#me personally I have seen some unexplainable stuff

[ice-truck-killer]

So we have this belief here in my culture that kids can see things us adults can't see (so does animals) and it's often overlooked as imagery friends or wild imagination but some people swear that what they saw when they were kids was real and not at all imaginary. So my question is

Reblog for a bigger sample

[jaebeomsbitch]

Slow (E.M.)

Summary: Only Eddie can cure the blues that cling to your skin like he’s balm made for your soul.

A/N: will publish the extended version later, just needed to get this out. Not edited!

Warnings: MINORS DNI YOU WILL BE BURNED AT THE STAKE, eating pussy, depression, cursing, making out

You’d been feeling sad for a while, there’s this unexplainable ache in your chest pressing into your ribs until you feel like they’ll almost crack. Eddie sees the way your eyes have dimmed. How could he not? You’d been living together for over a year now but he’s never seen you like this. So quiet, so demure. Yes you were introverted, sometimes having bouts of energy where you won’t shut the fuck up and it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen. The way your eyes light up, you hands moving wildly.

So when you lay in your bed sheets quietly, no book in your hand Eddie looks at you with this sadness in his eyes. It’s not pity, it’s concern. His girlfriend so quiet, so meek, not eating. Fuck his heart aches seeing you like this. He crawls into bed softly asking what’s wrong but you don’t have an answer. You don’t know what’s wrong but this black cloud looms over you like your own personal rain cloud.

Eddie makes the ache better, he takes some of the pressure of your chest especially when he pulls you into his arms. His nose in your hair breathing in your shampoo, pale arms holding you tight as he rubs your back. He brushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear whispering “you’re so beautiful.”

You can’t help the way you automatically mewl under his big brown eyes, hiding in his neck like a safe haven. He holds you tighter against him, nuzzling into your hair again.

“Don’t hide from me,” he murmurs softly, breath warm against your ear. “I want to see those gorgeous eyes of yours.”

You reluctantly relent, cheeks pink as you slowly look up at your boyfriend. There’s a certain vulnerability in your eyes. He gives you a small smile stroking your cheek with his thumb as he grabs your face.

“It’s okay,” he says softly. “You don’t have to be strong all the time, y’know? I’m here for you no matter what sweetheart.”

“You make me shy when you say stuff like that” you whisper, not trusting you full voice and afraid to break the quietness between you two.

He chuckles softly, the reverberation dancing into your chest straight to your heart. “Then I’ll just have to keep saying it then,” he replies teasingly.

His hands trace gentle patterns on your back, it’s soothing but electric at the same time. Like lightning striking the sea. He leans in close to you, nose ghosting over the bridge of yours as he whispers, “I love you so much, princess.”

“I love you too” you manage to murmur back. It’s like you’re stuck in a trance. Your eyes flicker to his lips and back to his eyes as he closes the gap. Your lips move against each other in a dance full of love and understanding. Tongues gliding against each other as Eddie strokes your cheek.

“You’re so pretty” you whisper as you pull away from his lips. His cheeks flushed, lips half swollen, big brown eyes boring into yours.

He grins preening at the compliment squeezing you just a little tighter. “So are you, baby” he replies. His thumb stroking your cheek tenderly “you take my breath away,” he whispers pressing a soft peck to your lips. You hum softly, feeling the blues cling to your skin like rainwater but Eddie makes everything better.

He notices the faint hint of sadness still swirling in your eyes despite you trying to hide it, his lips curve into a frown. “Are you sure you’re okay, baby?” He asked gently moving to stroke your hair tenderly. “You don’t have to pretend for me, y’know. I’m here for you, whatever you need”

“I just want to be here in your arms” you whisper

He nods understandingly, pulling you closer against his chest as he holds you tight. He plants a series of soft kisses along your temple and down your cheekbone, his lips lingering on your skin as he tries to convey his love and support through his touch.

"I'm right here," he whispers softly, his words echoing the sentiment of his actions. "You're safe with me, always."

You sniffle, small tears droplets falling into his tattooed skin as you nuzzle into his neck. He wipes away your tears gently with his thumbs, his heart aching at the sight of your distress. "Shh, it's okay," he soothes, rocking you back and forth slightly as he holds you close. "Just let it out, princess. I'm here for you."

“I don’t want to be sad anymore” you whisper, your voice broken. You sound so defeated, you feel like a burden on Eddie.

He kisses your forehead tenderly, his own heart heavy with sympathy for your pain. "I know, baby," he murmurs softly. "And we'll get through this together, okay? You're not alone in this."

He continues to hold you close, offering what comfort he can through his presence and touch. After a few moments, he speaks again, his voice gentle and reassuring.

"Why don't we watch that movie you wanted to see earlier?" he suggests. "Maybe it'll help take your mind off things for a while." You nod but make no effort to move out of his arms. You want nothing but your boyfriend’s warmth and affection.You lay on his chest, legs tangled with his. It’s like he naturally radiates this sense of comfort as he puts on whatever random movie he found.

He feels your body relax in his as you sink further into his embrace. His heartbeat pounding underneath your ear providing a sort of lullaby, lulling you into a peaceful state. He plays with your hair aimlessly just wanting to remind you that he’s right there with you.

“I wish I could sink into you” you whisper unsure if that sounds creepy or not. He smiles down at you, his expression full of love and tenderness. "Me too, baby," he whispers softly, planting a gentle kiss on top of your head. "I never want to let you go."

You trace patterns onto his chest as Eddie pulls the duvet over the two of you knowing how cold you get. The two of you sit like this for a long while until you finally whisper “you make everything better.” You shift your face so you can look at him wanting him to know just how much you appreciate him, that you don’t take him for granted.

He meets your gaze, his own eyes filled with love and something else. "I hope so," he replies softly, brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face tenderly. "Because you mean everything to me, princess."

You lay your head on his chest, your eyelashes fluttering against his T-shirt with every blink. “Baby” you whisper.

“What’s wrong?” He asks softly

“I… I wanna feel connected to you” you whisper, cheeks flushing pink.

He feels a wave of tenderness wash over him at your admission, and he leans down to place a gentle kiss on your head. "We already are, princess," he murmurs softly, his voice thick with emotion. "But if you need something more...well, I'm yours for the taking,” he says with a grin on his lips.

“Please” you whisper.

“S’all I want” you murmur pressing a kiss to the underneath of his jaw. His fingers find your face, thumb slotting under your jaw to bring your lips to his. Your lips move against each other as you shift to make the angle less awkward. Humming softly as the warmth of his kiss spreads through your chest.

His arms wrap around your back as he licks at the seam of your mouth. It’s been a while since the two of you had just made out. He presses his weight on his right side making sure to hold you close as he gently lays you on your back successfully flipping your position.

You pull back panting faintly, Eddie swirls around you. His touch, taste, scent, clouding your vision as he crowds you, the soft sounds of his labored breath singing in your ears as he leans down to press wet open mouthed kisses to your neck. You croon pressing your head into the pillow to bare your neck to his mouth. Your fingers brush through the soft curls on his head, mussing the tight ringlets.

“I love you baby” he whispers, husky voice and all like Smokey whiskey injecting straight into your veins.

“Love you too” you say breathlessly as your head spins in a flurry of tenderness.

His fingers trace over your clothes, “can I take these off sweetheart?” He whispers. His index and thumb pinched on the thin fabric of your pajama bottoms.

“Yes” you nod looking down at your boyfriend. His hair sticking in every direction, veined hands pulling down the soft fabric off your hips, big brown eyes drinking in every single detail of your face. You lift your hips as he drags down your pajamas almost agonizingly slow but you’re not in a rush, not even when the tips of his pinkies hook into your panties bringing them down too.

He’s careful when he removes your clothing off your feet, successfully throwing them into the hamper before looking down. His pupils dilating, pink tongue licking his lips like a man starved seeing his meal for the first time in a while. He lays on his stomach, big hands grabbing the backs of your thighs.

“This okay?” He murmur, eyes flicking up towards yours. He needs your permission, wants desperately to give into your whims and quell the sadness that hangs over you. Not that he can see much of it right now. Not when you’re looking at him through half lidded eyes as your chest rises subtly. You nod letting out a breath trying to calm your racing heart down.

He crawls closer pulling your legs open and groaning as you’re exposed to his hungry gaze. He dips his face forward like he’s smelling freshly cut daises, nose pressed to your pussy. Your fingers curl around the sheets with a sharp gasp, eyes fluttering closed until Eddie asks you to open them. You swallow hard in embarrassment, Eddie always liked maintaining eye contact during intimacy but you’re still left very raw and vulnerable.

“I’m right here baby” he whispers, fingers finding yours in the crumpled sheets, intertwining his much larger hand with yours. Your eyes flutter open at his tenderness, dark pupils finding your matching ones as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh. You squeeze his fingers back as a wordless ‘okay.’

His free hand glides through the fabric with a whooshing noise, thumb and index finger opening up your pussy to his gaze. This time he swallows hard, seeing your pussy wet and attentive for him. Your clit glistening in your arousal like a shiny pearl in an open clam.

He dips his face forward, the familiar feeling of his hair tickling your inner thighs already making your heart race but as soon as his tongue flatly traces up your slick entrance you swear you could die and go to heaven. You squeeze his hand tighter as you moan softly, a grin adorning Eddie’s face as soon as he hears it. He’s fucking elated that you’re letting him take care of you when you’ve been feeling this down.

The tip of his tongue swirls expertly around your clit teasingly, your eyebrows knitting together immediately. You sigh that is until, he applies more pressure to your clit. A small noise escapes your throat as you press your head into the pillow again.

“Taste so sweet, baby” his voice husky and low, cool like amber.

“So fucking perfect” he whispers as he lays his tongue flat against your clit, licking continuous stripes over it until he coaxed out those familiar whines from your lips. His tongue finds its way to your entrance, the tip of it working you open until he’s got his tongue inside the bumpy walls, nose brushing against your clit as he tongue fucks you making sure to go slow and gentle. He wants you to feel how much he fucking loves you.

It isn’t long until your thighs are trembling on either side of his head, more whimpers and moans mixed with broken curse words leave from deep in your lungs. They fill the gap, slowly inflating the ache in your chest until the cavity is smooth and your ribs are back in place. Of course you’re not healed for life but Eddie will be there to fill the gap.

You feel so loved, eyes burning with happy tears as your fingers squeeze his tighter. A final breathless moan leaves your parted lips as your back arches off the bed ever so slightly. It is not dramatic, there’s no screaming, no neighbors banging on the door for you to shut up. It’s your body trembling as your fingers tug on the bedsheets, it’s patient and kind and warm. It’s Eddie, it’s you, it’s your love. It’s everything you need.

[lilianade-comics]

In your Babysitter Vlad AU, do you think the Portal accident would still happen? Or would Vlad be there to stop Danny from going into the portal? Or if it did happen how would a Vlad who has had some time to grow as a person and come to care for Danny and Jazz react?

Yes, Danny most likely still has his portal accident in this AU, pretty much exactly how it goes in canon. Some key details are as follows:

-Since he and Jazz have first hand experienced a lot of Weird Ghost Stuff together since they were kids, he voluntarily tells her his secret very quickly.

-Danny and Jazz know Vlad....isn't normal. He obviously never told them anything, but both of them witnessed a LOT of very weird and unexplainable things in regards to him during those stints as their babysitter. They were just kids, so they don't remember everything perfectly clearly, but they're in agreement nothing they experienced was a dream.

-By the time Danny gets himself zapped, Vlad hasn't babysat them in several years. He probably stopped before Danny's tenth birthday because the kids were old enough by that point to articulate that their uncle might be a little bit more than just a human. He still sends them birthday cards, though, and Danny and Jazz remember him fondly.

-All of this taken into consideration, Jazz immediately tries to convince Danny to call Vlad after he tells her about his powers. Danny says no, because that sounds like it has the potential to be the most uncomfortable, cringeworthy conversation of his life. Not because he doesn't trust Vlad, but because he really doesn't know how to call up his bizarre pseudo-family member who he hasn't seen in person since he was about nine, and tell him "Hey, Uncle Vlad, remember how you used to babysit me when I was a kid? Cool. I'm pretty sure I just died in my parent's portal."

-Bitter Reunions is really Awkward Reunions in this AU. Jazz spends the entire stay at their uncle's castle trying to get him and Danny to talk about the you know what. Neither one of them is cooperating.

Vlad is horrified and exasperated but overall hardly surprised. That mentorship offer doesn't come with a "renounce your father" requirement in this AU, so Danny probably takes him up on it!

[mortalitasi-nevarra-lore]

Mourn Watch Lore by Sylvia Feketekuty

Collected by @felassan in [Post One, Post Two, Post Three, Post Four, Post Five, Post Six] I read, copy/pasted, categorized, formatted, light edits:

Politics: “I was wondering if there were any Mourn Watch details you wished you had more time to explore? I was so struck by some of the ethical implications in your stories”

Sylvia: “Geeze, now that’s a question. I mention it with Emmrich, but there’s some resentment over the power the Watchers hold as THE mortalitasi of the Grand Necropolis, between them and the other orders. There’s something to that situation I liked. There’s also questions of how they select people for the order. What their standards are, how closely they work with benign spirits. And how they cultivate those relationships. How deep does that go? I also mentioned in a codex "the lives and bodies of those who tamper with the undead of the Necropolis are forfeit unto the Mourn Watch.” which is pretty chilling. What’s that punishment like, exactly? And in general, writing about anything weird or unexplained in the Necropolis brought me much enjoyment, and it would be fun to dig around how the Mourn Watch deals with (or what they want out of) all these mysteries and entities.“ [source, two, three, four]

Visits to Nevarra City?: “In another post you mentioned shops in Nevarra City near the Necropolis. Do only senior MWs get to go?”

Sylvia: "I never imagined junior MWers are forbidden from going into town or such. It could be they have set hours and times where they’re allowed. But got to get all those chores done first…” [source]

Living situation: "Could you tell us how Mourn Watchers life is arranged? Do they live in Nevarra or right in Necropolis? Are their rooms similar to that coffin room?”

Sylvia: “The Watchers live in the upper, safer levels of the Necropolis. I imagine this is where they sleep, eat, teach/train, and also where they prepare bodies for interment. "Are their rooms similar to that coffin room?” I don’t want to say either way, just because we never actually go there, and I prefer to keep things open until something is actually in the game or in a story or comic or etc.“ [source, two]

Daily Life: “Also, are you able to talk about what you envisioned every day life for Watcher’s to be like? Or maybe some cultural tidbits you’d imagined while writing?”

Sylvia: Oh that is fun. I’ll be honest though I’ll be a little reticent, just because I tend not to talk about too much until it’s in a game. I do think a lot of their everyday life is what Emmrich describes to Rook: Preparing bodies, helping grieving people visit their loved ones, maintaining the graves, and the undead that help maintain the graves. And of course hunting down malign manifestations. The MW and their carefully-courted spirit allies are good at preventing demonic incursion. But as we’ve seen, it’s not impossible. And there’s a desire to figure out the weirder stuff that not even the Watchers really fully know. (X-files theme). [source, two, three]

Festivals: “I like to think they’d have some incredible festivals and create really interesting folk art”

Sylvia: Me too! They involve the dead in their lives so much, I think that includes going down to the graveyard to celebrate milestones, versus visiting on a calendar date. One of my favorite things to write was the folk tale about how spirits were first drawn to Nevarra in particular. I really wanted to make it feel like one of those founding myths filtered through storytelling embellishment in the winter nights. [link] [source, two]

Social Events: "Do members of the Mourn Watch often attend social events with the Nevarran elite like other Mortalitasi?”

Sylvia: Absolutely. The MW are pretty prestigious in Nevarra with their running the Grand Necropolis. Much as Emmrich dislikes politics himself, there’s probably a lot going on at the top.” [source]

Death Culture: “This makes me feel like Mourn Watchers include the dead in important personal milestones/events and, if so, I love that so much. Like they want to share these events and the joy/love/excitement/etc. with those who have passed (and perhaps linger.)”

