#my mom: how's job hunting going? your school applications?

[wlwmothman]

[reidingandwriting]

Chapter Three: “Your Obedient Servant”

“You’ve kept me from the room where it happens for the last time.”

Word count: ~2450 words

Warnings: Shitty parent, verbal abuse from mother, language, bullying, brief mention of alcohol, mention of guns, implied murder, typical Criminal Minds-esque details towards the murder but nothing graphic.

Characters mentioned: Neutral!Reader, Jennifer “JJ” Jareau, Aaron Hotchner

Original characters: Reader’s mother and father, Este and her family, Lara, Andrew Walker, and Abby. 

Mentions of: David Rossi, Erin Strauss, and Penelope Garcia

A/N: And here we are! Chapter three! I think I have marked all warnings but if there are any I’ve missed, please feel free to let me know! As always, feedback is always appreciated. This chapter is kind of background of reader focused and I’m so sorry for that. I hope y’all can enjoy anyways and enjoy the turn made towards bringing everyone in. Next chapter will fully bring the team in and I’m excited! That’s enough out of me, enjoy the chapter!

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Eight years old…

“What in fresh hell are you doing?” A voice came from your doorway, one that belonged to your mother. You didn’t look up from where you laid on the floor, a colored pencil in your hand and a coloring book was spread out in front of you. Your room was illuminated by the lamp on your bedside table, it being well past your bedtime.

“Coloring. Couldn’t sleep.” Footsteps got louder as your mother approached and you flinched as she snatched the book up.

“What time is your bedtime?”

“Eight-thirty.” She cleared her throat. “Ma’am.”

“And it’s midnight. So your ass should be where?”

“But I wasn’t making any noise.” Your eyes met your mother’s and her harsh glare made you look back down. “In bed.”

“That’s right.” She grabbed your arm and pulled you to your feet, and you tried not to wince. “If I come check on you and catch you out of this bed again, you’re gonna be in so much trouble, kid.”

“But what if I can’t sleep?” You asked as you climbed back into your bed.

“You’ll fall asleep eventually.” Your mother turned off your lamp, the warm glow of the room now being replaced by total darkness. “I’ll see you in the morning.” Your mother walked out of the room, shutting the door behind her. You listened for a minute to make sure she was really in bed before you pulled your stuffed animal to your chest and screwed your eyes shut.

“Unfortunately.”

Sixteen years old…

“Happy birthday, kiddo. The big sixteen.” You smiled as you held your phone, sat on the bench outside of school as you waited for your mom to pick you up. Your dad was on the other end of the phone, and you had to admit you missed him. “Still up for your visit this weekend?”

“Are you? You pulled a Mom and bailed on me last time.” Your words could sound harsh to anyone passing by, but there was no malice behind them, just a teasing smile. And you could practically hear your dad rolling his eyes.

“Brat.”

“Yours truly.”

“I promise, nothing will stop me from seeing you this weekend. It’s not every day your only child turns sixteen.” A sigh from the other end makes your heart clench. “I miss you, kid.”

“I miss you too, Dad. I can’t wait to see you.” “Ditto.” Muffled voices were heard in the background before your dad spoke again. “I have to go, but I expect to hear all about your birthday extravaganza Saturday.”

“You mean my trip to the bookstore with Este and dinner with her family? Mom’s too busy with her new fu-”

“Uh uh. It may be true, but don’t finish that sentence.” You could hear the smile in your dad’s voice, mixed with irritation. “I love you, sunshine.”

“I love you, Dad. See you Saturday.”

“See you then.” You hung up and tucked your phone into your pocket, opening the book that sat in your lap to read as you waited for your mom to pick you up from school.

You were delved deep into your book, the sound of the athletes practicing in the nearby fields fading into silence as you let yourself become entranced in your book. You didn’t notice the looming shadow of Lara standing over you.

“Well, thanks, Y/L/N! I’ve been looking for a new book.” You jumped when you heard her voice. She snatched the book from your hands and you reached for it, but she was quicker.

“Give it back!”

“Really? David Rossi?” Lara scoffed and tossed the book over her shoulder where it landed in a pile of mud by the sidewalk we were on. “Whoops.” Lara walked past you, her shoulder knocking harshly into yours. “It’s too easy with them.” Lara said to herself and you ran to your book, and your eyes watered as you knelt down to pick it up, the book being covered in mud.

“Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.” You whispered to yourself as you held the book and tried your best to wipe the mud off it. You sighed in resignation and walked to the trash can a few feet away and set the book in. You were going to the bookstore tomorrow, you could replace it then.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when a car honked and you looked up, noticing your mother’s car. “Come on, we’ve got places to be.” Your mother yelled from the open window and you nodded.

“Coming.” You called out and jogged over to the car, throwing your backpack into the backseat before you got into the passenger seat.

“What’s wrong with you?” She gestured to your red eyes before she noticed your dirty hands. “Gross, how old are you?” She slapped the back of your head and you digged for napkins in the glove compartment while apologizing repeatedly.

“I’m sorry. Lara threw my book in the mud and I tried to save it.”

“Those were weird books anyways. She did you a favor.”

Twenty-two years old…

“Look at our college graduate, Jess.” Este’s father, Phil, smiled from the head of the table. “Look out, world, you’re not prepared.”

“I will not be taking over the world until Y/N is. They still have one year to finish their master’s degree. So I’m taking a gap year. Maybe I’ll go husband hunting.”

“Or, you know, do something that’ll look better on your job applications.” Este’s sister deadpanned.

“Where’s the fun in that?” You nudged Este with your foot and gave her a playful warning look. Este stuck her tongue out at you and you mirrored her expression.

“I wish Y/N would have majored in the same thing as you, Este.” Not even fifteen words out of your mother and the whole atmosphere was brought down. Why couldn’t she be with Joe? Jonah? J-something. “Instead of aiming for the FBI, where you’re not even guaranteed a job.”

“Which is why I majored in criminology. Minored in digital forensics. And I’m earning my masters in forensic psychology.” You responded, not sparing her a glance.

“And if you still don’t-”

“I think my credentials will be impressive regardless.” You paused as the waitress stopped by, setting everyone’s plates down. You thanked her as she left, before looking at your mother. “Even if I don’t immediately get offered a job, I don’t mind. I can work my way to the FBI. I don’t get bored of something within a month.” Bella’s eyes widened and Este smirked to herself as she took a sip of her drink.

“I would sure hope not! College would have been a bad idea if you couldn’t work at something for a month.” Jessica, Este’s mother, tried to joke but your mother was relentless.

“I hope you fix your personality before you apply or they’ll never let you in through the door.”

“You don’t like it? I learned from you.” Your mother stood from her chair, the chair scraping loudly against the floor.

“I’m done.”

“Drive safe.” You called out to your mother’s retreating form and rolled your eyes as you turned to Este. “Drinks?”

“Drinks.”

Twenty-five years old…

“So, you’re about halfway done with your training at the Academy.” You sat across from your field counselor, Abby. “How have things been?”

“Andrew and I had some… creative differences with firearms training.”

“Creative differences?” Abby asked and you thought back to the day.

You had missed the vital shots multiple times, and you and Andrew both were getting irritated at each other. What was meant to be motivating turned snarky, which had started to turn condescending. You started off getting close to your vitals, and with each negative comment, your concentration turned to frustration which led to further off shots.

“If you could make these three shots so I can leave, that would be great. Come on, how are you going to ace rifle training but not handgun? I might as well talk to our program director and tell her your future in the Academy and FBI is a deadend. But if she ever needs a sharp-shooter…” And something snapped inside you, and you shot the five targets in front of you perfectly. Alternating between head and chest shots, straight in the middle. Bullseyes. You turned to face Andrew, walked towards him and set your gun in his hand.

“You may leave now.” You walked towards the doors of the firing range and called out. “See you tomorrow.”

“I see.” There was a hint of a smirk on her face as she spoke. “You know you can’t let people get to you like he did. It may have benefitted you this time, but there will come a time where you’ll reach your breaking point and lose your temper at your superior and risk your job.”

“You know about my parents, it’s kind of genetic.” You sighed. “But I will work on it. I know I need to.”

“Good. And I’ll have a word with Andrew about his motivational methods.” You let out a laugh before your session continued.

Thirty-one years old…

You sat in Hotch’s office and your body language screamed ‘angry.’ Your arms were crossed over your chest, your foot tapped against the floor, and if that wasn’t enough, the saying if looks could kill truly applied to you right now. If looks could kill, Aaron Hotchner would be a pile of dust in his chair. But like usual, Hotch’s body language was as usual. Professional, stoic, cold. He’d warmed up to the rest of the team, surprising you that he wasn’t truly emotionless after all. But that persona never came out around you. All that came out was indifference at best. Disapproval at worst, often paired with anger. Disappointment. That’s all you’d ever be, huh?

You had been called to Hotch’s office after you got back from your latest case. You’d never seen Hotch as mad as he was then. To anyone else, it might seem like he got mad because he cared about you and your wellbeing. But that was not the case today. You didn’t follow his orders, and now you were to pay the consequences.

“I am slow to anger, but I toe the line as I think about the effects of your choices on the team. I look back on where we failed, but in every place I checked, the only common thread?”

“Let me guess, me?” You interrupted.

“Your disrespect.” Hotch narrowed his eyes at you.

“You call me inexperienced, a danger to the team.” You leaned forward as you began to speak.

“Agent, if you’ve got something to say-” You raised your hand, cutting him off.

“Name a time and place, face to face. Then we can really talk.” You rested your hands on his desk, matching the expression he was giving you.

“That is enough, Agent Y/L/N.” Hotch spoke after a minute of your stare-down, and you settled back into your seat.

“I’m just an agent, trying to do my best for our team. I don’t want to fight but I won’t apologize for doing what I believe was right.”

“Careful, Y/N, or it’ll be the end of your career at the BAU. Not mine.”

“I won’t apologize for my actions, if that’s what you’re looking for.” You shrugged.

“Then be prepared to meet with me and Strauss tomorrow morning to discuss your placement on this team.” Hotch leaned back in his chair.

“Are you fucking serious? Every agent on this team has gone against orders. Even you have given the middle finger to direct orders several times. I make one call that goes against your orders, one that allows us to save the hostage and take in the unsub, and now you’re threatening my career?” You scoffed and looked your boss in the eyes as you stood up. “Unbelievable.”

“Nine sharp, agent.” Hotch kept eye contact with you as he spoke.

“Oh, I have the honor to be your obedient servant, sir.” You turned on your heel and stormed out of the office, slamming the door as you left.

Today…

You sat outside Andrew Walter’s house, lying in wait. Andrew lived in Baltimore now, having quit his job to work at a local FBI field office. You think a federal agent would have been more private about his life; it didn’t take Penelope Garcia to figure out where he worked. Where he lived. You had been waiting for the perfect moment to revisit him, and now you had it. Now was all waiting for the window of opportunity to hit. The window to open just enough for you to seize your chance and show him what all you had become since you graduated from the Academy.

The last light flickered off in his home and you looked down the street. No cars moving, no sounds of laughter or conversations could be heard from your spot. It was almost eerily silent, but there was a rush of an unknown emotion flooding through you. You tucked your gun into your waistband, snapping your gloves into place, and adjusting your hood over your hat. You got out of your car and walked up to the house, a smirk on your face.

---

“Come in.” Hotch glanced up from his paperwork, JJ standing in his doorway.

“I know we don’t typically take cases only involving one person.” JJ said as she walked over to Hotch’s desk. “The detective thinks there is a possibility it could be related to the Fairfax murder.”

“And do you?” Hotch held his hand out for the file and JJ set it in his hand before taking a seat.

“The possibility is there, but the similarities are basic. Both victims were men who died by gunshots. But our Fairfax victim was married, this guy is single. And in Baltimore. There’s a bit of distance between the two cities, but definitely a doable drive.”

“We’ve seen further.” Hotch opened the file and his brows furrowed. “And he died by gunshot?”

“There was some blunt force trauma involved, but the M.E. says the cause of death was the gunshot wound. All the other injuries were sustained antemortem.”

“Personal?”

“Or was our unsub physically incapable of subduing him before injuring him?” A beat of silence.

“Everyone else is here?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. We have a case.”

Taglist: @spideyspeaches @ssa-sugar-tits @willowsbendtothewind-blog @lazy-bird-fanfics @spencerhotchner @lolychu @ajeff855 @averyhotchner @meowiemari @liagzs @herecomesthewriterwitch @colorful-quinn @haylaansmi @theroyalsaikou @boring-yet-creatively-odd @drreidsconverse @notyourcupofteax @catherine-nelson @reids-mismatchedsocks @lieswithoutfairytales @devilswaldorf @panhoeofmanyfandoms @sassiest-politician @yoshigguk @httpeacewitch @feedthemadness-sweetie 🤍 Taglist and requests are OPEN, send an ask/message/whatever makes you comfortable to be added or send a request :))

[wasjust-a-fangirl-here]

Blind-Sided. (Part 1)

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

Summary: This fic just follows the first episode, but Dean has a daughter, you.

Word Count: 7,098.

Fandom: Supernatural.

Warnings: Swearing, etc.

Pairings: Dean X Daughter!Reader, Sam X Niece!Reader.

Note: I did not proof-read this.. Here’s the first part to Blind-Sided. I have no idea where this was going, I just wanted to write something. I didn’t know what to do with this first part, but here it is and I might do another part maybe, differently, of course.

Here’s the Prologue to this.

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

"So, what are you gonna do? You just gonna live some normal, apple pie-life? Is that it?" Dean questioned, walking behind the impala.

"No, not normal. Safe." Sam answered, following behind Dean. "And that's why you ran away." Dean said, scoffing.

Sam huffed, "I was just going to college. It was dad who said' if I was going to go, I should stay gone. And that's what I'm doing." Sam says, looking at Dean.

"Yeah, well, dad's in real trouble right now. If he's not dead already, I can feel it." Dean said, "I can't do this alone." He added, looking back at Sam.

"Yes, you can." Sam says quietly, "yeah, well, I don't want to." Dean says, looking away from Sam.

Before Sam can reply, he hears a small voice asking; "is everything okay, dad?" They both turned to look at you, seeing you lean out the window, tiredly rubbing your eyes.

Dean smiled at you, "yeah, bug, go back to sleep." Dean says to you, hearing a small 'okay' from you, he turned back to Sam.

"So, 'dad' huh?" Sam asked, a small smile on his lips. Dean scoffed, "shut up, bitch." He retorts, hearing Sam laugh, he smiled again.

"Alright, jerk." Sam says, "what was he hunting?" He asked, Dean turned to open the trunk, letting out a small 'alright' "Let's see, where the hell did I put that thing?" Dean talked to himself, looking through the trunk.

"So, when dad left, why didn't you go with him?" Sam asked, leaning against the car. "I was working my own gig, this voodoo thing, down in New Orleans." Dean replied.

"Dad let you go on a hunting trip by yourself?" Sam mockingly asked, Dean looked at him. "I'm 26, dude." Dean says defensively.

Dean grabbed a folder, taking out the papers, "alright, here we go." He says, standing straight. "So, dad was checking out this two-lane blacktop just outside of Jericho, California.

About a month ago, this guy. They had found his car, but he had vanished, completely MIA." Dean says, starting to explain what their father was hunting, handing Sam some papers.

Sam looked at the papers Dean handed him, "so maybe he was kidnapped." He suggested, looking up from the papers.

"Yeah, well, here's another in April, another one in December '04, '03, '98, '92, ten of them in the past twenty years.

All men, all same five-mile stretch of road." Dean says, putting the papers back into the folder. "It started happening more and more, so, dad went to go dig around.

That was about three weeks ago, and I haven't heard from hi since. Which is bad  enough." Dean added, grabbing a recorder.

"And then I get this voicemail yesterday." Dean said, pressing play, both he and Sam listening to the recording. "You know there's E.V.P. on that?" Sam asked, looking at Dean.

Dean grinned, "not bad, Sammy. Kinda like riding a bike, isn't it?" Sam looked down, shaking his head. "All right, so, I slowed the message down and ran it through a gold-wave, took out the hiss and this is what I got." Dean says, pressing play again.

"I can never go home." A woman says on the recording. Dean looked at Sam, pausing the recorder. "Never go home." Sam repeated, thinking about the recording.

Dean stood up, closing the trunk of his car, "you know, in almost two years, I never bothered you or asked you for a thing." Dean says in a matter-of-factly tone, turning to sit on the car, looking at Sam.

Sam sighs, "all right, I'll go. I'll help you find him." Sam says, "but I have to get back first-thing Monday. Just wait here." He added, turning to go pack a few things.

Before he can walk away, "what's first-thing Monday?" Dean asked, Sam turned back around, "I have this... I have an interview." Sam answers, "what, a job interview? Skip it." Dean says, shrugging his shoulders.

Sam scoffed, he knew Dean wouldn't understand. "It's a law school interview, and it's my whole future on a plate." Sam said, frowning at Dean.

"Law school?" Dean asked, smiling at Sam. "So, we got a deal or not?" Sam asked, Dean stayed quiet. Sam took that as a yes and left to go pack.

~

Dean got into his car, sighing. "So, that's uncle Sam, huh?" You asked once he sat down. Dean turned to look at you, "I thought you went back to sleep." He says, seeing you shrug your shoulders.

"I tried, but I couldn't sleep." You say, moving closer to the front of the car. "He sounded upset, is he not coming?" You asked, Dean noticed that you were worried.

"He's coming, but only for a few days." Dean answered, frowning a little. "Can we listen to AC/DC while we wait?" You asked, sitting back against your seat.

Dean grinned widely, going through his collection, putting in the cassette, Highway To Hell starts playing.

Dean looked at you through the mirror, seeing you smile. Dean smiled, he knew this was one of your favorite songs by AC/DC.

You were badly singing along to another song, you laughed, watching your dad drumming along to the beat against the steering wheel. Dean turned to you, smiling.

The song ended and Walk All Over You started playing, Dean heard you sighing, seeing you lean forward and resting your head against the back of the front seat.

Halfway through the song, Dean noticed you were watching Sam with curious eyes.

~

Dean turned down the music, starting the car and started to drive away from the building.

Nobody spoke, you broke the some-what silence; "hi." Dean heard you say softly to Sam. Dean saw from the corner of his eye, Sam turning to you in surprise.

"Hi, what's your name?" Sam asked politely. Dean looked in mirror, seeing you smile, "Y/n." You replied, holding your hand out to shake his.

Sam smiled, taking your hand and shook it, "nice to meet you." You both say at the same time, making you laugh. Dean smiled, he loved to hear you laugh.

"Daddy said you'd be tall, and smart, and that's why you're at college." Dean heard you say, Sam laughed, "yeah. Yeah, I am." He said, turning in his seat to look at you.

"What else did he tell you?" Sam asked curiously. Dean listened to you tell Sam all the things you can, until you were starting to fall asleep.

As soon as you fell asleep, Sam turned back forward, glancing at Dean.

Dean looked at you through the mirror again, seeing you wrapped in your blanket. Sam also looking at you again, once he knew you were fully asleep, he looked at Dean.

"Who's who her mother? How old is she?" Sam asked, Dean sighed, his jaw clenching and unclenching a few times. "Remember Mia?" Dean asked, glancing at Sam.

"Yeah, her parents were killed by, what was it? Vampires? Yeah, vampires." Sam says, nodding his head. "Yeah." Dean says, "that's who her mother is?" Sam asked again.

"Yeah, and to answer your other question; she's five, about to turn six soon." Dean said, smiling at Sam. "Where is she?" Sam asked quietly, "Mia, she called me. Told me to go to her as fast as I can.

And I did. What I wasn't expecting was to find her bleeding out and little Y/n confused, but still trying to her mom." Dean said, gripping the steering wheel and loosening his grip.

"She died, but asked me to look after our daughter. I wasn't sure at first, but once I had a good look at her, I knew. She was, is, my daughter." Dean added, Sam turned to look at you.

You were still asleep, Sam stared at you, noticing you had some of Dean's features. Sam smiled softly, he knew once you opened your eyes, they'd be a little like your mom's, if he remembered correctly.

Sam turned back forward in his seat, sighing.

~

About five hours into driving nonstop, you were still asleep.

Sam looked at you again, chuckling and shaking his hand. "Is she always asleep when you drive?" Sam asked, Dean glanced at him, smiling. "Yeah, I think she loves the sound of the engine." Dean answered.

Half an hour later, you woke up, as Dean parked at a gas station. Dean got out of the car, you following besides him. "What are you doing?" Dean asked, looking down at you.

"I have to use the bathroom." You answered, looking up at him, both of you walking inside, you, heading straight for the bathroom.

Dean shook his head, grabbing a few things to buy, also grabbing what he knew you liked. Dean walked up to the counter, seeing you walking over to him. After Dean paid for the stuff, he handed you some of the stuff.

Both of you walked outside, you going towards the car and going inside, while Dean went to fill up the car with gas.

"Hey, you want breakfast?" Dean asked, holding up a bag of chips and a bottle of soda in one hand and candy in the other. Sam scoffed, "no, thanks." He answered, going through Dean's cassette tapes.

"Besides, how'd you pay for all that stuff? You and dad still running credit card scams?" Sam asked, "yeah, well, hunting ain't exactly a pro-ball career." Dean answered.

"Besides, all we do is apply. It's not our fault they send us the cards." He added, going over to the drivers side once he was done.

Sam chuckled, shaking his head, "yeah, and what names did you write on the application this time?" Sam asked, closing the door, box of cassette tapes on his lap.

"Uh, Burt Aframian, and his son Hector." Dean said, tossing the stuff he had in his hands on the seat, starting the car. "Scored two cards out of the deal." He added, smiling at Sam.

"Sounds about right." Sam admitted, nodding his head. "I swear man, you gotta update your cassette tape collection." Sam said, still going through the box of tapes.

"Why?" Dean questioned, "well, for one; they're cassette tapes, and two; Black Sabbath, Motorhead, Metallica? It's the greatest hits of mullet rock." Sam answers, throwing a cassette tape back into the box.

"House rules, Sammy. Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake-hole." Dean stated, grabbing one of the tapes and put it in. "You know, 'Sammy' is a chubby twelve-year old. It's Sam, okay?" Sam says, as Back In Black started playing.

Dean heard you laugh, he smiled at Sam. "Sorry, I can't hear you, the music's too loud." Dean says, turning up the music and drove away from the gas station.

~

Sam got off the phone, hanging up. "All right, so, there's no one matching dad at the hospital or morgue. So that's something." Sam said, Dean glanced at him, nodding.

"Check it out." Dean says, seeing police cars and officers on a bridge. Dean parked away from them and looked in the glove compartment. "Alright, sweetheart. You know what to do." Dean says to you.

"Stay hidden, and don't make any noise." Dean heard you say monotonously, he turned to look at you, seeing a comic book in your hands and sitting at the far right in the shadow.

Sam turned to look at you, wondering just how used to this you are. "Let's go." Dean says to Sam, he followed Dean, going out the door and walking towards the abandon car, he assumed.

"Spotless. It's almost too clean." Dean and Sam heard someone say, "so, this kid, Troy. He's dating your daughter, isn't he?" A man asked, "yeah." Another replied, "how's Amy doing?" He asked again.

"She's putting up missing posters downtown." He answered, "you fellas had another one like this just last month, didn't you?" Dean asked, "and who are you?" The same person asked, looking at Dean and Sam.

"Federal marshals." Dean answered, showing him his fake badge. "You two are a little young for marshals, aren't you?" He questioned skeptically, "ha, thanks. That's awfully kind of you.

You did have another one just like this, correct?" Dean asked again, walking closer to the car. "Yeah, that's right. About a mile up the road. There's been others before that." He answered.

"So, this victim. You knew him?" Sam asked him, he nodded his head. "Town like this, everybody knows everybody." He answers, "any connection between the victims, besides that they're all men?" Dean asked, walking around the car, hands behind his back.

"No, not as far as we can tell." He answered, "so, what's the theory?" Sam asked, walking towards Dean. "Honestly? We don't know. Serial murder? Kidnapping ring?" He answered.

"Well, that is exactly the kind of crack police work I'd expect out of you guys." Dean commented, Sam stomped on Dean's foot, forcing a smile at the police officer.

"Thank you for your time." Sam said to him, "gentlemen." He added, walking away, Dean following behind him and hitting Sam behind his head.

"Ow." Sam said, turning to Dean. "What was that for?" Sam asked, "why you gotta step on my foot?" Dean asked, "why do you gotta talk to police like that?" Sam retorted, Dean looked at him.

"Come on. They don't really know what's going on. We're all alone on this. I mean, if we're going to find dad, we gotta get to the bottom of this thing ourselves." Dean said, Sam looked over Dean's shoulder, clearing his throat.

Dean turned around, seeing the sheriff and two FBI agents. "Can I help you boys?" The sheriff asked, "no, sir. We were just leaving." Dean answered, "Agent Mulder. Agent Scully." Dean said as the two FBI agents walked past them.

Dean and Sam walked past the sheriff and towards the impala.

~

Dean turned to looked at you, seeing that you were asleep again.

He and Sam got out of the car and saw a girl hanging up a missing poster. "I'll bet you that's her." Dean says, "yeah." Sam said, both of them walking towards her.

"You must be Amy." Dean says to her, "yeah." She answers, "yeah, Troy told us about you. We're his uncles. I'm Dean and this is Sammy." Dean said, pointing to Sam.

"He never mentioned you to me." Amy says, glancing at them and starting to walk again. "Well, that's Troy, I guess. We're not around much, we're up in Modesto." Dean says, walking besides her.

"So, we're looking for him too and we're kinda asking around." Sam said, standing in front of her, another girl walked over to them. "Hey, are you okay?" She asked Amy, "yeah." Amy answered her.

"You mind if we ask you a couple questions?" Sam asked them, "sure." Amy said, all of them walking towards a restaurant. "I was on the phone with Troy. He was driving home.

He said he would call me right back. And, uh... he never did." Amy explained, the four of them sitting in a booth. "He didn't say anything strange? Or out of the ordinary?" Sam asks, "no." Amy replied, "nothing I can remember." She added, shaking her head.

Sam looked at her, "I like your necklace." He said, nodding at it. Amy looked down, grabbing the pendant into her hand, smiling. "Troy gave it to me. Mostly to scare my parents,

with all that devil stuff." She says, breathing out a laugh. Sam smiled, looking down at the cup in his hands and looking back at her. "Actually, it means just the opposite.

A pentagram is protection against evil." Sam explains, "really powerful. I mean, if you believe in that kind of thing." He added, "okay. Thank you, unsolved Mysteries." Dean said, patting Sam's shoulder.

"Here's the deal, ladies. The way Troy disappeared... something's not right. So, if you've heard anything..." Dean said, seeing them look at each other.

"What is it?" Dean asked, "well, it's just... I mean, with all these guys going missing, people talk." Amy's friend says, looking between him and Sam. "What do they talk about?" Sam and Dean questioned at the same time.

Amy's friend glanced at her, looking back at them. "It's kind of this local legend. This one girl, she got murdered out on Centennial, like, decades ago. Well, supposedly, she's still out there.

