teeth out but it still knocked me on my ass for a couple days, I hope your recovery went as smooth as possible! (altho that was also like. 15 years ago. and general anesthesia has gotten a lot better since then.)

on [shiny] @angst-and-fajitas said: Like to slap his bald head reblog to slap his bald head

bald! bald! bald! bald!

on [powerwash] @chronicdilf said: decemberb 16 im goign to walk across the damn stage get my damn diploma folder im going to go home and POWERWASHER SIMULATOR JUST LIKE KIRBY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

yeah!!! you're gonna do it!!! you might be doing it right now even!!!

on [cooked] @hobgirl said: oh mood kirby..... struggling with the very last paper i need to write before i can graduate and its got me feeling this way fr

ough, I hope you made it through your paper! lots of people graduating tho that's so cool, congrats to both of you!

on [bears] @jupiterlandings said: I get so happy every time I see Cake and the name Cake being tagged :)

it's such a good name for a bear, I'm grateful you thought of it!! especially given the best I could do for the other one was "kirbear" lol

@violet-dragongirl said: omg seeing that Fav Grobs Post you recently put up makes me so happy! over a thousand (and then some!) GORBS?! :D I'm not only impressed but so proud ya made it this far and I'm so glad you got possibly more to go of Kirby!! :D!! Really great job 🥰🥰

thank you! I'm gonna hit 2000 days of drawing kirby tomorrow, that's so wild!

on [popular] @timeturner-jay said: Op your Kirby art brings so much utter joy you have no idea <3

yay I'm glad <3 I love to draw a little guy, it's good I'm not the only one having fun lol

I got a lot of "good blaze op" on the [macarena], and you're all correct, thank you for recognizing my great decision making B) (I'd been meaning to add the music and blaze it from basically the moment I drew it, I've just been really sick so it took a while.)

(also even if I don't always gather them in the roundup there are names I recognize showing up repeatedly in the tags, some of whom have been here for years, and I'm always glad to see you're still around!)

[onlyhereforghosttrick]

A bit of a simple question, but is there any piece of media (movie, game, writing, music, etc) you think is underated/more people should know about (or that you just realy recommend). Feel free to answer with more than one if you want to.

I don't know how to determine if something is underrated so uh- prepare for an onslaught of hyperfixations from the past couple years (mostly video games (and even more so DS games as it turns out)).

Ghost Trick

I don't know how to accurately depict how much this one has influenced me. It gave me my love for foreshadowing in twists. And clever gameplay integrated with the story. And flashbacks. And non-linear stories in general. Just one problem: I can't say anything about This game without spoiling just SO much of it. By calling two characters by their accurate name, you can spoil the final twists of the game, so I have to walk a delicate balance I mostly just didn't bother with when recommending the game. Well, this is your push to play it. (It got a remaster last year, which would be the most accessible way to play it, but if you don't mind a bit if illegality or overpricedness, the original release is always an option.)

Professor Layton

One of the less significant interests of mine, it's like a puzzle game mixed with a point and click adventure where you have to solve a bunch of miniature logic, sliding, counting, or other puzzles to progress, ton of fun, would recommend. It's getting its seventh entry soon [despite the alleged 'no further plans for games here in the west' or whatever], and it looks really cool! Might end up checking it out when it releases... sadly, most of the series is relegated to the mobile ports so that's the only place you're really able to find them, aside from their original ds or 3ds games. [keep in mind, I might just be unaware of some obscure ports.]

Ace Attorney

Ace attorney is probably the one the most people will actually know about, this being a visual novel puzzle series where you work out logical contradictions in a courtroom setting to save clients from false convictions. Currently serves as one of the main inspiration for my current biggest project [which I admittedly don't have enough written to link here]. Arguably the easiest to play the full series of thanks to the recent collections coming out, spinoffs included.

The world ends with you

Twewy is one of the most recent inspirations on this list, following an amnesiac teenager through a week-long game of life and death. I haven't played the sequel in a while [and I can't anymore, thanks PS plus], so I don't exactly have enough info left to judge it, but the original is hectic multitasking at its peak. ...on the DS. I don't have final remix, so I can't testify as to its quality, although with how it kind of looks to me like they butchered the original's quirkiness thanks to the lack of dual screens, my recommendation would be to play the original on DS, then watch the cutscenes of A New Day [a story epilogue exclusive to Final Remix that preludes NEO] in a youtube video. Maybe I'm wrong about the butchering though- keep in mind, this opinion comes from a guy who think the ghost trick title screen in the remake was worsened by the addition of music. [mainly because it's not even original music, just the main theme- but that rant can wait for another day.]

Pokemon Mystery Dungeon

This one. Ho boy this one. The biggest influence in a while when it comes to executing non-linear storytelling and compelling characters. It took a while for me to find it and a bit longer to see the appeal, and boy was it worth it. Chances are if you find this blog, much less this post, you already know about pmd, but if you somehow don't, then allow me to recommend you play one of them, because trust me when I say they're ALL worth a try. [I haven't played super yet and I don't plan to play rescue team so I can't quite testify to those, but explorers and gates from my experience have all been pretty good with gameplay and excellent with story.]

Pokemon Adventures

Yes, another pokemon recommendation. No, I swear this is different. There's a chance you've at least heard of this without knowing the name. This being the manga where all the weirdly dark stuff happens, right? You know, like 6 of the unovan gym leaders being CRUCIFIED? [No, really.] While this manga is practically infamous for its content, as you might now, but I swear it's worth a read for the actual character it has, which is usually better than the games themselves at storytelling. And honestly, I'm glad ScarVi learned what made a good story, that being having actual characters involved rather than cardboard cutouts. ...Just a shame the game is tripping over its own feet half the time.

Ultrakill

This is a fun one, and I'm surprised not too many people know about it- basically, Ultrakill is a Devil May Cry-inspired First Person Shooter, where you play as a blood-fueled robot blasting his way through hell, where the whole game is designed to be as fast-paced as possible. If that sounds remotely interesting to you, I'd highly recommend you give it a try.

Kingdom Hearts

Kingdom hearts, yes, the infamous crossover between disney and final fantasy. Some might argue this doesn't count as underrated, but 1. Did you hear me or not? I said I didn't know how to qualify if something is underrated, so... and 2. I feel like people really only know that Kingdom hearts has a weirdly told story and that very few people actually KNOW that story. So yeah, I'd recommend giving the story a chance if you can- just make sure to pay attention to DDD specifically, because A LOT of people get tripped up there. Oh, and for the mobile games [which yes they are important why do you think this series got the reputation it did], the official source isn't great- watch a fandub instead.

Jhariah

A pretty indie artist I listen to sometimes, great for if your prefered type of music is 'the bpm is a higher number than there are atoms in the known universe'. Some personal favorites of mine are Fire4Fun, Risk! Risk! Risk!, and Re:Concerns.

Rhythm Heaven

Rhythm heaven is one of the more obscure games on this list, but it's a good one- basically just a collection of rhythm minigames without any throughline whatsoever, and it's a ton of fun- but also REALLY HARD. Its last entry was Megamix on the 3DS, but it had entries on the DS, GBA, and Wii. Megamix was more a 'best of' compilation for the series to that point, so if you can only get one of them, get Megamix- even if it is by FAR the hardest to get [legitemately] due to the lack of physical releases in most regions.

Sorry this took so long to get done! Hope the answer is satisfactory.