Sylvia: “That’s absolutely how I thought of it too.” [source]

Grave Gold: “I wanted to ask if you have anything you can share about MW grave dowry jewellery - is it the sort of thing they keep on at all times? Also, would Emmrich like jewellery gifts or give them to Rook?”

Sylvia: “I figured it would be something they wear most of the time, or at least in public. You don’t want to be without your grave-gold if you pass away! Emmrich would love to get jewellery, especially if it marked a special occasion like his other pieces do! He’d also probably like to gift Rook a piece of grave gold himself, though he knows a non-MW Rook might look at that part askance.” [source, two]

More Grave Gold: "if two mourn watchers were to share a piece of grave dowry between them, that's grounds for a serious relationship?"

Sylvia: "You mean like each one having the half of a necklace, or having the same bit of gold made into matching rings? Or swapping jewelry? Either way, what a nice idea. It could be!" [source]

Mourning Jewelry: “Curious how Nevarrans, and specifically Emmrich, would view stuff like Victorian mourning jewelry. Obviously would be horrified by the ones containing ashes, but what about hair? Wondering if it would be seen as special or grotesque!”

Sylvia: “What a good question! I think a lock of hair would be perfectly all right, even romantic. Perhaps a LITTLE bit of bone would be okay, though the actual Mourn Watch wouldn’t love breaking up the body. I don’t think they’d see keeping a small fragment or such as wrong, just a bit unfortunate.” [source]

Vegetarianism: “Are the Watchers overall vegetarian, or was it a personal preference Emmrich developed?”

Sylvia: “I think it’s a thing among some Watchers, but not all. Because they think a lot about life and death and the cycle of life, and their place in it, and what constitutes a death they feel comfortable with or not.” [source]

[samsno1]

Hi, idk how often you do requests but could you do a mid season Sam fic. The reader is with the FBI with the unexplained cases and she meets the brothers. It would be funny if they tried to convince her that they are also with the FBI and she somehow catches them in their lie. They work together in the case and Sam and the reader end up falling for eachother. Thanks you so so much!!!!

Caught

Sam Winchester X F!Reader

this took me so long to write i'm so sorry. i don't reeeeally like the ending but i did the best i could. i hope this is what you expected bby <3

Summary: You were assigned a complex case and you end up meeting two very weird men who were, apparently, also FBI agents but...why are they named after famous rockstars?

Warnings: FLUFF, descriptions of murderer, murder scenes and violence (usual supernatural shenanigans), sam is an 'intimidating woman enjoyer™', use of Y/N, the writer (me) has no idea how fbi works because she isn't an USA resident, NOT PROOF READ, english is not my first language

W.C.: 8,8k

enjoy!

You had climbed the ladder in the world of criminology considerably fast considering your age. Getting into the FBI in your late 20s was probably one of your biggest achievements and, of course, men tended to make disgusting comments about how such a young woman got such a difficult job – including claiming you opened your legs to get this far. You didn’t mind, actually, it added to your ego to be above those guys – as if they even deserved to be in a job that required empathy towards the victims.

Still, even your superior was shocked at the case he found. A couple had been killed inside their room without any signs of forced entry. All doors and windows were locked and nothing inside the house had been stolen; the bodies seemed to be torn apart from the inside out since there were no knife or bullet wounds and he put you on the case. He thought you would have the abilities to deal with something like this – ‘you’re a prodigy’ he had said – and the guts. The crime scene was absolutely vile; there was blood everywhere and their faces had the skin peeled off to the point their cranial bones were visible. You had seen some stuff, but nothing like this.

The first thing that you did when you got to town was talking with the local police so that you’d learn more about the town’s history with murderers – especially the unexplainable ones. They told you something close to an urban legend: the house that the couple was renting was cursed according to the locals. Decades ago, three kids got killed by their parents in rage, who committed suicide afterwards. They never found the kids bodies and the case went cold after a few years, the police giving up on finding their remains. You found that absolutely unacceptable, giving up on children like that should be a crime, but it wasn’t up to you. Ever since the assassination, every person that rented or bought the house died in unexplainable ways and the police had started to practically ignore or do the bare minimum on the case.

“We’ve been having problems with that house for years” Said the sheriff, a man with a grown out beard, deep eyebags and average height. Not what you would expect for a sheriff given his dismissiveness towards you and the mess his office was. “The previous sheriff also received complaints from townsfolk regarding the place but we could never find out anything. There were no clues, no suspects, just…nothing” He finished, his arms waving around tiredly.

“This is probably why they put the FBI on the case” You said to yourself, guaranteeing the man wouldn’t hear you. You took notes on your notebook, your legs crossed as you sat in front of the sheriff, his table between both of you. You could sense his eyes on you and feel his unasked question floating around in the air. “Anything else, Sheriff?” You asked, looking up from your notes.

He seemed to wake up from his thoughts, shaking his head lightly at you. “No it’s just…Why do you need three FBI agents to work on this?” He asked, on edge, a worry line prominent in his aged face as he squinted at you. Three? You furrowed your eyebrows and leaned back on the chair, closing your notebook.

“I’m not aware of the other two working alongside me” You say. You thought about what your boss had told you and didn’t remember him saying anything about partners, especially two. You usually worked alone most of the time, functioning better on your own. Then again, this was a difficult case, maybe they thought it was better than one federal agent working on this.

“They came by earlier today, asking about the same house and the murderers. They were tall, one of them was…very tall and had long hair. The other one was less serious and, honestly, unprofessional. I think they said they were agent Page and Plant” The sheriff filled you in and now this seemed like a joke. You raised an eyebrow. You had a peculiar taste in music considering it was the 2000s and your father barely listened to anything further than the 90s, resulting in you growing up to know most of the rock bands that were at their highest from the 60s to the 90s. That included Led Zeppelin. And it would be too big of a coincidence for both guys to work together with last names such as those.

“I’ll talk to them about the case, thank you very much Sheriff” You say, raising yourself from the chair and extending a hand to politely shake his. You walked out of his office with a question in your mind and thought about looking up Page and Plant on the database to see if anything showed up when you got to your room tonight. For now, you had to take a look at the crime scene while it was still daylight.

–

Your car’s engine died down as you turned the key. You opened the door and stepped out of the vehicle, adjusting your suit over the white button down you wore underneath. You shoved your car key in your pocket and, when you looked up, you saw another car that easily stood out from the others around the street – a black Chevrolet Impala which you couldn’t guess the specific year just by looking. It was a very beautiful car and you secretly praised in your mind whoever owned it – it seemed well taken care of.

You walked to the crime scene, taking your badge in hand to show it to the police officer that took care of the place when you saw two men, also in suits, talking with one of the officers – two tall men, one had longer hair. The officer approached you as you got closer and you simply showed your badge to him before he nodded and lifted up the ‘crime scene’ tape for you to go underneath. You ducked down and mumbled a thank you as you made a beeline towards the two guys.

You wondered what you were going to say and how you were going to question them about their identity without seeming like you’re assuming anything. As you walked closer, they were finishing their conversation and were turning to leave making you almost bump right into them. They stumbled back and you crossed your arms in front of your chest.

“Who are you?” The shorter one asked you and you took the badge out of your pocket again with a sigh, making sure he reads your name and sees the picture of you that clearly stated you were a federal. He hummed and looked towards his partner, a silent conversation going on between them. You interrupt.

“And you?” You ask and they get their own badges out. You extend a hand to the taller one, silently asking you if you could take a look at it. He gave it to you willingly, which was one less red flag to take into consideration. You looked through everything and it all seemed alright…until you looked at the name on the bottom. Jimmy Page. Is this serious? You look up at them with a judging look and you see the tallest swallow harshly. “Your parents were big Led Zeppelin fans I assume” You say.

“Yeah, yeah they– ha– they were” Jimmy says in a way that’s not believable at all, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. The shorter one closes his eyes and shakes his head discreetly in disappointment – which doesn’t go unnoticed by you. You give Page his badge back and turn to – apparently – Plant.

“I didn’t know that I would have partners in this case, but maybe it’s for the better. What did you find out about the case? Just so we are on the same page” You look between both of them. Plant nudges his partner in the ribs and, before mumbling somewhat of a curse to Plant after practically jumping in place, Page starts to explain to you about their side of the investigation. He seemed professional enough, with a notebook in his hands as he told you everything they could make up from what they knew so far, even sharing with you his assumptions. You were impressed as you started telling him about what you thought – a weird case, too many murders, few clues…Plant stayed quiet most of the time until about halfway through your conversation he said he was going back to his car and you took that as a hint to call it a day.

“Well, I think we are going to work well together, Agent L/N” Page says with a polite smile and you nod, smiling yourself. You took one of your cards where your professional number was written on along with your name and offered it to him. He gently took it from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours.

“Just in case you have anything else to share” You said and he nodded, a strand of his hair falling over his face, which he mindlessly put back with a brush of his hand. “It was great meeting you, Agent Page”

“You too” He said and, sensing the end of the encounter, you started to walk back to your car. You still couldn’t shake the thought of those two being too suspicious for your liking and you were determined to look them up and see if Agents Jimmy Page and Robert Plant actually existed. You walked fast, your heels knocking against the concrete and you didn’t notice Page’s eyes on you, lost in the movement of your hair as you walked away. What woke him up from his trance, though, was his partner honking and signaling for him to hurry up. He rolled his eyes and walked to his own car, stealing one last glance at you. You turned your head back right on cue, giving him a polite smile and a small wave. He awkwardly waved goodbye back and started to walk to the honking Impala.

You had assumed the unknown car belonged to them and you had written down the plate in your notebook discreetly – just in case. You were impressed by their ability – well, Page’s ability – to analyze crime scenes but you weren’t stupid. You couldn’t just erase the fact that you had no idea who those two were and you were determined to find out, one way or another.

–

Meanwhile, in the Impala, Sam got inside the car in the passenger’s side, almost hitting his head on the roof – like he did most days. Dean was impatiently waiting for him to get in until he saw something clasped in his brother’s hand, his eyes quietly scanning the white paper. In Sam’s distraction, Dean reached for it before he could react. “Hey!”

“You got her number? Wow Sam, never thought of you like that” Dean teased as he looked through your name written in cursive writing and your phone number right under it. Sam snatched the small card back from his brother and shoved it in his pocket, glaring at Dean.

“Shut up man, this is her professional number, she gave it to me so we could talk” He defended as he put his seatbelt on. He mindlessly brushed a hand through his hair again, getting it out of his face as he heard Dean chuckle to himself as Baby’s engine roared to life. Sam looked back to his brother and waited for more teasing to come – as it always did.

“Yeah, talk.” He said, the double meaning in his words floating around in the air but being ignored by Sam. Dean pressed his foot on the pedal so the car would start to move as he shifted into gear. “Besides, she’s an actual FBI agent, don’t you think she’s going to suspect that we aren’t?”

“Dean, I did go to law school, I can manage my way out of this” Sam said with a mischievous smile. He really thought he could, he knew he was smart and he was a damn good liar – he lied in college for a very long time about who he was and what his family did. Not something to be proud of but it came in handy, especially when both him and his brother were in trouble. He had practically lied his whole life about who he truly was, not entirely giving away specific details – especially those who involved his family. Sometimes he regretted it – like he did with Jess – but it was always safer not to know, for both parties. Or so he thought.

“Don’t think she’s stupid–”

“I don’t think she’s stupid–”

“Let me finish” Dean scolded, raising a hand to silence his brother, his eyes still on the road. It was often funny to pay attention to their brotherly behavior and how anyone could know who was the oldest just by these simple interactions. Dean raised his hand and Sam silenced, listening, like how it was when they were kids. “Don’t think she’s naive, she is in the FBI, working alone on a case. I don’t know much about federals but I’m sure that’s not for everyone”

Sam stayed quiet. He knew Dean was right but it wouldn’t hurt to try. Still, he really didn’t think you were stupid, it was impossible to. The way you talked about the case in detail, relating your point of view and what you could gather in a few hours was more than enough evidence to show him you deserved this job more than anyone. He wasn’t used to seeing women in this field, but everytime he did he was convinced that men were definitely unfairly placed higher. Yet, he still didn’t want to get arrested again so he needed to convince you that he and Dean were legitimately federals.

The conversation drifted away in another direction as Sam stared out the window and replied to the small talk Dean made with him every now and then – when he didn’t crank up the volume once Metallica came into the radio playing Creeping Death while they were talking. With a chorus of ‘Die, die!’ being sung by Dean while he beat his hands on the steering wheel to the drum rhythm, Sam’s mind drifted away and he fell asleep with a head against the window, the tiredness of sleepless nights catching up to him.

–

These fuckers. You thought to yourself as you stared mouth agape to the pictures of who you learned were actually Sam and Dean Winchester – not Jimmy Page and Robert Plant. Two brothers, presumed dead a couple years ago.

Your coffee sat cold over the wooden table of the hotel you were staying the night at. You had already changed into your pajamas and taken a hot shower when you decided to take a look at the case again. Two hours later you remembered the two men you encountered and, when you looked a bit deeper in the police files, the results were horrifying. It actually wasn’t that hard to find out about them, a quick look through the FBI database and you found their exact faces – even if Pag- Sam’s hair was relatively shorter then now. You were beyond pissed, especially at yourself, how could you not have known this? How could you let yourself get played like this? Just because the tall guy was a bit of a nerd and kind of cute? Ugh!

You started pacing around your room, not knowing what to do. Confronting them could kill you, they were murderers after all, according to the database, they had killed civilians and federal agents equally as much. You were strong, both physically and mentally, but there was no way you were escaping two guys that were over six feet tall and weighed about two hundred pounds each. You had to play smart, you had to catch them in a weak moment and then. Bingo. You stopped in your tracks and – like a lightbulb lightened up above your head – you had the perfect plan. You had to wait until the next day for you to execute it but it was going to be worth it. You sent their mugshots to your phone through your e-mail and any other evidence that you could use against them.

You still felt slightly weirded out about them. They didn’t seem dangerous, they didn’t freak out the moment they saw you and they were confidently adding to the investigation with actual useful analysis. You were looking deeper through their files and found out they lost their mother in a fire at a very young age – the youngest wasn’t even one year old yet – and their father had died a couple years ago, in ‘06. They had a pretty sketchy life, living off stolen credit cards and fake identities but something interesting you found out was that Sam Winchester actually went to college, he went to Stanford and your eyes widened at that. You wondered what made him quit, maybe his father dying and his brother needing him, maybe he got kicked out, still, going to college after having a childhood like that was more than impressive.

You kept reading about them until the late hours of the night and you only noticed you fell asleep over the papers you left on the table and your computer when a phone ringing startled you awake. The noise echoed inside your head and, as you lifted your head, the sunlight getting into the room through the curtains hurt your eyes. You only noticed how bad you’d slept when you felt a pain shoot through your neck and down your back as you turned your head to look for the phone – great. You groaned and felt around the table with your hand until you felt the square shape of the device and its humming. You clicked to answer after slightly clearing your throat so you’d seem less sleepy and put the phone to your ear.

“Hello, Agent L/N speaking”

“Hey Y/N, how are things going?” The voice of your boss made you unconsciously straighten your back and swallow harshly. You looked at the time on your computer and your heart fell to your stomach. 11:36AM – shit! 

“Hey Sir, everything is running smoothly. I’m currently collecting evidence and later I’m going to the morgue so I can look through the autopsy”

“That’s great, you always do a great job kid” He said and you could feel him smiling on the other side of the line. You felt bad for kind of lying but you had been worrying about other stuff last night.

“Thank you Sir, I’ll report back to you as soon as possible” You reply.