She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up, well, they disappear forever." She explains to them. Sam and Dean looked at each other.

~

You were still asleep when they went back to the car.

Dean and Sam decided to go to the local library to search for some more answers, leaving you in the car again.

Dean was typing on the computer, 'no results found' Dean read, his brows furrowed, typing again, 'no results found' showing again. "Let me try." Sam says, his hand going towards the keyboard.

Dean swatted his hand away, "I got it." He says, typing again. Sam sighed, pushing Dean's chair away. "Dude! You're such a control freak." He said, hitting Sam.

"So, angry spirits are born out of violent deaths, right?" Sam asks, typing on the keyboard. "Yeah," Dean answered, looking at the computer screen. "But maybe it's not murder." Sam said, typing in 'Suicide' instead of 'Murder'.

'1 result found' it showed, Sam clicked on it, Dean's eyebrows rose, glancing at Sam and then back at the screen.

"This was 1981. Constance Welch, 24 years old, jumps off Sylvania Bridge. Drowns in the river." Sam read aloud, "does it say why she did it?" Dean asks, "yeah." Sam answers.

"Why?" Dean asks again, "an hour before they found her, she calls 911. Her two little kids are in the bathtub, she leaves them alone for a minute and when she comes back, they aren't breathing.

Both die." Sam read again, "hmm." Dean says, "'our babies were gone and Constance just couldn't bear it.' Said husband Joseph Welch." Sam finished, "that bridge look familiar to you?" Dean asked, pointing at the picture with a pen.

~

It was dark when Dean and Sam went back to the car, they saw that you were awake, waiting for them.

He and Sam decided to go back to the bridge, Dean parked and looked at you. "Stay in the car, okay?" He asked, you nodded your head, leaning against the car door.

Both he and Sam got out of the car and walked in the middle of the bridge. "So, this is where Constance took the swan dive." Dean said, leaning over, looking at the running water below.

"You think dad would have been here?" Sam asked, looking at Dean. "Well, he's chasing the same story and we're chasing him." Dean answered, walking and looking around.

"Okay, so now what?" Sam asked, following behind Dean. "Now we keep digging till we find him. Might take a while." Dean replied, Sam stopped walking, sighing. "Dean. I told you. I gotta get back by..."

"By Monday. Right. The interview." Dean interrupted, turning to look at Sam. "Yeah," Sam says, "yeah. I forgot." He added, "you're really serious about this, aren't you?

You think you're just gonna become some lawyer? Marry your girl?" Dean questioned, "maybe. Why not?" Sam answers, "does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know about the things you've done?" Dean asked again.

"No. And she's not ever going to know." Sam says, stepping closer to Dean. "Well, that's healthy." Dean says, "you can pretend all you want, Sammy. But sooner or later

you're gonna have to face up to who you really are." he added, turning to walk again. "And who's that?" Sam asked, following Dean. "You're one of us." Dean answered simply.

"No, I'm not like you. This is not going to be my life." Sam says, walking in front of Dean, both of them stopping. "You have a responsibility." Dean stated, "to dad? And his crusade?

If it weren't for pictures, I wouldn't even know what mom looks like." Sam says, "and what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her, mom's gone and she isn't coming back.

I mean, even Y/n won't know who her grandmother is, other than you and dad telling her who she is and the pictured you guys show her." He added, Dean grabbed Sam and pushed him against the bridge.

"Don't talk about her like that." Dean says, looking at Sam. Dean let go of him, walking away from Sam. Dean saw a woman standing on the railing of the bridge.  

"Sam." Dean says, not looking away from the woman as she looked at the both of them and then jumped off the bridge. They both ran towards her, leaning over and seeing nothing.

"Where'd she go?" Dean asked, "I don't know." Sam says, as the engine of Dean's car started and the lights turned on. Dean looked towards his car, Sam doing the same thing.

"What the?" Dean says, "who's driving your car? Does Y/n know how to start the car? Did you leave the keys?" Sam asks, Dean pulled out his keys from his pocket.

"No." Dean answered, holding up the keys. Sam looked at the keys in Dean's hand and back at the car as it started to drive towards them, they both heard you scream as it drove.

Dean and Sam ran away from the car, jumping off the bridge. It stopped driving as they jumped off. Sam, even though he jumped off, he grabbed onto the bridge. Sam climbed and sat on the edge, looking down at the running water below.

"Dean! Dean!" Sam yelled, seeing Dean crawling out of the water and lying down on his back. "What?" Dean yelled back, Sam smiled. "Hey, are you alright?" Sam asked.

"I'm super." Dean says, laying there for a while. Sam laughed, going over the rails and saw you standing just outside the car. Sam walked over to you, "hey, are you okay?" He asked, putting a hand on your shoulder.

Sam saw you jump in surprise, but relaxed once you saw it was him. "Where's my dad?" You asked, looking up at him. "He's down by the water, he's coming." Sam answered, as you climbed onto the hood of the car.

"Did the ghost do that to the car?" You asked, looking at Sam. "Yeah," Sam replied, standing next to you. It was five minutes before Sam heard Dean walking over to the both of you.

"Y/n, thank god." Dean says, Sam looked at you, seeing your nose scrunching. "Are you okay?" Dean asks, walking closer to you, but you hid behind Sam. "Yeah, I'm okay." You say from behind Sam.

Sam laughed, "what are you doing, bug?" Dean asked, trying to look at you. "You stink." You say, again, from behind Sam, peaking at your dad, smiling. You jumped down from the car, going back inside, Sam walking besides you.

Dean shook his head, going to look over his car, opening the hood of it. "Car all right?" Sam asked, walking over to Dean, as he closed it. "Yeah. Whatever she did to it, seems all right now." Dean answers, standing in front of the car, Sam nodded his head.

"That Constance chick, what a bitch!" Dean yelled, "well, she doesn't want us digging around, that's for sure." Sam says, he and Dean sitting on the hood of the car.

"So, where's the trail go from here, genius?" Sam asked, Dean threw his hands up, shrugging. Sam, finally noticing the stench coming off of Dean, looking at him.

"Y/n's right, you smell like a toilet." Sam said, looking at Dean. Dean looked down at himself, he did smell.

~

Dean found a motel as the sun came up. You stayed in the car while he and Sam went to go check in.

"One room, please." Dean says, the man grabbed the credit card Dean put on the counter. "You guys having a reunion or somethin'?" He asked, looking up from the card and then at him and Sam.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, "that other guy, Burt Aframian. He came and bought out a room for the whole month." He answered, Dean nodded his head, looking at Sam.

Both of them walked out and headed towards the room their dad paid for, after asking which room it was.

Sam picked the lock, while Dean stood behind him, looking around. Sam opened the door, walking inside, looking behind himself and saw Dean still standing there. Sam grabbed Dean's jacket and pulled him inside.

Sam closed the door once Dean was inside, still holding onto him. They both looked around the room, "whoa." Sam said, Dean walked over to a lamp and turned it on.

Dean grabbed a hamburger that was on the nightstand and smelt it, he groaned, putting it back on the nightstand. "I don't think he's been here for a couple of days, at least." Dean says, looking at Sam.

Sam was crouching down, looking at the salt around the bed. "Salt. Cat's eye shells. He was worried. Trying to keep something from coming in." Sam says, standing up, looking at Dean.

Dean walked over to the wall, looking at the papers their dad hung up. "What do you got here?" Sam asked, walking over to Dean. "Centennial Highway victims." Dean answers, still looking at the papers.

"I don't get it. They're different men, different jobs, ages, ethnicities... there's always a connection, right? What do these guys have in common?" Dean asked, as Sam walked over to the other side of the room.

Sam turned on another lamp, "huh. Dad figured it out." Sam said, staring at the papers. Dean looked at him, "what do you mean?" He asked, "he found the same article we did.

Constance Welch. She's a 'Woman In White'." Sam answers, looking at Dean, while he looked back at the wall in front of him. "You sly dogs. Alright, so, if we're dealing with a 'Woman In White', dad would have

found the corpse and destroyed it." Dean says, looking back at Sam. Sam looked at the papers in front of him, "she might have another weakness." He said, nodding his head.

"No, dad would wanna make sure. He'd dig her up. Does it say where she's buried?" Dean says, walking over to Sam, standing by him. "No. Not that I can tell. If I were dad, though, I'd go ask her husband.

If he's still alive." Sam says, "hmm." Dean said, "alright. Why don't you go see if you can find an address and get Y/n from the Car. I'm gonna get cleaned up." Dean says, "hey, Dean. What I said earlier, about mom and dad, I'm sorry..." Sam starts to say, but Dean held up a hand to stop him.

"No chick flick moments." Dean interrupts, Sam laughed, "all right, jerk." Sam says, nodding his head. "Bitch." Dean replied, heading into the bathroom.

Sam chuckled, walking towards a mirror and grabbing a picture of his dad, Dean and him, smiling at it.

Sam went out the door, to go get you and Dean's bag so he can change into different clothes.

~

Sam and you walked into the room, Sam saw you head straight for the bed and immediately going to sleep.

Sam laughed, walking towards the bathroom and putting Dean's bag inside by the door, closing it and walking back towards the bed, sitting down.

As Sam was listening to his voicemail, Dean walked out of the bathroom. "Hey, man, I'm starving. I'm gonna grab a little something to eat at that diner and also grab Y/n something to eat as well." Dean says, grabbing his jacket.

"You want anything?" Dean asked, "no," Sam answered, looking at Dean. "Aframian's buying." Dean said, standing by the door. "Uh-uh." Sam said, Dean looked at you and walked out the door.

Putting on his jacket, Dean looked to his right, seeing the cops from yesterday and the guy from check-in, pointing at Dean.

Dean turned, grabbing his phone out of his pocket, calling Sam. "What?" Sam answered, "dude, five-o. Take off." Dean says, "what about you?" Sam asked, "uh, they kind of spotted me.

Go find dad." Dean said, hanging up the phone. Dean turned around, looking at the cops. "Problem, officers?" Dean asked, smiling at them. "Where's your partner?" One of them asked, crossing his arms.

"Partner, what... What Partner?" Dean asked, stalling them.

~

Sam woke you up, looking out the window as a police officer walked over to the room.

"Come on, sweetheart." Sam says, both of you heading into the bathroom and out the window.

Both Sam and you walked around and headed straight for the impala. Sam opened the door for you and closed it once you were inside. Sam went over to the drivers side and started the car, driving away.

"Where's my dad?" Sam heard you ask tiredly, "uh, about that. It might be a while before we see him again." Sam answers, looking at you through the mirror.

"Can we go somewhere and eat?" You asked again, "I'm hungry." You added, "Yeah, sure." Sam says, going to the diner that Dean was supposed to go to.

Sam parked, both of you getting out the car and walked into the diner. Both of you walked towards an empty booth, a waitress walked over to you guys and handed both of you menus.

"Hi, what's your name cutie?" She asks, smiling at you. Sam saw you smiling nervously at her, "Y/n." You answer, looking at Sam and back at her. The waitress looked at Sam.

"She yours?" She asked, "oh, no. No, she's my niece." Sam says, "hey, uncle Sam. Can we order now?" You asked, Sam looked at you. "Yeah, sweetheart." Sam says, "what do you want?" He asked, you smiled.

"French toast, please?" You asked politely, looking up at the waitress. She nodded her head, looking at Sam. "Same for me." Sam says, grabbing the menu from you and handing both of them to the waitress.

"Okay, you want anything to drink?" She asked, grabbing the menus. "Apple juice, please?" Sam hears you say, "water for me, thanks." Sam said to her, "alright." The waitress said, walking away.

After you both ate, Sam and you were driving around town. Sam was asking around for Joseph Welch.

~

Sam parked, once he found out where Joseph Welch lived. Sam turned to look at you, seeing you laying down and reading another comic book.

Sam got out of the car and headed straight for the door, knocking on it. A man answered the door, "hi, uh, are you Joseph Welch?" Sam asked, "yeah." He answered, walking out the door.

"Did this guy, come over and ask you a few questions?" Sam questioned, both of them walking, Sam handed him a picture. "Yeah. He was older, but that's him." Joseph says, handing back the picture.

"Came by here three or four days ago. Said he was a reporter." He added, "that's right. We're working on a story together." Sam said, nodding at him. "Well, I don't know what the hell kind of story you're working on.

The questions he asked me." Joseph says, looking at Sam. "About your late wife, Constance." Sam says, "he asked me where she was buried." Joseph says, "and where is that again?" Sam asked.

"What, I gotta go through this twice?" He asked, "it's fact-checking." Sam says, "if you don't mind." He added.

"In a plot behind my old place, over on Breckenridge." Joseph says, "and why did you move?" Sam continued to ask, "I'm not gonna live in the house my children died." Joseph admitted, he stopped walking, looking at Sam.

Sam stopped walking as well, looking back at Joseph. "Mr. Welch, did you ever marry again?" Sam asks, "no, way. Constance, she was the love of my life." Joseph replied, shaking his head.

"Prettiest woman I ever know." He added, "so, you had a happy marriage?" Sam asked, nodding his head. "Definitely." Joseph answered hesitantly, Sam sighed. "Well, that should do it.

Thanks for your time." Sam says, walking towards Dean's car. Sam looked at the keys in his hands in thought, looking up. "Mr. Welch, you ever hear of a 'Woman In White'?" Sam asked, looking over at Joseph.

Joseph turned to look at Sam. "A what?" Joseph asked, "a 'Woman In White'. Or sometimes 'Weeping Woman'?" Sam repeated, "it's a ghost story. Well, it's more of a phenomenon, really.

Um, they're spirits. They've been sighted for hundreds of years. Dozens of places: In Hawaii, Mexico, lately, in Arizona, Indiana. All these are different women, you understand, but all share the same story." Sam explains, walking over to Joseph.

"Boy, I don't care much for nonsense." Joseph says, turning to walk away. "See, when they were alive, their husbands were unfaithful to them. And these woman, basically suffering from temporary insanity, murdered their children.

Then, once they realized what they had done, they took their own lives. So now their spirits are cursed, walking back roads, waterways. And if they find an unfaithful man, they kill him.

And that man is never seen again." Sam added, "you think... that has something to do with Constance, you smart-ass?" Joseph asked angrily, "you tell me." Sam says, "I mean, maybe.. Maybe I made some mistakes

But no matter what I did, Constance, she never would have killed her own children. Now, you get the hell outta here. And you don't come back." Joseph said, looking at Sam, before walking away.

Sam sighed, watching him walk away. Sam got into the car and drove away, calling the police station and faking a call.

~

A few hours of driving around, Sam headed towards Breckenridge.

Sam answered his phone, "fake 911 phone call, Sammy? I don't know, that's pretty illegal." Sam heard Dean say, "you're welcome." Sam says, smiling. "Listen, we gotta talk." Dean says.

"Tell me about it. So the husband was unfaithful. We are dealing with a 'Woman In White', and she's buried behind her old house, so that would have been dad's next stop..." Sam says, "Sammy, would shut up for a second?" Dean asked, interrupting him.

"I can't figure out why he hasn't destroyed the corpse yet." Sam added, "that's what I'm trying to tell you. He's gone. Dad left Jericho." Dean said, "what? How do you know that?" Sam asked, glancing at you in the mirror.

"I've got his journal." Dean answered, "he doesn't go anywhere without that thing." Sam says, focusing back and forth from the road and the side of the road.

"Yeah, well, he did this time." Dean says, "what's it say?" Sam questioned, "ah, that same old ex-Marine crap, when he wants to let us know where he's going." Dean replied.

"Coordinates. Where to?" Sam asked again, "I'm not sure yet." Dean answers, "I don't understand. I mean, what could be so important that dad would just skip out in the middle of a job?

Dean, what the hell is going on?" Sam asked, "whoa!" He gasped, stepping on the brakes and dropping the phone. "Sam? Sam, are you guys okay? Sam!" Dean yells on the phone.

The car stopped, Sam looked at the road in front of him, breathing heavily. "Uh. Uncle Sam?" Sam heard you ask, he turned to look at you.

Sam saw you looking at a woman sitting next to you, she looked at you and then at Sam. "Take me home." Was all she said, Sam and you didn't respond to her for a while.

"Take me home." She repeated firmly, "no." Sam says, looking at her through the mirror. She squinted her eyes at him, locking the doors and started to drive the car.

Sam tried to open the doors and windows, then he tried to get control of the steering wheel, but it was no use. Sam sighed, sitting back against his seat.

The car parked outside an abandoned house, "don't do this." Sam says, looking at her through the mirror again. "I can never go home." She says, despair in her voice, looking at the house.

"You're scared to go home." Sam says, turning to look at her, but she was gone when he turned around, looking at where she was sitting and then at you.

Sam turned back forward, looking out the door and then at the passenger side, seeing her again. She was moving closer to Sam and placing herself on his lap.

"Hold me, I'm so cold." She said, "you can't kill me. I'm not unfaithful." Sam says, "I've never been." He added, closing his eyes, trying to move away from her touch.

She leaned towards his ear, "you will be. Just hold me." She says, before kissing him. She sat up and disappeared. Sam looked around, seeing you had your eyes covered, sitting on the seat with your back against the door.

Sam screamed in pain, unzipping his sweater and looked at his chest, seeing her fingers in his chest as she reappeared, disfigured. Sam screamed in pain, while you screamed in fear.

You both heard gun shots and glass breaking, Sam looked out the broken window, seeing Dean aiming his gun at the window still. Dean shot again, Sam sat up, "I'm taking you home." Sam said, driving the car straight into the house.

Dean's eyes widen seeing the car go straight into the house and heard you stop screaming. "Sam!" Dean yelled, Sam stopped the car. "Sam?" Dean asked, "here." Sam answers, groaning in pain.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked, walking towards your door, seeing you leaning against the seat, unconscious. "Hey, bug, are you okay?" Dean asked as he opened the door looking over you.

You had a cut on your right side of your forehead, other than that, you were fine, unconscious, but fine as Dean can tell. Dean lied you down, leaving you in the car.

"Sam are you okay?" Dean asked, going out the car and going to the front passenger side to help Sam out. "Yeah, I'm fine. I think, is she okay?" Sam answered, looking at you and then at Dean who opened the door, "can you move?" Dean asked.

"Yeah. Help me." Sam replied, Dean helped him out of the car. "There you go." Dean said, both of them standing by the car, seeing Constance holding a picture frame.

She looked up from the frame, looking at the both of them angrily, throwing the picture frame down and pushing a dresser in front of them, they both groaned, trying to push the dresser away from them.

The lights flickered and Constance looked towards the stairs, water was coming down. She went over by the bottom of the stairs, seeing her children. "You've come home to us, mommy." They both say, going by her side and hugging her.

Constance screamed, the three of them dissolving into a puddle.

Dean and Sam watched their interaction, before looking at each other and finally pushing the dresser down and away from them. Both of them walking over to where Constance and her kids were not ten seconds ago.

"So this is where she drowned her kids." Dean says, sighing. "That's why she could never go home." Sam said, "she was too scared to face 'em." He added, smiling at Dean.

"Found her weak spot. Nice work, Sammy." Dean says, patting Sam on his chest, Sam laughed in pain, "yeah, I wish I could say the same for you." Sam says looking at Dean. "What were you thinking, shooting Casper in the face, you freak?" Sam asks, Dean turned to look at him.

"Hey. Saved your ass." Dean says. pointing at Sam. Dean bent down, inspecting his car. "And I'll tell you another thing; if you screwed up my car, I'll kill you." Dean stated, looking at Sam.

~

Dean drove, AC/DC's Highway To Hell was playing. Sam was looking at a map, trying to find where the coordinates lead to.

"Okay, here's where dad went. It's called Black Water Ridge, Colorado." Sam says, Dean nodded his head. "Sounds charming. How far?" Dean asked, glancing at the map.

"About 600 miles." Sam answered, "if we shag ass, we can make it by morning." Dean said hopefully, looking at Sam. Sam looked up from the map and then at Dean.

"Dean, I..." Sam says, "you're not going." Dean says, "the interview's in, like ten hours. I gotta be there." Sam stated, Dean sighs quietly, nodding his head. "Yeah. Yeah, whatever. I'll take you home." Dean said, focusing back on the road.

After hours of driving, Dean parked in front of Sam's building. Sam got out, leaning against the open window. "You'll call me if you find him?" He asked, Dean nodded his head.

"Maybe I can meet up with you later, huh?" Sam asks, smiling. "Yeah, all right." Dean replies, "bye, uncle Sammy." Sam turned to look at you, "bye, sweetheart." He says, smiling at you.

Sam stood up straight, walking towards his building. Dean started the car, "Sam." Dean says, looking out the window. Sam turned and looked at Dean, "you know, we made one hell of a team back there." Dean said, "yeah." Sam replied.

Dean looked away and started driving. Sam watched the car, sighing.

Dean drove around the building, wanting to check on Sam, he looked at you after parking the car again. "Stay here, alright?" Dean said, "okay." You say as Dean got out of the car and ran up towards Sam's apartment.

Dean kicked the door open, "Sam!" Dean yelled, running towards the bedroom. Dean saw Sam laying on the bed, looking up at the ceiling, while the room was on fire. Dean looked up, seeing Sam's girlfriend on the ceiling.

"Sam! Sam!" Dean yelled at him, "Jess!" Sam yells, Dean walked over to him and pulled him up from the bed, pushing Sam out the door. "No! No, Jess!" Sam yells over Dean's shoulder, looking at the ceiling.

"We gotta get out!" Dean yells, still pushing Sam out the door, while he kept yelling for his girlfriend.

~

Sam stood behind the impala, the trunk open, while firefighters put out the fire. Dean walked over to him.

Dean looked at Sam, "hey, are you okay?" He asked, Sam nodded his head, throwing a gun back into the trunk.

"We've got work to do." Sam said, closing the trunk and walked towards the passenger side. Dean got in and drove away.

You guys stayed there for a few days longer before Dean decided to check out the coordinates their dad left behind for him.

-

Tag List: @snobunns

[zmediaoutlet]

in support of wildfire relief, @jesusonthetortillas​ donated $10, and requested pre-series pining!Sam, with diary discovery. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post. (no longer taking prompts)

After his little lesson from Sabrina, the hot librarian's assistant, it's not hard at all for Dean to find what he's looking for. He drops Sam off at the library the way he usually does, and flirts with Sabrina on his way out like he usually does, but instead of going to his shift at the construction site like Sam thinks he's going to, he circles back around, through the library stacks on the main floor, and waits like a dingus by YOUNG ADULT – ADVENTURE, watching the back of Sam's nerdy, nerdy head where he's hunched at the computer banks, getting up to no kind of good.

It wouldn't have come to this, Dean thinks, if Sam weren't so—he doesn't even know how to think about it. He doesn't know when to pin it down. They were doing okay. Sam ran away, a few years back, but since then he's—well, he's always bitching at Dad and bitching at Dean half the time too, but he's done good in school, he's done his part with the hunting. It was sometime at that last school. September in Maryland. Dad was gone a lot of the time, because Dad always was, and Dean went with him on about half the hunts but Sam got to stay behind, got to just call in research tips and last-minute lore checks, and Dean thought he was pretty happy, as much as Sam ever seemed happy. Chill, just doing his homework at the rickety desk, not complaining any more than usual about Dean's usual dinners of fast food or Kraft or Top Ramen. Seventeen and getting tall and mellowing out, and finally hanging out with his little brother was just fine. Dean thought.

That was two towns ago, three months ago. Dean picks his nails with his pocket knife, leaning on one elbow by the Hardy Boys. Sam's still working away on the computer. Anymore he always is. After school he's always angling for Dean to bring him to the library and if Dean won't drive him then Sam walks, even when it's raining, like it is half the time in frickin Washington, anyway. Always finding a free computer and settling in and disappearing onto the internet. Not coming home until the library closes, and moody if Dean's there when he walks in, and Dean just—he thought they were past all this crap. He thought that maybe Sam had—settled. Figured out how things were, how things had to be.

Well. Either way. Sabrina, with the glasses and the sexy dreads and the legs that very much went all the way to the floor under those wide-legged pants she was always wearing—she gave Dean a computer lesson, free of charge, and he's got a way in, now. Sam won't talk to him, won't hardly look at him. Dean chews the inside of his cheek, watching Sam type on the battered public machine. Sam's not the only one who knows how to research a case, in this family. Dean's going to figure this out. He's gonna fix it.

A bell rings, at five o'clock, like the end of a school day. Sam jerks like he's been shocked and looks up at the ceiling, clearly annoyed. He's been engrossed for two hours, typing away, reading. Real frickin' boring, on Dean's end, but he stayed put. Like staking out a house for a job—nothing to do but wait. He takes a few steps backwards, makes sure the shelves hide his face, and there's a general rustling as people leave—a mom and her kid, and tears because the kid's favorite book wasn't here—and when Dean looks again the computer banks are empty, and Sabrina's checking out the last few patrons, and Sam's—gone. Walking home in the rain, little goth that he is. Fine with Dean, if it gives him a few minutes.

When he settles into the chair Sam was in it's still warm. He opens up Netscape Navigator, the library's homepage welcoming him in a friendly kinda way—big yellow smiley face, that's fun. He goes to where Sabrina taught him, in the menu at the top: view, and then History, where it turns out the computer saves all the webpages you went to just in case you need to find them again, and there—oh, jackpot. Gotcha, Sam.

All kinds of crap. A weather website, a bunch of Ask Jeeves searches, something called DiffEQandU. Some mythology stuff, too, and Dean goes to one that turns out to be a history of kitsune. That's something, at least—Sam doing his important homework, in there with whatever other crap he's been working on.

The last bunch of results are all pages from some website called Livejournal, which Dean's never heard of. He clicks one at random and is brought to—huh. A splashy red page, with a big picture on top of kids graduating from high school in those dorky blue robes. He scrolls down, skimming, looking for the important details among the mess, but it's hard to tell what it is. A forum, it looks like. Kind of like the ones Dean's been on where people trade car parts, or swap ghost stories. A square box, dated yesterday, that says WHEN IS HARVARD'S APP REVIEW???, and a panicky paragraph where some chick might die if she doesn't get in. Another, the day before, with questions about the SAT, and a link that says 43 comments that, when Dean clicks it, brings him to a bunch of apparently teenagers all giving each other tips from some test they're worried about taking.

College. Dean's stomach curls into a knot. It's all—college stuff, applications and tests and deadlines. The usernames are all weird shit: tmntpizzadelivery, quistis4ever, willyshakes. Dean can't tell—is one of these kids Sam?

Sabrina's nearly done with her line of book nerds. Dean rubs a hand over his mouth and clicks away, tries another of the Livejournal results in the history. Another forum, this one apparently about—soccer? Jesus, Sam. Another forum, this one about Conan the Barbarian, and that one's at least easy to snort at, with people's shitty drawings of Red Sonja and excitement about a possible remake. There are personal pages, though, too—one titled Delaware Sucks, in which some girl complains about her life—one titled trent reznor rules my soul, featuring a goth kid who won't shut up about Nine Inch Nails and his bitch of a mother. Another, with a plain blue-and-grey color scheme, with the title on the road, and a new post from today—from an hour ago—with the text just reading, I don't know what to do anymore, and six comments underneath, waiting.

"Hey—ready to go?" Sabrina says.

Dean jerks in his seat. Sabrina's raising her eyebrows at him, behind her glasses, a little smile curving her mouth that promises something a little better than book dust and computer lessons. "I'm always ready," Dean says, grinning, and gets her to roll her eyes—yeah, he's in there—but his eyes drag back to the webpage, the posts. He scrolls down, quick—post after post, waiting to be read. "Real quick—borrow a pen?"

She has one—she's a sexy librarian, of course she has one—and he uncrumples a receipt from his jacket pocket and writes down the URL, careful to get it right. rearviewmirror.livejournal.com. He wants to click on the comments, but.

"Come on, the movie's starting soon," Sabrina says, and Dean closes Netscape, folds the receipt very carefully into his pocket, stands up. He's got a date to make out with a hot chick in the back of a movie theater, and maybe a little more, and Sam's whole Eeyore routine has to take a number. Dean will figure it out. He's got an easy way to run a stakeout, now.

*

December 4

Still can't decide. Anyone else going through this?

current mood: agonized current music: motorhead (AGAIN)

Comments:

teenagehamburger: Yes!! I still don't know where I want to go. Mom wants me to stay close to home, but Delaware sucksssss. Where are you looking?

       rearviewmirror: Anywhere. TBH I'm still not even sure I should apply.

               teenagehamburger: WTF?? Of course you should!! College is the big escape, remember?

 December 1

He's driving me INSANE

current mood: annoyed current music: motorhead (again)

Comments:

bloodofreptile: lol you got it bad

       rearviewmirror: right now I just want to hit him with a brick, actually

teenagehamburger: LOL!! Sorry :(  :(

       rearviewmirror: Sigh. I guess it could be worse, right?

             teenagehamburger: Definitely!! He could be the cute cheerleader from 4th period who doesn't know I exist….

                     coppertonebuttgirl: oh, sorry hammie, that sucks <3

 November 29

The thing is, I don't even want anything crazy? I just want to be—me. Just me, without anyone breathing down my neck. Trig teacher says I could get in to one of the top ten, but I just want to go *anywhere that's not here*

current mood: restless current music: Pearl Jam (home alone!)

Comments:

bloodofreptile: i hear you lol. why don't they get that the rules and hovering and all that shit just makes us want to run faster?

    rearviewmirror: Exactly! My teacher keeps talking about college like it's a place to expand your mind and stuff, and that's fine, but lately I just want to expand my horizons. Kind of ironic?

         bloodofreptile: yeah lol haven't you lived like everywhere?

               rearviewmirror: Feels like it.

teenagehamburger: Is You Know Who going to college too?

 November 18

I feel like it shouldn't be this hard. Normal people have it easy.

current mood: indescribable current music: silence

Comments:

coppertonebuttgirl: feel free to talk to me anytime <3

 November 3

Dad's gone again. Didn't say goodbye. We went to the movies and he gave me a beer, and we watched the stars for an hour in the parking lot even though it was freaking freezing. Happier than I've been in a while. Don’t want it to change but it has to change.

current mood: current music:

Comments:

teenagehamburger: OMG, that sounds so romantic?? I can't believe you were drinking!! Aren't you underage?

     bloodofreptile: lol relax it's not a big deal

           teenagehamburger: I'm just saying!!

coppertonebuttgirl: wish it wasn't hard for you <3

bloodofreptile: dude you've got to say something

     rearviewmirror: I literally can't.

          bloodofreptile: ok but it's gonna drive you crazy. do you even know if he's gay? start with that maybe

*

The posts go on, and on. Reading backwards through time, it's a strange piecing-together. rearviewmirror is active in about ten communities and Dean reads through all of them, that week, bringing an illicit cup of coffee in to the library when he doesn't have a construction shift. He reads with his hand over his mouth and by the time he has to get off the computer he's got a headache, every time, his throat dry and aching.

The journal's been active for six months. Dean clicks through the pages to the very start and reads it in the right order, his heart pounding oddly in his ears. I don't know what this place is. A journal, I guess, considering the name. I just need somewhere to talk where no one will listen.

It's not a pouring-out, like some teenage girl doodling hearts around her crush's initials. He holds back. Never says exactly where they're living, never mentions names. To figure out who it was, you'd have to be one of two other people, and Dean knows that Dad can barely turn on a computer, much less go onto the internet and pore over some teenage angst-fest. Dean spends half his time wishing he were the same. Maybe if he hadn't asked Sabrina for help.

At home, Sam's the same as he always is. Comes home after his own stint at the library, eats the dinner Dean gives him. He reads, most of the time. Does his schoolwork. Dean says, careful one night, "Hey, True Lies is on. Wanna watch?" but Sam only gives him a strange, uncertain look and says, "No, I have a paper due," and he shuts himself into their bedroom with the door very firmly closed, and Dean sits there on the couch alone with a beer and Jamie Lee Curtis being sexy as hell on the fuzzy TV, and he—he doesn't know what to do.

He remembers that day, the looking at the stars day. It was November 2. A nasty anniversary, in their family, and yeah, Dad left. Dean got it. He'd thought Sam did, too, by now. It was better to have Dad gone, on a hunt, than trying to drink himself to death at home in the apartment. At least he was working, that way, and not hurting himself. To distract both of them, Dean picked Sam up from the library and they went straight to the movie theater—the Blair Witch sequel, with Dean providing running commentary about how dumb they were about dealing with ghosts, which at least made Sam grin and elbow him to shut up, even if he was laughing too, the liar—and, yeah, afterward they'd picked up Taco Bell, and then after that Dean swung through the liquor store drive-thru and they parked out, and he let Sam have a beer, and they both sat on the trunk and leaned back against the cold glass or the rear window and didn't really talk, much. The stars, big above them. The night, quiet. Sam was pressed against his side, chilled out and not bitching about anything, and Dean tucked his hand behind his head and he was pretty content with the world, right then. His brother, here, and a six-pack waiting, and nothing happening right then that'd hurt them. Sam smiled at him, that night, before he went to bed. It was sweet—like he used to be, when he was little—and Dean had ended up falling asleep on the couch, watching the public access, but his dreams that night were—good, like they never were on the night of November 2, and it had felt… okay.

do you even know if he's gay?

The college prep—that wasn't a surprise. It hurt but it didn't shock. All his worrying, all his whining, wanting to be 'free'—whatever free meant—it was all part and parcel of the last decade. Dean should've known better. Sam wasn't mellowing out. Sam was a stubborn little shit and he'd always wanted to have a life that wasn't—this.

The gay thing. That hit different. One of the communities Sam followed was for lesbian and gay youth, talking about their coming out experiences. Sam didn't post there much but he commented, asked questions. How do you know? What does it feel like? The hamburger girl was from there, a lesbian chick trapped in some Delaware high school. Encouraging, commiserating. They talked about how college would be their big escape, their chance to go to a big city and find their way. Meet people. Only apparently hamburger girl was crushing on the cheerleader from fourth period, and Sam—

Dean makes an excuse the next day. Saturday: no work for Dean, no school for Sam. Alone in the apartment together, all day, after Dean's week of reading—he can't face it. "Where are you going?" Sam asks, eight a.m. with his hair fucked up and coffee clenched between his hands, and Dean looks at him in his pajama pants and his ratty hand-me-down shirt, skinny and tall and hiding things Dean can't handle, and he says, snappish in a way he doesn't mean to be—"Out, Sam, for christ's sake—" and sees Sam's expression shutter before the apartment door slams behind him.

He goes for a drive, out of town. Cold, threatening rain like it always is, but it won't snow. Out—past the airport, past the suburbs, out to Black Lake. They killed the nymph that was drowning people out here, him and Dad, when they first arrived. Sam stayed home. Sullen on the other end of the line when Dean called to say they'd finished the job, and they were getting burgers for dinner, and did Sam want one. Whatever, Sam had said, like even answering was an imposition. That was November, too.

He sits on the hood, heels braced on the bumper, arms locked around his knees. The lake looks cold. He wants to sink into it, wants to feel that freezing shock, like the polar bear dive he did on a dare back in Illinois. The way the brain just goes blank, tv-static filling up everything and washing all the shit away. All the weird crap you don't want to think about, frozen, and the only thing to focus on just—getting out.

He's not going to dive into the lake. It's nine in the morning and he's wearing his only pair of boots. He hasn't gone out with Sabrina all week. He's been piss-poor at the construction site and McMillan nearly brained him with a hammer yesterday, because Dean wasn't paying attention, and the foreman screamed at him in front of the whole crew. None of that feels close, right now. He breathes the wet-clogged air, cold and mossy, turning his ring restlessly on his finger.

Back at that high school they went to in Raton, Mrs. Encinas in 6th period English told Dean he'd be smart, if he didn't just give up all the time. All he needed to do was take the time to read between the lines, to actually interpret what he was reading and not take things on face value. He made some joke. He doesn't remember what it was, now. Like he didn't know what the fuckin Great Gatsby was saying, when he hoped and hoped and never got what he wanted. When happiness always felt like it was about a thousand miles away, on the other side of a lake he couldn't cross, and hope went out like a snuffed light. Dean can read what's not there. He's done it his whole life.

The problem: Sam's little online journal went back six months. They've lived in four towns, in that time. He never uses names, never puts up anything that'd really identify him. They were in Maryland, August-September-first of October, and it was a comment right at the end of August, on the community for gay kids, talking to the hamburger girl: I like someone, too. He doesn't know. He. The same he that carried forward, through all his journal entries, from Maryland to Washington across whole breadth of the country. He likes classic rock. He drives me nuts. He gave me a beer, and I wanted—

Dean curls forward over his knees, sliding his hands into his hair, breathing hard between his knees. He can read between the lines and he wishes that he couldn't. He wishes—god. What? That Sam would just meet a nice girl and fuck her and get it out of his system? Except how he was writing, it wasn't like it was new. It was something he'd been thinking about. When did you know? had read one of the forum posts, and in the responses, among all the dumb teenage crap about formal dances and jerking off to the wrong person in the music video, there was a comment by username rearviewmirror that said, I broke my leg and he carried me to the car and I wanted to kiss him.

Sam broke his leg in July, the summer he turned fifteen. He'd been trying to stay quiet but he'd had this trapped whimper in his throat that he couldn't stop, and Dad had stayed behind to cover their backs and it had been left to Dean, to scoop Sam up, his whole body quivering with the shock—to hug him close between the trees, humid Georgia night making every place their skin touched slick with sweat—to let Sam cling to his neck, shuddering, and to put a hand on his back and whisper, hey, Sammy, it's not even that bad, huh? no bone sticking out, you did good. we're gonna get you a cast and I'm gonna draw you a great picture, okay, Cindy Crawford with her tits out, right there on your shin and Sam had been so shaky that his laugh sounded like he was crying, but he'd nodded against Dean's neck and chattered out sounds cool, Dean, and when Dean got him to the car Sam hadn't wanted to let him go—so they crawled into the backseat together, Sam still half in his lap and with his arms still tight around Dean's neck. Dad got into the front and frowned at Dean in the rearview, and Dean nodded, and when the car leapt forward Sam gasped and gripped at Dean's shirt when his leg got jostled, and Dean put his hand in Sam's hair and said, it's okay, you're okay, and Sam—wanted to kiss him.

He can't square it. It's like there's some twinned version of his brother, in this place Dean never knew existed. All these secrets he's been hoarding, this other person he's been. These wants that make him a stranger.

He goes back home with stuff for lunch around noon. Sam's reading, in the bedroom. "Got pb&j or grilled cheese," Dean calls, down the shotgun kitchen through the thin-carpeted hall, and Sam calls back, "I'm not hungry," which is a goddamn shit of a lie. He grows like an inch a day, he's never not hungry. Dean braces his hands on the counter and counts to five, in his head. He puts the bread away, and puts the cheese in the fridge. He goes into the living room and turns on the TV and it's college football, which is boring as hell, but it fills the apartment with noise. He wishes Dad were home. He wishes he were hunting.

The Huskies lose. Sam hasn't come out of the room, as far as Dean can tell. He's had—four beers? He looks at the table. Five. It's getting toward dark and it's raining, a-fucking-gain, and Dean's still wearing his jacket and his boots and his ears are cold, because the heater in here sucks, and he's shredded the label of the beer everywhere, everywhere. He brushes it off his knees and that just means it's gonna get ground into the shit-brown carpet, but—who cares. He's got other things on his mind.

He gets the last beer out of the fridge. Should've bought more. "Got some spare cash," he says, to the dark hall. There's a halo of light around the half-closed bedroom door. "Thinking pizza for dinner."

Silence.

Dean pushes the beer bottle against his forehead. "C'mon, Sam. It's not going to kill you to prefer pepperoni or sausage. Just say something."

"Doesn't matter," is the response.

Dean squeezes his eyes closed, slams the bottle down to the counter. It's four steps to the bedroom and the door flies open under his palm. "Just fucking say," Dean says, and Sam's looking at him with big eyes, curled up on the twin bed with his back up against the wall, books spread open all around him. Homework, of course. "Just say it, okay? What do you want?"

Sam stares at him. "I don't care! Get—whatever, pepperoni. Jeez, what's up with you?"

"Sure you don't want sausage?" Dean says, kind of nasty, and Sam frowns, shakes his head. Goddamn it. Dean drags a hand over his face, sags against the door frame. He's—a little dizzy. Oh—okay, so maybe he should've eaten, sometime since this morning. "Damn it, Sam," he says, his stomach twinging.

"What?" Give him this—maybe he's sneaking around, maybe he's lying about half his life, but Sam doesn't shrink back from an argument. He's still in his pajamas. He shoves his notebook away, lifts his chin. "What?"

"Been doing some reading," Dean says, and watches Sam's face scrunch disbelievingly. "Rearviewmirror? You don't even like cars."

It's weirdly satisfying to watch Sam blanch. He's been so unaffected the last little while it's almost a relief to get a real reaction. His mouth parts, his eyes go big. He stares at Dean in total silence except the rain drumming on the roof, and then he says, "That's—private."

"Not that private," Dean says. "You're putting shit on the internet for any asshole to read, Sam. It's not a pretty princess diary with a sparkly lock."

Sam's face is white. He licks his lips, his back rigid against the wall. "How did you—you never—"

"I know how to use a friggin computer," Dean says, and watches Sam close his eyes. "So? Got a lot to say to a bunch of strangers. Might as well say it to me. I mean, I'm your brother, right? Family."

It comes out hard but his voice cracks, on the last word. He swallows and some of the anger dissipates. Sam's jaw flexes and he tucks his hands behind his neck and his knees drag in, like defense. Like he needs defense. Against Dean. Like it's Dean who's wrecking things.

Dean's legs go out from under him. He sits down. Right there, in the doorway to the bedroom, the frame hard against his spine. The rain's loud and he doesn't—what is there to say? "You should've told me."

That's really it. Sam looks at him. Disbelief. "How?" he says, and Dean tips his head back against the wall, looks at the popcorn ceiling, says, "I don't know, it's not my damn secret. But you should've."

"Yeah, that would've gone great," Sam says, sarcastic.

Silence. The rain. Dean drags his hand over his face again, clears his throat. "So. You're—queer." For some reason it seems like the simplest thing to start with.

Sam snorts. "I'm not, like, jerking off to JC Chasez," he says, bitter.

"Who?" Dean says, but shakes his head. "God, whatever. Jesus, Sam, I can't—don't talk about you jerking off. You're not—you don't date chicks, either. Ever. So you're—"

"I don't know," Sam says. Kind of firm. Dean closes his eyes to not look at him. "I don't know, okay? But that's not what—" Pause, while he drags in a breath that's audible across the room. Dean curls over, his forehead between his knees. It's too big to hear. Sam blows out air. "You read the whole thing?"

Frail. Cobweb soft, like if Dean breathed too hard it'd break. Dean folds his hands over his head. "I read the whole thing," he says.

"Don't—" Sam says, quick, and cuts himself off. Dean can't stand it—he looks, peeking up, and Sam's made himself small, there at the head of the bed. His mouth is small, his lips between his teeth—his eyes, big and scared. "Dean. I wouldn't—I swear. I wouldn't—"

"Kiss me?" Sam flinches like from a raised fist, when Dean's all the way over here. Dean licks his lips, dropping his hands so they dangle useless between his knees. "Or, what. Leave? Either way it's pretty fucked up, for me, Sam."

"Oh my god," Sam says, very quietly, and—christ. Looks like he's gonna cry.

"Sam," Dean says, and no matter how pissed he is, that's not—Sam fights back. Sam always fights back, he's frickin' annoying that way. He's not supposed to crack like this. Dean rolls up to his knees and Sam's looking away, neck craned unnaturally so that his face is pointed at the broken-blind-covered window so that Dean can't see, but Dean can—Dean can see his teeth so hard in his lip that the skin there's white, and his chest shaky, and his fist clenched in the thin fabric of his pajama bottoms, and, and—"Sammy," Dean says, again, and Sam's eyes close and there is—shit, shit, a tear, running fast out of the corner of his eye, streaking down his cheek so quick that if Dean could blink he might've missed it.

Dean's gut hurts, like he took a punch from a werewolf and he's gonna be bruised for the next three weeks. He doesn't have anything to say to make it better, not when it's this screwed up. This isn't Sam bitching about Dad or whining about crossbow practice or pouting about a move. Sam's been thinking about this for two years and he's managed to talk about it with people, online at least. Dean's coming at it with a week's slow raw realization and he doesn't know how to make it—not how it is.

He gets over to the bed, on his knees. Sam won't look at him, like the view of nothing through the blinds is the most fascinating thing in the world. There's a wet shining trail, down his cheek to his jaw. A damp circle on his t-shirt. Dean says, because he can't think of what else to say, "You really—you want—" and even then, can't articulate it. A kiss. Sex. A kind of close they've never been. He says, slower, "Is that why you want to go?"

Sam drags in air. Sounds like it hurts.

Dean drags his teeth over his lip. There are books all over the bed. He pushes them away, and Sam's notebook. He pushes up—knee on the mattress, and sinking down to his hip, and Sam's close enough to touch, now, and he jerks and looks at Dean like he's an alien. A ghost. Something that can't be real, only they both know that it is. Dean touches Sam's hand, fisted there in his pants, and Sam jerks again, his stiff shoulders back against the wall, and he shoves Dean's hand but no matter the crazy growth spurt Sam's been having Dean's still stronger, still has the reach—he grips Sam's wrist and yanks, gets him off balance, and then he's right inside Sam's grapple and has his hand flat on Sam's chest, pressing him harder against the paint, and Sam stares at him wild-eyed with his breath both fast and deep and Dean leans forward and presses their mouths together. It's a bad kiss—he barely hits on center, and Sam freezes—but there's the touch of warmth, Sam's lips—soft—and the shocked air hitting Dean's face—and Dean drags in breath through his nose and resettles, fits his mouth to Sam's soft open lower lip and makes it better, his head tipping, easy pressure there, just the faintest amount of suction so that when he pulls back a millimeter there's a little smooch sound, and that makes it—real.

He kissed his little brother. No getting around that. No pretending. His nose brushes Sam's cheek and Sam's not really breathing, and Dean—fuck, Dean does it again, pressing in and letting Sam's wrist go so that he can get a hand on Sam's jaw, tipping him so it's good. Sam makes a tiny noise and breathes out hard against his mouth, and when Dean kisses him for a third time Sam meets it, his lips moving finally out of that still shock, his fingertips brushing Dean's arm all careful, his heart pounding under Dean's hand.

Dean pulls back. An inch between them—not enough but all Dean can seem to manage. He swallows. His lips are tingling, and his eyes are closed and he doesn't want to open them, and his fingers—jesus, he's got them tangled in Sam's hair like Sam's some easy hot chick he's picked up at a dive bar, pressing her up against the wall in the bathroom hallway, knowing how the night's going to end.

"We can't," Sam says. Sam. His voice, steady and familiar. "We—Dean. This isn't—"

"No," Dean says, god knows why. He pulls back, though—pulls his hand out of Sam's hair, stands up. His legs wobble for a second. He has to open his eyes and so he drags in a breath and does, and Sam's sitting there with his shoulders high and tight and his hands fisted on his knees and his hair a little fluffed on one side, a little screwy. His mouth parted and his eyes—fixed on Dean's face, looking all over it. Like he's memorizing a trail map, for an unknown stretch of land.

"I'm drunk," Dean says. It's not true. Five beers—he's buzzed but he knows what he's doing. Sam doesn't contradict the lie. "Acting nuts. Sorry, Sam. I—"

"I want pepperoni," Sam says. His face isn't white anymore. He's flushed, dark pink in the hollows of his cheeks. His eyes are dark, wide and fixed on Dean, and there's still that shining trail on his cheek but it's drying. "Order from that place on Melrose. Garlic knots, too."

Dean backs up a step, pins on a smile. "What, you think I'm dumb? Like I wouldn't get knots," he says, and Sam doesn't smile but he nods, brief and fast like Dean's picking up a play in some con they're running, and Dean snaps a finger-gun at Sam—fuck, what is he doing—and turns out of the room, says—"Okay, dinner in thirty minutes or less or your money back!" and walks through the kitchen and out into the living room and out the front door, and closes it behind himself, and leans against it and stares blindly out into the rain, the setting sun still sparking some tiny golden bit of light out to the west, past the horizon.

He licks his lips and tastes salt, not his own. Sam's hand, on his arm—skimming, brushing light through the thickness of his jacket. Like he wasn't sure he'd be allowed to really touch. He drags in the rain-soaked air. He'll drive, to get the pizza. He'll drive, and he'll give Sam time. When he gets back he'll offer Sam half the pie and a beer, and there'll be some movie on TV that Sam probably won't want to watch, but maybe he will. They'll be—brothers. Dean knows how to do that. It feels like it's all he's got left.

*

It's—not easy but it's not all that hard, either. There's a brutal week where Dean's torn between walking on eggshells and wanting to wrestle Sam to the ground, and Sam goes perfectly silent—not pouty withdrawal or furious silent-treatment, but as still and quiet as though he's not even there. Dean can't bear it. It takes Dad coming home to break it—Dad, and christ, when he calls to say he's coming back Dean completely freezes and his mind fills up with—with—but then Sam looks at him and takes the phone out of his hand and says, his mouth's full—what's up? and after that it's like things… settle. It's not okay but it's livable.

rearviewmirror.livejournal.com goes quiet. Dean checks, occasionally, over the months that pass. When he's looking up some random piece of lore for Dad, when they're hunting alone and Sam's stuck back at whatever shitty hotel they stored him at, and Dean's on research duty because Sam's in high school and can't answer his phone. Dean types in the address and checks, and it's still that last post. Anyone else going through this? He hopes, sincerely, not. It's too fucked up for anyone else to bear. At least the Winchesters have practice.

They run PT. Sam does his homework. Dean watches TV. Hunting focuses things. There's stuff to kill and people to save and things aren't falling apart any more than they ever are, so—Dean deals.

Sam leaves.

*

It's January. Dean's in a library, alone. Dad's working a job north of Boise and he sent Dean down to Wendover to take care of a haunting, and Dean's done and Dad called and said two more days and there's this raw wounded spot where Dean should be able to turn, to look over his left shoulder and say—but it's empty there, and so he's in a library.

Sam started posting again, when he got to school. Small stuff. That he was sorry for the long break. That he'd ended up at a university after all. The hamburger girl doesn't respond anymore but the Nine Inch Nails boy does: thought you were dead, he says, no-caps like he's so goddamn cool, and Sam says, Just working some stuff out.

Sam likes his professors. He plays pick-up soccer with some of the guys from his dorm. His roommate snores. He doesn't listen to music at all. There's nothing—real. There's none of the sadboy shit, nothing about what he's feeling, no pondering of what it all means. He picks up a few different Livejournal friends, clearly people from his classes, who crack jokes about Ancient Civ and Linear Algebra. He joins a community focused around civil rights litigation. He might as well not be there.

Dean reads it all. If Sam's not calling then Dean's gonna check in whatever way he can. When Sam left Dean made sure he had at least one good knife in his bag and he said don't forget the salt when Sam hiked his backpack onto his shoulder, and Sam snorted and looked at him like a gunshot but he nodded, and Sam's not dumb, he knows how to take care of himself, but. Dean's the big brother, here. He's within his rights, to check and make sure baby bro's not being a dumbass.

January and it's fuckin cold, in Wendover, but the library's too warm. Dean keeps his coat on anyway, scrolling through the comms. He's kinda turning into an expert, navigating the pages, recognizing the shorthand. He hasn't made an account. Doesn't know why he would. He finishes his scan of the comms Sam's part of and doesn't really see any relevant posts, and no comments from rearviewmirror that he can find. He chews his cheek and goes back to the main page, thinking—okay, he can get out of here. Beer and dinner, and finding a motel that doesn't look toxic, and waiting for Dad to call. Not the worst night he could have. He refreshes, one last time, just in case, and there's a new post. He reads:

January 23

Done with class for the week. Feeling restless.

current mood: current music:

Comments:

lawblog69: we should go out!!

bloodofreptile: go get laid

Dean snorts. At least the NIN kid is consistent. He refreshes again and there's a new comment.

bloodofreptile: go get laid

    rearviewmirror: Not really in the cards.

He takes a breath, sitting there at the computer bank. It's quiet in here—the good people of Wendover aren't much for the library, apparently—but he feels like someone's right there. Like he could reach out and touch, when it's just words on a glowing screen. Still—the speed of the comment—Sam's… sitting there. Right now, on a computer in Palo Alto, looking at the same thing Dean is.

He refreshes.

bloodofreptile: go get laid

    rearviewmirror: Not really in the cards.

        bloodofreptile: still holding onto that? very hufflepuff. how long has it been?

              rearviewmirror: my whole life

Dean presses his knuckles to his lips, hard enough that he can feel his teeth pressing back. Jesus, Sam. He refreshes—another comment, from coppertonebuttgirl, agreeing about the restlessness but apparently she's off to a date with her boyfriend, and Sam responds and says sounds nice :), and jesus, Sam, Dean thinks. Off to have the big college experience like he wanted so bad, off to have that new shiny life, and after five months away he's still all sadsack, still not actually living.

He clicks the comment box. He types, unaccountably mad. He hits submit, and gets a warning that it'll show as anonymous. He waits, and refreshes, and reads:

Anonymous: Just go hit a bar. Live a little. Thought you were supposed to be smart, college boy.

     rearviewmirror: Since when does smart have anything to do with it?

Dean rolls his eyes. He can hear Sam's voice saying it, nettled and trying to sound like he isn't.

Anonymous: You're on here mooning after Cindy Crawford when Claudia Schiffer and Tyra Banks are out there in the real world. Have a beer, get over it.

A pause. Dean has to refresh twice. The librarian walks by with her cart of books and gives him a distracted smile, and Dean's so addled he doesn't actually process and then return it until she's already gone.

rearviewmirror: I don't think it's something you get over. It mattered. It still does, to me.