You talked for a while longer as you disclosed the case and, when he finally hung up, it was already past noon. As you got ready for your day, doing your daily morning routine as quickly as you could, you felt your stomach rumble when you got out of the shower, reminding you that you hadn’t had breakfast. You decided then that it was better to stop at a diner or somewhere so you could eat something to go on with your day – since it was already lunchtime you couldn’t necessarily call this brunch. You finished getting ready, putting on your shoes and grabbing the keys to your car while you looked up the closest place to eat something quick.

You drove to the nearest diner that had a decent rating and stopped at the parking lot. When you looked around, you couldn’t believe your luck – or rather the lack of it. The infamous Impala was parked a couple meters from you in all its glory. You audibly sighed but you couldn’t just find another place to eat as quickly, besides, you know what they say, keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Maybe eating at the same place as them was actually a good strategy. You grabbed your wallet and locked your car, confidently walking towards the diner entrance.

The bells dinged above your head as you got in, some eyes looking your way with the noise – including Sam’s. Him and his brother were sitting in a booth in the far corner of the diner, Sam turned in the direction of the door and Dean facing away from it, in his brother’s direction. Sam had his laptop open in front of him as he ate a salad, Dean was eating a burger. Thay had probably been talking before you came in because when you came through the door Sam went quiet as he looked over his brother’s shoulder and Dean kept talking, hunched over his food. You couldn’t listen to their conversation but you gave Sam a slight smile and a nod, your stomach turning as you faked sympathy, as if you didn’t just friendly greet a murderer. He nodded back and that's when Dean slightly turned to look behind him and see you, nodding as well.

You started to walk towards their table, the weight of your hidden gun on your hip more than evident. Just keep calm, you were trained for this. You decided to keep to yourself that you knew their true identity, after all, you were one step ahead of them and, deep down, you knew they could be useful. Their intelligence was beyond impressive – faking your death wasn’t something easy to do. You stood above them with a gentle smile.

“Hello agents, mind if I sit with you?” You asked as politely as you could. Sam scooted almost instantly, changing the placement of his laptop to the side of the window. You didn’t miss the eyebrow raise his brother gave him.

“Hey Ms. L/N. No, not at all, make yourself comfortable” He said, smiling at you. He has dimples you mentally stated.

“Yeah, please” Dean agreed, stretching a hand to the seat beside Sam. His voice was slightly muffled thanks to the food in his mouth and you internally cringed as you could see the chewed food when he talked.

“Thanks. No need to call me by my last name, you can just call me Y/N” You simply said as you sat down, looking almost immediately to the computer screen open in newspapers that dated a couple years back. Murders in the same house all with the same time frame from each other. “I see you work even while you were supposed to be on your break, careful not to burn out Agent Page” You said, looking at his side profile. He seemed embarrassed as your sweet voice got to his ears and awkwardly laughed.

“You know…you don’t need to call me Agent Page, that is just an alias, call me Smith, Sam Smith. That’s Dean Wesson” He said. Huh, claiming aliases, smart move Winchester. “And yeah, I’ve been taking a look at the history of the place, apparently–”

“It’s timed killing” You finished. You scooted slightly closer, pointing your finger to the screen where the date of the newspaper was written at. “Every two years on the same date someone was brutally murdered in the house.”

“Yeah and inside the same room too” Dean pointed out. That you hadn’t noticed. A waiter coming to get your order interrupted the conversation you three were having to get your order. You quickly looked through the menu deciding to eat the quickest and most nutritious stuff there could be at a diner. You thanked the boy that took your order and he walked in long strides towards the kitchen. You came back to the talk you were having with the two brothers and Dean continued. “The master suite. And always couples, someone seems to hate true love” He joked.

“Apparently. Have any ideas for suspects yet?” You asked. If you were going to play pretend you might as well acquire some useful information with it. The boys shared a look between them that they thought you wouldn’t catch, but you weren’t FBI for no reason.

“None yet, still looking into it” Sam said, suddenly seeming on edge, shifting his placement on the booth. You were good at reading body language, it was one of the main qualities that got you in the FBI, interrogating criminals was easy exactly because they couldn’t lie. When you learned their behavior and played your way into their head it destroyed them because even if they were silent, even if they didn’t say anything, you knew what they were lying about – flinching when you mention a certain name or changing the leg they were crossing under the table when you named an address. So, Sam couldn’t hide from you earlier, imagine now that you were inches away.

“Really?” You asked, raising an eyebrow and turning your torso slightly more in his direction, leaning your elbow on the table. He was trapped. You thought about confronting them here, questioning them about their identity in public but you thought better – they definitely had guns on them and two beats one. Either way, you’d put him in a challenging situation, confronting him without even disagreeing verbally. He felt intimidated and now seemed unsure of his own conclusion – how you loved playing these games.

“I mean there’s barely any clues” He laughed nervously. “I was going to call you to see if you had any idea”

“I don’t either, as you said, no leads” You said. The waiter arrived with your food right then and you politely thanked him, drifting away from the conversation you were having with Sam as you started to eat. This time you weren’t paying attention and Dean questioned Sam with a look. What is she on? And the youngest shrugged. You swallowed your food with a pleasant hum, just now noticing how hungry you truly were. “I was thinking we could go to the morgue, if you haven’t already. Take a look at the bodies, see if we find anything”

You were purposefully playing right into their game, faking cluesness and at the same time taking advantage of their abilities to solve the case. It was more important to you to solve whatever was going on to bring peace back to this town than to arrest the brothers who were supposed to be dead. You’d learned that men tended to believe that you were stupid very easily, that you had no idea what you were doing and you started using that to have your way with them. With big doe eyes and feigned innocence you could get very far.

“That’s where we were going later actually. It’s good if you tag along” Sam tells you.

“I would even if you didn’t want me to” You said, joking, but not really. Your tone was humorous  but your smile was bitter. They didn’t seem to notice though and Sam even chuckled slightly at your sarcasm. You noticed the dimples in his cheeks and how boyish his smile was, full of bright white teeth and sincerity. You almost felt bad for being rude until you remembered they were killers – even if they didn’t look like it. Sam didn’t seem the type to brutally murder someone, Dean seemed too stupid to be able to get away with it for so many years, even faking his own death and walking around normally – you’d bet he was the one with the idea to put the name of famous rockstars as FBI aliases.

By the time the conversation was over, so was your food. You left enough money for the bill and a tip and stood up from the booth. “Okay, well, let’s go, we have a lot to do today boys” You said, adjusting your suit, unnecessarily dusting it off. You eyed Dean’s plate, the mess he made similar to how a child would eat. You would have laughed if you were in a more friendly situation. You looked at Sam and with a smile you said: “Don’t be late pretty boy, I’ll be waiting for you”

Then you turned around, politely nodded goodbye to Dean and started walking away, holding back a laugh. Sam stood still, stunned as he stared at you walked out the door, the bells above you ringing twice – one for when you pulled the door, the other after you let it smoothly close behind you. Dean was staring too, his bright green eyes filled with confusion. Once he turned to look at Sam he saw his younger brother completely zoned out, looking in the direction where you once were. He snapped his fingers in front of Sam’s face, who immediately looked at Dean.

“Pretty boy?” Dean questioned, holding back a smirk as Sam rolled his eyes.

“Dean…”

“She’s got you man. I get it, strong and intimidating women, I understand, I understand”

“That’s not it, she seems…off” Sam points out, looking at the door once more to make sure you wouldn’t come back and leaning closer to unnecessarily speak in a lower voice to Dean. “I think she might be an it, the monster we are looking for”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “Really? Why?”

“The way she’s acting is, I don’t know, weird”

“Look Sam I know you’re not used to having women hit on you but that doesn’t mean they are monsters” Dean teased, Sam gritted his teeth.

“Dean, I’m serious!”

“Okay, alright, we are going to investigate then” Dean said, raising his hands in fake surrender to his brother’s scolding. “But it doesn’t make sense to me. Didn’t we consider it to be a vengeful spirit?”

“Maybe, or maybe we are dealing with something completely different”

“Alright smart-ass, but if you’re wrong you owe me a six pack”

Sam scoffed but he wasn’t one to turn down any bet. He had thought your behavior was weird the moment you stepped foot in the diner. The questions you asked, the way you would constantly question his abilities, there was something going on and he could sense it. Besides, he liked betting with Dean, especially winning, so there was no way he wasn’t accepting his brother’s challenge.

“Deal” Sam said, hitting his palms against the table and standing up, ready to leave and go to the morgue. Dean followed his movements and stood up with a cheeky smile, taking out his wallet to pay for the food.

–

At the morgue, you waited about 5 minutes until they arrived. When they walked up to the entrance you were waiting at, Sam and Dean saw you in a much more serious state as you read through your notes and made annotations here and there. The noise of their footsteps made you look up and put your little notebook back in your pocket and place your pen behind your ear. You crossed your arms in front of your body and waited for them to get closer. Your heels were starting to hurt the bottom of your feet from standing too long in the same place and you were overwhelmed with different emotions – towards the men and yourself.

You weren’t necessarily scared of Sam and Dean, you were trained not to be, but it was never in your plans to be alone in a city with federal criminals, it would be downright ignorant not to be at least nervous with the situation. You were keeping yourself friendly without giving away any hint that you might know who they were, debating internally which would be the worst case: if you confronted them or stuck beside them for longer – what’s that say again? Friends close, enemies closer.

“Hey, Y/N” Sam called you and you turned your lips upwards in some-kind of a smile. He mirrored your expression and you caught his dimples again, your eyes wandering around his face. You broke the stare when Dean cleared his throat and, when you looked at him, he had his eyebrows furrowed, giving Sam a side-eye – more like a diagonal one, since, well, Sam was a big guy. In your own trance you hadn’t noticed how Sam was also looking at you like you were a beautiful piece of art – damn it, focus.

You also cleared your throat and that seemed to wake Sam up. “Hello Sam, Dean” You said, nodding to each “Shall we go inside? The longer we take the further the killer goes, come on” You turned your back to the and started walking inside the morgue. Dean waited until you walked further and held Sam by the elbow, making the youngest look at him in confusion.

“Stop that” Dean whisper-yelled.

“Stop what” Sam whispered back.

“Whatever your eyes are doing, I’m gonna puke if you keep that up”

Sam rolled his eyes. “You stop it, you’re reading too much into it”

“Hey, you are the one that said she might be dangerous and, honestly, you are kind of a monsterfu-”

“Dean!” Sam pushed his shoulder to shut him up.

“C’mon you were hypnotized, maybe that’s what she does, or you are just in love” Dean shrugged his shoulders, holding back a grin. He loved making Sam mad.

“Yeah, yeah, okay. Let’s go now or do you have any other stupid remarks?” Sam didn’t wait for an answer as he followed the direction you went in. Dean mocked his brother, mimicking Sam’s words to himself in a high pitched tone and went along.

You were already putting your gloves on when they came into the room, the dead bodies laying before you - or at least what was left of them. The lower part of the couple’s bodies was covered beneath the pale blue blankets and both torsos were exposed. It was an awful sight and, if you were about ten years younger, you would’ve puked. Everything was dilacerated, they were practically disfigured, their faces barely recognizable. Huge gashes adorned their bodies that even cleaned up still looked absolutely vile. Behind you, Dean hissed.

“Wow” He exclaimed.

“Yeah, very brutal, whoever did this wanted them to feel the pain” You said, snapping the latex gloves against your wrist and grabbing the file about the autopsy in your hands. You skimmed through the words and placed it back on the table where it previously was, turning back to the bodies to see Sam already looking through them, Dean putting on the blue gloves the mortuary offered. You approached Sam’s side and crossed your arms as you watched him work, his hands roaming through the deep rips on the skin, he seemed to come to the same conclusion you did. “It’s not a clean cut, see” You pointed out and he nodded, turning to you.

“Yeah, the skin is–”

“Ripped, not cut” You paused “How can someone do this and just…get on with their lives?” You thought out loud. You discreetly looked up to Sam’s face to see if he had any reaction to your words, to see if his face faltered when you mentioned how psychotic it would be to keep going after killing someone, to see something, anything…

His face was blank.

“You’d be shocked at what…people can do” Sam replied. He seemed to hesitate before saying ‘people’, a hard swallow, a thought behind his eyes and you marked that in your mind for later.

“Sam, I work in the FBI too you know, I’ve seen shit” Maybe you were harsh, maybe you were just defensive or maybe the years of being brought down by men in your field made you snap at his words when they weren’t that deep. He seemed to catch on to your aggressiveness and stumbled over his words to try and reword his phrase.

“No– I-I know it’s just– I mean–” He couldn’t get the words out. You softened at that, noticing your defensiveness was, in fact, exaggerated. You chuckled at him and waved your hand dismissively.

“I get what you meant” You said and he seemed to calm down, giving you a slight smile. Dimples. Again. You turned back to the bodies in front of you and reached for your pocket to get your notes. You started patting with your other hand for your pen through the other pockets and when you didn’t feel the distinctively cylindrical shape of the object you started to freak out. Where’d I leave it…

Sam noticed your squirming and when he saw the notebook in your hand he knew exactly what you were looking for. He held back a chuckle as he watched you try your hardest to remember where the pen was, the concentration in your eyes almost touchable.

“Hey” Sam called and you turned your head to him. He reached his hand up, close to your cheek and you could sense the heat radiating from his body. You froze in place as you thought that you were caught, that Sam’s intelligence overpowered yours and he figured out that you knew who he was. Well, you were wrong. Sam caught the pen you had put behind your ear between his fingers and slid it off of it, watching as your hair fell back into place. You wanted to bury yourself whole inside the ground as you felt heat spread through your face. “Here” He said, with a cheeky smile.

You took the pen out of his hand, your fingers brushing lightly against each other “Thanks” You mumbled. You started writing away what you figured from the autopsy but you couldn’t get your mind off of how close Sam had gotten. The warmth that he emitted was captivating, comforting even. How could you even think that? You were a professional, what the hell! You shouldn’t be feeling this way, you had a job to do, lives to save. Sam was a killer, you put killers in jail. That’s it.

“Okay so…” Dean spoke up, breaking your embarrassment “...We can discard any murder with weapons like guns or knives, those can’t do…this” He made a face and pointed towards the wounds. You nodded in agreement as you wrote it down. When you looked up at them again they were sharing a look, having a full conversation without even speaking. You weren’t a professional in facial expressions but you could read the room, you were being kept in the dark about something. You decided against confronting them, unneeded drama in the current settings because, indeed, the longer you took to solve this case, the closer the killer was to killing other people.

“So, I have no idea if you already did but I didn’t look further in the room where the murder happened. I think I’m going to go back to the house and see if the local cops missed anything” You said, not waiting for an answer as you pocketed your notebook again and started taking off your gloves. You didn’t request their company as you were, first, still trying to figure out why they were so adamant about solving this case, second, you had to figure this murder out, and third, you needed to find a perfect moment to confront both of them. “See you around agents”

“See ya” Dean waved at you as you walked away, Sam didn’t say anything. You knew they were going to follow you, you felt their silent conversations lingering in the air as you left the room, discarding your gloves. In your head you could see them communicating with lifting eyebrows and shrugging shoulders – they were so obvious; and predictable.

–

“We are going after her” Sam said to Dean after he heard you leave. Dean nodded as he started taking off his own gloves, side eyeing his brother. Dean wasn’t stupid – he only acted like it – he knew that there was more than one reason for Sam’s eagerness to follow you.

“So…” He started and Sam knew there was something he might not like hearing coming. “Are you going to play the brave soldier saving the damsel in distress?”

Sam stopped and looked at Dean, absolute confusion adorning his features. “What?”

“Man c’mon, you can’t be thinking that she is the monster now can you? Look, I did the tests while you were…pining over her” Sam opened his mouth to argue but Dean didn’t let him speak. “There was holy water in her drink at the diner, the utensils she was using were pure silver…”

Sam was shocked that his brother thought that quickly, he didn’t even notice…Okay, maybe he was infatuated by you a little too much.

“She could be a ghoul,” Sam argued as a last resort.

“Already looked her up, no one that has that beautiful face has died around here. I’ve looked through the FBI database too, she’s there” Dean said. Sam would be lying if he said he didn’t feel the tiniest bit of relief knowing that you were really human. You were, in fact, beautiful, stunning even. Maybe Dean was right, maybe he did like you, a lot.

“Guess I owe you that six pack then” Sam said.

“Hey, I get the six pack, you get the girl, seems like a fair trade” Dean said, raising his eyebrows tauntingly with a cheeky smile on his face. Sam chuckled and shook his head.

“Either way, we have to go after her because if this ghost decides she’s next on its list, we need to get there before she gets hurt” Sam said in all seriousness as he started walking out of the room, going towards the exit. Dean followed suit, the Impala keys already on his hand.

–

They arrived at the house a minute or two after you. You were waiting in the house’s living room as you heard the rumbling of the old car’s engine. You had your weapon ready and loaded as you heard them open and close the door of the house. As soon as they turned the corner, you lifted your gun.

“Stay right fucking there! Don’t you dare move or else I’ll actually kill you, for good this time!” You screamed at them, gun in hand pointed towards Dean’s head. They widened their eyes and stopped all their movement. Sam opened his mouth to try and talk and you shifted the gun to point at him instead. He shut his mouth again and you saw his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed nervously. You were fuming, anger making your hands shake lightly.

“Did you really think you were going to fool me? Who do you think you are– Better, who do you think I am?” They stood as still as a rock. “Sam and Dean Winchester” You said their names, venom running through your tongue as you did, your gun pointing respectively at each. “You better start talking or I’m popping your heads off, speak!”

“Okay, okay, look we can explain” Sam started.

“You fucking better”

“We are not dead” He said and you looked at him like he was stupid. “Me and my brother we faked our deaths but we had a reason, a much bigger reason”

“You killed people”

“We didn’t, at least not intentionally, we do the exact opposite, we save people Y/N”

“How? The deaths are there, if you are telling me the truth and really save people you do a terrible job at that” You countered. You admitted you only said this to get under their skin because if anyone knew that saving everyone was impossible was you, a federal agent.

“Put the gun down and we can talk” Dean spoke up, talking to you calmly and moving his hands slowly to try and reason with you. You were reluctant but something in their eyes, their actions towards you didn’t indicate any imminent danger. Maybe you were being stupid and, at the end, you’d be lying in a ditch, lifeless, left there to rot but you wanted to give them a chance.

“If you try anything funny I’ll claw your eyes out with my bare hands” You said and Dean, even shocked, nodded slowly – you were exaggerating but you felt the need to. You sighed and put your gun back in the waistband of your pants and saw the boys breathe in a deep breath of relief.

Sam and Dean exchanged those looks again and finally looked at you. Sam was the one you wanted to talk to, you felt deep, deep down that he was going to tell you the truth and that he was actually a good guy, that all that he did until now wasn’t just an act and he was really nice.

“Me and Dean we…We hunt monsters”

Well, now your hopes are shattered. What the fuck.

You just looked at him like he was clinically insane and waited for him to continue.

“I know it sounds crazy” Because it is “And it probably is but it’s the truth, we don’t think whatever killed that couple was a human, this is why there’s no DNA, not a single clue and why the case is hard. I assume you were assigned it because you are smart and a good agent but this is not your kind of case”

“It’s ours” Dean added and Sam agreed with a nod.

You were dumbfounded. They sounded so serious as they explained to you about the tons of different supernatural beings that existed, things you only ever heard of in fictional books and horror movies. Halfway through the talk you looked physically sick, your face pale and eyes dissociated completely and Sam quickly got a chair, ushering you to sit down. He was looking at you with such a guilty expression, like he felt bad for lying to you.

Once they stopped talking you spent a good five minutes absorbing it all as you stared at your hands folded over your lap. You thought you knew things, you thought you could solve everything, that all you needed to do was analyze everything to its minute details and you’d find a solution. Truth is, you were completely oblivious all this long, so many things that you had no idea existed causing trouble around the world, things worse than humans could ever be. You were an idiot.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Sam asked after a while, making you look up at him. “I know it’s a lot to process…” He said, carefully laying a hand over your shoulder in an attempt to comfort you.

“I’m going to be fine” You said harshly. Sam felt the slight disappointment in your voice and frowned as he looked down at you. He had seen tons of different reactions to ‘the talk’ but this one was one of the worst, where the person feels upset with themselves for not knowing about this sooner, the kind of reaction he saw mostly on authority figures such as cops and federal agents like yourself.

You stood up and his hand fell from your shoulder. You needed to make this right, paranormal or not, this was still your case and you were solving it one way or another.

“Show me how you do it” You said, turning to look at Sam. The phrase got Dean’s attention as well as a sudden tension fell upon the room. Sam looked at you with confusion “This case is still mine, I want to learn how to get rid of…whatever killed that couple”

Sam exchanged looks with his brother. “I don’t think this is a good idea Y/N, you can get hurt” He said. You rolled your eyes and stepped closer to him, less than a foot between the two of you.

“How many times do I have to tell you, I’m a federal agent, you don’t get to tell me I’m going to get hurt when I literally hunt and kill people if needed” You said angrily pointing your finger at him accusingly “Your little Ghostbusters roleplay doesn’t scare me”

“Okay, can you two stop? Let’s get out of here and go study about the house to see if we find anything about someone who died here who might want revenge” Dean said, approaching and looking between the two of you. “Please”

–

After spending two hours in the nearby library you finally found something. The one responsible for the killings was someone named Alicia Meadows who died in the late 60s, not little kids – it seemed like even the own urban legend the locals passed around was wrong. She was a woman who lived in that house with her husband and kids. One night she found her husband in their bed with another woman and went crazy, killing them both with a shotgun and then shooting herself. Ever since then she’d been killing couples who stayed there, the trauma of the cheating made her assume that everyone who laid in that bed on the same date, every two years, she found her husband and his mistress was also having an affair.

You three soon found out where she was buried and, after the brothers explained to you and made you swear not to arrest them for grave violation, you were driving to the cemetery.

As Dean was digging up the casket you stood beside Sam. “Do you guys do this everyday?”

Sam looked at you with a smile. “No, sometimes we behead vampires too”

You looked at him wide eyed and chuckled. He laughed with you, his face looking ten times more beautiful under the moonlight and the fucking dimples, the damn dimples. Silence fell between you as the sounds of the night – and Dean’s digging – took over. You wanted to talk more, you wanted to know more about Sam because the little you thought you knew was actually a lie. He was nice and, according to the FBI files…

“You went to law school?” You asked him. He sighed. Well damn Y/N so much for breaking the ice, good job. 

“I did but…I went back to hunting soon after, you can’t run from this type of job you know?” He chuckled dryly. It was clear that was a sensitive subject for him to talk about.

“If it helps, you would’ve made a good lawyer” You smiled at him. “Besides, you look great in a suit”

He seemed stunned for a few seconds, were you flirting with him? He didn’t get to figure out because Dean made a dramatic pained sound as he straightened his back, breaking the casket open. The putrid smell of death rose and you scrunch your nose. Sam helped Dean get out of the hole and started showering the bones in alcohol and salt and you watched as Dean threw his lighter in making huge flames rise up. You jumped when it happened out of shock and Sam held your shoulders so you wouldn’t fall back, the flames roared loudly with what seemed to be the anger of the woman.

Dean started gathering their stuff and you turned to Sam. “So, is this it?”

“Yeah…pretty simple actually” Sam shrugged. He looked at the fire and you could see the flames dancing in his eyes. You found Sam handsome ever since you laid your eyes on him but now, after a whole day by his side, the light touches you shared throughout the day and the care he showed towards you you wondered if it’d be too bad if you kissed him right now.

“Sam” You called him lowly and he turned to you. You stepped closer and you could see his hands clenching and unclenching by his side, as if he was holding back the urge to touch you. Your faces were inches apart and you could now see every little detail about him. The light stubble that adorned his face and the blush of red in his cheeks that you didn’t know if it was because of the heat of the fire or because you were this close.

You smiled at him and in that moment Sam couldn’t hold himself back. He closed the distance between the two of you as one of his hands cradled your cheek and the other was gently placed on your waist.

You let one of your hands place itself on his neck as you reciprocated the kiss. It was electric and warm, his soft lips over yours felt like a sweetness you didn’t know you were craving to taste. Your heart was beating fast and Sam slowly dragged your body closer to his with the help of the hand he placed on your waist.

When you pulled away you slowly opened your eyes to look straight into his and let out a stupid giggle – like a teenager after kissing her crush. Sam chuckled back as his thumb caressed your cheek lovingly.

“I've wanted to do this ever since the diner” He admitted and you bit back a smile.

“Really?” You asked.

“Really”

The moment was interrupted when Dean honked the Impala, impatiently waiting for you two to finish whatever you were doing so he could go back to the room and finally sleep. Sam showed him the finger as Dean yelled a curse back making you laugh at their stupid teasing.

“Let’s go Sam, Dean’s impatient. We can finish our talk at the motel” You said, your words full of innuendo making Sam turn back to you. You knew you got him when you felt his hand squeeze your waist for a moment before letting go.

“Oh yeah?” He said with a grin, looking down at your mouth and back at your eyes. You nodded.

“Yeah”

A/N: Likes and reblogs encourage me to keep writing, feedback makes those writings better. Thank you for reading XoXo

[rin-and-jade]

What's Going On?! : A Guide on Dissociative Barriers

Too many time blindness, meals missed, work untouched, stuff's disappearing to nowhere, now feeling dehydrated from who knows when--EVERYTHING'S ALL OVER THE PLACE!!

The fact systems struggle with these things everyday.. It's definitely frustrating to keep things consistent, let alone make some progress. But is this forever? Definitely not, or else this post wouldn't even exist.

Let's get to reading or else it's Joever.

Fast Pass: Unavailable - every word is important!

What are Dissociative Barriers?

In simple terms,, it can be explained as mental disconnections from knowledge/skills, memories, or experiences--they are not gone, but barricaded and unable to be accessed due to defensive/protective measures to isolate potential stressors or threat from a person.

This is caused by multiple brain regions being unsynchronized which interrupts the natural process of integrating awareness (either sensory or mentally) and recalling memories. It is not a real 'wall' to be honest, though it is actually closer of a cognitive split.

Not a real.. wall?

Well, yeah, because dissociative barriers are mainly correlated with poor/disrupted communication between the prefrontal cortex which is responsible for control over memory and attention, the amygdala which is responsible for emotional processing and memory formation, and lastly the hippocampus which is important for consolidating and organizing how memories are kept and retrieved. In short, these barriers are caused by limited memory function in the brain instead of something keeping up barricades inside there.

Can the severity change?

Absolutely, and it's a wildcard that can change your system's routine or healing phases for the better or worse. I wouldn't say that dissociative barriers affect all system functions, but it's one of the main reasons--especially a tough one to tackle with, that makes integration/healthy multiplicity/final fusion difficult.

With that being said, there's various factors that influence the tides of your barriers:

Stressors (can be internal, external, or both)

Emotional regulation (better regulation means lower, so is the opposite)

Dissociative and Maladaptive coping mechanisms (being less grounded will breed more barriers)

Mental rigidity or flexibility (being curious and open about your system does lower barriers)

(Un)regulated nervous system (your vagal tone compliments the ability to control fight/flight response, which disrupts many cognitive functions)

Your level of awareness (higher means less affected by potential barriers)

Take notes that sometimes, your barriers will still be holding strong and high even if you have worked on most, if not all these factors above. If this happens, consider working on unfinished pain you have been gripping on to finally relieve the need to wall it up with dissociation, which will generate a significant difference.

Ah ok.. Tell me the difference please!

Alright, ill simplify it as both High and Low severity:

High barriers are associated with;

More distinction - alters have drastic differences in behavior, beliefs, or memory

Shifts in demeanor - which people can often notice while system lack insight about it

Severe amnesia - unexplained gaps in memory oftentimes

A high barrier is where survival is still prioritized over growth or healing, and temporarily blocks them from learning emotional regulation.

Low barriers are associated with;

More similarities - sharing same goals despite maintaining self-agencies and their own preferences

Less shifts in demeanor - systems gain insight and able to control external impression, maintaining a more stable 'singlet persona'

Lower amnesia - due to better communication and cooperation, gaps are not the main issue now

A low barrier is where growth starts and when you're no longer just surviving, but also thriving. It can also be seen by having more fluid switches and less dissociative 'hangovers' .

But, aren't barriers helpful..(?)

I know what you're trying to say, and i agree true it can be helpful--although it is never always going to be beneficial. It may have been the first go-to when you're facing something that you could not process or handle, but over time things will change and the current solution couldn't provide you the same benefits as it should be,, or even, create more issues in the long run.

This can be a tough pill for some people to swallow: dissociative barriers are not there to solve your problems. They're only here to postpone it until you can go back and finish what's not done. If you were to utilize dissociation to function on a daily basis, it could be a sign of avoidance or an outdated coping mechanism until it is replaced with a healthier one.

Added, there's have many reasons why this is a bad thing to maintain--one of them (and most important) is how it keeps everyone separated (which means trauma isn't processed) and comfortable in their own identities (which removes the priority to clear this deep-seated dissonance) . When you're happy that way, it'll mean missing out or being unaware of what's the deeper problem, which often roots back to splitting or forming new alters to tank pre-existing issues, rather than truly solving it--the very thing perpetuating the disorder.

Lastly, i am putting emphasis on how it is derived from coping mechanisms such as compartmentalization and suppression. Lowering dissociative barriers are not just for reprocessing trauma, but to also learn feel safe, and working through the mess without relying on more damaging methods.

How do you tackle this then?

Glad you ask, it won't be a guide without solutions,, i'll explain them in just three simple phases:

Learn how to ground before anything else. This helps you train resilience so dissociation will not hinder you as much than the usual

Document and/or communicate. Jot down anything traumatic that any alters hold, this will serve as your own homework to process thoroughly to prevent relapse or any other negative habits

Finally process them. This ensures the last phase where dissociative barriers are actively tackled, in addition to solving unfinished pain which is hindering your function and daily life

It takes time and skills, so don't rush them,, and do it in your own pace.

Takeaway

Before i even say a closing... yes, im alive,, yes i did enjoy my long break! In fact, it is what inspires me to make this post and an upcoming one at late march/early april--it'll be about fictives.

Also thanks to @ratinacoat for beta reading this guide, who helps ensure the utmost quality and prevent misinformation that's written here <3

--

Your parts are not enemies, the disconnection is. Although dissociative barriers are made to protect a person from overwhelming stress, it doesn't have to define your future too.

What will be your next step to implement this knowledge after reading this post in your healing journey? Let me know if you have any questions regarding this topic in the comments.

- c

[jevilowo]

It's me the timeline guy. Here are my many lore related grievances with the comic:

SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT tho most people have probably read it by now lol

FIRST OF ALL, the Administrator's plan. What happened to "plan so disturbing that several US senators pardoned her for the Poopy Joe incident?" What even was her plan actually was it just to keep the fighting going forever? Then what was the point of Australiummaxxing after Redmond and Blutarch died?

What's up with Zepheniah’s hooked up corpse. Isn't his ghost still around? He certainly is by the seventh scream fortress comic, which takes place during MvM. His will says he won't rest until he's done being mad at the world idk how that relates to anything.

OH HORSEMANN MY HORSEMANN. Why is Zepheniah claiming to be an only child? And it's not a retcon bc later on Soldier pulls up the family photo WITH SILAS IN IT. Where did he even get that. Anyways. The only explanation is either 1) some in-universe attempt by Zepheniah to write Silas out of history (implied by the two copies of the quarterly concern, one seen in a hidden page in the classless update and the other in the background of the Engineer update), or 2) ...i was going to say Silas was actually his cousin or something but that wouldn't make sense if the siblings of Zepheniah’s dad all died young. Urgh. I hoped the Horsemann would return and put to rest the implications dragged up by scream fortress two but alas twas not to be.