Dean chews his thumbnail. Sam's face, turned unnaturally, looking out that window at the rain. The wet track, on his cheek.

Anonymous: Matters enough that you're never going to move on?

    rearviewmirror: I didn't think you could move on from family. Maybe I was wrong.

The air goes out of Dean's chest. He turns away from the computer, entirely, swiveling the chair so he's looking out at the lonely bookshelves. He flexes his jaw and swivels back around. Hits refresh.

The thread of comments is gone. He blinks, confused. He doesn't think he was hallucinating—been a while, since he was that tired and drunk. But—oh—in its place, a single comment, under the brief conversation with the NIN kid:

rearviewmirror: Tell me if it's you.

Dean licks his lips. He closes out of the browser, picks up his notepad and keys. On the steps outside it's cold, cold, fucking cold, and this town is bleak. He walks down to the Impala, waiting there in the iced-over grey snow, and braces his hands on the hood, and blows out a long purling winter-dragon breath, and then fishes his phone out of his pocket. Another new phone, but he's got Sam's number memorized, and he almost calls before he chickens out. If it's not actually wanted—he imagines that conversation and he's just not constitutionally capable, right now, of facing how goddamn awkward it'd be.

He texts: It's me.

The response, after seconds: Where are you?

The shitty part of Utah. That's saying something. Easier, like this. Like it's not him kicking down a doorway right into Sam's head.

I don't have class tomorrow.

Could be random, if he didn't know who he was talking to. Dean leans his elbows on the hood of the car, looking at the little box of black-and-white text. He chews his lips and thinks. Before he can respond, another message:

I don't want to move on.

Dean tips his head enough that he's pressing the edge of the phone into his forehead. His fingers are cold. He sniffs, his nose dripping in the icy weather, and types, careful to make sure he gets it right: I'm nine hours away.

Less, if he goes over 100 in the boring parts of Nevada, and if he doesn't stop at all for a catnap.

Stop in Reno for a nap. You get weird when you drive all night. Text me when you're close.

Dean works his jaw, standing there in the cold. He's got nothing to do, for two days. He's got most of a tank of gas. He's got—nothing. Nothing. He gets in the car, and he drives.

It's only 9:30 when he gets to Reno. There were parts of Nevada where he drove very, very fast. He pulls into a truck stop, gets more gas and parks out near where the semis are lined up, the drivers early-birding the night away. Still cold here but less so. He twists around so his back's to the passenger door and looks out the driver window at the neon signs of the truck stop, the cars going in and out of the gas islands. He ate a little but his stomach was all twisted up and he couldn't get much down. A beer would go easier but he doesn't want to be drunk. Well. He does. This is insane. This is—completely stupid.

He pulls out his phone, looks at it. Dials and holds it to his ear, and it rings three times—long enough for him to change his mind four times—before there's an answer, and Sam's voice says, "Dean?"

His voice. Dean closes his eyes, tips his head back against the cold glass of the window. "Long time, no speak," Dean says. It feels rusty.

Sam's quiet for a second, on the other end. "Not really, though. Right?"

"I guess so. It's not the same." Dean listens to the little acknowledging sound Sam makes. There's silence again, for seconds that he counts—one and then two and then three. He listens to the cooling tick of the engine, through it, and then says, before he loses his nerve, "I shouldn't come. Right? This is nuts."

There's some noise, staticky. Like something passed over the mic on Sam's phone. After a beat, Sam says, "You should do what you want to do."

"Oh, should I," Dean says, and it comes out sarcastic, but he doesn't really mean it to be mean. Sam doesn't take the bait, staying quiet on the other end, and Dean opens his eyes again, watching a huge truck muscle past the gas island, watching the normal world go by. He rubs his eye. "I've been—it's been weird, Sam."

Understatement, but he doesn't know why he says it. That kind of stuff isn't for Sam to worry about.

"Go to sleep," Sam says, instead of responding. "An hour or something, just enough so you won't drive off the road. Text me when you're close."

Same thing he said before. "It'll be like three in the morning when I'm close," Dean says, and Sam says, "I'll be awake," and then the line disconnects, and Dean's left there alone again on the bench seat, but it—feels different.

He sort of sleeps, sort of doesn't. He's got a talent for going to bed wherever and whenever he has to—on spare tires and on forest floors and in a closet, once, with a propane tank as his pillow—but his brain won't shut up. He drifts in and out, for the hour Sam asked him for, and then he gets out of the car and goes into the 24-hour c-store and buys a big cup of coffee and a Hershey bar, and points the hood west, and follows the yellow dashed line home.

He texts from a gas station outside Sacramento. Sam texts back in less than a minute with an address. Dean glances at his map of California and responds: 45 minutes, and it's more like thirty when he pulls up to the—yeah, the motel, and he makes a sound that's sort of like a laugh except it doesn't feel like one. He turns into the parking lot and the headlights flash the building, and there, sitting on the sidewalk with his back to a pillar.

Dean parks. Sam has his arms folded over his knees, but he unfurls, stands. Dean gets out of the car and Sam's—jesus, ten feet away, his face totally visible under the streetlight. His hair's a little longer. "Did you get taller?" Dean says, and Sam huffs, his head ducking, and—fuck everything else, it's Dean's little brother, and he drags Sam into a hug, folding his arms over Sam's shoulders even if he has to lift on his toes a little to do it. Sam goes stiff for half a second, but he hugs back, and Dean turns his face in, Sam's hair in his nose like it always is, and feels him—warm, and safe. All Dean ever wanted for him, pretty much.

"You have to get the room," Sam says, when they pull apart. At Dean's eyebrows he shrugs, the corner of his mouth curled. "What? My scholarship doesn't include seedy rent by the hour stuff."

"Oversight much?" Dean says, but he goes in, and he gets a room. Two queens, because that's what the tired miserable little desk clerk says they have available. Means Dean doesn't have to think about other possibilities, and it means that when he dangles the keys off his finger and Sam half-smiles at him, when they've walked down the cold sidewalk side by side, when Dean opens the door and finds the different motel room, same as the first—Sam sits on one bed, and Dean sits on the other, and they look at each other, and it's like it's two years ago and they're just two kids, waiting for Dad to come home.

Sam is taller. Taller than Dean, now. His hair long enough to fall in his eyes, which it does constantly. Newish sneakers, and old jeans, and a hooded sweatshirt, and a denim jacket over the top of that. Not warm enough for the Bay in winter, but Dean bites his tongue before he says anything about it.

"How are your classes?" he says, instead.

Sam's cheek sucks in, like he's chewing it. After a second he says, "You don't want to talk about my classes, man." His head tips. "Anyway. You read about it, right."

It was a mistake not to stop for beer. Dean needs something to do with his hands. "Your algebra professor sounds like an asshole," he says.

Makes Sam smile before he ducks his head, looking down at his lap. "I thought—" He swallows, audibly. He shakes his head, his hair falling down and hiding his face. "Only reason I started posting again was that I wondered if you might still—if you'd check."

It's quiet, honest. Dean hasn't talked to Sam in person for half a year and he's off-balance. Expecting Sam to snark, to be dismissive, to roll his eyes. Small hours of the morning, maybe he's too tired not to be honest. Maybe he's growing up. Dean's not prepared for that.

Sam looks up at him when Dean's silent for too long. His teeth dig into the corner of his mouth and he drags his hand through his hair, gets it off his forehead. "I said I didn't want to move on. You know what I meant, right?"

Dean huffs. "Yeah, I'm not an idiot, Sam," he says, and Sam's eyes tighten. Dean leans back on his hands, tips his head back on his shoulders to look at the ceiling. "Thought this was the whole point of getting out. Getting away, making a whole new life. Being someone else."

"I'm still me," Sam says, unseen. "And it wasn't the whole point. I want a life. That part—whatever, that doesn't matter right now. But I never thought the other thing was going to go away."

He stands up, so Dean can see him. Dean looks at him down his nose, and Sam's—god. Tall. That keeps being his first thought. Tall, and maybe not a stranger, even if he's real damn strange. Sam steps closer, in the little space between the two beds, chewing his lip again. He's gonna make a sore there. "Dean," he says, and Dean raises his eyebrows in response. "You came."

"Yeah," Dean says, rueful. "Well. I'm Cindy Crawford."

Sam's face ripples—a frown, surprise—and then a huffed little laugh—and then he steps between Dean's knees and touches his chest, his jaw. Leans down, slow, telegraphing like they're practicing a fight, and Dean stays exactly where he is, leaned back on his hands, and Sam's mouth touches his—softly. Not hesitant. Dean lets his eyes close and feels it. Puff of air against his face as Sam lets out a tense breath and then another kiss, the damp inside Sam's lip catching against Dean's, and Dean kisses back then, reaching up and getting Sam's jaw, his jacket, fisting the denim and pulling Sam closer. There's a stagger—Sam's knee landing on the bed by Dean's hip, and Dean gets an arm around his lower back and kisses him again, tasting him. Salt, and when Dean kisses him again and presses his mouth open, licks inside, there's coffee-taste, Sam's tongue—slick, tentative—he stayed up, to wait for Dean—his kiss clumsier now, like he doesn't have much practice.

Dean pulls back a few inches. Sam's half-draped on him, his weight nearly in Dean's lap. His eyes are dark but big with surprise, like he didn't expect Dean to go with it. "Sammy," Dean says, and Sam—shudders, his hands closing hard around Dean's shoulders. Okay, Dean thinks, filing that away. He drags a thumb over Sam's jaw, where he's got a barely-there prickle of stubble. "What are we doing?"

Sam shakes his head, licks his lips. "This," he says, holding the side of Dean's neck. "This."

They peel Sam's jacket off, and then Dean's. Sam's still in that hoodie, soft black, and Dean gets his fingers just under the hem of it, barely grazing Sam's stomach, kissing him again—tangled up close on the edge of the bed, Sam's thigh slung over his. Sam keeps touching his face, his chest. His amulet, swinging forward between them when he urges Sam down to his back on the mattress, a knee between Sam's and his hand still there on Sam's belly. Sam grips the amulet and breathes out hot against Dean's face and lifts up for another kiss, which Dean gives him easy, and it's—god, it's good. The lights on, the room warm, Sam wanting underneath his hand. His mouth, slick and open, learning how to press back, how to give as good as he's getting. Dean kisses his cheekbone, his jaw, settles his hand flat on Sam's stomach to ground him, says, "Sammy, you've done this before, right?" Sam hitches breath, nods. Dean sorta laughs, lifts up so he can actually see Sam's expression. "More than once?"

"Twice," Sam says, and when Dean raises his eyebrows he frowns, vaguely indignant. "Jenny Morrison, just before graduation." He licks his lips. "And—a guy. After student orientation, here."

"Playing the field, huh?" Dean says. There's no reason it should make his stomach go molten hot. He rubs Sam's stomach, feels the rise of his breath. "You like it?" Sam nods, again. "What'd you do?"

Sam's cheeks are dark, brick-red. He licks his lips again and Dean ducks back in to kiss him, knocking his mouth open, tasting inside. Earns himself a small deep noise and Sam's hand sliding through his hair where it's too short to grab. He nudges Sam's nose and sits up, peeling off his overshirt. "C'mon. What'd you do? Didn't put that up on your journal, how am I supposed to know?"

"It was a rush party," Sam says, looking at him. He pulls his t-shirt off over his head, making sure his amulet stays put, and Sam blinks heavily, his lips parted. Jeez—it's weird. Hot. Sam wants him, Dean thinks, and it sends a rush of blood south. "He's—uh. Pre-med, smart."

"Not looking for his biography, Sammy," Dean says, and spreads his hands on Sam's hips, pushing up. The hoodie moves, the t-shirt underneath rucks up—Sam's pale here but still that faint all-over tan, darker than Dean's skin. He licks his lips. "What'd you do? Jerk each other off?"

Sam nods, again, his mouth open. God, Dean can imagine it. On some dorm-room bed, their heads leaned together, Sam's mouth open just like this—panting, his hand fumbling down—fuck, fuck it's hot, Sam nervous and into it and trying, making sure. "You liked it, huh?" Dean says, stroking his thumbs over Sam's bare belly.

"Yeah," Sam says, thin on not enough air, his knee drawing up. "But I—I thought about—when you kissed me—" and Dean kisses him again, groaning. Jesus, Sam's gonna kill him. Thinking about some shitty nervous freaked-out kiss when another guy's got his tongue in Sam's mouth. Sam grabs his shoulders, sits up, and Dean accommodates him easy, letting Sam touch him back—Sam's hands sliding down his chest, around to his ribs, grasping. "Dean," he says, panting.

"Let's get this off, huh?" Dean says, pulling, and Sam yanks the hoodie off in a second flat, his hair all ruffling up behind it. The shirt comes with it and there's just Sammy's bare smooth skin, that same pale tan all over. Small brownish nipples, slim muscles. His body. Dean dips and kisses his bare shoulder, licking there, biting, and Sam's nails dig into his ribs so he does it again, swinging a leg over so he's straddling Sam's lap, taking his time. He scrapes his teeth over the swell where Sam's collarbone dips into the arch of his trap, and Sam grips his neck, his back arching. He's hard. Shit, he's nineteen, he has to be hard. Dean slides his fingers down Sam's belly to his belt, tucking under the waist of his jeans, but Sam grips his wrist, then, groaning, saying—"Wait—wait—"

Dean drops his head to Sam's shoulder, groaning back. "We waited," he says, but Sam's hand is on his shoulder, pushing him back, making him look. "What?"

Sam's pink. "Have you—with a guy?" Dean rocks back but Sam's holding him close, looking all over his face. "Dean. Have you—"

"Yeah," Dean says, and watches Sam's ears go red. Sam doesn't need to know when, but it was all in the last year. Three dudes, hookups that were way too easy. They were good—turns out that Dean just likes sex, any way someone will give it to him—and he learned what it felt like to have a dick not his own in his hand, how it felt to slip a cock into his mouth and make a man groan. He hadn't thought about Sam while he was doing it, not really, but he's thinking about it now, and Sam's eyes have dropped, his lips between his teeth. Jealous? Dean smiles while Sam can't see and breaks Sam's hold on his wrist, and slides his hand down, and cups the crotch of Sam's jeans where he's swelling them out. Sam jerks, eyes flying open. "Means I know what I'm doing. Yeah?"

"Yeah," Sam breathes, and then it's—undoing his belt, and unzipping, and then—god, he's still got his sneakers on. Dean backs off and kicks off his boots, deliberately, and Sam blinks at him hot-eyed with his chest heaving and his jeans half-open looking like a friggin porno, but then he gets with the program, and the shoes thud to the shitty carpet and then they're practically racing, undressing, and when Dean kicks his boxers off to the side Sam's—naked, half on the bed, staring at him. Dean stares back, circling a hand around Sam's ankle. God, to look at him, in the lamplight. Long legs, hairier on the shins and lightly furred on the thighs, and a decent dark bush around a dick that's—jesus, that dick. Big, bigger than Dean's, bigger than—Dean licks his lips and looks up with an effort and Sam's staring right back at him, focused between his legs, his mouth parted. "Like what you see?" Dean says, and Sam doesn't answer, just reaches for him, and Dean crawls up the bed and settles on his elbow above Sam with their legs brushing bare, Sam's dick hot against his hip, and Sam kisses him with both hands on his face, his thigh dragging up against Dean's, his lips almost trembly.

Dean soothes a hand down Sam's ribs but Sam's—fuck. Shaking. They haven't even done anything. "Sammy," Dean whispers, between Sam's needing brief kisses, and Sam shakes his head and kisses him again and then ducks his head down, his nose brushing under Dean's jaw. Dean pulls Sam closer—tips, so they're on their sides—and pulls Sam's leg over his hip, pushes in, and—ah, shit, shit that feels good, Sam's big dick brushing in against his, dragging heavy and hot. "Oh," says Sam, small, and Dean slips his hand further and grips Sam's ass, the muscle tight and small—pulls in, and pulls again, encouraging, and Sam grips Dean's shoulder underhand tight enough to hurt but follows, pushing in with the rhythm Dean's urging. He's breathing fast, hot against Dean's throat, but he's got it—humping in, meeting Dean, making their dicks slide, his cockhead smearing wet against Dean's belly. Dean hums, kissing Sam's temple where he can just reach it, just enjoying the—insane way it feels. He lets Sam's ass go and Sam keeps going—good, good—and he licks his fingers sloppy, and reaches down between them, and for the first time he gets a grip on Sam's dick, feels the heft of it. Sam makes a sound like he's been shot and Dean says shh, easy, slicking his hand down to the base, squeezing hard as he pulls back up, and Sam makes another gulping strange sound, his thigh clutching hard around Dean's hip, his hand crushing Dean's lower back in closer. "That feel good?" Dean says, and Sam—comes. Fast, humping in, spurting up Dean's belly and his own, the slick getting all over Dean's dick, hot and wet, the sensation enormous. Dean squeezes him through it, knowing, and Sam humps in again and grabs his ass, nails digging in. Dean tips his head back, feeling it. God, it's good. Sam. His brother.

He swallows. His dick's throbbing, wanting more, feeling left behind. Sammy shudders and Dean licks his lips, pushes Sam back so his shoulders hit the bed. He flops—boneless, shocked—and Dean drags his hands over Sam's ribs, frames his hips. His dick is still big, flushed and wet, his balls clutched up high, and Dean licks his lips and says, "Okay," to no one, and leans down, and gets Sam's dick in his mouth.

A shock, Sam's body practically lifting off the bed. "What," he says, somewhere Dean can't see him—"What are you, oh—" and Dean thinks, oh, what if no one has done this? What if Jenny just opened her legs and she and Sam humped awkward and teenage in some backseat—what if pre-med only wiped his handful of Sam's jizz on the mattress and passed out—what if Dean's the first one, here, opening his jaw wide, careful of his teeth, slicking down, getting the whole fat length of it in his mouth. Only—he can't, fuck, Sam's too big. He fists the base, pulls off, spits and slicks the wet down. When he glances up Sam's up on his elbows, staring, and Dean grins at him, jerks it again, swallows. He can taste Sam's jizz, leftover from coming before. "Hang on," Dean says, and goes back down, letting the head bust his lips open, slicking tight down to his fist, dragging his tongue hard against the underside, suckling easy. Sam takes his statement as an order and grips his head, his shoulder, his hips cringing up into Dean's mouth, and Dean heaves in air, feels Sam firming up again, thick and needing and good.

He's only done this a few times but he—shit, he liked it. Likes it better the other way around, of course, but like this—his dick pressing into the bed, throbbing—Sam splitting open his mouth—yeah, it doesn't exactly suck. He bobs up and down, making sure to pay special attention to the soft ridge at the head, and Sam's making insane noises, now, up above him, petting his head and his shoulders and gripping, trying to shove up. Dean leans into his hip so he can't, fists his dick, pulls off gasping and licking his lips. Sam's still staring, down the length of his torso, and Dean jerks him through the goopy mess they're making—his spit, Sam's precome, what Sam's already come. "You like it?" Dean says, and Sam—rolls his eyes, the little shit.

"You're smug," Sam says, and Dean raises his eyebrows and says, "You're damn right I am," and lets Sam's dick go and goes down, down, no fist in the way until Sam's dick hits the back of his throat and he gags—breathes through it—slurps up with tight lips and then goes right back down, getting his throat used to it, learning the feel of this massive, awesome dick. Sam moans, pushes his hips up, and Dean lets him, rides it—lets Sam fuck up, lets him get a rhythm, like fucking—Sam, fucking his face—and Dean reaches down between his own legs and fists his own dick, finally, groaning in relief and making Sam shudder as the vibration rumbles through Dean's open throat. Sam grips his head with both hands, holding him down, and Dean drags in air through his nose and holds there, filled up with Sam and choking, spit flooding out of his open mouth—the world dark and just Sam's taste, his smell—and Sam makes a little sound—and Dean grunts and lifts off, breaks Sam's hold and crawls up his body, straddling his hips and dragging his dick against where Sam's is all sloppy-hot, dripping wet. Sam gasps up at him and grabs his hips, his ass, fucking up into him, and Dean grips both their dicks in two hands, fucking into the tight wet channel he's making for them both, and Sam pulls at his ass, spreading it, rocking his hips to help, moaning and looking helpless up into Dean's face, and Dean leans down and breathes against him and Sam still comes first, creaming them both, his dick flexing and twitching in Dean's grip, and Dean braces one slick hand on the bed and fists himself seriously, jerking fast, and Sam moans and kisses his jaw and pulls at his ass with those big hands, his fingers slipping low, dipping—and Dean jerks and spills, his belly seizing, his thighs clamping around Sam's hips, Sam's lips open and dragging wet against his throat, his fist gripping the bedspread so hard that his fingers cramp.

Sam's stroking his hips, repetitive and soft, when he's done panting. Dean swallows, shifts his weight. He's slumped on top of Sam, his face buried in Sam's shoulder. Wet between them, sliding, and he releases his dick and slips his sticky hand out, bracing on the bed enough to get some air between them. When he lifts up Sam's eyes are half-closed, but he focuses on Dean's face right away, and his hands stop their stroking and just squeeze, warm and tight. "You okay?" Sam says.

"My line," Dean says, and Sam rolls his eyes again, squeezes again. Dean sits up more but Sam doesn't let go. "C'mon, we should clean up."

Sam's eyes tighten, just barely. He sits up, keeping his grip on Dean, and Dean rocks back but doesn't tip over. He gets a hand on Sam's shoulder to keep his balance and Sam says, steady, "Don't freak. Okay?"

"Who's freaking?" Their dicks are still pressed wetly together, though Dean's basically soft, now. Sam's still plump, thick. He swallows. "C'mon, we're gonna get cemented together," he says, and Sam's mouth purses but his grip goes light, and it gives enough room that Dean can lift off, get his feet under him. Jesus, there's enough jizz on him that it's rolling down his belly—he claps a hand to it before it can drop, smearing it over his abs. "You come like a geyser, dude," he says, not really complaining, but Sam's cheeks are red when he looks back up, and he feels—shit. He doesn't know.

He goes to the bathroom. Fluorescent light, pink-painted sink. He wets one of the five-cent washrags and wipes himself up, and he's not turned on anymore so his thought is mainly that it's just gross, and that bed's going to be wrecked, and also, what is he doing. What is he doing.

Sam's hand appears, reaching around him. He jumps. In the mirror behind him, Sam's tall, looking over his shoulder. Looking at Dean, even as he wets the other rag, cleans himself up. Dean chews the inside of his lip and can't really turn away. Sam's got red marks on his shoulder, where Dean was biting him.

"Stay," Sam says. He tosses his wet rag back into the sink and settles his hands on Dean's biceps, squeezing. When he steps forward his dick presses into the small of Dean's back and his chest is warm, damp. "Tomorrow at least. We've got the room. Stay."

"You want your dick sucked again?" Dean says, and that time it is mean and he did kind of mean it to be, and Sam's eyelids dip and his jaw clenches, but he only slips his hands away from Dean's arms to his ribs, holding him. It feels… Dean shakes his head. "Sam," he says, but there's not really anything that can go after it.

A big hand slides up and over, flattening on his breastbone. "It's not just this," Sam says, meeting Dean's eyes in the mirror, and it makes Dean's cheeks go hot.

He covers Sam's hand with his. He shivers, for some reason. He says, "I should take a shower, I've been in the car all day," and Sam says, "Okay," and Dean takes a shower and Sam sits on the closed toilet, watches him through the clear curtain. Gives him a towel when he comes out. Takes his hips, when he's dry, and presses him to the tiled wall, and tips his head up, and kisses him clean.

Five in the morning, or later. There's a clean bed and Dean hasn't slept in a day. He lays down and Sam lays down with him, a few inches away until Dean relents and turns over, and Sam curls up behind him, holding on, his mouth against Dean's shoulder. There's going to be a call from Dad, at some point. Dean's going to have to meet him somewhere, because there's going to be something bad that needs killing. He can't stay. He's wired and tired, all at once.

"Sleep," Sam says, and Dean turns his head against the pillow, knows he will.

"Hey," he says, and Sam makes a quiet noise. "If you put this on your journal, maybe bloodofreptile will finally shut up about you getting laid all the time."

"His name is Dennis," Sam says, and Dean laughs, weirdly glad. Dennis. Yeah, that fits. "And this isn't going on the internet."

"Probably a good idea," Dean says, and Sam says, again, "Dude, go to sleep," and Dean tips back into Sam's warmth, and does, and it's the best sleep he's gotten in a year.

[365days365movies]

April 12, 2021: Mrs. Doubtfire (1992) (Recap)

Hey, Robin Williams. Been a while.

I’m sorry that I haven’t watched your movies for a while, and that I always skip your comedy stand-up when my phone’s on shuffle. I just...let me explain. Since I was a kid, you were one of my favorite entertainers. That might as well have started the day I was born, because...well, we share a birthday, fun fact. But it definitely continued with the first movie I ever saw in theatres.

While I don’t quite remember the first time I saw it, Aladdin was one of my favorite childhood movies, and I knew that you were the voice of the Genie from an early age. You might have actually been the first actor I ever knew by name. Which makes sense, because your stardom during the ‘90s was nearly unparalleled.

The next film I remember seeing (and hearing) you in was Ferngully: The Last Rainforest. That also starred Tim Curry, who would also be a major figure of my childhood. It also wasn’t the best movie, in hindsight, but it is the only time I’ve heard you rap since.

But eventually, I watched your forays into live-action, too. Jumanji, Hook, even the objectively bad Flubber, are all movies that I vividly remember watching during childhood. I was really excited for Flubber, even, and I LOVED Jumanji growing up. I liked Hook, too, but I appreciated that more as I got older.

Of course, during this time period, you also made less family-friendly films. The Fisher King, Good Will Hunting, Dead Poets Society, Good Morning Vietnam, and What Dreams May Come were all very successful, and cemented your reputation as an actor. I also haven’t seen any of them. In fact...I don’t think I’ve seen any of your dramatic roles, and that’s something that I’ll fix this year. Hell, in a few days, I’ll watch The Birdcage, another of your big hits of the ‘90s.

But why haven’t I seen them up to now? Well...I was going to watch these films, about seven years ago. But...I haven’t been able to bring myself to do it. Because it hurts. A lot.

I know that this is a downer, but my relationship with Robin Williams today is tainted by his tragic death. I was fucking BROKEN when his death was announced, and I really haven’t been able to watch him since. I’ve seen Aladdin recently, but that’s about all I could stand to watch. I mean, the guy shares a birthday with me! I’ve always loved his comedy stylings, and his improvisational skills are something I’ve internalized to a certain degree.

So, yeah. This one’s tough. But, it’s about time I moved on, and celebrated the man’s career for what it was: stellar. And that also brings up an important question, that some of you have probably asked by now:

HOW HAVE I MISSED MRS. DOUBTFIRE, WHAT THE FUCK

I KNOW I KNOW OK?

Look, I’m not entirely sure how I haven’t seen this movie, because I’m MORE than aware of it! I remember it airing during the ‘90s, my Dad AND girlfriend love this movie, and I know FOR A FACT that my family owned both the DVD AND THE VHS of this movie! So, how? HOW HAVE I NOT SEEN IT BY NOW?