What's with the 3 different covers of a young Administrator? My theory is they're supposed to represent three possible backstories the writers were cooking and wouldn't commit to. Who knows.

CHARLES DARLING. The triplets' birth certificate claimed that their mother was a Darling (save me Bette Mann etc etc), and that had me convinced Charles was going to be at least RELEVANT. Why else would he, a joke antagonist introduced in the War! Comic, show up at all? Looking for Australium, no less? I tell you that flashback of him and Maxton had me CONVINCED something would happen. Especially with the two of them lowkey treating him like shit.

So so so much Admin stuff left unexplained. Seeing her child self in the Australium. The census dated back to 1850 with "HELEN" on it. Telling Engie "your family has already done so much for me". By that she could have just meanth Radigan making an immortality machine for Redmond as well as Blutarch I guess, but ??? I liked the Emily reference tho that was something one of the artists reffered to her as for the Engie Update Comic by mistake and later took back so neat callback lmao.

SPEAKING OF RADIGAN. Nothing on who the third Australium machine went to. Presumably Admin I guess? Not explained, never will be probably.

Who was the person in the torn Mann Family portrait? My main theory was always either an earlier version/design of Grey or a Darling, but in the picture Soldier shows (SERIOUSLY WHERE DID HE GET THAT) we can't even see the outline of a person around his thumb. It almost looks like they just made a version of the picture without anyone in the middle and called it a day.

TFI having other mercenary groups came out of fucking nowhere, even in comic six. The T and F presumably stand for "Team Fortress", fuck you mean "Team Citadel", "Team Vanguard", giant fucking statue of random epic looking mercs??? What is happening. They did NOT explain that shit at all. Multiple, seemingly incredibly competent teams are NOT "eighteen perfect idiots". Did Poopy Joe die for nothing.

One of the top posts I've ever made is the one where I point out the date Spy and Scout got arrested on that newspaper: September 7th, 1972. This means the rest of the comics should take place 5½ months later i.e. February/March 1973. Ergo, 1979 could not be "seven years later". The comics seem to think themselves that they're set in 1972 already, there's a few lines about it but for the life of me I can't remember. Something something however many years since Zepheniah died blah blah year the triplets were born. Whatever. It's on my timeline probably.

Smaller thing, but embarrassing lack of a full name reveal for Heavy (I originally said And Medic here but. Herbert Ludwig was revealed). Spy also, but I wasn't really expecting that. Heavy shall remain Mikhail "Mischa" Weponzgy in my heart.

SO IN CONCLUSION: the writers went in with no clue how to end the story, something made evident by the possibility of the 4chan leaks being an early script and also entirely fucking different.

Still, there were a lot of lore unrelated things I did enjoy: the fact that the mercs actually got a happy ending, for one thing. Sniper stealing a plane, Scout maturing and moving on from Pauling, Pyro literally just being overjoyed to see Engie again, babies!!! The fact we even got a comic! How crazy is that? At least we didn't have to wait another seven years.

I might draft a script for an alternate ending that tries to answer lore stuff more, but knowing me I wouldn't finish it. Still, I am working on making a website for my timeline and I'll upload the link here once I'm done with it. Oh and I'll update the doc version soon. Bitterly.

[fictionfixations]

book 7part 8 spoilers

OH FUCK WAIT THE BOOK 7 UPDATE IS HAPPENING TODAY/TOMORROW I FORGOT 😭 this is like really shit timing but tbh not even sickness will stop me! or well maybe it will but then ill just put it on auto or something so i can just stare and because i already saw what happens 💀 lmfao im so fucking excited for you guys to see it its the funniest shit ever

WE'RE GONNA SEE THE VIDEO HELL YEAHH its so fucking goofy i was hoping we'd see it last update and then we didnt get it so i realized itd be next update and HERE WE ARE

i stumbled on it on like twitter cause my feed is filled with jp twst and im just like wtf is this 😭what is going on (now ive seen worse stuff that genuinely didnt feel like it was real but it WAS LMFAO)

grim: are you giving us the hard part!? idia who JUST explained how he is doing a very very hard part of making the cheats, fixing bugs if he finds any, and hope it works on the first try and that he doesnt get caught or they are fucked:

well hes mad that idia isnt coming with them and idia is pretending hes still dreaming but on the other hand idk man i cant comprehend half attention being focused on us dream traveling and doing stuff while the other half is working on the cheats. like i mean he still kinda does that cause hes in tablet form and watching over us but i just cant imagine how hed go about working while on him does he have like a magical floaty keyboard or some shit idfk man

in any case there are benefits to having a guy to watch over everything from the outside

💀

also valid reason, that if idia tries to follow malleus will immediately realize whats going on

HAHAHAH DREAMY MAGICAL MAKEOVER VS DREAM FORM CHANGE

BAHAHAHAHAH

ive heard dream form change enough that i wont be able to get it out of my head but.. hahah... dreamy magical makeover...

i can just feel the embarrassment radiating of them

props to the diasomnia boys for not stumbling (we'll get some real stumbling later)

we see apprentice chef grim, that ones not on EN yet right?

read: headcanon LMFAO

ah.... its main street... i kind ofwant to laugh already i remember being in such utter shock at first

[loud ass stomping] (gotta be glad i dont have my volume super fucking high to hear as much as i can lMFAO)

i remember when this dropped on jp and i was scrolling through twitter and i saw epel and i was just like no fucking way thats real and then i kept seeing him and i realized wait he IS real wth 😭??

hehehee dreamy magical makeover

AHH ITS ROOK TIME

hehehadhahwh

LMFAO

ortho please when someone starts yapping about things theyre really interested in theyll keep yapping even if nobody is talking because they wanna talk about it okay dont judge 😭 i say as a person who yapped about my interests and then i just didnt get a response back about it 💀💀💀

😭

i mean i can get into going through stuff for 5 hours if its something im interested in but oh man id be very very sleepy like when is this gonna end im so tired

im sure its very emotional to see people you know be kinda delusional and dreaming and different to what theyd usually be, or being what theyd usually be against yet falling into it because it is a dream that will affirm itself constantly that yes, this is reality, no need to doubt, dont think, this is life, etc etc

LETS GOO BOOK 7 TWISTUNE

i cant explain how much i hate the purple notes theyre just unexplainably hard for me wth

every time theres a battle im so scared its gonna be malleus bruhs so difficult to fight

*cringes away* eww vil in RSA

oh my god "Don't you dare go tellin' those phonies the words Vil wanted to hear most of all that day!" 😭

heheh dreamy magical makeover

ah its background from the tapis rouge event (....vil's... red carpet cadets....)

?? maquillaville

i dont know how to feel about this it used to be fairest city i dont even know what it means or what its trying to reference ????

i cant really vibe with this outfit he kinda looks dumb imo 😭

dddreamy magical makeover....

id like to think my cards are getting strong but the book 7 battles will only get harder from here so im worrying

i was boutta throw hands cause for an entire turn darkness just didnt take damage at all like WHAT DO YOU MEAN

im still really hoping for overblot cards. ever since i first started this game ive really wanted overblot riddle hes just so pretty man. ill settle if we can get riddle's dream form (which we did not get a card for D:) but still

LMFAO HE POISONED EVERYONE AFTER HE WOKE UP like yeah youre not real im gonna poison you all anyway lmaoo

next is scarabia huh

[mikefaistinfo]

Mike in the Q&A with Zendaya and Josh O'Connor for Amazon MGM Studios Guilds

Interviewer: [...] I love that you say that because I was just going to say to Mike is there's a lot of little moments that all of your characters get that I think tell a deeper truth about who they are. I actually think of the moment towards the end when Patrick is looking at the woman's breakfast sandwich and like is actually going to take it. Like, I'm like, this is who you are. I would die of the embarrassment that I even looked at this woman's sandwich, let alone had the audacity to eat it. And I was going to ask you, Mike, if you had a little moment that you felt was really illustrative of who Art is, that maybe the audience and again, those internal motivations that are not maybe in the dialogue, but tell a lot about who he is as a person and maybe what motivates him in this story.

Mike: Yeah, that's a very good question. There is one moment that jumps out to me in particular. And again, piggybacking off what Josh said, it is the, these conversations that we were very fortunate to have with Luca and each other all throughout that rehearsal process. And one of the things that was discussed about Art was this idea, you know, Patrick's character is much more, I think brazen, a little much more relaxed, much more calm about life in general, and Art's character is maybe a little bit more controlled, particular, very neat, very organized, trying to really make sure that things are correct. And within that, there's this this scene at the party and we're watching Tashi dance on the dance floor. And then we have a conversation with her and she leaves and we decide to stay and wait for her. And so Josh, Patrick, and Art. We're just sitting on the couch and and there's this dessert that was presented to us and it had it was like some sort of cake and it had an icing on top of it. And there was strawberries on top of the cake. And I remember thinking Art would love to eat the cake. They probably won't eat the cake. That's not the right thing to do. So I guess we'll have the strawberry. But then, the strawberry has icing on it, so he has to scrape the icing off of the strawberry. While he's eating and I remember doing that and that felt as if that, that probably was the correct choice, and I think it's in the movie. I don't know if it made it (Zendaya: it is! Mike: it is? Zendaya: it is!) it felt right (Zendaya: but it is) and it felt very indicative as to who this person was in terms of, you know, the decision to eat the cake or not eat the cake is its own thing and the consequences of that. Well, I guess. Yes. You know.

Interviewer: [...] I want to bring it to you, Mike. Because I feel like with Art, there's much more to find things. Yeah, starts off is very flirty and a little bit unsure. Then it becomes focused, and my favorite moment is right after the sign-in at the tennis match, when he hits that ball back at Patrick, we see basically the ice turn into fire. And that is like the biggest emotional shift we see from the character from that moment on and all of the stuff that comes after that has to be told through tennis. I'm curious, what was in the script? What were you trying to basically say in addition to those tennis moves that y'all are doing in that final climactic moment? There's a lot of emotion coming out from Art, like more so than you maybe even seen from him in earlier moments. I'd love for you to talk a little bit about that climax. And then I want to come to you, Josh, about how you were on the other side of that, because you essentially popped open all that emotion. So Mike, yeah.

Mike: Well, it's interesting because I think that was actually, it wasn't planned. Um, that moment, it was something that was felt, um, sorry, there, there's no way to articulate that other than, you know, I think there are these strange things that happen. Um, and they're kind of unexplainable where, you know, you, you do all of this prep work, you do as much thought as you can. Um, with the material that you're given, the conversations that you have with the creatives, the wardrobe that is, you know, built for you. And then at the end of the day, you're placed in that situation and you have to allow the character to kind of come forth and decide for themselves what is appropriate in that situation. And, and I remember that day very distinctly. Because we had been, we had been shooting, um, uh, that tennis, uh, see all those tennis sequences going back to that, um, for two or three weeks. Um, and, um, we did shoot that section of it towards the end of those two to three weeks. So there was this kind of natural progression leading up to that climactic moment that you're talking about. And, and, and that particular moment. Um, it just felt as if that this thing was coming out of me and it felt like Art was taking over-is the truth of the matter.

Um, and it's one of those, you know, unexplainable events where, like I said, you do this work, you do as much prep and thought as possible. And then you let these things kind of take over and let them go. And, and that felt also correct in the sense, for our characters, well with this person that does work so terribly hard in terms of making the right choice, and stepping in the right place, and doing the right thing in order to get to those places and here's with the situation where truly the game that is playing... if you were look at his career it really doesn't matter, however in this moment, you know because of the dramatic, the dramaticniss of the story that we're telling is the most important thing

And in this moment as well, he is letting go of all of that, which I think is, which I think is the thing that both Art and Tashi are trying to get out of him as not just a tennis player, but also a person. And it did feel as if when we, when I, I remember just reading the actual tennis sequence itself and the way that it had come across to me off of the page was, oh, now everybody has fallen back in love with not just each other, but the game and why they are doing it in the first place. And so that release of that tension that Art allows himself kind of allows everybody to let go of it all and just let go. I'm not being very articulate, unfortunately, with this, but I think it was just one of these things that naturally, that tension and buildup is kind of placed into Art's hands. And he has the decision as to how he's going to let both Tashi and Patrick kind of feel about it. And the choice that he makes is to actually kind of come into himself and let go of all of that and choose to engage with it.

[someonebeatyoutothisuser]

Ight, so with the whole U.S. situation and the fact that my rights may or may not be stripped away from me, let's talk about something else.

Let's be real, beast-yeast could've been better, but it was slightly just... Unexpected and kinda just...

So, let's talk about some things they could've done in favor of that update!

(these are my opinions btw.)

Explaining what the fuck horrors strawberry cookie just saw.

Now, let's be real, strawberry SAW a cookie get eaten, but it is not mentioned enough, and I feel as if it just never really happened, but I feel like she deserves a side story on how that overall affected her and her daily life, how she lives knowing what she had seen, and probably what she heard, because a lot of shit could've been going on at the moment and honestly I feel like the writers just forgot it happened and decided to just say "Fuck it" and never mention it

Going more in depth about GingerBrave's and Dark enchantress's dynamic and about the one line in ep 10 timeless kingdom.

Now, I know GingerBrave has about enough spotlight, but it's the words "You of all cookies dare to defy me?" That gets the community, it opens up possibilities and some questions that could be answered through that and perhaps could give the words some back story and maybe reveal more about why dark enchantress said that and how these two might have something a bit more than just an enemy viewpoint of one another. Plus, it might go in depth on how GingerBrave isn't just some plain ass cookie, and might open up some interesting character about him and perhaps why he thinks so lowly of himself.

Giving the cookies of darkness backstories.

When I say back stories, I do mean how they met dark enchantress cookie and kinda how they managed to form the whole gang, and primarily how they became evil exactly.

Giving other cookies some (Well deserved) side stories.

It's self explanatory, but some cookies just DESERVE a side story yk... Like rebel cookie or some tension between a few cookies, like Expresso and butter roll cookie.

Going more in depth about the ancients friendship.

Mainly how white lily formerly being dark enchantress cookie (Or the concept) affected them and going over how the ancients think of one another in actual depth, and perhaps even reveal some past relationships or tension they have with one another.

MORE DRAGON COOKIES...

There is ONE cookie in the fucking dragon category. Can we get some more along with some backstories bruh... This is depressing. And it's been like this for what, a year? We should get some more.

A boss rush concept.

Listen, the gameplay is getting uninteresting and guilds need more going on so, here's where you fight old bosses with your friends and maybe as an extra challenge, you don't know whose character is whose and each person gets one negative effect that stays with them till the end of the game. As an extra, everyone gets one character and only the host and two of the first members get to pick a treasure so crk doesn't get boring as shit, and it's a max of 5 people.

Timekeeper + croissant cookie introduction.

We had a cameo of croissant, might as well introduce her and timekeeper, and perhaps they could know of the ovenbreak timeline and perhaps break 4th wall or even just compare certain stuff from ovenbreak to kingdom and vise versa cause it would be funny, and also twizzly gummy cookie being aware of this because I think it's just better that way. And an introduction to the TBD.

More on custard cookie the third and what the fuck is going on with his family tree and why the hell we found him in a forest.

I'm talking about the exact context + reason. Because like listen, it's just unexplained and not talked about (due to the fact that devsisters just brushed it off) and I think I just need it answered on who is this boy's mother and how the hell he got in the dumbass Forest.

And that's the few things I personally think should've happened in favor of beast-yeast.

[scoobydoominuscoobydoo]

Hi!!! First of all can I just say how much I LOVE your page?!? I don’t really have a question, I just wanted to post some story ideas that I had that I thought you might enjoy.