I honestly have no idea, but let’s fix it now, huh? Yet one more man-dresses-as-woman movie this month! And no, I am not watching White Chicks...because I’ve already seen White Chicks. Also, it’s...problematic.

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

 Recap

Daniel Hillard (Robin Williams) is a voice-actor, and a good one. Which, given that it’s Robin Williams, isn’t entirely inaccurate. He’s also a voice actor with a spine, as he morally objects to a scene in the cartoon that he’s performing for, in which the main character smokes. By the way, I’m 99% sure that this cartoon is animated by Chuck Jones, and it looks well-made.

Anyway, this leads to him quitting the cartoon altogether, and allows him to pick up his kids early from school. These kids are Lydia (Lisa Hykub), Chris (Matthew Lawrence), and Natalie (Mara Wilson), and it’s Chris’ 12th birthday. Daniel arranges a...surprisingly large party, given that it’s completely impromptu, and it comes with a petting zoo and complete trappings. However, it’s not a party of which his wife will approve.

This wife is Miranda (Sally Field), a successful architect and the breadwinner of the family. After getting a call from the neighbor about the party, she comes home and busts the outrageous party. And for the record, I’m entirely on Miranda’s side here. This party is INSANE, and very irresponsible, given the fact that Daniel currently has no job. And yeah, he’s a very loving father, and a good person, but...it’s too much.

Miranda feels the same, and after 14 years of frustration, she realizes that she no longer loves Daniel. In a genuinely sad scene, she tells him that she wants a divorce. And she goes through with it MUCH to Daniel’s detriment. He has no home, as he’s staying with his brother, Frank (Harvey Fierstein) and his partner Jack (Scott Capurro). He also still has no job, meaning that he has no way to provide for his children. This means that he has no ability to provide, and the judge awards Miranda full custody. Oof.

However, this is a conditional arrangement, as another hearing for joint custody will be held in 3 months, and if Daniel can get a home and job in that time, he has a chance. He performs a litany of voices and impressions with his court liason, Mrs. Sellner (Anne Haney), which amuses me, but not her, and he gets a job in order to be with his kids for more than one day a week.

Meanwhile, Miranda IMMEDIATELY starts dating fellow designer and old flame Stuart Dunmeyer (Pierce Brosnan), like, almost before Daniel leaves the house. He bids a heartfelt goodbye to his kids, with the promise that he’ll see them on Saturdays. And now begins the absolute hatred and petty bitchiness of Daniel and Miranda! Seriously, it’s...it’s fucking terrible, and it takes away from my sympathy from either side. I get that divorce is rough and ugly, but GODDAMN, neither of them perform the act with any form of tact or grace.

This is put on display during the kids’ visitation to Daniel’s semi-crappy new apartment, which doesn’t even seem that bad, to be honest. Miranda dropped them off late and picked them up early, as if to slowly starve Daniel of time with his kids, which is extraordinarily shitty of her, fuck me. Daniel’s not taking it well, understandably, but then does something...really dumb, when you think about it.

See, Miranda’s looking for a nanny, to help watch the kids and clean the house during the week. Daniel volunteers his services, which is actually a good idea, but Miranda says she’ll think about it, which we ALL know means no. I DO NOT like Miranda, even if I understand the initial reasons for the divorce. She’s being especially spiteful, and it’s not a good look.

Daniel’s stupid idea, though, is to change the phone number on the ad for the nanny, which Miranda shows him before she takes the kids. Instead, he calls her number, and pretends to be various terrible applicants, until finally supplying his own applicant: the completely fictional Euphegenia Doubtfire (Daniel Hillard).

Daniel plays Mrs. Doubtfire as an elderly British woman, and a seasoned nanny in her day. Which is why it’s weird to me that, when he does to Frank and Jack to help him make an elaborate disguise as Mrs. Doubtfire, that they go through various other impressions and get-ups. Which, yes, is goddamn hilarious, but also makes NO SENSE, given that they’ve already established her character to Miranda. Funny, but nonsensical.

But, regardless, Euphegenis Doubtfire comes into being, and introduces herself to Miranda and the kids. Mrs. Doubtfire is exactly what Miranda’s looking for, although the kids aren’t exactly overjoyed, ESPECIALLY the oldest, Lydia. Also, during this first meeting, Miranda openly bad-mouths Daniel in front of the kids, in just the WORST fuckin’ way. I genuinely dislike Miranda A LOT. Again, the divorce was certainly justified, but I REALLY don’t like her. Daniel loves his kids, and they’re HIS kids, TOO. Stop using them as weapons against him, OOOOOOOOOOOH I DON’T LIKE MIRANDA

Anyway, that evening, after she’s officially been hired by Miranda, Mrs. Doubtfire heads home, only to find court liason Mrs. Sellner waiting to speak with Daniel. After a litany of puns, and a humorous changing scene, Daniel accidentally throws the Mrs. Doubtfire mask out of the window, and is forced to improvise through equally humorous circumstances. Hence, the above meringue mask scene. Has anybody tried that, by the way? Could that work as a groundbreaking beauty technique? Or would the sugar just feed the skin bacteria and give you acne? Genuinely curious.

Now going between his job as Daniel and the nanny job as Doubtfire, Daniel’s not doing too badly for himself. The nanny job begins, and Mrs. Doubtfire IMMEDIATELY contrasts with Daniel, creating a disciplinarian atmosphere in place of Daniel’s formerly loosey-goosey attitude. Which is interesting, and it works! I mean, it’s not how I would parent, but it does work. Doubtfire makes the kids to their homework, rather than watch TV, and then attempts to make dinner. Instead, though, the dinner’s ruined, and Daniel orders takeout and makes it LOOK like homemade food. And it looks good, too! Daniel’s full of hidden talents.

After dinner, as Mrs. Doubtfire’s leaving, Lydia apologizes for backtalking her earlier, and thanks her for making her mom happy with everything she did that evening. he also says that she’s still a bit messed up about her dad being gone. And yeah, it’s sweet-but-sad. 

Going forward (and in a montage set to Aerosmith’s Dude Looks Like a Lady), Mrs. Doubtfire takes care of the family, and Daniel even betters himself to become a better Mrs. Doubtfire. Which...to be honest, Daniel REALLY should’ve done this before. I get that he needed the pressure of losing the kids to do this, but...look, Daniel really wasn’t that responsible of a parent, and the fact that THIS is how he learns to be so is...not great. Like, here’s an example, OK: take Donald Trump.

Yeah, I know, what’s this politics doing in my peanut butter? And WOW, that reference is older than me, but anyway. Let’s say that, in two years, a new politician comes on the scene, and her name is Karyn Walldottir. She has somewhat centrist views, and behaves in a way that’s inclusive to the majority, and backs up her claims and promises with evidence (at least true enough for us to suspend our disbelief). This is, of course, Donald Trump disguised as a woman in order to gain custody of the United States of America again. Naturally.

Karyn Walldottir gets elected in 2024, and all of her policies are markedly different from Trump’s and Biden’s, but leaning closer to Biden in progressive standpoints (assuming that that worked for him come 2024). While Trump is doing this specifically to be president again, he ends up revising his personal policies, and being a better person and president for the country. A literal impossibility, I know. But suspend your disbelief to ask this question:

WHY THE FUCK WOULDN’T HE DO THAT IN THE FIRST PLACE? IT MAKES NO FUCKING SENSE!

OK, now that that dumbass (and mildly horrifying) thought process is concluded, let’s get back to Mrs. Doubtfire. In the process of Mrs. Doubtfire’s ingratiation with the family, Miranda’s been dating Stu, whom Mrs. Doubtfire subtly insults when they meet. And yeah, Daniel’s being a little petty here, but it makes a bit of sense at least.

That night, after an accidental intrusion by Chris when Mrs. Doubtfire is going to the bathroom, Daniel’s basically forced to tell Chris and Lydia his little secret, which Lydia’s happy about, but Chris is understandably weirded out about. But, they agree to keep the secret from their mom and younger sister.

At his OTHER job, delivering film reels from a TV station, he witnesses the filming of an extremely boring kids educational TV show, and comments as such to another man watching. As he quickly learns, this is the owner of the station, Jonathan Lundy (Robert Prosky), on whom Daniel makes a good impression.

In the meantime, Mrs. Doubtfire has a talk with Miranda about their love lives, real and fictional. Daniel realizes how badly Miranda had been suffering in their marriage, which she never told him because...well, he never seemed to take anything seriously. Which is entirely fair...but this is why Miranda’s a tricky-ass character. She’s got two sides: there’s the justified caring mother and strong woman, and there’s the PETTY ASSHOLE who genuinely doesn’t care about Daniel or his feelings AT ALL. Jesus.

And Stu...look, Stu is LITERALLY a Gary Stu, who’s mostly perfect. Sure, he’s not always been that way, but he definitely is now! He’s responsible, wealthy, in love with Miranda AND her kids. And yeah, at a country club that he’s a member of (OF COURSE he is), he privately badmouth Daniel in front of Mrs. Doubtfire, calling him a loser, and...yeah, he’s not really unjustified in that statement. Fact of the matter is, Stu is barely even a plot device.

Meanwhile, in Daniel’s day job, he finds himself alone in the studio, where the toy dinosaurs from the TV show are still sitting on the table. He plays with them, gives them voices, sings some songs, and impresses Mr. Lundy, who’s there in the shadows after all that. He’s impressed, and invites Daniel to dinner to talk about a potential future show at the network.

But then, it’s also Miranda’s birthday coming up, and Stu’s holding a dinner for her, to which Mrs. Doubtfire is invited. Trouble is, it’s at the OH FUCK IT. YOU know what this is. It’s at the same time and place as the Mr. Lund meeting yaddayaddayadda LOOK. We ALL know how this is going to end. It’s the GODDAMN LIAR REVEALED TROPE AGAIN. And here’s the thing:

I FUGGIN’ HAAAAAATE THE LIAR REVEALED TROPE

You know, that thing in movies (especially family movies of the ‘90s) where somebody starts off a situation with a lie, they get deeper and deeper into that lie, grow close to people under false pretenses, and then OH NO! THE LIAR IS REVEALED! And everybody’s angry and/or sad, the liar slumps off, defeated and broken, but then realizes the error of his ways, while everybody else realizes the same thing, and he comes back to vindicate himself, and is welcomed back with open arms. And it introduces unneeded tension AND I HAVE ALWAYS FUCKING HATED IT.

Let’s list the examples, shall we? A Bug’s Life, Aladdin, Mulan, The Road to El Dorado, Chicken Run, How to Train Your Dragon, Klaus, Madagascar 3: Europe’s Most Wanted, Megamind (SUBVERSIVE MY ASS), Over the Hedge, Rango, Toy Story, Steven Universe (the whole Pearl/Sardonyx arc, which went on for WAY too long), the list goes on and fucking on. And I GODDAMN HATE IT. Not to say it can’t be done well. Disney actually usually does a pretty good job with it, and Dreamworks uses it A LOT, but almost always pretty well. But sometimes...GOD. Either way, it’s still used FAR too fucking much. And look. Here’s another one. Joy.

Look, at this point...I will freely admit that I'm biased against this trope, but it’s also obvious where this is headed. Basically, Daniel switches back and forth between the dinner with the family, and the dinner with Mr. Lundy. With Mr. Lundy, he gets absolutely SMASHED. Great. Great decision, Daniel.

So, yeah, Mrs. Doubtfire’s also smashed, which is pretty goddamn apparent to them all. At this point, I’m wondering why Daniel, as Mrs. Doubtfire, didn’t just say she was sick as hell, and had to go home. Or, considering the fact that Daniel proposes her as a show idea regardless, the switch wasn’t even necessary! And that means that none of what’s about to happen, happens. Or, here’s a crazy thought, maybe Daniel shouldn’t have POISONED STU’S FOOD WITH CAYENNE PEPPER THAT HE’S ALLERGIC TO! 

YEAH! Because that causes Stu to go into anaphylactic shock for a hot sec, causing him to choke. Mrs. Doubtfire does the right thing and gives him the Heimlich maneuver, and in the process, SURPRISE! IT’S BEEN DANIEL ALL ALONG! BUH BUH BUHHHHH DA DA DA DAAAAA DA

Yeah, so Miranda is understandably ENRAGED by this revelation, and it’s all over. Daniel represents himself in court at the custody hearing, but the judge deems his “lifestyle” dangerous for children. Which...yikes, Judge, that statement didn’t age well AT FUCKING ALL. But, given Daniel’s admitted stupidity with this whole idea, he’s not wrong about the dangerous part. But, I have to say, Daniel’s speech in his own defense is nice...although he also says he’s addicted to his children, so let’s throw a second yikes on there for good measure.

The speech moves Miranda...but not enough to prevent Daniel has his custody stripped away from him! GOD THEY BOTH SUUUUUUUUCK. Daniel’s a broken man, and Miranda and the kids are similarly broken without him and Mrs. Doubtfire. However...Daniel’s career isn’t broken AT ALL, as Mrs. Doubtfire is now a kid’s show host! Yeah! And she’s a hit! And again, it brings me to wonder why Daniel DIDN’T APPLY HIS OBVIOUS TALENTS LIKE THIS IN THE FIRST GODDAMN PLACE

Realizing that she made a mistake, she goes to the set during the filming of a show. She congratulates him on the show, and he replies by stating how broken he is now! Thanks, Miranda! Well, after an argument, and after Miranda sees how badly she’s messed up someone she used to care for, they come to an agreement: joint custody. FINALLY GODDAMN IT

And good, because I don’t want them back together. I have to give this film props for that: they acknowledge that these two are NOT good for each other, and they deliver a message in the end: families are families, no matter how they’re shaped. One mom, one dad, uncle or aunt, grandparents, adoption, two separated or divorced parents...oh, also, two dads or two moms. Yeah, that isn’t said in Mrs. Doubtfire’s final monologue, which is odd considering Daniel’s brother and his life partner...but it’s also kid’s TV in the ‘90s, so I guess that sadly makes sense. And with that, and their new family arrangement, Daniel takes his kids on an afternoon out, as himself.

...Look. That’s Mrs. Doubtfire, yaddayaddayadda LOOK. I don’t dislike this movie. In fact, here: have this mini-Review:

Cast and Acting - 9/10: Good, although Brosnan was a little stiff.

Plot and Writing - 5/10: It’s an idiot plot, what can I say? It’s actually based off of a book, which was a surprise to me, but it was adapted by Randi Mayem Singer and Leslie Dixon, and...eh. Still an idiot plot.

Directing and Cinematography - 8/10: It’s Chris Columbus, you get what you get. Definitely has that Home Alone flair to it.

Production and Art Design - 8/10: I mean, yeah, the Doubtfire disguise was good most of the time, but...I dunno, I could still tell it was Robin. But, still, it was good. Took 4 hours of makeup, fun fact.

Music and Editing - 8/10: Music by Howard Shore (ooh, Howard Shore!) was pretty nice, especially the ending theme. Editing by Raja Gosnell was...RAJA GOSNELL???

OH GOD. Yeah, OK, I see what happened here. Also, I didn’t know he was an editor! I just know him as the director of the Scooby-Doo films, Beverly Hills Chihuahua, The Smurfs films, Big Momma’s...

...OK, no, I am not doing Big Momma’s House OR the Madea movies. THE TROPE-BUCK STOPS HERE! I am moving on to something else! But, of course, I have to sum this up in a Review. See you there!

[marie12141989]

It’s A Cold And It’s A Broken Hallelujah Finale

Word Count: 5505

A/N: Holy crap this took a while. I left pairings out because I have so many in this and I’m kind of tired since it’s late and my brain just can’t do it anymore tonight. Now that I’m finally done with this I can move on to other stories I want to get working on.

One last hunt, that's all Dean had wanted before the three of you retired. It seemed like a simple enough one too. There were a few vamps that had been attacking and killing people in their home. It was supposed to be easy, instead the four of you had been ambushed. Jack made short work of the vampire that grabbed him and so did you but Sam and Dean were struggling with theirs "Jack go help Sam I'll help Dean." you called out.

"Okay." Jack said before running and jumping on the vampire that was trying to take a bite out of Sam, a second later the sound of a head hitting the ground could be heard and you turned to see Jack standing in front of Sam panting. You turned back to Dean to see the male vampire he was fighting shoving him towards a support beam, when you turned to look you saw a rusty piece of rebar sticking out ready to pierce Dean's back.

"Dean!" you called out before rushing forward. You gave him enough of a distraction to push the vampire away from him and the two of you swung at the vamp at the same time, your swing was low so you cut off one of the vampire's arms while Dean succeeded in cutting his head off. Both you and Dean stared at each other before he pulled you into a hug.

"Thank you. I was sure that I was a goner." he whispered before kissing the top of your head.

"You would of been if I hadn't stepped in." you said pointing to the piece of rusty metal. Dean turned and looked before grimacing, he walked over to the rebar and touched his finger to it. You watched him quickly move his hand away and he turned to look at you while shaking his hand, you just rolled your eyes at him.

"Yeah that would hurt like hell." Dean said as he quickly and carefully walked away from it.

"So you said that you're ready for retirement right?" you asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah I think after all of this that it would be best if we just packed it in. That was way too close." Dean said as Sam and Jack walked over.

"So what about you guys? Are you ready to go home?" you asked.

"Yeah let's go." Sam said. The four of you went out to the impala and while you were getting everything put away when Sam got a text message from Eileen. He looked at the screen in confusion before walking away, you could see him going into his phone and pulling her name up before he walked around the building and out of your sight.

"Where's Sam going?" Jack asked but you just shrugged.

"Don't know. Maybe he has to go to the bathroom. Give him a minute or two." you said wanting Sam to have his privacy. When he still hadn't come back fifteen minutes later Dean became concerned and you watched as he walked to the spot where Sam had disappeared to. After about another five minutes Dean came back around and you could tell that something had happened by the look on his face. "Dean what's going on?" you asked as he got closer, he stopped and put his hands on his hips as if he was trying to think of the best way to tell you.

"Eileen's pregnant." he said before a smile spread across his face. You and Jack gasped before you turned to look at each other with smiles on your faces. Sam slowly walked around the corner and he silently got into the passenger seat before the rest of you did and Dean started up the car while looking at Sam. Everyone was quiet until you got back to town. You were sitting at a stop light still taking in the news of Eileen's pregnancy when Dean looked at you through the rearview mirror.

"So Y/N don't you have good news too? I heard you and Jack excitedly talking about something before we left." he said. You saw a look of confusion cross Sam's face and he turned to look at you, Dean had caught you filling applications out which is what had sparked the idea to get a few and fill them out himself but either Sam was unaware or hadn't heard you and Jack that morning.

"Uh yeah. I got a call from the book store that I had an interview with last week and I got the job. And I also got a call about the apartment that Jack and I were looking at." you said trying to hold back both the tears and the smile that were threatening to appear. It felt like you had known Sam and Dean all your life and you had to stop to remind yourself several times that they weren't your biological brothers so the fact that you were now moving out of one of the places you had called home in your life and leaving them behind even though you weren't moving that far hurt. "Jack and I got the apartment. We've been slowly packing up in between hunts." you told them. Sam quickly turned around and looked at you before looking at Dean.

"Did you know?" he asked him and Dean let out a sigh as he slowly pushed on the accelerator.

"I saw her filling the application out for the job and I drove her and Jack to the apartment. And don't look at me like that. You were there for a few things that I found out about later too. Still wish you had warned me that they were together before I walked in on them in bed when I found out." Dean said, giving Sam a look when he saw the disappointment on his face.

"We're not moving far Sam. The apartment's right there." Jack said as he scratched behind one of Miracle's ears with one hand and pointed out the window with the other. Sam twisted his body so that he could look out the window, he had to admit it did look like a nice apartment and he could see kids around Jack's assumed age walking around.

"I have to get out Sam. There's to many memories in the bunker for me. I can't go anywhere without thinking of Castiel. I'm going crazy. Last night I swore I heard him pacing through the hallway, and then I felt the bed dip down beside me and I thought I felt someone kiss my cheek. I thought it was Jack at first but when I turned around there was no one there but it felt like there was someone on the bed." you said wiping at your tears.

"I get it. Believe me I do. When Jesse died I thought I was going crazy too. Everywhere we went I saw her, I'd see a flash of golden hair and I'd run after the person thinking it's her. I couldn't even smell the perfume she used to wear without thinking about her for almost six months. So believe me I get it." Sam said, giving you a smile.

"Dad was the same way for a while after mom died. I used to wake up in the middle of the night because I'd hear him calling out to her in his sleep. He'd whip his head around so fast I was afraid he was going to break it whenever he'd hear her name. Believe me we both understand." Dean said. What neither of them told you was that they had started to believe that Castiel was back, both of them had sworn that they had heard him call out to them. Dean had chased some poor guy the other day just because he was wearing a tan trench coat and had short black hair. After you had pulled into the bunker the four of you got out of the car, Jack went to take Miracle out for a walk while you went to your room to finish packing and Dean went off to finish his application.

------------------------------------Two-weeks-later-------------------------------------------

"Yeah we're almost finished unpacking everything mom. Jack's been decorating his room almost every day since we got here." you said. You, Sam and Dean had bought Jack a bunch of stuff for him to put in his new room and all he had done since the two of you had moved into your apartment other than hang out with the other kids in the other apartments was work day and night on getting it just right. You had gone in at least three times to find his room completely rearranged because he hadn't been sure where he wanted to put everything but you were sure he had it figured out now.

"Well let me know when you and Jack are done. Your father and I are dying to meet our grandson. Three years and we've never gotten to meet him." your mother said.

"I know but with everything that was going on after he was born I just couldn't find the time." you told her.

"I know. Your father and I still keep in touch with some of our old hunting buddies. They never stop talking about you guys. How are Sam and Dean doing?" she asked.

"Fine. Dean got hired at the local mechanics shop and Sam's moving in with Eileen. They're expecting a baby so they've decided to quit hunting too. I think they're going to go work at a school for the deaf a few towns over." you said.

"Well that's good. At least you've all got something planned. What about their younger brother Adam? I know you said that he doesn't talk to them but has he talked to you at all?" she asked. In fact Adam had been keeping in touch with you, his only condition had been that if his brothers asked you and Jack had no clue where he was at.

"Yeah. I guess Michael pulled some strings for him and helped him get back into med school. He didn't tell me what he's going to specialize in but he told me that he's going to go to become a doctor. I told him that it was too bad that there wasn't a specialty for wounds caused by supernatural creatures because he'd be an expert at it." you said with a smile. Suddenly there was a knock on your door, you pulled the phone away from your ear to look and stared at it in confusion. Dean was at work, Jack was over at a friend's house for supper and Sam and Eileen were at their new place unpacking as well. "Hey mom I have someone at the door I'll let you go for now." you said.

"Are you sure? You don't need me to stay on with you?" she asked.

"Nah it's fine. All my old hunting stuff's here with me and Jack and Michael are only a prayer away if I need them." you told her.

"Okay if you're sure. I love you Y/N." she said.

"Love you too mom." you replied before hanging up. You grabbed the nearest weapon while slowly moving towards your door. You moved so that it was hidden behind your back before you unlocked the door and slowly opened it up. Your jaw dropped open when you realized that you were staring at Castiel, he was looking down the hallway so he didn't see you bring the weapon out in front of you and he only had a split second to react when he heard it moving through the air. He quickly raised his arm and blocked you from hitting him with the piece of metal rod that you had in your hands, he let out a yelp and moved away from you while holding his arm. "How dare you show up looking like him? I've killed your kind before and I'll do it again!" you yelled raising the rod up to hit him again.

"Y/N stop it's me!" he cried out before grabbing the rod and pulling it out of your hands.

"Liar! Castiel is dead!" you said while lunging for him. He dropped the rod and grabbed a hold of your wrists and pinned you to the wall. You struggled to get out of his grip but to no avail. You turned your head away from him refusing to let the creature see you cry.

"Just do it already. I'd rather be dead than to keep seeing him everywhere. You'll just be doing me a kindness." you whispered. Castiel stared at you in shock before he carefully took his right hand off of your wrist and gently moved a stray hair behind your ear before he gently kissed your temple. You let out a sound of confusion at the show of affection which turned to shock when he started to move down lower. When he got to your collarbone you got your second wind and pushed him away. "Hey! Woah! Woah! Woah! I don't know what you think you're doing but I am not interested in getting involved with a shapeshifter." you said with wide eyes. Castiel rolled his eyes and let out a sigh.

"I guess I'll just have to show you. I didn't think that our reunion would go like this. I thought it would be more romantic." he said as he proceeded to show you that he was the real honest to Michael Castiel.

"What? But how?" you asked surprised.

"Michael brought me back. Originally he wanted to turn me into another archangel since he's God now but I just wanted to come back here and be with you. I asked him to turn me mortal instead which is why I think my arm's swelling up now." he said as the pain finally hit him. You ushered him inside and found something for him to put on the lump on his arm while he explained the whole thing to you. You called Adam to check out the story and as soon as he confirmed that yes this was the honest to Michael Castiel you were talking to you thanked him and Michael and hung up before turning to Castiel and pulling him in for a hug and a long kiss. Once you pulled away he stared at you "Is this how you're going to greet people now?" he asked with a smirk.

"Only the ones I mistakenly think are shifters." you said before pulling him back down for another kiss. After another minute he pulled away and noticing the look of hurt that crossed your face he gave you a reassuring kiss on the forehead.

"If we keep it up we're going to have to go to wherever your bedroom is now and I don't want Jack to walk in on us. I think we've scarred him more than enough times in his short life." he explained and you turned to the clock on the wall and saw that it was a little bit past six at night.

"Jack won't be home until 8. We have plenty of time." you said as you pulled him towards your room thankful that you had put your bed together not too long after you moved in.

-----------------------------------------8pm-----------------------------------------------------

Jack used his keys to get into the apartment, he had a container in one hand that his friend's mom had given him to take home that was full of food for you. He had seen your car parked outside so he knew that you were in the building somewhere. He walked into the kitchen to put the food away just in case when he noticed the pack of ice that had been left on the table that was starting to melt. "Mom? Are you home?" he asked as he put the ice back in the freezer and cleaned up the water puddle that was left behind. When you didn't answer he started to wonder through the apartment looking for you "Mom. I'm home. I brought some food back for you. It's in the fridge." he called out.

He was walking down the hallway that leads to your bedrooms and the bathroom when he heard the sound of your bed squeaking. He stopped and stared at your door while getting ready to attack who or what ever was in the room with you, a second later the door slowly opened and both Jack and Cas let out a scream as Jack jumped on him not realizing who it was that was in the room with you at first. You stood in the doorway trying not to laugh as you saw Jack's face turn from confusion to shock before he looked up at you "He's really back." you said looking down at Cas who was staring up at you like it was your fault that Jack had jumped on him. Jack didn't seem to believe you though, he got off of Castiel and sat on the floor and just stared at him. Castiel sat up and sat in front of Jack for a minute before he smiled at him and reached out towards him.