Story ideas

Shaggy is a typical loner guy at school, not necessarily emo, he just prefers the company of animals (especially his dog Scooby Doo) Daphne is the popular girl (of course) but she sees Shaggy sitting underneath a tree during lunch birdwatching and eating a comically large sandwich. Let’s just say he’s piqued her interest. (Sort of like a Kristoff/Anna dynamic)

Shaggy becomes Commander Cool (for some unexplained reason that I never thought through) and Velma is the only person he tells because Fred is out of town for the time being, and Daphne can’t keep a secret to save her life. Velma agrees to he his “guy in the chair” (think Wade from Kim Possible) and assists him from her desk at home. While he struggles at first, he eventually starts to get the hang of crime fighting. One day, Daphne gets caught in a bank robbery and CC comes in to save the day. After seeing Commander Cool in action Daphne begins to wonder who this masked avenger really is.

Shaggy and Daphne have been dating for nearly a month now and they’re still the hottest topic of gossip at school. “What does she see in that toothpick?” “Ugh, she could do SO much better.” “She must have lost a bet or something.” “Either that or she’s doing it out of pity.” Needless to say, even someone, who can laugh at himself as much as Shaggy can, has his breaking point. But what can his loving girlfriend do if all he can say is, “I’m fine”?

Shaggy and Daphne are excited for Fiction Con (pretty much like Comic Con but copyright friendly, I know I’m so original) Daphne doesn’t tell anyone she’s going (she’s got a reputation to uphold) but Shaggy is letting everyone and anyone know he’s going and he’s proud of it! The day of the con, Shaggy goes in his Commander Cool cosplay and while he’s looking through the different booths and events, he comes face to face with the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, in a Wonder Lass cosplay (In this universe, there is a female superhero named Wonder Lass who sometimes assists Commander Cool in crime fighting, it’s been a common theory among the CC fandom that Commander Cool and Wonder Lass will end up together.) Will Shaggy find out who this mysterious girl is before the 3-day con ends?

Sorry if this was a long post I just wanted to get these out there and share them with someone who loves Shaphne as much as I do. And maybe (just maybe) it can get other people’s creativity pumping and they’ll share their own stories and ideas.

Thank you so much! Keep up the great work!!

Actually these are all 5 star ideas and I'm honored that you're willing to share them with me. I love the idea of playing with the gang as a vigilante justice squad. I guess that's technically what they are IN CANON but like I would love to write them as like a spiderman type crime fighting gang. Shaggy would absolutely slay as the unwilling hero that is accidentally so good at it that he has to keep doing it even though he hates it. And I am weak for any sort of "helping them patch up their wounds" scene. Like, yall imagine that scene with Peter and Gwen in the first asm but with Shag and Daph??? UGH. That's good stuff.

I HAVE been writing but I'm a crippling perfectionist at like the Stanley Kubrick level, so I keep proofreading drafts to hone them to their ultimate form. These ideas will be stored away in the mental filofax for suuurrrreee but they may not see the light of day until I'm old and decrepit 💅💅💅

Or who knows I may post it tomorrow... you never know how productive you'll be as a fanfic writer 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

[skylarmoon71]

Harry Wells Earth 2 (Flash) - Extra 1

Note: Apologies if I posted this already, I couldn't remember lol. Enjoy!

Learning that you have meta abilities, especially ones that are similar to Central City's greatest hero is a lot to swallow.

Barry was very grateful to you for restoring his speed back to its neutral state. You had to admit it felt nice to help the Flash.

Although you couldn't exactly tell anyone about your little superhero team up, knowing that you made such a difference was enough.

"I know it might be too much to just expect you to become a part of the team and start fighting bad guys, but if you want, I can show you how to control your speed. It really helps when you're running late."

Barry's invitation was sweet. You liked that he respected your decision to remain somewhat normal. Being a hero might have been his calling but it wasn't yours and you were fine with that.

So you started your little practices. Barry and his team allotted time between their hero adventures to help you master all the perks that came with being a speedster.

Harry carried out a lot of the calculations and kept recordings of your progress. When you weren't at your day job, you were in Star Labs running in the speed lab or completing other tasks to improve your abilities. The first time you'd launched a bolt of lightning you were a little hesitant, but Harry wasn't worried. The sizzling dummy before you had you gaping. Harry just jotted down a note with a small grin.

"You're improving fast. I guess it's expected. It's a lot easier when we already know the fundamentals of speedster capabilities."

You were still a bit awe struck. The entire situation was a bit hard to believe.

Harry noticed your still form, lowering his tablet.

"Is everything okay?"

You nod.

"Yeah I'm fine, it's just crazy. You guys deal with this everyday. I live in this town so I've seen a lot of the weird and unexplained, but to actually become a part of it is kind of strange."

You've come to appreciate all that Team Flash does. Everyday they lay their lives on the line for strangers. Using their gifts to stop the truly bad people.

"You all are so amazing. I know you must get this a lot, but thank you for all you do for the city. I'm sure everyone in this town feels the same way. Thank you for showing me how to make a difference, even when I didn't think I could."

Even when you doubted yourself, Harry believed.

"It was nothing. All I saw was your potential. " He adjusted his glasses, directing his gaze back to his tablet.

"I need to get these readings to Cisco so we can keep track of your speed pattern." You smile, moving to his side. He raises a brow.

"Mind if I tag along, I never really stick around for all the science stuff. I'd like to see how it all works."

Harry didn't object, so you grab your water bottle as you both head to the cortex. When you walk in Cisco is seated at the desk, munching on twizzlers. Not that you're surprised.

He catches sight of the both of you, straightening.

"Hey speedy, how was training?"

"Good I think."

Harry hands Cisco the tablet and Cisco basically shoots out of his seat.

"Are you kidding me! You managed to do the bolt of destruction!"

"We're not calling it that." Harry says blankly. You just giggle.

"Just one. It was a bit difficult."

Cisco places a hand on your shoulder.

"The fact that you can even do it with just two months of training is awesome. With this kind of progress you'll be mastering Flashtime in your sleep." Cisco is already rushing to log the notes into the computer. Cisco and Harry begin to bicker over the entries. If you're being honest you barely understand what some of the notes truly mean. The stats look a bit foreign to you.

Your eyes glance over in Harry's direction.

You've been trying to think of a way to thank him for all the assistance. You've known him for roughly two and a half months and you can tell his personality is a bit standoffish. He's blunt, short tempered and smiles are very rare. Yet, here he is on another earth protecting your city.

Maybe your need to please him isn't strictly due to your need to repay his kindness.

He is very good to look at.

"Next week we'll work on your phasing."

Harry's words pull you back and you nod in hopes that it appears as though you've been listening.

"I guess I'll see you all tomorrow then."

You squeeze your bottle, waving at them.

"Bye!"

You're gone in under five seconds and they both blink at the whiplash of wind.

The concept of phasing sounded so easy. It was actually something you were looking forward to. That's until you really understood what it fully meant.

Alas, you should have known better.

"H-Harry!"

He grabs your hand, and you're full on panicking because the lower half of your body is still phasing into the ground.

"I-I'm scared! H-How do I get it to stop!"

"Just breathe, you need to relax. I won't let you get hurt, just look at me."

You're still breathing heavily, and you direct your shaky gaze at him.

"Picture your body moving through the floor. I'm going to tug, and you'll need to do the rest."

"I-I don't think I can..."

He squeezes your hand.

"You can, I believe in you. Just trust yourself. You can do this."

You swallow and train all your focus on Harry. Taking a deep breath, you try to follow his instruction. Harry gives a tug, and your body begins to move from beneath the floor. You're slowly rising and he smiles. You stumble out and when your body is freed from the floor, you crash into his chest. He steadies you, looking you over. Your body is no longer phasing.

"You did it."

You nod, still gripping onto him. You're a bit scared that if you let go you'll sink into the floor again. It's a bit discouraging how hard this is to grasp. You have no doubt that Barry didn't struggle this much with his abilities. He seems so confident.

Fearless.

"I'm sorry that I'm so bad at this." You mutter.

"I don't expect you to master every skill all at once. You're learning. It's alright if you don't get it on the first try."

Given Harry's personality, you appreciate how patient he's been with you.

"Thanks for always putting up with me."

You finally get yourself to really let him go. Harry looks down and you can't find it in yourself to move back.

"You don't have to keep thanking me."

You really wish he hadn't said that statement so seductively, or maybe it's just your brain amplifying everything.

"I need to stop watching those hallmark movies."

It's definitely warping your reality. But then, where's the harm in asking.

"Then how exactly should I repay you.."

What possessed you to say that.

Harry himself looks surprised at the statement. You both are still very close. His hands are resting protectively on your shoulders. Given the previous situation, it makes sense. The gesture was for comfort, but now it's electing a completely different reaction.

"What if I asked for something outrageous, would you still be willing?"

You swallow, because you can't hallucinate this. It sounds like he's flirting with you.

You can't help but let your eyes stray to his lips, and he catches the action.

"Maybe I-"

"Hey (Y/N) I heard you were practicing your phasin-" Barry stumbles when he sees the lack of distance. You move back from Harry and Barry starts stammering.

"S-Sorry I didn't mean to interrupt."

Barry makes a quick escape and suddenly the air is a bit tense.

You push down the nerves that rise to the surface, turning to Harry in what you hope is confidence.

"Harry, would you like to go out sometime?"

You can tell he hadn't expected the bold move. But he doesn't seem opposed.

"Is this just payment for my help?"

You can tell that the inquiry means a lot to him.

"It isn't."

There's a bit of a twinkle in his eyes at the response and you wear a bashful smile.

"I'd love to." 

[icycoldninja]

hello!!! mgs4 raiden requester back!! <3

i was wondering if you could do any angst (to maybe nsfw if it fits) around a fem reader & raiden, reuniting again after they lost contact after the events of mgs2. potentially working with the cybernetic/scientist reader again seeing how their work was used by the patriots to experiment on raiden and turn him into what we know in mgs4

take your time!! i genuinely love reading your stuff even if im not into/played the same media <3

Thank you! That makes me so happy to hear 💜 I hope you enjoy, and have a great day.

What have they done to you (MGS4! Raiden x Fem!Cyberneticist!Reader angst)

"Doctor Y/N," A guard said, striding into your laboratory and over to the desk you were seated at. "There's a visitor come to see you."

Groaning softly, you reached up and massaged your eyes, which felt heavier and more fatigued than they should have been. Ever since yo learned your boyfriend Raiden had been captured by the Patriots, you had gotten very little sleep.

"Who is it?" You drawled, too tired to meet the guard's eyes.

"A cyborg," The guard responded, sounding somewhat worried. "He won't give his name."

"A cyborg?" You repeated, rising from your seat in awe. "Where is he from? Not the Patriots, I hope."

"I'm not sure," Replied the guard. "He bears no identification, and as I said before, refuses to give his name."

Several thoughts traveled through your mind. This could be a trap; the cyborg could be an assassin sent to off you, or he could be someone willing to contribute to your research. If this was the case, you couldn't let such a glorious opportunity slip by.

"Send him in."

The guard nodded and ducked out of the room. Seconds later, the door opened again, and a lean man in a black cloak strode into the room. The lower half of his face was almost entirely encased in metal, but his eyes were so familiar. So, so familiar. You knew those blue eyes; you recognized the dormant sadness hidden deep within them. You were sure you knew who this person was, but for some unexplainable reason, you still felt the need to ask. After all, it had been so long since you'd seen them--and the Patriots were know for deception--why should you believe he'd returned to you now?

"Who...who are you?" You inquired, nervously. The cyborg stared blankly at you, as if he hadn't heard your question. A few moments later, he opened his metal mouth and spoke.

"You don't recognize me?"

"No...I...I do," You mumbled, clasping your hands together. "I just...can't believe it's really you..." The cyborg nodded, continuing to stare ahead with that blank, almost dead-looking expression. You tried your best to meet his gaze, but it was so intense, so unsettling, you couldn't keep it up for long. Averting your eyes in both fear and shame, you let out a sigh.

"Raiden, what have they done to you?"

Raiden did not respond. He just kept his bluish-gray eyes fixated on you like a laser beam. You didn't know what to do now; you had nothing to say. The pain on Raiden's face told you everything you needed to know--that he was hurting, that he was afraid, and that he needed someone to lean on.

Almost automatically, you started edging closer and closer to him, your arms reaching out to wrap around his shoulders. You wanted to hug him, and he clearly needed a hug, but for some reason, he backed away.

"Don't touch me." He said, coldly.

"Why, what did I do?" You asked, voice quavering.

"It was your tech that they used. Your inventions," Raiden explained. It took you a minute to realize he was referring to your work regarding cyborg enhancements, though you had no idea how the Patriots managed to get their hands on it.

"How...?" You whispered, in unbelief. "How did they...?"

"They captured other cyborgs, ones you upgraded," Raiden continued, still staring ahead with that blank expression. "Then they broke 'em apart, dissected every joint, and figured out how to make the parts themselves."

"Oh my God...Raiden..." You were too stunned to form a coherent sentence. Your hard work, your research, your ingenuity, had been stolen by evil people and user to forcibly modify your entire reason for doing all this. The shock was too much; it made your head spin and you knees weak. You sank into a nearby chair, your head in your hands.

"The excision was very painful." Raiden announced, adding to your distress.

"My God...what have I done?" You muttered, too ashamed of yourself to so much as look through man in the eye. "What have I done? What have I done?"

Eventually you pulled yourself together, straightened up, and sighed.

"I'm sorry, Raiden," You told him, tears streaming down your face. "I'm so...so...sorry...I never wanted this to happen, ever...I...I only became a cyberneticist so I could do good and make contributions, not for this..."

For a moment, Raiden's stony expression melted into one of genuine sorrow. It seemed that if he had tear ducts left, he would be crying. You never wanted to hold him so badly in your life.

Completely disregarding what he said earlier, you ran forwards and threw your arms around his neck, sobbing and squeezing him as tightly as you could. You didn't care that his metal body was ice cold, and that the various ridges and spikes on his skeleton poked and prodded your sides. You just wanted to embrace him and let him know you still loved him no matter what, and that nothing could change that.

"I love you, Raiden," You kept repeating, clinging onto him and refusing to let go. "I love you so, so much."

It took him several moments, but Raiden eventually snaked his arms around your waist and held you close with enthusiasm double that of yours.

"I...I...love you too..."

[volo-omnia]

Y'know something I really love that makes a comeback in PLA but it never gets explained ever? The Arceus sigil from the Heartgold/Soulsilver Arceus event.

Y'know, this thing.

Now I know we do get an indirect explanation from the HG/SS event, although it does make me wonder about it's meanings and connections:

To start off, the in game meaning of the sigil is pretty cut and dry. Or at least....part of it.

Triangles are pretty common throughout gen 4, with the obvious connection being the creation trio.

As explained by Cynthia in the event, the bottom left circle corresponds to Dialga, bottom right with Palkia, and the one on top being Giratina. (And of course, the larger circle in the center with the sun-like design being corresponded to Arceus.) Their designs and placements in their hierarchy is pretty directly shown here, which is pretty nice.

However we also see a similar triangle in the Celestic ruins in the modern day, with their correspondences being related to the Lake Trio. Their placements of course being related to their respective lakes they reside in Sinnoh.

Now while these separate sigils don't explain the greater whole, they do explain parts of it. Since both the creation and lake trios are represented by upright triangles, we can clearly see 2 upright triangles in Arceus' overall creation sigil.

However that does leave the much larger image unexplained for the most part. There have been theories that each circle in the larger image corresponds to another legendary pokemon in the greater pokemon universe, but it's hard to fully place where each legendary goes where.

Now what I wanna do instead is speculate the design of the Arceus sigil from an esoteric perspective.

Most sigils have different meanings and designs based on the person making them, but I just wanna have some fun breaking down the design in itself. Disclaimer, I don't expect Gamefreak to know this stuff when designing their game, so most of this will be speculation.