Jack flinched at first until he felt him gently place his hand on his cheek. Jack looked from the hand that was touching him back to Cas for a few minutes before you saw the tears starting to form and he flung himself into his arm "Dad! How? When?" he asked as he clung to him.

"Your uncle Michael brought me back." Cas explained to him.

"So how long are you here for?" Jack asked while rubbing at his eyes.

"As long as I want. He was going to make me an archangel but I asked him to make me mortal instead. You guys aren't the only ones that were ready to retire." Cas said with a smile.

"So you're a human?" Jack asked, surprised.

"Yeah. I forgot about the not so fun parts. I might have to get your Uncle Raphael to check me out because since I came back I constantly have to go to the bathroom." he said with a shrug. "So anyway tell me about the friends you've made here. Something tells me that I'll be meeting them soon." Cas said with a smile. Jack let out a laugh and proceeded to tell him all about the new friends that he had made and then bragged that he had made them without using his powers at all. You could see the pride on Castiel's face as Jack told him about how he had met and made his new friends, you had already explained a lot of what he had missed in the short amount of time that he had been gone but it could wait for another day. You were just happy to have him back for however long he had left as a mortal man now.

----------------------------------8-Months-Later----------------------------------------------

You sat in the waiting room and watched as Dean paced back and forth. You let out a sigh of exasperation and put your book down. "Dean sit down she isn't going to have the baby any faster if you wear a hole in the floor." you said with a sigh while Jack and Cas let out a chuckle.

"Well how long does it take? I mean this shouldn't be taking this long should it?" he asked while staring at you.

"It could take hours Dean. This is Eileen's first time giving birth. So it's going to take a bit longer." you told him for what felt like the fifth time that hour. Dean was about to say something when Jack sat up straight and lightly tapped Cas on the arm to get his attention. He looked at Jack before turning to look to see what he was looking at and then he sat up straight. Both you and Dean turned to see what they were looking at to see Sam walking down the hallway, his face was red and wet with tears and for a split second you feared the worst until you noticed the smile on his face. He opened the door and showed the four of you to follow him back to the room. The four of you crowded into the room and you stared down at the little baby boy in Eileen's arms. He had short brown hair and big blue eyes, he stared up at the four of you in wonder before he turned his head and looked at Eileen who was smiling down at him. One by one you passed him around and Sam took pictures on his phone before he started to fuss.

"Alright Robert I think it's time for you to go to sleep." Castiel said as he handed the baby back to Eileen. She gently took him back into her arms and soothed him to sleep before her eyes started to close. Sam took the baby from her and placed him in the hospital crib before giving him a kiss on his forehead. After talking for a few more minutes you made your leave and you returned to your apartment while Dean set off for his own home. That night while you and Cas were in bed watching tv you turned to him with a smile.

"Alright. So. Who do you think will be the next one to have a baby?" you asked with a smile.

"Does it matter what the sex of both parties are?" he asked.

"No." you said while shaking your head.

"Adam and Michael might adopt a baby next. I mean Michael is God so it'll be easier for them to adopt one. Who do you think will be next in line?" he asked.

"I don't know. Maybe Claire and Kaia will be the next ones. I mean does Michael even like children?" you asked. You noticed that Castiel had stiffened when you mentioned Claire having a child and you looked up at him with a grin. "What? You don't like the idea of Claire having a baby?" you asked.

"Not really and not for the reason you're thinking. It's just that. Well could you imagine Claire as a mother?" he asked with a grin and you gave him a light smack on his chest.

"Hey. You never know. She might be a great mother. And besides, Kaia will be there to keep her straight. So I don't see why you're so worried." you told him with a smile. In the end Michael and Adam had a baby first, they adopted a little nephilliam that was fathered by one of the angels after they had been killed while out on a mission. The mother had obviously died and her family was either unable or unwilling to take the baby in so Michael stepped in and took the baby home. They named her Kate after Adam's mother and both of them doted on her non stop. Of course you didn't help since you tended to spoil her rotten whenever you went to visit the three of them using the excuse that you were her aunt and that it was your right to spoil her. Adam had just rolled his eyes and walked into the kitchen when you said that.

-----------------------------------Ten-years-later---------------------------------------------

You put the last box down in Jack's apartment and turned to him with a smile on your face. You were trying so hard to act like the fact that he had now moved out and into his own place didn't hurt, you thought that you would be used to it since he had been off at college for eight years but you still felt the same pain you had the day he had gone off. "I think that's the last of it." you told him while looking around. Jack was unpacking some of the boxes that were meant for the living room while Cas moved the ones marked from other rooms into the proper place.

"I think it is. Dad said that after we got all of the boxes in that we could get pizza." he said with a smile. You stared at him for a second before you let out a laugh, of course he would promise fast food.

"Alright I'll order us some." you said, you knew the truth. One of Jack's former friends dropped out of college and apparently he had to get a job at the local pizza shop and well neither Jack or Cas could resist the temptation to taunt him every time they saw him. You dialed the number to the pizza shop and ordered three large two topping pizzas and three two liters and then gave them Jack's new address. The owner of the shop just so happened to be an old hunting buddy of yours so he knew exactly who it was that you wanted him to send out. Once he confirmed that your order would be there in about forty-five minutes to an hour and gave you the price you hung up the phone and counted out your money.

"You know if you keep it up the poor guy's going to quit." you told Jack as you looked up at him. Jack just shrugged and about forty minutes later there was a knock on his door. Before Jack had a chance to answer the door you quickly grabbed your money off of the counter and opened the door making sure that you only opened it enough for you to fit through.

"Hey Mrs. Novak. Here's the pizza and the soda." he said as he handed over the boxes and put the sodas down at the entrance of the doorway. "When did you guys move?" he asked as you handed the boxes off to Castiel and bent down and moved the sodas into the apartment.

"Oh we didn't. This is Jack's new place." you said and you saw him go rigid.

"Jack's here?" he asked.

"Yeah but luckily for you he's busy unpacking so you're in the clear." you said as you handed him the money. "Go ahead and keep the change." you said as he pocketed the money and walked away. You quietly shut the door and put the sodas on the counter right beside where Cas had put the pizzas. He and Jack had already opened theirs up and were sitting on the floor eating their slices off of the paper plates that you had bought. You stuck around another three or four hours before you realized that you had to go home to get ready for work the next day and sadly said your goodbyes to Jack who also had to get ready for his new job.

-------------------------------Forty-years-later-----------------------------------------------

You laid on your hospital bed listening to the soft beeps that came from your machines. You had never thought that this would be the way you went, you had always thought that you would die on a hunt somewhere with the guys by your side either dead themselves or comforting you in your final moments. Instead you were hooked up to several machines for the umpteenth time in your life waiting for a reaper to show up, you slowly opened your eyes and turned your head to look at your loved ones who had gathered to sit with you. Kaia and Claire sat beside you with their son James, it always surprised you how much he looked like his grandfather even more so that Claire had been the one to be willing to go through with the pregnancy. Beside them sat Patience and her husband along with their daughter Missouri, next was them was Alexis who was by herself since her husband couldn't make it along with her twin daughters Jody and Donna. Robert and Kate were out in the hallway talking while Sam, Cas and Gertie had gone out to get food for everyone.

"Sorry we're late. Traffic was a killer." came Jack's voice. You looked over to see Jack and his daughter Kelly standing in the doorway.

"Where's Emily?" you asked gently.

"Joseph wasn't feeling well so she stayed behind." Jack explained while he took the chair closest to you. Kelly sat beside him and gently took your hand.

"How are you feeling grandma?" Kelly asked and you just smiled at her.

"I'm feeling as well as I'm going to be dear." you told her. You saw her glancing off to the side and you turned your head to look to see what it was she was staring at. Even though she was more human than angel she was still able to see certain things and all of you had quickly learned to turn your attention to whatever it was she was looking at. "What are you looking at sweetheart?" you asked her but she shook her head. You knew she was looking out for any reapers that would come for your soul as a way to prepare herself.

"Nothing grandma." she said before looking away from the spot. You gripped her hand as tightly as you could while letting out a sigh. Nothing happened for several hours until you noticed that it was getting harder to breathe and you felt a heaviness on your chest. You laid there in confusion until you felt a hand gently touch your shoulder and you looked over to see a young woman standing beside you.

"Who are you?" you asked confused.

"I think you know." she said in a whisper. Before you could ask her anything else the machines around you started to go off and you realized that the tiredness and weariness you had been feeling for years was gone. You sat up and realized that every ache and pain you had felt through the years was gone and your skin was smooth once again, you stared at your hands and arms in amazement before you turned and looked to see your body behind you. You flinched away in fright before the reaper gently placed her hands on either side of you.

"It's alright. Everyone freaks out when they find out. Come. You have so many people that are waiting for you." she said before holding her hand out. You looked down at it before taking it and letting her assist you out of the bed. You gave one final look at your earthly remains before you followed her to your fate.

---------------------------------------In-Heaven-----------------------------------------------

You stared at the wide open space in front of you, according to the reaper Michael had torn the walls down with assistance from his brothers and Jack years ago. Now everyone could go into each other's Heavens and you could see people you might not have been able to see if you weren't soulmates. You walked down the driveway of what was apparently your new house, it looked like you had always dreamed it would look. You were still unsure until you noticed four figures sitting on your porch. You stopped and stared at them not wanting to believe that they were there. Eileen was the first one to see you, she let out a shout of excitement and she ran down the porch to embrace you.

You heard Sam and Dean gently put their drinks down and they got off of the porch to embrace you as well, they stared at you for a few seconds before they all backed away and the one person you had been waiting five years to see again walked up. He looked so much younger than you remembered and then you realized that it was because he had gone back to how he looked when he first took over Jimmy Novak. You ran up the steps and onto the porch and let out a sigh of relief when you felt his arms wrap around you again. "I missed you so much." Castiel whispered in your ear. You pulled away enough to look up into his face, you let out a gasp of surprise when you saw how bright his blue eyes were once again. You couldn't remember the last time they had looked as lively as they did at that moment, his lips were on yours before you even realized it but you quickly recovered and kissed him back while Sam, Dean and Eileen stood off to the side.

Eventually the two of you moved so that you were an arm's length away and Cas turned you back towards the end of the driveway "Come on. Let's go see everyone else. They've all been waiting so long for you to arrive." he said and you realized that on your way up the driveway you had completely walked past the impala. Dean was already making his way down towards and Sam and Eileen were happily walking down the driveway a few feet behind him. You walked beside Cas who never took his arm from around you while the two of you walked to the impala like you had done thousands of times before and would do a thousand more times now.

[mhdiaries]

Freaky Fusion Hybrids Sirena Von Boo Diary

6.4

I filled out my Monster High application today (*gulp*). I’m trying not to get my hopes up – I mean, why would they accept me? What makes me so special? My only hope is that my unusual scaritage will help me stand out (it usually does – just not in a good way!). What other monster do you know who can say her parents met at the bottom of the ocean? You see, my mom was a huge bass-ketball (it’s kind like underwater casketball) star back in the day. She could dive deeper and faster than anyone else, which is really important when you need to retrieve the ball. One day during practice, she dived down farther than she’d ever been before, and she found this amazing old shipwreck… and who should be frightseeing around that wreck than the most drop-dead gorgeous ghost she’d ever seen. To hear my mom tell it, the ship wasn’t the only thing that was wrecked – so was her heart (*gag*). That drop-dead gorgeous ghost (otherwise known as Dad) couldn’t believe he finally found someone who matched his spirit. Who cared that she was a mermaid and couldn’t swim through things? He fell so hard in love that he never went back to the ghost world again. Fast forward about 20 years, and here we are today.

I got my love of anshrieking – you know, finding ordinary items from the past that have survived long enough to they’re now special, from my Dad. We can spend hours in them, mulling over faboolous finds and imagining their history. Next to the ocean, anshriek stores are my favorite place to drift off in. Even though Dad can get on my nerves sometimes (he has a tendency to hover), he’s usually pretty great company.

As for mom… sometimes I’m not so sure I belong to her! We get along fine and all, but if it wasn’t for our matching tails, I might wonder. My mom still operates at tur-boo speed, whether she’s planning cruises (her job) or shopping with sand dollars (her hobby). Me, on the other hand… well, I just like to coast along and take things as they come and lose myself in my imagination. Mom and I spend a lot of time swimming together, though, and she thinks I’m fast enough to swim competitively if I wanted to. Maybe, if I’m ever at the same high school long enough, I’ll try out for the team.

6.12

Head in the clouds, tail in the water: that’s pretty much how I feel most days. Half in, half out. Today I had to stop at the ghostery store for my dad, and this little vampire was all like, “Mommy, is that a ghoul, a ghost or a mermaid?!” (*cringe*) Poor little chomper looked totally confused.

Sometimes I think if I was just one thing I wouldn’t feel so divided all the time. But which would I choose??? I daydream about that a lot (mainly because I’d love to rock a pair of boo-jeans, and that’s really hard to do with a tail). But honestly, what would I do if I could only be on the land OR in the sea? It would be so boring to be chained to just one of them – like watching barnacles grow boring.

The only people who really get how I feel are by best friends Avea, Neighthan and Bonita. You would think we’d have nothing common, all being such different types of hybrid monsters, but they get what it’s like to be two things at once. I’m so glad they applied to Monster High, too. We made a pact that if one of us doesn’t get in, NONE of us are going. Fins crossed we all get the same news, one way or another.

6.29

One of the freaky coolest things about the summer is treasure hunting in the sea. I pretty much treasure hunt year-round, but the water is so much warmer in the summer, and I’ll take any oppor-tuna-ty I can to lurk around collecting. One of my favorite treasures to collect is pearls (diamonds are SO out with the tide, you know). I like to turn them into charms or weave them around my chains for extra-special occasions. I also string them up around my room so I can lay on my waterbed and listen to them softly chiming in the breeze (and when your dad is a ghost, there is ALWAYS a breeze). One of the great side effects of treasure hunting is I get totally lost in my thoughts down there – watching the sun sparkle through the water, wrapping myself up in the warm silence… just me, the water, and some otherworldly sea creatures. Today I woke up really worried that I hadn’t heard back from Monster High yet. I think I know what this means (and I’m not surprised), but all my worries were gone once I was a few fathoms below water. I saw this adorable family of sea horses, and I started thinking about how cool it would be to have a seahorse of my own… or maybe a whole litter of them, so they could pull me out to the sandbar… is “litter” the right word for a group of seahorses? Why are they called seahorses, anyway? They don’t neigh… hey, do sea horses make any sound at all?! (*head spinning*)

7.2

I was checking my email today at the Coffin Bean, and I suddenly realized I was the only monster there without a pet! My dad tends to creep out most animals, and my mom can’t stand the smell of wet fur, so they just refuse to let me have a pet. Sometimes my parents are so shellfish – don’t they understand how much this means to me?! The first thing I’m going to do when I graduate from high school is get a pet (well, after I find my own place, since I’d be in deep water if I brought one home!).

I spend a lot of time daydreaming about what kind of pet I’m going to get. One day I’m convinced an electric eel is the pet for me (we’d certainly light up the night together!)… and the next day all I can think about is getting a starfish (how cute would a periwinkle starfish look in my hair?! *squeee*) in fact, deciding which one to get might be the most stressful part about having a pet. I guess the only answer will be to get more than one!

7.10

I was on my way to meet Avea, Bonita and Neightan for a move (in sea-D!) this afternoon, when I decided to stop off at the catacombs to cool off from the blazing sun. the catacombs are the perfect summer hideaway. I can let myself – and my thoughts – wander without much chance of interruption. Today, however, I had a surprise. I ran through a ghost named Spectra! AND Spectra had a pet – a ferret named Rhuen! Spectra is a student at Monster High, and she writes a column for the school paper. She’s also a ghost, which automatically gave us something in common. I’m not entirely sure we’d be ghostly good friends – she asked a TON of questions – but it was scary cool to say I now know somebody who actually goes to Monster High (not that I’m getting in or anything). We talked about meeting up again, when all of a sudden, I noticed my shell phone flashing. I totally missed calls from Avea and Bonita – and, as it turns out, I missed the movie as well! It all ended up working out, though. I found everyone at the die-ner after the movie, and I had a gill-licious ice scream shake and fries. That’s what I love about my friends. They don’t take my drifting off personally.

8.1

Did this really just happen, or is this another one of my daydreams?! It started out like any other day… I was in the kitchen warming up a bowl of float-meal when my dad rattled over with mom and asked f we’d gotten anything interesting in the mail. Right away I knew something was up – I mean, you can see right through him. Dad handed me a letter, and before I even had a chance to read the first line, shrieked “Honey, you’ve been accepted to Monster High!” I rolled my eyes like, “Whatever”, but then I flew back to my bedroom and re-read the letter about fifty times. It was true… I would be starting Monster High in less than a month! I’ve been drifting around from school to school for so long. Maybe, this is just one more place to unfit in, but at the same time… maybe, it’s a chance to really make a splash.

I guess the worst thing that can happen is that Monster High will be like every other school I’ve tried… I’ll go there, hate it, then drift off to another school next year. And I guess the best thing that can happen is that I’ll love it. Avea, Bonita and Neighthan all got in, so I’ll get to see them every day. Maybe I’ll make some more clawsome friends, learn some deadly cool new things, and even try out for the swim team. Then again… I don’t want to make a specter out of myself on the first day. As my dad is fond of saying, what ghost up must come down. Maybe the reverse is true. If I keep my expectations down, then they can only go up from there!

Just take a deep breath and dip your toe in, Von Boo. You can do it!

[that-house]

Hey so I hit 100 followers today!

Buckle up, this is gonna be a LOOOONG post.

I quite honestly expected it (while my ego is a little smaller than my jokes make it out to be it is definitely present), I didn’t expect it to happen so fast.

It’s not an insane milestone, plenty of people have 100 followers. A hefty portion of my followers are bigger than me. But it’s still important to me. Knowing that there’s 100 people out there who enjoy my shit makes me happy.

First and foremost the credit quite honestly has to go to ahegao George Washington. No, I’m not joking. Until I posted on r/tumblr about my desire to draw that, I had 0 followers. I jumped to like 10 overnight, which was awesome. And then those new followers helped me spread my posts and get more attention.

Secondly I’d like to shoutout @imaverysadgirl and @themeaninglessjumble. You two were my first real tumblr frens. You were the first of my followers to really interact with me. Ember, I’m super happy you’re alive to see me hit 100 followers. Jumble (I don’t know your name unless I forgot it), your art and creations are great and you deserve way more attention.

To all the rest of you, you guys are great, too. Every new follower makes me happy. I’d say I don’t deserve you all, but my colossal ego says I do. Regardless, being nemesi and getting called out for being horny on main and sending and receiving asks has made this last month or so great.

Finally, for all the shit it gets, and for all the shit it pulls, [tumblr] really is pretty dope. I got to meet you all, and it’s actively making me a better person by exposing me to groups of people I’d rarely interact with in real life.

Why does it feel like I’m saying goodbye? I’m not, don’t worry. I plan to stay, and neither death nor pain shall drive me from this hellsite. I’m just saying thanks.

Now with the thanks out of the way, I want to talk about myself a little. Just the stuff that I’ve always wanted to say and never quite gathered my thoughts and found the time to talk about.

You’re gonna get to know me so well! This is like a mini autobiography!

First off, my mental health. This is something I don’t talk about much on this blog, mostly because it doesn’t need much talking about. I’m doing pretty well, to be honest. I have a smattering of anxiety and I’m maybe a little too introverted for my own good, but I’m not suffering from depression and the only time I ever even remotely considered suicide was when I just really really didn’t want to go to French class. COVID has been great for me, since I don’t have to see people. I suppose I’m not a great person to talk to if you’re struggling with depression or suicidal thoughts, seeing as I can’t personally relate, but I’m still always here for you guys if you need me. Just because I haven’t lived through your experiences doesn’t mean I can’t try to help.

Next up I want to talk about my sexuality. This one’s a bit of a mystery. For the past 16 years of my life I’ve considered myself 100% straight. But lately (let’s be honest, following the release of Spirit Blossom Thresh) I’ve been wondering if I might be bi. How many times can I joke about wanting to smash sexy boys before it’s not really a joke anymore? And if I am, a lot of things would suddenly make a lot of sense. But every time I think I have it figured out it suddenly feels like I have no clue what’s going on. Regardless, my sexuality has honestly never been a massive part of my identity (though I’m definitely not asexual, my friends can attest I’m far too horny for that). I have no clue if I’m bi and for now it’s kind of a fun little adventure!

I guess I’ll talk about school and stuff now. Believe it or not, I’m kinda smart. I’m taking a shitton of AP courses this year. But I simultaneously feel like it’s too much and not enough. I’m smart, but I’m not a great student. Compared to my dad, who graduated college with a 3.98 GPA (and his only B being in History of Canada as an American) and now has a super well-paying government STEM job that he loves, I feel like even if I work my ass off I’ll never quite measure up. And my parents have had super high expectations of me, and it’s only recently that they’ve started to accept that I might get some B’s here and there. I’m worried about all the homework this year. I’m a year ahead in Math but I don’t feel good enough at math to be taking AP calculus junior year. I’m worried I’m going to get like a C. But for the most part school is alright, too. That’s sort of the trend in my life. Everything’s alright.

Time to talk about my love life! I have no love life! I’ve been single for 17 years and probably stand no chance of changing that until at least college! Haha I’m so alone! But I can live with it. Growing up an only child with a few friends means that I’m pretty good at functioning without a ton of social interaction, and, while I’d like a partner someday, I’m not desperate. I can wait until I find someone. Pretty much my goal is not to die alone.

Onto sports maybe? I played soccer for most of my life, and was always the worst player on the select team. I was too good for the normal team and not good enough for the select team (kinda like math). Soccer was really toxic, especially when you’re the worst player on a team of high school jock drug addict boys. So I quit, and started playing frisbee! It’s a lot better. The people are nicer! But my first season never happened because of COVID and now I’m in my Junior year and haven’t played much frisbee! So I kinda suck! But I’m physically fit and that’s good enough for me! On my own time I bike and run to stay in shape.

Are you still with me? Now I’m gonna talk about my hobbies and things!

I’ve been playing video games for a long time. I kinda suck at them to be totally honest. I probably have below-average reaction time, and my parents only let me play 15 minutes a day for most of my childhood, so I have a lot less practice than most of my friends. I’m pretty slick with Swain in LoL tho.

This next part is borderline shameless self-promotion, but since the Kickstarter isn’t live yet I guess it doesn’t count. I’m making a tabletop role playing game! I’ve been working on it for the past few years. My goal is to launch the Kickstarter prior to my college applications, because that’ll look sexy as fuck to potential colleges. It’s a post-apocalyptic sci-fi game where you play as supersoldiers trying to reconquer the wastelands of Earth for humanity. I’ll do a big post on it when I launch the Kickstarter, and I guess that’ll also be a full name reveal (kinda spooky since my full name is ENTIRELY unique and one-of-a-kind. More ego boost lmao).

And finally I want to talk about my art and writing. I’ll start with my drawing, and finish off with my writing, since that’s what I’d most like to be known for on here (but that’ll never happen because my caveman brain shitposts are too funny).

So I’ve been doodling for a long time. I briefly got formal art training but sacrificing my Saturday mornings to draw what someone else wanted me to make so that I could make better stuff in the future didn’t appeal to my 8-year-old brain. I draw in the margins of worksheets. I draw on random sheets of paper. Recently my parents bought me a drawing tablet, and I’ve been trying to improve at digital art. I’d say I’m getting better, but I don’t practice nearly enough. All in all my art serves its purpose. It makes people laugh and can sometimes creep people out. It’ll never go in a museum, and I’ll never make money off of it but whatever.

And finally, my writing.

How can I talk about writing without talking about reading? I’ve likely read more books than both my parents combined, and if not, it’s close (and my mom is a prolific reader too). I have three bookshelves in my room and books on every surface. You can’t follow me for long without seeing a post ranting about my latest read. I love to read and I read incredibly fast. Reading spurred my love of English class, which in turn helped me write.

And finally, we get to writing in and of itself. I’ve been writing stories since I was a little kid. I’d like to think I’ve improved a fair bit. I’m still no novelist, but I consider myself a fairly adept short story writer.

But I suppose where my writing really stems from is my bed. Every night while I’m lying in bed, I tell myself stories until I fall asleep. I work on a story until it’s done or until I get bored of it. Along the way, in the shower, on my bike, I build the world of the story, crafting the plot. Sometimes the stories are elaborate fanfictions of my latest reads. That’s probably how they started. Often, they’re unique worlds all of their own. My current writing posts are about the City of Mammon, but my current story in my head is about some vampires who hunt other vampires in Victorian England.

And now we get into the process of writing. It’s fun! I sit myself down with an idea in my head, and use all the fancy words I picked up from my books to convey the vibes I want. I honestly wouldn’t be a great writing teacher. It’s just a skill that comes naturally to me as a result of what I’ve been doing with my free time my whole life. And it’s beautiful. And every time someone compliments my writing or reblogs it, I love writing just a little bit more.

Well I guess this is it. The 100 follower special. I wonder how many of you guys will take the time out of your day to read this. Hopefully a lot!

James (or That House) signing off for the night!

<3 thanks guys

[bitch-i-migth-be]

Crash Course | Chapter 03: Ready?

Fandoms: Danny Phantom, Batman,  

Relationships: Danny Fenton & Jazz Fenton,

Characters: Danny Fenton, Jazz Fenton, 

Words: 2′246

Tags: BAMF Danny, BAMF Jazz, Sibling bonding, Shenanigans, Swearing

Summary: He swore his sister was trying to make him go into cardiac arrest - considering his halfa status that was quite the accomplishment-

But there was no other explanation to his sister’s stubbornness, and if he knew her at all there was just no talking her down from interning at goddam Arkham.

A/N: I appreciate the comments, guys. :33  Let me know what u think.

CHAPTERS: 1, 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 , 7

Danny might not be the smartest person out there but he sure was crafty as fuck.

He had needed to be even before the ghost entered the picture. Then, after the portal was up and running the habit of thinking on his feet and the fine art of rolling with the punches had been added to his skill set.

So, Danny knew from experience that no matter how good you could get at improvisation, it was always better to prepare beforehand if you had the opportunity. Because if you let something to chance, it would probably come back later to fuck you over. Or some annoying ghost would get in the way out of goddamn nowhere. He could deal with them, but it was just a waste of everyone’s time. Better get going before someone interrupted him.

Normally one small thing or another would backfire anyway because of his salted luck, but he preferred not to poke sleeping dragons when he could.  

Taking into account all of that, he had decided the first order of business in the Fenton Crash Curse for Suicide Missions: Start packing all the shit they would need to take with them.

Because It’s never too early to pack for the road to hell.

Especially if you are already in a hell all of your own.

-.-.-.-

“What do you mean you are coming with me?” Jazz murmured from the threshold of Danny’s room, eyes wide open, as she watched her little brother try to pack all types of random things into suitcases.