Now with both creation and lake trios being represented by triangles, I find it interesting that they're both layered upright as opposed to one upright and one pointed downward. From an esoteric perspective, the way the triangle points reflects different meanings. If you have a triangle pointed upward, it would direct energy upwards to the heavens, as opposed to pointed downward, where the intended energy is directed down to earth/below.

However assuming the shape of the triangle was irrelevant, the usage of the number 3 could also be a point to the worldbuilding. The common theme of trios in the world of pokemon is typically symbolized by the ideas of harmony, order, and perfection, as well as regarded as a "holy number" in various cultures and religions. At least in the ideas of Agrippa, the number 3 is considered the "ideal" number of forms, with number 2 being the number of creating matter. (Although this is interesting as Giratina does get kicked out making the creation duo, Dialga and Palkia. Their loyalty to Arceus does indeed make 3 again.) Going back to the lake trio, the number 3 being represented by the three states of mind, that being wisdom, willpower, and emotion.

However, if we also take the obvious Christianity route to things, then the usage of triangles in the sigil also is quite an obvious indicator!

Since the ancient Celestics are inspired by the Greco-Romans, the usage of 3 is also quite common in mythology! I'm sure you don't need me to explain the common trinity of earth, water, and sky in Greek myths, trying back to Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades.

Now, here is where we get to the hard part. What are the other circles of the sigil? Well....I actually have no idea.

You see, an idea I've seen others try to connect this sigil back to is that of transmutation circles and alchemy circles.

And....yeah, I guess, but this is the part where I bring back that disclaimer that I don't think Gamefreak actually knows in depth what the hell I'm talking about right now.

There's a large plethora of alchemy symbols from Agrippa, The Golden Dawn, to many other occultists throughout history that are used to design these things, but....the Arceus sigil has nothing.

Typically you would have some sort of connection between each area of the circle that you wanted to channel in terms of that celestial aspect, that being a triangle/pentagram/hexagram/etc, but there are no clear chemical symbols or connections inbetween the circles. A lot of the circles are overlapped in this kinda weird way, with a lot on the surrounding edges just kinda sitting by themselves.

So be perfectly honest I'm not sure what kinda design they were going for here? Given by the cutscenes in the Arceus event of the Earth being overlaid the image of the sigil...the circles could represent a type of unity in the world and the circular nature of creation, but part of me thinks the game designers just kinda slapped a bunch of circles together to make it look cool. (And well, probably not to draw too much attention to real life occult topics in their kids game.)

At most I can say it's a type of creation circle given it's symbolized a lot with the idea of Arceus being The Creator, but it's difficult to say given it's design is quite far from what actual real life sigils would look like. All in all though, it's still quite an interesting thing that's included in it's worldbuilding.

....although now I think I get why it's never explained directly.

[nostalgebraist]

comments on almost nowhere for new readers

A few points that may be useful to people who didn't read Almost Nowhere before it was complete, but who are planning to read it now. (AKA "archival readers," as opposed to "serial readers.")

(1)

You'll want to read it fast enough that you don't lose track of the plot.

But, you probably shouldn't read it as quickly as you can. If you "binge-read" it over a very short span of time, some of the effect will be dulled or lost.

When planning out the story, I thought a lot about the reader's evolving state of knowledge. "What the reader knows" was almost like a character unto itself, and an important one.

For example:

I tried to create a enjoyable, continual "rotation" of mysteries, with new questions arising at the same time that old questions get answered, repeatedly across the course of the book.

In between the point when a question is raised and the point when it finally gets a definitive answer, I often tried to create a succession of interesting intermediate states. For example, the reader might first encounter something important in the form of an enigmatic, unexplained name or phrase, mentioned incidentally. Later, the same term starts appearing more often, and gets more coloration, and this coloration is different each time, so that the sum total of "what the reader knows" traces out a series of different "shapes" over time.

So you'll have the most fun if you stop regularly to savor your current state of knowledge. The questions that haven't been answered yet, the partial glimpses you've seen of things you don't fully get. Maybe even go back and re-read earlier bits, if you like.

(1b)

All that said, I also want to caution against viewing the book as a puzzle you're meant to be able to solve on your own, like a "fair-play whodunit."

I intended it to be fun for the reader to wonder about how the questions will be answered, but there's no pretense of playing fair. And that "fun" is often more aesthetic and thematic than it is intellectual.

(2)

Almost Nowhere is divided into 3 parts.

You can see them if you look at the table of contents. In Part 1, the chapter titles are Roman numerals. In Part 2, chapters have verbal titles, together with Arabic numerals that start over from zero. In Part 3, the Roman numerals resume again.

The three parts tell a single continuous story, and share most of the same major characters. But each one is somewhat distinct in its style, tone, themes, and areas of focus, and each one extends the scope of the plot considerably.

Maybe the closest comparison-point is a trilogy of SF/F novels, where each of the sequels is clearly "its own book" that feels distinct from the other two books, while still continuing the story in a coherent way.

I mention this here in the hope that these transitions will be less jarring if you're prepared in advance for them.

(2b)

In another, more "spiritual" sense, Almost Nowhere really has just two parts.

The transition happens at Chapter 13, which could fairly be grouped either into the first or the second part, or both, or neither.

Why? Up through Chapter 12, my planning for future events had been fairly slapdash and vague. I was still in the "throw stuff at the wall so I can create the real story by looking for patterns in it later" stage of my unusual creative process.

After Chapter 12, I thought "okay, that's enough of that. Vague inklings of the future aren't sufficient anymore. It's time to get start being more serious about my planning. It's time to 'create the real story.'"

So I did a bunch of that, and it profoundly shaped everything from Chapter 13 onward. (I don't know how obvious this transition would be if you didn't know about it beforehand; to me it feels very obvious, but maybe deceptively so.)

It goes deeper than that. Chapter 13 is tonally different than any of the preceding ones -- darker, more personal, with a new focus on obsession, bittersweet reflection on the past, regret, resignation. And, semi-accidentally, that ended up setting the tone for the whole rest of the book.

It's not all like that afterwards, to the same extent. But that stuff is always there, at least in the background.

I don't know if this is actually useful to know or not, but I felt like mentioning it, so there it is.

(3)

Like Floornight and TNC before it, Almost Nowhere is a hybrid.

It combines elements from a number of different genres and story types that would not normally be seen alongside one another. At the same time, it doesn't really belong to any of the genres or story types that it draws from.

This aspect of my fiction tends to elicit bimodal responses. When I mix one type of story with another, it tends to come off either as the best-of-both-worlds or the worst-of-both-worlds, depending on the reader.

Some people see five individually good "normal" books, merged into one and singing in harmony. And people see five half-assed attempts to do five different things, without following through on the promises of any one of them.

For example, I noted above that I put a lot of care into setting up mysteries, and I expected the reader to be very aware of them. And I also noted that the story isn't very rewarding if treated like a puzzle that can be "solved" in advance.

But some people are going to see the mysteries, and the care put into them, and think, "ah, I know (and enjoy) this genre, this is a puzzle you're supposed to work out in advance." And these people aren't wrong; it does kind of look like that, especially at the beginning.

Likewise, Almost Nowhere has several chapters that explain math and physics concepts to the characters and to the reader -- either real ones, or fictitious ones that have some pretense of continuity with real math and physics. Sometimes these get very involved, in the manner of Stephenson or Egan.

A reader who sees this stuff, and thinks "ah, I know (and enjoy) this genre," is likely to be disappointed when they discover that the story is not really about math or physics in any deep way. Certainly not about real math or physics. The invented "physics" is closer to the core of it, but less so than some other things -- and anyway, there is more of pure fantasy to it than serious scientific extrapolation.

Like Floornight, AN is arguably "best" described as a fantasy story, and not the GoT kind of fantasy -- the highly aestheticized, thematic, emotional kind of fantasy, where "feels" and "vibes" are almost literally magic and drive everything from the inside out.

But if you read it for that genre, specifically, it may feel odd that it keeps lapsing into long descriptions of nuts-and-bolts plot mechanics, and into laborious explanations of made-up technobabble. Or into setting up "puzzles" that almost feel solvable-in-advance.

Or just, like, being written in this really weird, particular, often opaque style.

I can't just say "leave all your genre preconceptions at the door," as if it were that simple -- as though one could just do that by force of will. But be aware that the elements you recognize, from other fiction, may not be there for the usual reasons.

But they are there for a reason.

When I think about why I write, I often come back to an answer that Andrew Hussie gave on Formspring long ago:

Q: Do you enjoy your own work? I mean if Homestuck was made by someone else and not you, is it the kind of thing you would like reading [...]? A: I am making the kind of thing I would want to read. I am making the kind of thing I wish existed, but doesn't. Yet.

I am doing that, too. I'm taking elements from all over, and building something else out of them. It looks deceptively like the sources it draws from, but it's very different from any of them, underneath.

If it had already existed, it would not have been necessary for me to invent it.

(4)

As I mentioned in the last bullet point, Almost Nowhere is written in a very particular style.

This style gets better-defined over time, and more ossified, and possibly more extreme. (Chapter 13 played the same role in this process as it did in various others, for instance.)

At various times, I've said that Almost Nowhere is my favorite of my stories, or the most ambitious or accomplished one, or the one I like most on re-reading. And that is all true -- in certain senses, anyway.

But I don't want to convey the impression that I think the "Almost Nowhere house style" is like, the epitome of Good Writing or something. Or even that it's my best writing, necessarily. It simply is what it is, as much for consistency's sake as anything else.

(I confess there were times when I looked back on something I'd just wrote, and thought to myself: "I'm not actually sure this is, like, good. Maybe it isn't. But is is definitely Almost-Nowherey, that's for sure." And then I let it stand, for that reason.)

In the best-case scenario, you'll find that you greatly enjoy the "Almost Nowhere house style." If it's not to your taste, hopefully you will find it at least tolerable enough that you can access and enjoy other aspects of the book.

But if you find that really dislike the style, this book is probably not for you, sorry.

It's over 300,000 words, and they're all like that. I wouldn't want someone to force themselves through 300k words while hating every one of them, in the name of finding out what happens, or being a nostalgebraist completionist, or whatever.

[moriitis]

BloodLust. Ticci Toby x Fem. Reader.

Chapter Three.

MINORS DNI 18+

TRIGGER WARNING AHEAD!

[Y/N] -> Your Name. | Word count : 5067.

MASTERLIST!!

—————————————————————————————————————————

That beat of silence lasted longer than a second. The silence that almost swallowed you up whole and made you feel as if you were going crazy and now you stood there, frozen in time, considering your options. Could this all be linked? A dream maybe, a never ending nightmare that felt as if it had just begun?

Silence. Silence. Silence.

Knock, knock. Silence.

You were trembling, your knees shook and as you found yourself approaching the door and extending a hand out toward the handle, your hands were trembling too. How you ended back up at your apartment was unexplainable, a mystery, however something in the back of your mind was telling you that whatever and whoever was knocking at your door had an answer to all of these questions and now, you were opening the door.

Opening it a crack so only you could peek out, you blinked in the features of the person at your door.

“[Y/N]?” It was Bella. Cautiously, you glanced over her shoulder and then poked your head out a fraction to peer down the corridor before settling your gaze back onto Bella. She had a brow raised, curious as to why you were so cautious of your surroundings. How did Bella know where you lived? Had you told her? Come up in the interview? Maybe it was Anne’s murder? Were you on TV? Questions flooded your mind, so much that your bottom lip began to tremble at the overwhelming feeling. Without even thinking, you went to shut the door in a flurry of emotions but it faltered, with Bella’s hand pressed firmly against it. “Are you okay? Where have you been?” You blinked once and then again.

“I’m sorry-“ you mumbled, unable to even process a good enough excuse to hand her with. It was embarrassing, shocking, confusing and you were unsure on where to even start? Was there a start? Now you were second guessing yourself.

“I’ve been really worried about you,” Bella urged, her face laced with her concern as her lips pursed. You felt a little guilty admittedly, but there was something telling you that Bella was in on all of this shit and your trust toward her was little to naught right now.

“I’m having some issues, gonna get back to therapy and stuff. You’re not gonna fire me, right? I can come back and finish my shift-“ you blurted, flustered and ashamed. Acting like this wasn’t you at all, you felt like a puppet. Bella’s face scrunched up a little in confusion.

“Finish your shift? Have you hit your head?” Bella glanced to her left and right before looking back at you. You narrowed your eyes, confused, waiting for an answer to help ease your mind. “I haven’t seen you in two weeks. Where have you been? Did you quit? Your mom came in, she was looking for you too.”

Weeks? Two weeks? No, you had just walked out the coffee shop, you just woke up. It was the afternoon, it was a Monday. More so, it was Monday the 14th.

“What..?” you whispered, feeling the colour drain from your face. “No, no, I just woke up, I.. My shift was a couple hours ago..?” Bella didn’t seem convinced, she looked as if she was gonna call you an ambulance any second now. You were pale, your eyes were a little bloodshot and despite the fact that she couldn’t see your body from you peeking around the door, had you lost weight? Your cheeks had become more sunken and without thinking, you closed the door on Bella now her hand had removed. Her distant knocking could be heard, too frantic for your liking but now you were strolling over to your room.

It was Monday. You felt sick, dizzy, you woke up here. Reaching for your phone, you tapped the screen.

Thirteen missed messages from MOM.

Thirty-six missed calls from MOM.

Twelve missed calls from DAD.

Five missed messages from DAD.

Ten missed messages from LISA.

Two missed calls from LISA.

You glanced at the date. Monday the 28th. How were you not dead? You hadn’t eaten, you hadn’t drank anything? Your mom must’ve thought you were dead, Lisa, your therapist, was trying to get back in contact.

Your legs gave way and you collapsed on the bed, phone in hand as you trembled. What happened? There was more knocking until it seemed Bella gave up. It didn’t make sense, nothing made sense. Anne died and now whatever was haunting her, was beginning to torment you too. Pursing your lips, you pulled your knees up close to your chest as your body slowly began to rock back and forth. Were you going crazy? Maybe everything that Bella had said was nothing but a prank, something that now she was laughing to herself about as she walked out the apartment complex. You wanted to call mom back but the very thought made you dread the idea of talking to her, especially knowing that now your therapist, Lisa was involved and trying to get back into your life.

No, you didn’t need a therapist. You were okay. Your last breakdown was almost a year ago, right? You were okay. You were okay. The phone started to ring which caused you to jump, snapping you out of your thoughts and suddenly, you reached for the phone. MOM. With a slight tremble, you cleared your throat and answered the phone.

“Oh my god, oh my god, you answered. YOU’RE ALIVE!” Mom was sputtering, it sounded like she was crying and then it hit you. You are alive but how? Nobody had access to your apartment, especially if you were asleep for two weeks.

“Yeah..” you spoke, barely able to even understand your mom anymore. Her voice felt as if it was fading away, like you were beginning to fall into a daydream and slip away, lost in never ending thoughts. “Mom, I have to go.”

“What? No, no you don’t! You owe me an explanation! Lisa is trying to get back in contact to you!” You pulled your phone away momentarily and began to cough. It started with a tickle in your throat, hoping that a simple little cough to help clear it would make the tickle subside but it didn’t. Now you were doubling over, hand clasped over your mouth as you tried to catch your breath in between each cough. You could hear your mom frantically calling your name and without even thinking, you just hung up on her. Then you collapsed onto your knees, trying to gasp for breath. It felt like your throat itself was closing up, like you were desperately searching for any oxygen to fill your lungs.

Then it stopped. You were on your hands and knees, a hand on your chest as you heaved thick and heavy breaths of air. Sweet air, letting your red cheeks calm and the tears in your eyes trickle down your cheeks. This wasn’t right, you were not right. Maybe you were just sick, not ‘I need a therapist’ sick, like you were coming down with some kind of illness that made you pass out, bleed from the nose and forget simple things like how the hell you got home.