Since she had announced at the Fenton Family Dinner her plans of going to Gotham University and accepting an internship at Arkham, Danny had been behaving like he was possessed, which considering the portal in their basement was not that far fetched; he had started carrying around a book-like-journal and would not stop murmuring about survival-of-the-fittest. Jazz was not going to lie, she appreciated the concern but that part was a little bit concerning. Not the survival in general, they had been playing that game since forever in this house, but they had never really needed to write anything down.

Until now, apparently.

It was kind of weird witnessing all this. Weird as in she wasn’t used to him fusing so much over her. A normal amount, yes. But most of the time it was the other way around, she was the big sister after all. Also,  with the ghosts around and him going all hero on their behinds her brother was in dire need of all the support she could dispatch. So, yes, she wasn’t expecting this reaction at all, and she was even less prepared for her brother declaring his intentions of joining her in Gotham.

She hadn’t asked how he was planning on dealing with the ghost problem yet, but considering he was already packing when she, they now, weren’t leaving until the end of the summer Jazz thought her brother must have had something in mind already.

She didn’t even know how they could need some of the things he was putting in there but it appeared like Danny was on a roll and she wasn’t going to be the one stopping such, umh, productivity.

“I said what I said”

Jazz frowned lightly.

“Are mom and dad aware-?”

“I told them I was going to be your assistant with the research; mostly the field part because I don’t think they trust me with the equipment after what happened the last time,” Danny answered while still hunting down for more essential items to put in bags, those things were handy as fuck. “also, get a job or something”

“A job?” jazz raised an eyebrow and leaned against the doorframe.

“It’s on the list,” Danny waved his journal/diary/thing in the air. Huh, so they were survival tips. “considering you are the only one with a scholarship and I´m not going to school anyway it seemed appropriate.”

“excuse me? you are not going to what?”

“May as well-” Seeing his sister’s expression he quickly backtracked, “but I mean, if you are really that opposed there is always online classes”

Danny tried to smile in her sister’s direction, but his nervousness made it come out more like a grimace. He kept trying. Jazz kept staring at him. Danny kept grimacing back.

Then she smiled back. A proper, full toothed smile. Oh fuuck

“I think I can do you one better” And with that, she turned on her heel and left.

Danny blinked two times. one after the other.  

“D-Do me one bet-? Jazz, wait!”

But it was already too late, his sister had another ball to start rolling.

-.-.-.-

Her brother was not stupid.

If her brother choice to appease her by taking online classes had been born merely of a strategic need, and hence the best course of action to take, Jazz wouldn’t have rebuked at all, there were, after all, some pretty good online options that her brother could take. But alas, that was not the real motive of his decision.  

It pained her and enraged her to see people belittle her little brother without even knowing him. See them think they had any right to decide whether he was worth something.

And it nagged at her than even knowing the basics of what was wrong with her brother’s low grades, she couldn’t help him more than she currently did. Not really. Unless she wanted him to end up in the hands of the G.I.W.

Fat chance of that.

But if there was a thing a Fenton was not it was a settler. And like hell she was going to let these people bring her brother down.

The first order of business would be to scout out the G.S.U. properly, some phone calls could prove useful, after all those who search shall find. 

-.-.-.-

When Jazz had retreated to her quarters earlier Dany had been left on his own with an uneasy feeling nagging at his gut. It felt a bit like foreboding.  

Like most things in life that inconvenienced him when it came to family issues he decided to ignore it until it came back to bite him, so he continued with his preparations and eventually took a seat among all the clutter that had become his room. After that, he didn’t have to wait long.

His sister had come back strolling decisively into the room, only pausing briefly to warily give the evil eye to the sheer number of things spread all over the room that appeared to have multiplied since she left the place.

She stopped right in front of her brother’s seated form and trusted her phone into the smallest Fenton’s unsuspecting hands.

“Look! There is still time to apply to a full-ride scholarship at Gotham Academy” Danny blinked up at her without a word, and at his sister’s insistence looked down at the phone to start reading, then he did a double-take and started re-reading.

Jazz had got to be kidding him.

“You want me to apply to some posh elite school?” He looked up incredulously at the redhead “Elite, Jazz? Me? With my grades and the amount of time I would get to study for an entrance exam I would be failing this just by applying.” grumbled the boy.

“That’s the best part.” Said the girl smiling like the Cheshire cat. “This particular exam is practical in engineering”

Danny froze. His eyes shot back to the phone.

“Practical you say?”

“Yes, lately there have been more scholarships granted for demonstrating a great gasp in the practical portions. Gotham is a little, umh, hard to handle, I suppose, and there have been situations in which people with the knowledge to accomplish great things have been turned down because of a lack of proper school background or support. So they decided to start implementing this.” She explained while her little brother continued scanning the document up and down.

Eventually, Danny shook himself back together.

“Ok, look, let’s say I had a shot at this.”

“Which you do-”

“Which I might.” The younger interrupted her, “This still requires to prepare at least three proposals for the faculty’s designated table of judges to evaluate and grade to get the green card, and this is like two weeks -two weeks!- from now, it doesn’t even specify what they are gonna have the applicants doing for the final test. How the fuck am I-?!”

The redhead decided to cut in before he could drive himself into a frenzy.

“Well if you are that sure about joining me then you won’t have a problem acing this, will you?” she smirked, then it softened into something more fond. “I know you can do this Danny, and so do you. And if you are that worried about the time, I can help you, we can start tag teaming together for ways to deal with the ghost from the get-go. It may not be permanent, but it will have to do.”

Her brother started biting his own lower lip and still looked somewhat unsure, so she decided to use the final big gun.

“Did I mention that Gotham Academy is right across the road from Arkham?”

Danny’s shoulder slumped.

“Ughh, fine!”

Jazz beamed down at him.

“I will leave you to it then!”

-.-.-.-

“Also, those things are not going to fit anywhere if you don’t organize them”

“Oh, ye of little faith.”

-.-.-.-

So. Jazz did have a good reason to believe her brother could get the G.A. scholarship.

The Fenton thermos technology was not only useful for capturing ghosts but could also store other things. That’s to say, more tangible things.

And her brother was the one who made it happen.

Danny has been tinkering with his parent’s things a lot more than some people would be comfortable with. The truth is, some of the things Jack and Maddie have invented could be fucking useful for everyday life if you took out most of the ghost shit or rearranged them a bit, it could have gained them a pretty penny, but like we all know the Fentons are not interested in anything if it’s not ectoplasmic.

Danny, on the other hand?

As much as he ends up believing all the bullshit others say about his sister being the only genius child of the family, he had never been afraid of dismantling and mounting up again some of his parents’ equipment. For him, it was not a question of whether or not he was qualified to do so, after growing up watching his parents tinker random machines all over the house he had inevitably started to pick up their ways almost as if via osmosis.

His parents, of course, had never fully noticed the fluffy-sweater clad toddler waddling after them from time to time watching them work, at first this happened when Jazz was otherwise occupied in extracurricular activities and couldn’t keep the boy successfully distracted somewhere else.

If at the time, Jazz had realized what was going on, she may have panicked and stopped her sweetly feral summer child of a brother from getting anywhere near their parents in the middle of a craze. As it was, she had not noticed in those first years, and by the time it had come to her attention even she had to concede that if her little brother had managed his recon missions without no one the wiser - Her brother was sneaky like that -, then he deserved the benefit of the doubt.

And, had that not been enough to convince the big sister, that had been the moment the sudden realization than her brother, unlike her, was more of a hands-on learner hit her full force, which would have been enough to make her relent. Learning was always good in her books.

Later, Danny would find most of the classes being imparted in Casper high boring as fuck. Not necessarily for the subject, but the way they were imparted. The youngest Fenton needed a good explanation along with a hands-on approach applied to something he found interesting to fully commit to something. At school, the most he could get were the theory and the occasional practical classes.

If the classes had been related to something interesting, say, rockets, stars, maybe NASA, it would have been easy to pay his full, unconditional attention to the teachers. But not one of the teachers had bothered to try and link the lessons to the interest of the alumni, not surprising, considering public school stuck to basics and had a timeline to complete and the classroom never seemed to learn things at the same rhythm so concessions had to be met.

It was still boring as fuck. But if he wanted to someday make it into NASA he would have to suck it up and force himself to survive with relatively good notes this torment.

Then the ghost fights had entered the picture and his motive to keep up the grades had all but vanished, and the little time left behind to work with was not enough to make, at least, an average grade. He didn’t have enough reasons to strive for more.

For this though? A new chance far from the ghost and he could keep protecting her sister?

He had the brains. He had the passion. And a good damn motive to drive him forward.

Once he was done, the luggage - and Loony town - wouldn’t even know what hit it.

-.-.-.-

NOTES:

 Also, the thing about Jack & Maddie not trusting Danny with the equipment was one of Danno’s secret tries at messing around with the things. Needless to say, that one time didn’t stay a secret.

Oh well, it was not like he asked for permission in the first place.

-.-.-.-

“fluffy-sweater clad toddler”

Not gonna lie, I made myself crave some cuddles from toddler danno, so. fucking. cute.

There he goeees just waddling like a little duckling asdfghjkl

-.-.-.-

If someone here is a fan of the Gotham Academy Comic I greatly regret -not really- to inform you I’m only taking hostage the place for my evil fanfic purposes. I don’t know if there is going to be references but that particular comic is not the focus of this story, SO. You have been forewarned.

[ghstandpucks]

Misguided Ghost Ch.1

I'm going away for a while But I'll be back, don't try and follow me Cause I'll return as soon as possible

           I was driving along the I-15 northbound, 34 miles from my final destination. Luckily today was a Sunday, so all the traffic from Las Vegas was headed the other way, back home to everyday lives and work. I, on the other hand, was Vegas bound. My car was packed with everything I needed, everything that wasn’t shipped to sin city on Friday that is. I had my music up loud and tried to ignore the pain in my chest that told me to turn around and go home…this wasn’t a good idea. Here came the water works again.

            I had to remind myself this was the best decision for me at this point. And I wasn’t as far away from home as I was when I went to San Francisco. I could do this. I wouldn’t let anxiety run my life. Plus, my apartment wasn’t terribly priced. If I really couldn’t stick it out for the year, I could always sub-let it and move back home. Home…what 27-year-old has separation anxiety from her family? This one!

           I was going to try my hand at being alone again though. Who knows, maybe this time it will go better? I mean, I did not exactly have a job to keep me busy in SF, just grad school. And the stress of school coupled with the fact that I had a roommate from hell made me miss the comforts of home. This time though, I told myself, it would be different. And not just different because I was going to be by myself and hopefully working a job I could not wait to interview for, but because I had a Master’s degree and have done some growing up over the past few years that I had been home. It was time to leave the nest and make the uncomfortable, comfortable. At least that is what I kept trying to tell myself.

           I got off the freeway and made my way to a cute little suburb where my new home was located. The apartment complex was more organized as town homes, with little courtyards in front of each building. It was an older complex, but as charming as they come. I parked my grey Chevy Malibu in residents parking and went to the front office. After paying the rest of my down payment and first months rent, I was handed my keys and directed toward my building. Number 19, the plaque read on the side next to the front door. I opened it and smiled, starting to unpack. When you walked in, there was a little living room that connected to the kitchen, giving it an open feel. There was a bathroom downstairs as well as a garage to park in. Walking up the stairs that were near the kitchen, there was a top landing that provided a little walking space, then the master bedroom. So, it was a one bedroom, and one in a half bath apartment. I didn’t need much space, and there was a balcony off my bedroom. It was cozy, and I started moving my stuff in and around. Luckily all my boxes that were shipped were nicely placed in the living room by the maintenance staff when they arrived.

           As I unpacked, I heard a knock on my opened front door. I looked up and saw an elderly couple smiling in at me. “Well hello dear, I’m Trudy Carter and this is my husband Vince. We just wanted to welcome you to the building.” I stood up and walked over to them.

           “Hi, I’m Y/N Y/L/N, it’s so nice to meet you.” I smiled and held out my hand for them both to shake. Mrs. Carter smiled gently at me, then presented a casserole dish.

           “We heard you were moving in today, so I made a little extra spaghetti for dinner. I know moving can be tough so I wanted to make sure you had some food right away.” I smiled and took it from her, thanking her profusely. “It is no problem dear,” she smiled.

           “Where are you coming from?” Mr. Carter asked.

           “California. Chino to be exact. It’s a little dairy farm community about 4 in a half hours away” I replied.

           “Ah. I wish they all could be California girls,” he sung, winking at me and making me giggle. Mrs. Carter laughed and patted his arm.

           “Come on you old flirt, let her unpack and get comfortable here before she thinks you’re too weird and flees,” She turned around with a smile and a wave while her husband shrugged and went to follow her. “If you need anything Y/N, and I mean anything at all, we live right here in number 20. Don’t be a stranger.” Mrs. Carter turned around to make sure I heard her.

           “I appreciate it Mrs. Carter. Thank you so much for dinner! I’ll return the dish to you as soon as I can,” I smiled and she nodded and told me to take my time. Alright, maybe I could do this.

~ ~ ~

           After I ate and showered, I unpacked a bit more before getting ready for bed and calling my mom.

           “So what are you going to wear for your interview tomorrow?” She asked as I was just sorting that out.

           “I think that royal blue dress that I have with my brown sandals that I would wear to work. I want to stand out from the other applicants and I think the color of the dress will help.” I answered as I plopped myself down onto the bed. “I feel like everyone else may have been in black so maybe it’ll help keep me in their thoughts as they make a decision.”

           “Just because they hunt ghosts doesn’t mean they always wear black Y/N.” My mom huffed.

           “You’ve watched the show with me mom. What other colors do they wear?” I laughed out. She thought for a moment, then agreed.

           “Well that dress looks cute on you too, so I think it is a good choice.”

           “Not trying to look cute mom, just trying to get a job.”

           “I know sweetie, but there’s no harm in both.” We laughed and I told her about my new neighbors and my new place. “Well everything sounds great sweetie. Have a good night’s sleep and let me know when you’re up and headed to your interview tomorrow. Just be yourself, it’ll be great!”  We hung up after I said good night. I put on my tv and watched New Girl as I drifted off.

~ ~ ~

           The next morning, I was finishing getting my resume printed and shoved into a folder in my light pink purse. I finished up my make-up and loosely curled my shoulder length light brown hair. After making sure my bangs were in place and not sticking out in odd directions like how I woke up, I walked out my door and headed into the city. The office building was only about 15 minutes from me, but I was nervous and not sure how morning traffic would be. Upon pulling up, I noticed I had 15 minutes to spare. I texted my mom, checked my hair once more, then decided to go in. I arrived on the 5th floor, and saw a plaque that read “Ghost Adventures” next to a door. I held my breath and opened it.

See I'm trying to find my place But it might not be here where I feel safe We all learn to make mistakes

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Not as it Seems

A Horror Septics Story

(This is not what I planned to post today, but things came up and I had this in the works. Enjoy reading the next series of events that happens to Stacy and her family, and also this weirdo called “John” who seems to know a lot. It’s pretty long, but not as long as the last one fjdskafh)

—————

There was a good few inches of snow on the ground, courtesy of the blizzard last night. Luckily the roads had been plowed quickly, or Stacy would’ve had a hard time driving. Still, the roads were slippery, and she elected to park two blocks away from the coffee shop and walk the rest of the way, braving the cold instead of risking driving the rest of the way.

Thus, she was even more relieved to step inside the warm, coffee-scented air of the cafe. She sighed, unwinding her scarf from around her neck as she scanned the shop.

“Stacy!”

Someone was waving at her from a table by the cafe’s front window. Stacy smiled, and walked over, sitting at the same table. “Hey, Jaqueline,” she said. “Sorry I’m late, driving was a bitch.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” Jaqueline said, leaning back in her chair. “I knew you’d show up eventually. You want to order?”

“Sure.” Stacy noticed the table was empty of drinks. “You didn’t order already?”

“Nah, I wanted to wait.”

“Aw.” Stacy smiled, touched. “You didn’t have to.”

“But I wanted to.” Jaqueline shrugged. “Besides, it’s no problem.”

The two of them went up to the counter and ordered. Stacy got a mocha latte with whip cream and Jaqueline got an americano. They chatted while they waited, just general small talk about the surprising blizzard last night, unusual for the area. The barista quickly filled their orders, and the two of them sat back down at the table.

“Y’know, you should really be wearing a coat, Jaq,” Stacy pointed out, taking a sip of her latte.

“Oh, I have a coat right here,” Jaqueline said. “I just took it off. Which you could stand to do, it’s warm enough in here.” She settled back into the seat. “So, how’s the job hunt going?”

Stacy sighed deeply. She shouldered off her coat, draping it over the back of the seat. “Not good. I keep getting denials online. Y’know, the whole ‘thank you for your application but we don’t think you’d be a good fit here,’ that whole shebang.” She tried not to let on how worried she was about it. She hadn’t gotten a job once since arriving in this new city of Rysbuwich. That was insane; surely she should’ve found something by now?

“Maybe you’re being too picky,” Jaqueline said, as if reading her mind. “You’re only going for food-related ones, right?”

“Well, I mean, that’s where all my expertise is, so yeah,” Stacy nodded. “It’s what’s on most of my resume. I’d prefer baking, like my old job, but I’ll take anything similar.”

“Hmm.” Jaqueline nodded. “That’s understandable. But, y’know, there’s only so long you can support two kids on unemployment. Maybe get a job you’re less qualified for, but one that’ll take anyone.”

“Yeah, I’ve started to do that,” Stacy agreed. Really, she’d only sent about two applications for positions like that,and both had been rejected. “I wonder if there’ll be a lot of those online...I’ve been seeing some help wanted signs around town, maybe I should just walk in.”

“Hey, it’s better than nothing.” Jaqueline chuckled. “Where have you been seeing them?”

“Uh...a bookstore, an arcade, a couple fast-food places, I think there was a toy store…” Stacy had been making a mental note of every place she’d seen one of the Help Wanted signs, but she couldn’t be sure she was getting them all. Staring out the window, she stifled a yawn.

“You seem tired, Stace,” Jaqueline said. “Long night?”

“Yeah, had something with my other friend,” she replied. “It went late.” She paused. “Y’know, I mentioned you, and he got real weird about it. Asked me if I knew your last name.”

“Really?” Jaqueline raised an eyebrow. “That’s a little weird. We only just met, and it’s not like people go around introducing themselves as So-and-so Last Name.”

“That’s exactly what I said!” Stacy laughed. “And, I mean, I don’t even know his last name, so it’s not really fair. Do you know my last name?”

“Yeah, it’s Allen, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Guess I told you.”

Jaqueline smiled. “Yeah.”

Stacy paused, taking another sip of her coffee. “So, what’s yours?”

“Wait a sec, I just realized something.” Jaqueline frowned. “Your friend is a guy? And he got real weird about you seeing me?”

“Uh-huh.” Stacy nodded. “It was...it came out of nowhere, honestly.”

“Hmm.” Jaqueline pursed her lips. “You don’t think he could’ve been...well, protective of you? In like a...y’know. ‘Has feelings’ way?”

“Um...I don’t think so.” Stacy cast her mind back. “I mean, John’s a little...weird. Kind of crazy. Don’t tell him I said that,” she hurried to add. “‘Cause I know he has reasons for acting the way he does, even if I’ve never asked. And besides, he knows I’m still not over my, uh...he knows I’m not looking for a relationship.”

“Which is totally understandable,” Jaqueline assured her. “But I’m just saying, I’ve known some guy ‘friends’”—she made air quotes with her fingers on that word—“who would act weird and suspicious when their female friend started getting friends outside them. Just consider it.”

“I will, don’t worry,” Stacy took another drink. She really didn’t think John was the type to do something like that, but then again, she didn’t actually know that much about him. He helped her out back in the last town, Bronainise, with that...thing in her house. And she knew he had experience with things like that. And she couldn’t help but feel sorry for him after seeing him have that nightmare last night. But...she didn’t really know that much about him. She didn’t even know his real name. Stacy shook her head, putting those thoughts away for now. “Anyway, enough about me, how have things been going with you?”

* * * * * * * * * *

She arrived back home in a significantly better mood than she had been when she left. Being with Jaqueline always did that. They’d only met up twice since their initial meeting a few weeks ago, but Stacy could already tell she really liked her. There was just something about her that left Stacy feeling happy; like she was just full of energy and it rubbed off on her. She was really glad they’d met each other.

Walking into the house, she was greeted by the sight of Larkin lying on the couch, reading. “Hey, Lark,” she said. “What book is that?”

“Hi Mom!” Larkin said. He lifted up the cover for her to see. “I got it from the school library. It’s one of a bunch of series, The Magic Tree House. Mr. Teller said I’d like it.”

“Oh? And do you?”

Larkin nodded. “I like Annie.”

“That’s great!” Stacy smiled. Larkin was doing a lot better in English in this new school. Apparently all he needed was an encouraging teacher, who would point him towards books he would enjoy. He started to put more effort into trying to read, and had leaped ahead to be one of the best readers in the class. “Do you know where Mathew is?”

“Uh, I think he’s in the backyard.”

Stacy headed out back. Mathew wasn’t actually out in the yard, but she could clearly see him. Over the small brick wall. In the empty lot behind the house. She hurried over, snow crunching under her boots.

It appeared Mathew was talking with John, who had cleared a spot in the lot free of snow and was now trying to set up his tent. Stacy picked up their conversation as she approached. “—and I’m told that you get the true ending if you do a pacifist run, so you don’t hurt anyone, but I never got around to playing it when it came out,” Mathew was saying. “But I dunno...should I get it on my Switch?”

“Oh yeah, totally,” John said, busying himself with trying to set up some of the tent poles. “I played it, and I loved it. It’s seriously really good, totally worth your allowance.”

“You did?” Mathew asked skeptically.

“What, just ‘cause I live in a tent and don’t own anything electronic now doesn’t mean I never did,” John joked.

Mathew smiled a bit. “Are you sure you don’t need any help?”

“Nah, I’m good. Thanks for asking, though.” John glanced over, noticing Stacy. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she said. “Just checking on you two.”

“We’re good, Mom,” Mathew said, with a hint of what she called the “duh” tone that teenages sometimes used. “I just wanted to talk to John about games.”

“Nice.” Stacy nodded. “I’m going to make lunch. You good with sandwiches and chips?”

“Sure.”

“Um...John, do you want lunch, too?” Stacy asked tentatively.

John shook his head, not looking away from his tent. “I’ll get something somewhere.”

“Where?”

John shrugged. “You know.”

Stacy frowned. “Alright. I’ll make an extra one, if you change your mind.”

“...thanks,” John says softly. He managed to pull one of the tent poles into a standing position, using a spare rock to pound a stake into the ground. “So, Stacy. You, uh...saw your friend today?”

“Yes, I just came back,” Stacy said. Mathew, sensing the appearance of adult small talk, turned and hopped back over the wall into the yard and then the house. “It was nice.”

“Good. Good.” John sounded a bit curt. “Had fun?”

“...yeah.” Stacy narrowed her eyes. “You sound a bit, um...is everything okay with you?”

“With me, yeah. What about you?” John finally looked over at her.

“I mean...it’s going alright,” Stacy said haltingly. “I’m still looking for a job, but at least I’ve made a friend.” A friend, being key. Jaqueline was the only person she’d met in town who’d seemed interested in...well, meeting up with her more than once. Though it was hard to meet up with people when you didn’t have a lot of places to go. No job to socialize, and Larkin and Mathew were still making friends of their own so she couldn’t even chat with their friends’ moms.

“Hmm…” John pulled the other tent pole into place. “How’d you meet...her? She goes by Jaqueline, right?”

“Yes, that’s her name. We, uh...met in the grocery store.” Stacy smiled awkwardly. “I was shopping, she was shopping.”

“She approached you and started talking, then?” John drawled.

“Yeah.” Stacy couldn’t quite remember their first conversation, but Jaqueline had been so friendly it had left a good impression of her. “That’s how most conversations work. Usually you don’t walk up to someone and go ‘hello, there’s a demon in my house, can you help me?’”

“It really, really isn’t a demon in that house,” John said, frowning. “I told you why I don’t like that word for them.”

“Mm-hmm.” Stacy watched for a bit, just long enough to make sure John got the tent up. Then she turned around. “Well...I’ll be around.”

“Wait!” John suddenly stood up.

Stacy spun back around. “What? What is it?”

“I…” John now seemed to be regretting calling after her. “You, uh...really like this friend, huh? Y’know you should be, um...you should be careful about talking to strangers.”

“Yeah...I know.” Stacy raised an eyebrow. “I’m not seven years old, I know all about stranger danger.” Evidently she was feeling a bit sassy today. “Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

“I know. You’re, uh. You’re smart.” John shifted awkwardly on his feet. “Very careful, I could tell when I saw you. Just, uh...remember to be careful, okay?”

“...okay.” Stacy backed up. “Talk to you later.” She turned and left, glancing back over at John as she hopped over the wall. John still seemed to want to say something, but she walked away before he could.

* * * * * * * * * *

The next morning, she went driving around town while the kids were at school, looking for a few of those Help Wanted signs she’d seen throughout the town. Retracing her usual routes, she was sure she’d run into one of them. But to her surprise, there wasn’t a single one. Strange...she wandered around for a while, glancing into store windows, but still saw nothing. After a bit, she stopped outside a bookstore that she distinctly remembered had a Help Wanted sign in the window. She would go in herself, talk to an employee, and see if they were still hiring.

Walking in, she was greeted by the small tinkling of a bell and soft music. It was a big enough shop, but still had the sort of atmosphere of a small bookstore. Stacy immediately thought that this wouldn’t be a bad place to work. She walked up to the counter, looking around. There was an employee with their back to her. “Um...hello?” she called. “I have a question.”

The employee straightened, and turned to face her. “Stacy?”

“Oh!” Stacy blinked. “Jaqueline! I didn’t realize you worked here.”

Jaqueline chuckled. “Really? I could’ve sworn I told you. Thought you were checking up on me.” She frowned exaggeratedly. “Aw.”

“I mean, if I’d known I might’ve,” Stacy said. “Are you guys, uh...hiring?”

“We were, but the position was filled yesterday,” Jaqueline sighed. She pointed down the shelves at a young man. “New guy right there. Sorry. It would’ve been great to work together.”

“Yeah.” Stacy sighed. “It seems nice. Looks like they have a lax uniform code to start, if they let you wear your jacket.”

“Hey, it’s cold. Management understands that.” Jaqueline smiled.

Stacy smiled back, but it quickly faded. “I just...I could’ve sworn there were more people hiring in town.”

“Well, jobs at places like this tend to get snatched up quickly. High turnover rate, y’know. I’m even new here.” Jaqueline reached over the counter and put her hand on Stacy’s shoulder. “It’ll be okay, y’know. Someone with your skills is sure to have many opportunities.” Jaqueline withdrew. “Most organizations actually favor online applications over in-person ones these days. Keep trying there, and keep talking to them about the application. It’ll get you somewhere eventually.”

“You think so?” Stacy asked.

“I know so,” Jaqueline said, reassuring her.

Stacy breathed out. “Thanks.” She already felt a bit calmer about the situation.

“Hey, you want to meet up next week? Maybe on Friday?” Jaqueline asked. “We could spend an evening together.”