———————————

The past couple of weeks had been rough. You finally managed to get a doctors appointment, discreetly of course and you hadn’t been turning up for your shifts. Simply put, you were starting to not trust anyone and the comfort of the four walls within your apartment were making you stay in more than you anticipated. You spent days convincing yourself that you were okay, that you were safe, that going outside just wasn’t an option right now and if that meant you got fired, you got fired. Shit happens and you were simply just going to accept it. Ever since you took in the comfort of your home and kept the door locked at all times, you hadn’t received a brown envelope in almost a month and you had begun to convince yourself that this plan of yours was working. What was the point in leaving? You had a bed, a shower, you could get food delivered right outside your door!

Of course, this didn’t settle well with mom and now Lisa was desperately trying to get more and more in contact with you with each passing day.

2 PM. Your appointment was soon with the doctor and that anxiety within you began to brew inside the pit of your stomach. You hadn’t been keeping track on how long you had been inside your home but there was one thing you knew, you didn’t want to leave. You’d just finished the first Lord of the Rings movie from the trilogy and now you were sat on the edge of your couch in hysterics, trying to calm your never ending panic attack that was growing more and more on you with each thought, the idea of even unlocking your door and letting a foot step out had made you thrown up more times this morning than you could’ve counted. Your hands trembled, your stomach growled as you ran a hand through your hair and let your thoughts gather. You couldn’t cancel this appointment, this was the only one they had and taking it over the phone was too late to change.

With a shaky breath you stood to shower yourself off, maybe that would make you feel better and give you an ounce of courage. But it felt as if it had done the opposite, that you lingered under the warmth of the water for too long towards the point that you were about to be late for this appointment. After you hurriedly dressed and slipped on your shoes, with your keys confidently in hand, you remained stood still at the foot of your door.

‘I can do this. It’s for the better. I’m sick.’ Those words were a repeat, they circled round your head as you pressed a hand against the knob of the door and twisted it open. There was a beat, hesitation, that if you opened the door all the way, you’d find yourself disfigured and dead like Anne was.

‘I can do this. It’s for the better. I’m sick.’ Again. You stepped out into the corridor, looking left and then right before left again. Then you found your very being outside, the ache to turn back around and run inside was a hard urge that you had to push away.

‘I can do this. It’s for the better. I’m sick.’ You were at the stairs now, stepping down. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve-

“W— What— are you d-doing?” A voice broke out from behind you and you nearly jumped five feet up in the air. You could’ve sworn you yelled, screamed, made some kind of noise because the person who was stood behind you on the stairs seemed a little startled. It was Toby, his brown hair disheveled, the bags under his eyes only expressed the lack of sleep he seemed to miss out on only more. He wore baggy clothes, that was something you only just caught onto now he was a step higher than you, causing you to look up at him which made you feel smaller than you normally were.

“Fucking hell-.. you scared me-..” you breathed out, having to outstretch a hand onto the banister of the stairs to help soothe your frantic heart rate.

“Y-You were-…” he hesitated, like the word was on the tip of his tongue before he threw his head to the side, his body taking more control over him than he wanted. “You be-… being s-s-… slow.” Toby, this guy was so fucking weird.

“Right,” you muttered. Maybe you were. “I’m sorry, just.. feeling a little unwell, guess I should’ve stayed at home.” Toby narrowed his eyes before adverting his gaze, like he was a little too awkward to even hold the eye contact you guys had momentarily.

“S-S-Sick?” he questioned with a hint of curiosity, which felt weird for his character considering how little you knew him. You didn’t want to be rude but you felt as if your patience was running a little thin with this guy. He was such a creep, your gut was yelling at you, like this guy was a huge red flag. “I-I.. haven’t seen you a-about..” You were a little shocked by that, like he noticed your presence had disappeared almost. If Anne were still alive, she would’ve been knocking at your door demanding it to be open just so you were alright.

Anne. That name alone made your heart throb. The night she did pound on your door, the night which ultimately saved your life and got you into therapy to begin with. You’d necked a bottle of pills, what pills they were you honestly couldn’t remember but Anne knew you were ill. She knew the extent of your mental health and her checking in on you so conveniently that night, it was like she was your guardian angel. How the tables turned, her fate so awful that the thought of her bloated, stinking body rotting in her living room made you feel sick. She didn’t deserve this, she didn’t deserve that and the nights you spent dwelling on her death shrivelled and plagued you with guilt. You should’ve been a better friend, a better neighbour and for weeks she lain there, rotting. She saved your life and you couldn’t even return the favour for her.

You forced a smile, your mind drifted for a moment and by Toby’s expression, he caught onto that.

“Uh, yeah. Just been busy.” You lied through your teeth and for a minute, it was like Toby’s eye twitched. Like he saw through your lie and it made you feel exposed. Like he was reading you, an open book. Toby took in your features and left you in a moments silence before speaking.

“You l-l-.. look sick,” he answered and you pursed your lips in response. Was it that obvious? Maybe your anxiety was just leaking out onto him. Clearing your throat, you tucked some hair behind your ear and give a helpless shrug.

“I do?” you asked with a nervous chuckle. Toby gave a nod and you found yourself lowering your gaze down to your shoes.

“P-P-Pale..” he replied, his voice a grumble at this point and you sucked in a heavy breath.

“I should head back.” It was all you could say really, this interaction was awkward and you could’ve sworn you heard someone begin to step up the stairs from the main lobby. You guys were practically blocking the stairs and you didn’t want to be more of a pain than you already were.

“S-See you.” Was the last thing you heard Toby say before you began back up the stairs, awkwardly shuffling past him and heading back toward your apartment door.

You could arrange another appointment and truth be told, Toby was right. You were starting to feel a little warm and sweaty and the idea of stepping out today just didn’t seem like a good one. You can get another appointment for next week, that wouldn’t be an issue. Sure, you were running low on your meds but you could get mom to drop them round. She would be more than happy to see you despite the fact you’d simply be using her to do your dirty work.

As you stepped back toward the door, you pushed the key into the lock and stepped inside. As you took a step, there was a crumple underneath your boot and you glanced down.

A brown envelope. It looks like it had been shoved from under your door. It used to be flat, pristine but now you stood on it, it had crumpled and you felt nauseous. It daunted on you that maybe you should’ve never stepped outside your apartment, that now those safe, four walls were contaminated and that there were cameras in your apartment, like someone was watching you. You felt uneasy at the simple idea of even stepping inside and you hesitated, slowly kneeling down to pick up the envelope. It must’ve appeared in such a short manner of time, you had only been gone for what you could only assume was a minute or so. Maybe you took longer because you were counting each step, maybe it was already there when you left and you hadn’t even noticed as you stepped out? No, someone had just placed it here and now you were half in-half out from your door trying to work up some small amount of courage to even open it up.

Your finger slipped under the seal and before you could pull out the contents, you quickly eased back into your apartment and closed the door securely behind you. You were careful to not lock the door, not yet at least, what if there was danger lingering behind each corner of the wall? Or perhaps even, behind a door. You pursed your lips, trying to form an excuse to not open peek inside the envelope but your anxiety and curiosity was an awful mix now that you were playing this dangerous game.

Pushing your hand inside, you pulled out three polaroids and a letter. You glanced at the photos and your heart nearly fell out of your ass. The first photo was of you in a back of a car. The backseats of the car was grubby and you could just about tell that the flooring was filled with trash. You were laying atop the backseats, unconscious, with a gag in your mouth and your wrists tied. Articles of clothing were scattered upon the seats and you could tell that the clothing had been tainted with red stains. Then there was the second photo, you were in your bedroom now. You could tell because the bedsheets were so familiar underneath you. You were still gagged, wrists tied and you still looked unconscious. Then there was the last, the last photo which made you immediately want to drop to your knees.

It was Anne. Her wrists were tied too, her mouth gagged too except she wasn’t unconscious like you were, no, she was awake and alive. Just barely. Her face screamed of terror in the photo, like she was staring into your soul and begging whoever was behind the camera for them to spare her life but you could tell it was a lost cause. Not because she was already dead but because in the photo, there was a deep gash in the side of her neck. Copious amounts of blood drenched her chest, shoulder and her carpet and by the paleness in her skin, she was on the brink of losing her life too. But you knew that this must’ve been before her face became disfigured, unrecognisable. This photo was taken in her apartment, a wall next to yours and suddenly you dropped the contents of what was inside the envelope and collapsed.

Vomit spewed from your mouth as you desperately tried to contain it, your hand clasped over your mouth as the warm vomit began to wiggle itself between your fingers and drip down your wrist. The taste, the way it burned your throat and finally Anne’s expression, the way it was engraved in your memory which caused you to heave again. As you spat out the remains of the taste away from your mouth, you removed your trembling hand. Your nostrils burned at the smell of your own vomit and you were sobbing. Anne. Poor Anne. Whatever killed her was going to kill you and you were certain of it. You sat back against the wall, trying to compose yourself. This apartment wasn’t safe, you were not safe. You were going to die here, like Anne and you knew that you had to flee this city desperately. Maybe you could become a farmer? A small, remote little town that held its own mystery’s. Maybe you could live in the forest, growing strawberries by the side of your wooden house.

Your eyes slowly fell upon the letter, which was laying on the floor beside the polaroids and all courage you previously had to open it had fled. With your hand that wasn’t covered in sick, you reached out and opened the letter. You were cautious to not pick it up, not wanting any more bad omens that this fucking thing carried. It took a moment to tear open the letter, like its pages had been stuck together by some kind of substance.

‘you look so beautiful when ur asleep [Y/N] pooooooooor fucking anne though right? bitch got what she deserved i would never hurt you not yet not ever your skin is so soft and you smell so fucking good it took everything in my fucking body to not take advantage of you.’

You cringed. You coughed, the urge to throw up lingered in the back of your throat. Whoever this guy was, he killed Anne and you were next on his hit list. He had been inside your home, he had watched you sleep. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. You had a stalker, that was more than apparent.

The letter was creased, like whoever wrote this crumbled it up and decided to write against it. The writing was awful too but nothing you were unfamiliar with. You glanced down at the puddle of vomit which was now soaking into your carpet. There were hints of blood within the clumpy substance, your hand was a little tainted with the red stuff too. If you wanted to live, you had to start packing your shit up now and go.

It took you a moment to stand to your feet but you did so with no hesitation and began to prepare yourself. First a shower, to clear the vomit and your head. Then you cleaned the floor, it was a shitty attempt because now the carpet was a tinge darker than the other surrounding space but that didn’t matter. Then you took the photos, the letter and stuffed them into a drawer. Out of sight, out of mind. Next was packing some clothes, a motel would do for the night, anything. Just not here, not in this complex. If that letter was a clearer sign than anything, you were going to take the chance. With bags stuffed to the brim with clothing, you then flipped over your mattress. You always kept a roll of bills in your mattress, a little hole that you had cut open for safe keeping. Let’s be real, you weren’t gonna put this cash in your bank account and the bills were for an emergency, you needed to reach it fast and now seemed like more of a good of time than any. With a bag in one hand, the roll of bills in your pocket along with your ID, your keys in the other hand, you stepped out the door and locked it behind you.

Now you were actually going out, into this real world, where you could collapse or be stalked and there was nothing you could do about it. You sucked in a breath. Staying here in this complex will be your funeral and you knew that, fuck, that letter was a clear enough fucking sign. So, as you stepped out and put your belongings into your shitty car, you took one last look around to make sure you weren’t being followed and headed out to find a motel. Ideally, you were heading out to the nearest city but with a motel along the way, you considered yourself far enough from that death trap of your apartment complex to feel safe.

————————————-

The drive was long, your ass felt numb and the urge to sleep was creeping over your being as you pulled into a parking of a motel. It was a shitty motel but it was probably nothing compared to your apartment complex. The sign flickered above you, there were sex workers that lingered outside some doors and occasionally, you could hear arguing coming from one of the rooms. It sounded stupid, but this felt far safer than your own home and right now, you could take anything you could get. As long as the bed was comfortable and the door lock was nice and tight, you weren’t going to complain.

As you got the check in process over, your room keys in one hand and a less heavier pocket of bills, you grabbed your bag of clothing and headed up the stairs to your room. It felt like each light you walked under would flicker, which triggered a small part of your anxiety but as soon as you stepped inside the room and locked the door securely behind you, you felt better. The room wasn’t perfect. It smelt damp, the carpet looked as if it hadn’t been changed from the 80s and now your own light was flickering, but it was better than sleeping in your car. Slumping your bag down onto the small desk which was opposite your bed, you sat yourself down onto the mattress and took in a deep breath.

This is what you needed. Just get away from everything. Switch your phone off and just relax. You didn’t want to say it, in fear that you would jinx yourself, but this was the most relaxed and safest you felt in weeks. Your stomach had settled and as a treat, you pigged out on some takeout along your route and now the only thing your body longed for was some sleep. The door was locked tight, the curtains were drawn. You were safe. As you reached over for the remote of the tv, which sat just in the middle of the bed, you pressed the on button and switched it on. Maybe just some background noise, to help soften the noise of your downstairs neighbours arguing. However, the tv just gave static and despite the fact that no channel was working, you gave a content smile. This was the life you wanted. The life where the only worry you had was that your tv had no damned signal. You chuckled, for once, feeling positive about the aspect of your life and switched the thing back off again. Tomorrow was going to be a good day. You knew it, you were certain of it.

Who the fuck was breathing on you? Your eyes opened and before you could even process what was happening, a figure grabbed you by your neck and pulled you up from the bed, promptly throwing you to the ground. You landed, gasping for air, trying to look at who the fuck it was but it was so dark you could only make out the outline. The back of your head throbbed, it connected with the corner of the bathroom’s doorway. Fight or flight kicked in, you felt frozen but your body began to move.

Straight to the door, you threw your hand out to the handle but fingers grabbed a fistful of your hair, throwing you back down to the carpet beneath you. It knocked the air out your lungs as you laid there helplessly. No, you were not going to die. The figure was breathing more, like he was chuckling under his breath as he now stood over you. What the fuck was the time? How did this person get in your motel room? You were going to die. You were going to die. The attacker dropped to his knees, his body trembling almost in delight, like he could smell the fear dripping off your very being. You were sweating, your head throbbed in pain and you felt paralysed. A gloved hand reached out, caressing your cheek as tears began to blur your vision. His thumb wiped away one tear, his gloves were leather? Fuck, you didn’t know, you were going to die and now you were hyperventilating, having a panic attack as this person above you let out a soft groan of approval. Like the idea of taking your life was arousing for him.

Then almost within a blink of an eye, he raised his other arm and above his head you just caught the glint of a blade. Its handle was long, he was going to split your head in two with an axe. You wanted to scream but nothing was coming out. Now he was laughing, his body would twitch as he let the axe come crashing down. No, you were not going to die. With what courage and strength you had left, you threw your arms up hoping to block the blade but its razor sharp teeth sunk into your arm. It hit bone, your blood spewed out and scattered out over your face and now you were screaming. It was a pain you never felt before, a pain that made you want to throw up. With your other hand, you grabbed the handle of the axe and pushed it back with all your strength. You were weak, he knew that and he pushed back against you. The blade would grind against your bone and now you were choking on your own saliva as you tried to scream out for help. Knowing that he was overpowering you, you released the handle and began to throw punches at his face. He didn’t seem phased, his head would throw back a little but it was like your eagerness to live that only fuelled him more.

“WHO ARE YOU?! WHAT DO YOU WANT WITH ME?!” Was all you could choke out amongst your groans. This had to be a nightmare, this wasn’t real. He chuckled, let out a weary sigh and withdrew the axe from your arm. The pain had gotten so much now that it was becoming numb, probably because of the blood loss too. You vision was getting hazy and as you lay on the carpet of the hotel, you could feel your very being drifting from this world. The figure leaned forward, his breath so close you could feel it but it was muffled, like he was wearing a mask of some kind.

“Ssh..”