“Yeah, that sounds great. I don’t have anything else to do.” Stacy paused. “Well, I’ll see you then, then?”

“I’ll meet up outside your house,” Jaqueline said.

Stacy frowned. “Do you know my address?”

“Yeah, you told me. And I told you mine, remember?” Jaqueline shook her head. “Sometimes I worry about your memory, Stace.”

“...huh.” Stacy considered this. Maybe her time back in Bronainise with the thing in her house had messed with her memory. Who knew? “Well, see you.”

“See you.”

Stacy left. She didn’t bother to check any of the other places she thought had hiring signs. Evidently all those posts had been filled.

* * * * * * * * * *

The week passed quietly, without change, and soon Friday arrived. Stacy was about ready to go out to meet Jaqueline when she got a call from the babysitter.

“Are you absolutely sure you can’t make it?” Stacy asked.

“Sorry, Ms. Allen,” the sitter said. “Nobody could’ve seen this coming. And it is an emergency.”

“It is, it is,” Stacy said, nodding even though nobody could see her. “Sorry to hear about it, by the way. Good luck.”

“Thanks, Ms. Allen.”

As soon as the sitter hung up, Stacy sighed, staring at the phone screen. It froze for a moment, the image freaking out briefly before settling to normal. She filed that away in her mind, to be worried about if it came up later. The more pressing concern was what she was going to do now. She’d promised Jaqueline she’d meet up with her, and though she trusted Mathew to be able to watch Larkin and himself for a day, she worried about the two of them being left alone for the night. Should she...just leave and trust the kids for the night? No, what if something happened?

Just at that moment, she heard a knocking sound. She jumped, and spun around, peering into the kitchen where the sound came from. John was standing at the glass door at the back of the house. He knocked on the glass again. 

Stacy walked on over and opened the door. “Hi. What’s up?”

“I really need to talk to you,” John said.

“Oh, um. Okay. I was actually planning to go out—”

“With Jaqueline?” John interrupted.

“Yeah,” Stacy said, surprised. “How’d you know that?”

“Just a guess,” John said. “Look, that’s what I need to talk to you about. She’s not what you think she is.”

“You’ve never even met her,” Stacy muttered.

“You’re right, I’ve never met Jaqueline,” John said. “But—”

“Well, then, why do you care if I’m going out with her?” Stacy asked.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt!” John slammed his hands down on the kitchen table. “Look, you barely know this—this person.” He spat out the last word like he couldn’t come up with something better, and thought the one he’d found didn’t quite fit. “For all you know, she could be  a serial killer!”

“I barely knew you when I gave you a ride to this town,” Stacy pointed out. “You were in the car with my kids and me for two hours, and you didn’t take the opportunity to do anything.”

“Yeah, but I’m different!”

Stacy blinked. “Wow. That sounds...kind of…” Entitled, if she was being honest.

“Okay, maybe I could’ve phrased that better,” John admitted, backing down. “What I mean is that...I-I know what she is.”

“A woman?”

“No!”

“Oh wow.” Stacy took a step back. “Look, don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t think you, as a man, have the right to judge someone on their womanhood. Especially someone you’ve never met before—”

“What—how the fuck did you jump to that conclusion?!” John gaped at her. “Look I didn’t mean it like that—”

“Um, kinda sounds like you did—”

“No shut the fuck up and let me talk!” John blurted out the words, and immediately his expression shifted to regret. “...sorry.”

Stacy took a few steps backwards. “I think we both need some time to cool down,” she said after a while.

“No, look, this is important, I have to tell you before you meet...your friend,” John said, approaching as Stacy retreated. There seemed to be genuine fear and concern in his visible eye. “I-I—what I mean to say is that, this friend of yours isn’t actually your friend.”

Stacy sighed, irritation rising. “You still don’t even know her. I’ve barely told you anything.”

“You’ve barely told me anything because you barely know anything!” John’s voice became hushed. “If I asked you what her eye color was, would you be able to tell me?”

“Of course, John.”

“Alright, what color are her eyes?”

“I don’t see what that has to do with anything,” Stacy snapped. “Look, she’ll be here any minute. I gotta go.”

“Just answer the question!” John suddenly lunged, grabbing onto her wrist as she turned to leave.

Stacy yelped, and instinctively slapped him across the face, startling him enough to get him to let go. Immediately, she backed up and then turned and ran. She was at the front door and heading out before John even had time to call out to her.

There was a car outside the house. When Stacy approached, she saw Jaqueline inside, who rolled down the window. “You okay, Stace?” Jaqueline asked. “You look a little shaken.”

“I’m fine,” Stacy dismissed. “Tell you about it later.” She rounded the car and got into the passenger side door. “Let’s just go.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Jaqueline ended up driving the two of them to a part of town that Stacy wasn’t too familiar with. When the car pulled into a parking lot, Stacy looked out at the nearby building and immediately frowned. “Is this a bar?”

“Well, no, it’s a restaurant with a bar inside it,” Jaqueline said. “Why, is that a problem?”

“Um...I don’t drink anymore,” Stacy explained uneasily.

“That’s alright, we’ll just get food,” Jaqueline said. “This place has great chicken.”

“...well...I do like chicken,” Stacy said slowly.

“I know! You’re gonna love it here, just give it a chance.” Jaqueline smiled, and stepped out of the car. Stacy hesitated, then followed.

They ended up sitting at the bar area, but that was because the place was packed. It seemed that this was one of the most active places in town, and on a Friday night that meant there was barely any room to sit anywhere. It also meant the wait for food was long, so Jaqueline suggested they ordered drinks to start. Stacy agreed, but stuck with just water while Jaqueline jumped straight into ordering a martini. After their drinks arrived, Jaqueline asked, “So, are you gonna tell me why you were so shaken when I went to pick you up?”

“Hmm? Oh, I did say I’d tell you later, didn’t I?” Stacy sighed, and took a big drink of her water. “Nothing, it’s just...I had a fight with my friend.”

“The same friend who started acting weird when you mentioned you were hanging out with me a week and a half ago?” Jaqueline asked.

“Well...yeah,” Stacy admitted.

“Hmm,” Jaqueline hummed. “What about?”

“Uh...well...you.” Stacy muttered the last word into her drink. 

“Oh. Well, then.” Jaqueline sipped her martini through a straw, finishing the whole thing in one big drink. “That’s an interesting coincidence.”

“I mean, it’s not a coincidence,” Stacy said. “He just...really thinks I shouldn’t be hanging out with you.”

“I see. You ever ask him if he, y’know, liked you? In that way?” Jaqueline flagged down the bartender again, ordering another martini.

“No, but I can tell it’s not just that.” Stacy took another drink. “He’s paranoid. I think he thinks you’re gonna be, like, a murderer or something.”

Jaqueline laughed. “Wow. We’ve never even met! What have you been telling him about me?”

“Nothing, really. Just the normal stuff.” Stacy paused. “I mean, I understand why he is the way he is. Something happened to him that made him so crazy. And, well, at this point, it is a little crazy to be so paranoid about someone you don’t know. But there’s a reason, and I know it’s a bad one.” She sighed. “I feel kinda bad for fighting with him.”

“Hey, no matter what someone’s past is, that shouldn’t lead them to interfering with other people’s lives,” Jaqueline said.

Stacy nodded. Slowly at first, then she sped up. “Yeah, you’re right. You’re right.” She took a sip of her drink through the straw.

“Honestly if he’s bothering you this much about it, it sounds like it’s a problem that needs to be addressed,” Jaqueline said.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, if you’re right and something happened in his past that made him like this, it sounds like any paranoia on his part is kinda just a reaction because of how, like, his mind formed or something,” Jaqueline said. Her voice, though it wasn’t any louder than anyone else’s, really stood out against the background chatter of the restaurant. Its familiar tone was soothing. “Maybe he should talk to someone professional about it. Sort out these issues.”

“Huh. That’s a good point.” Because John clearly had some sort of issues. Stacy had noticed them. He was paranoid about everything, about people with phones, about strangers, and about so much more. He lived in a tent, and she got the feeling that was because of a choice he made and not because he had no other option. Or maybe it was both. And she hadn’t forgotten how he had a criminal record back in Bronainise. For petty things, like pickpocketing and minor vandalism, but still. He had a past of being a bit...disruptive.

“Maybe you should just, like, remember that,” Jaqueline suggested. “I’m not saying you do anything about it unless it gets bad. You want a second drink?”

“Huh? Oh sure.” Stacy waved the empty martini glass she was holding. “Didn’t even realize I finished.”

“I’ll get you another one of those.”

“That would be great. Thanks.”

* * * * * * * * * *

The next thing Stacy knew, she was waking up on a cot in a holding cell at a police station with a pounding headache.

“Wh…?” Stacy tried to sit up, and immediately winced as the ache intensified. “Um...hello?”

A uniformed police officer outside the cell turned to look at her. “Oh good. You’re awake.”

“What...am I doing here?” Stacy asked, looking around.

“You don’t remember? Well, it doesn’t surprise me.” The officer shook her head. “With a BAC of 0.21, I’m surprised you were even able to keep walking.”

“Wait, I’m sorry, what?!” Stacy tried to stand up, but instead ended up rolling out of the cot onto the floor. “Th—that’s impossible, I don’t drink!”

“Well, you did last night,” the officer said, raising an eyebrow.

Stacy shook her head in disbelief. This was impossible. She’d sworn off drinking. “What happened? Why’d I get arrested?”

“Disorderly conduct,” the officer explained. “You and some other lady were making a ruckus on the street, walking all along Fleet St. for a couple hours. Ended up throwing some bottles and tipping over wheelie bins.”

“Oh my god…” Stacy whispered. “This other lady, where is she?”

“Some family member of hers posted bail an hour ago. She said she’d be back to post yours. Should be any minute now.”

Stacy nodded vaguely, muttering another “Oh my god…” before settling down on the cot. She put her head in her hands and started to wait. She’d sworn off alcohol. After her husband died, she fell pretty hard into that rabbit hole. She hated it, but she’d hated remembering what happened more. She was lucky enough to pull herself out of it. But it seemed that last night she relapsed. She’d thought she was doing pretty good...but now,the whole town will only know her as the lady who caused some crazy drunk disturbance.

It must’ve been ten minutes later when Stacy heard, “Wow...you don’t look good.”

Stacy looked up, and sighed. “Thanks, Jaqueline.”

“No problem.” Jaqueline flashed a smile of teeth, then nodded at the police officer, who unlocked the door of the holding cell. Stacy quickly left. “Wow, crazy last night. I’ve never been arrested before.”

“Really?” Stacy asked idly.

Jaqueline shrugged. “C’mon, I’ll drive you home. God, that whole thing last night must’ve been crazy. I walked out of the station and all the officers were staring at me.”

Stacy winced. Then the first statement really registered. “Oh my fucking god, I need to get home! I left the kids!” She hurried out of the station, Jaqueline following close behind.

* * * * * * * * * *

When Jaqueline dropped her off at her house, Stacy immediately rushed inside. “Mathew?! Larkin?!” she called, running into the living room. Upon not immediately seeing either of the boys, she ran down the hall, tripping over her own feet. She cried out, catching herself by grabbing the wall.

“Be careful, there.”

Stacy paused, then backed up, glancing into the entrance to the dining room. John was inside. He was sitting on the floor, back braced against one of the dining room chairs, one of her books in his hands. “How’d you get in here?” She asked, startled.

John folded over a corner of the page and set the book on the chair behind him. “You let me inside last night, remember?” He said, standing up. “And when you left, I figured, y’know, nobody was here to watch your kids for the night.”

Stacy flinched. “I-I didn’t mean to leave so suddenly. The sitter quit, she had a call from her mother in the hospital—I was going to stay, really!”

“Hmm.” John folded his arms. “I do agree it was...most unlike you. You must’ve really, really wanted to meet up with your...friend.”

“Well...yeah, but I wouldn’t have—!”

“Yeah, you would’ve,” John muttered. “When in this situation, anyone would’ve.”

Stacy blinked. “What?”

“Tell me, Stacy.” John took a few steps towards her before stopping and leaning on the nearest wall. “Why do you hang out with this...person?”

“Wh...Jaqueline?”

“If that’s what you want to call—yes, fine, Jaqueline.”

Stacy frowned. “John, you really shouldn’t be so concerned with this. You’ve never even met her, why do you care so much about me—”

“Because you just up and left your kids!” John suddenly shouted. “Overnight! In a town you’ve only lived in for a month and a half! For what, this thing?! Stacy, we haven’t known each other that long, but I know you wouldn’t ditch your kids without supervision to go out with friends. I can tell you care about them too much to do that. So maybe you should think about why you left them last night and I had to stay in your house with your fucking computer and electronics just so I could make sure nothing happened to them!”

Stacy bit her lip, holding back an immediate response. She took a few deep breaths before continuing.  “John...I didn’t mean to leave last night. I was angry and not thinking clearly, but I know I shouldn’t have left all night.” She paused. “I...actually got arrested.”

John blinked, then his eye suddenly went wide. He ran over and grabbed her by the shoulders. “What did you do?! What did it make you do?! How are you back here now?! What does it plan to do next?!”

“Jesus christ!” Stacy grabbed John’s wrists and threw his hands away, taking a few steps back. “What are you talking about?”

“You don’t know?!” John suddenly calmed, shaking his head. “No, of course you don’t, I was talking to you earlier and you still called it by that name, but what’s it going to do next? What is it planning? This isn’t normal, it’s moving too fast.”

“John…” Stacy said softly. “Are you alright?”

“What?” His head snapped up. “Well, technically no, but as of my current standard of ‘alright,’ yeah, I guess.”

“Look, it’s very weird—no, that’s the wrong word, I mean...I know you’re aware that this way you’re acting isn’t normal,” Stacy emphasized.

John laughed. “Nothing about me is normal anymore.”

“It’s, um...it could be harmful,” Stacy said delicately. “To yourself, or others. Maybe you should talk to a therapist about it.”

That just made John laugh harder, bracing against the wall. “Oh, that’d be a great idea! Y’know I don’t really feel like being put in an institution again! Honestly, what I should be doing at this point is be fucking dead, but no way! Not gonna let that happen! It’d just love that!”

Stacy took another step backwards. “Look, I know it seems a bit ridiculous, but...I’ve been thinking recently, and you...well, you need help.”

John’s laughter suddenly cut off, and he leveled her with a single-eye stare. “Did your Jaqueline tell you that?”

“Look, this is exactly what I’m talking about!” Stacy said, exasperated. “You’re so focused on someone who didn’t even do anything.”

“Oh, a lot of people would disagree with you on that,” John muttered.

“Jaqueline is the one person who’s been friendly to me in this town!” Stacy shouted, her voice cracking. “She’s funny, gives great advice, always wants to hang out—”

“—makes you so happy to be around that you can’t wait to meet up again,” John jumped in. “So happy that you probably don’t even remember that you’re still looking for a job, or that your kids sometimes need help with school, or that you’re running out of food in the fridge—yeah, I checked that. A happiness so intense that it’s basically an addiction.”

“You don’t get addicted to people, John,” Stacy said flatly. “Look, I gotta check on Mathew and Larkin. I don’t...can you leave? By the time I get back downstairs?” Without waiting for an answer, she turned and went back down the hall. She felt John’s gaze on her the entire way, but when she came back down, he had left, just like she’d asked.

* * * * * * * * * *

Two days later, she finally found a place with a Help Wanted sign in the window. Her mood immediately lifted. She’d been applying heavily online, calling businesses just to make sure they were absolutely sure there wasn’t a spot open, but had got no results. This could be the game changer. She walked inside; this place was an arcade, so she was instantly hit with a wall of beeping electronic sounds and flashing lights. She walked up to the counter and asked, “Hi, I noticed you had a hiring sign? Is that still applicable?”

“Oh, yeah,” said the employee at the counter. “Hang on, let me get my manager, he’ll talk to you about it. Brenda? Can you man the till?”

Only a few minutes later, Stacy was sitting at a table in a back room, talking to an older man who identified himself as the manager and owner. An interview! Finally. And so quickly, too. Maybe she’d finally get a new job. And from there, she could continue her search on the side, but at least she’d have a source of income besides unemployment and her savings.

“Alright, just one more question, I have to ask this for security reasons,” the manager said, writing something down. “Do you have any sort of criminal record?” He asked the question like he already knew the answer.

“Oh...um…” Stacy tried not to squirm. “I mean, I got...arrested once.”

The manager stopped writing and looked up at her.

“It wasn’t for anything bad!” Stacy hurried to say, before it suddenly occurred to her that this would seem super suspicious. “I just—it was really recent, it was just for disorderly conduct, I got drunk—” The manager frowned slightly. “—but it was just a few days ago, and it was just the one time!”

“I see.” The manager wrote something else down. “Well, thank you Ms. Allen. Can I get your phone number? We’ll be in contact.”

Stacy gave him her number, but walked out of the building with a heavy heart. ‘We’ll be in contact’ was what employers said when they weren’t really considering you.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Hey, Stace!”

She was in the grocery store, three days later, and her lingering gray mood hadn’t faded. But then she looked up and saw Jaqueline approaching. Her mood suddenly lightened, and she beamed. “Hi, Jaqueline.”

“You looked a bit down before I showed up,” Jaqueline said in a joking tone. “What’s up?”

Stacy sighed heavily, grabbing a box of Lucky Charms from the shelf—it was Larkin’s favorite, but harder to find in this country. “I just...still haven’t had luck.”

“With the job hunt?”

“Yeah, and just...life.” She put the box in her cart. “I swear, people keep staring at me.”

“Me too,” Jaqueline said, tone sympathetic. “I think someone filmed us last Friday night and shared the video online, so we’re pretty well-known now.”

“Oh…” Stacy groaned. Of course it would be like that. Of course life would add another scoop of ice cream to the bad-luck sundae that was the past few years of her life. The metaphorical bowl must be overflowing by this point. “So now we’re both known as the crazy drunk ladies.”

“Yeah, it sucks,” Jaqueline sighed. “But, y’know, you look even more upset than that would warrant.”

“I just...still no job. Mathew and Lark are having a hard time making new friends. And now nobody’s gonna want to talk to me…” Stacy sighed again, this time blinking away tears.

“Maybe you never should’ve moved here,” Jaqueline said.

“Maybe I never should’ve moved here,” Stacy repeated. “Yeah...I mean, why’d we have to leave the whole town? The thing was probably only in that house, we could’ve just got a new one. The kids would be a lot happier, too.”

“Wait, you want to leave?” Jaqueline asked.

“I mean, nothing’s been good ever since we got here,” Stacy said. “I can’t work, I’m fighting with John all the time, I got drunk for the first time in months...yeah.”

“Aw, but I’ll miss you!” Jaqueline whined. “But...I understand. It’s for the best of everyone.”

“Yeah…” Stacy nodded slowly. “Yeah, it’s for the best.”

* * * * * * * * * *

She started idly making plans to move back to Bronainise. She didn’t book a moving van, or go online to look for houses like she had upon initially moving away, but she did bring it up with the kids. Larkin seemed vaguely okay with it, like he didn’t really care, but Mathew was confused about moving back when they’d only been there for a little under two months. Stacy had explained that she could tell the town wasn’t a good fit for any of them, but he’d still been a bit upset about so many moves in such a short time. But he relented.

Stacy was a little concerned about what to do with John. He probably wouldn’t want to move back, but should she ask him anyway? After all, if it hadn’t been for her, he wouldn’t even be in this town in the first place. Maybe she should at least offer to give him a ride. But then again, she hadn’t been seeing much of him lately.

Until about four days after she’d initially gotten the idea to move back. She pulled into the driveway after picking up the kids from school, and was greeted by the sight of John, wearing a backpack with his rolled-up sleeping bag attached, carrying a full duffel bag, rounding around the side of the house. She stepped out, followed soon by the kids. “What’s going on?” she asked, confused.

John stopped, letting go of the duffel bag. “I’m moving. I packed everything up, and I’m leaving.”

“...oh.” Stacy said. “Um...why?”

John rolled his visible eye. “Because you clearly don’t want me nearby, of course.”

“Hey, that’s not true,” Stacy said. Behind her, she heard Mathew and Larkin climb out of the car and walk up the drive to the front door, going inside. “I’ll be in in a minute, boys!” She called after them.

“Look, I think it’s best for both of us if I leave,” John said. “I never meant to hang around anyway. But I’m human, we get attached. Unless we’re pretending.”

That was an odd statement. Stacy stepped forward. “If this is about something I said, I’m sorry—”

“It’s not just that,” John interrupted. “Look, before I go, I just want to straight-up tell you what I’ve been trying to get at for the last three weeks. Apparently just hinting at it hasn’t worked.” He paused. “Your friend, Jaqueline? Is not human.”

After a long, quiet moment, Stacy sighed deeply. “John—”

“I know, you think it’s your friend, your only friend,” John pressed forward. “But it’s making you think that. You haven’t talked to anyone else because it’s made you focus on it. You’ve been acting weird because it’s been influencing you. You shouldn’t trust it.”

“John,” Stacy said sadly. “I really do appreciate you helping out with that thing in the house, but not everything is tied back to something supernatural.”

John laughed. “Oh, you don’t know my life. But trust me, this time, it is. I’ve seen this thing in action before.”

“John…” Stacy could only shake her head. He must’ve been so immersed in this world, so affected by whatever happened to him, that he saw it everywhere. “I’m sorry—”

“Y’know, I believe you, in some way,” John interrupted. “But this just proves I should go.” He picked up the duffel bag again. “Maybe we’ll see each other again.” And he started walking down the sidewalk, snow crunching under his feet.

Stacy watched him go. She wanted to say something, but couldn’t think of what. After a few seconds, she turned, and went inside.

She didn’t see the way John froze, stopped walking, and looked back.

* * * * * * * * * *

Inside the house, Stacy was dialing a number on her phone. She waited anxiously while it rang.

The other line was soon picked up. “Hello?”

“Jaqueline?” Stacy asked, already her mood brightening.

“Yeah, Stace? What’s up?”

“I just...I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Aw, that’s great! Hey, why don’t we meet up tonight? What about seven, in the park?”

“Sounds great.”

“You should bring your kids, too. I’ve always wanted to meet them.”

“Alright.”

“And we might be a while, so like, grab some entertainment for them. Books and stuff, y’know.”

“Yeah, they’ll get bored soon if we’re gonna go do something.”

“I’ll see you then.”

“See you.”

Jaqueline hung up. Stacy realized she’d been smiling the whole time. Well, that would be something to look forward to.

* * * * * * * * * *

Just before seven, Stacy gathered her kids and their entertainment and piled them all in the car. Of course, Mathew and Larkin questioned it. She explained that her friend wanted to meet them, but that they might get bored. Neither of them seemed too happy about that explanation.

“Mom, isn’t it a little late?” Mathew complained. “Larkin has school tomorrow.”

“I don’t mind staying up,” Larkin piped up.

“It shouldn’t take too long,” Stacy assured them. “Jaqueline’s great, you’ll like her.”

Mathew groaned. “Do you want us to call her ‘Aunt Jaqueline’?”

“Of course not!” Stacy said. “Not if you don’t want to.”

“Mom, I can watch Lark for the evening, it’s fine,” Mathew insisted. “You can go.”

“It won’t take too long,” Stacy repeated. “You have your Switch, fully charged. What would you be doing at home? Playing on your Switch.”

Mathew grumbled at the accurate statement. Meanwhile, Larkin was staring out the window, frowning. “Where are we going?” he asked.

“To the park, honey,” Stacy replied.

“I don’t wanna go,” Larkin whined.

“Why not? It won’t take too long.”

“I dunno,” Larkin said. “But I don’t wanna go.” He slumped in his car seat. “It feels...like this isn’t good. A bad idea.”

“It’s just a short meet-up, Lark,” Stacy said gently. “If you still want to leave after, just let me know, and I’ll drive you back home.”

Larkin still looked a bit upset, almost nervous, but accepted this. The rest of the drive was silent, and soon Stacy pulled up to the city park. “Alright, here we are,” she said, opening the car door and stepping out. It was a bit darker than she’d expected, the sky a dark, dusky blue. It was cold too, but luckily she and the kids had thought to bring their coats. Snow covered the grass in spots where there would’ve been shade in the daytime, and it crunched under their feet. There was a hole in the park, marked with stakes around it, attached with tape. A large shovel was shoved into the ground, standing upright. Stacy glanced into the hole. There was a pipe running along the ground. It appeared this was maintenance for something or other, probably a water pipe. Stacy ushered Larkin away from the hole, just in case.

“Hey Mom?” Mathew asked. “Is that your friend?”

Stacy glanced up. There was a figure standing nearby, underneath an elder tree. She instantly recognized the red hoodie. “Yes, that’s her,” she said, smiling. “C’mon.” She grabbed Larkin’s hand and walked on over, Mathew following close behind. “Hey!” She called.

“Hey, Stacy,” Jaqueline said, waving. “Glad you could make it. These are your kids?”

“Yep.” Stacy closed the distance between her and Jaqueline. “This is Mathew, and this is—Larkin, what’s wrong?”

Larkin had stopped walking, and now looked very pale. He pulled on Stacy’s hand, backing up.

Mathew, noticing this, frowned. “Lark, what’s up?”

“Moooom?” Larkin said in a whisper-shout. “I think we should leave. I don’t think your friend is coming.”

Stacy blinked. “What are you talking about, sweetie? She’s right here.” She pointed at Jaqueline.

Larkin whimpered slightly, and tried harder to pull Stacy away, causing her to stumble.

Jaqueline laughed. “Wow, he must get his sight from his father.”

“What? I mean, if you mean he has his father’s eyes, that’s not right, you can see he takes after me there…” Stacy trailed off. What an odd thing to say.

“Ah, I’m sorry, it’s dark,” Jaqueline said dismissively.

“Oh. It’s okay.” Stacy turned her attention back to Larkin. “Honey, what’s wrong? Do you want to leave?”

Larkin gestured for her to bend down. She did so, and he got up on his tiptoes to whisper in her ear: “Mom, we need to leave soon, before the monster catches on.”

The genuine fear in his voice made Stacy’s heart stop. This wasn’t even the sort of fear she’d heard in his voice when he was younger and scared of monsters under the bed. This was raw, real, life-under-threat fear. “What do you mean?” She asked quietly.

Larkin glanced back over at Jaqueline. “Mom,” he whispered. “I think the demon is tricking you.”

Slowly, Stacy straightened. She slowly looked back over at Jaqueline. This was...this was wrong. Why would Larkin be so afraid of her, call her a monster and a demon? She was perfectly normal.

But...

John had warned her away from Jaqueline. And...and he would know, wouldn’t he? He had a lot more experience with this kind of thing. He’d straight-up said that she wasn’t human, that she was tricking her. And Stacy had brushed it off as paranoia. Which...was sort of true, John was a bit paranoid, but he also knew his stuff. Wasn’t it a good idea to listen to the expert, even if the expert was a bit strange?

Jaqueline laughed. “I’m not good with kids,” she said dismissively. “Maybe he should wait in the car or something.”

“Alone?” Stacy asked, frowning.

“Of course not! The other one can go with him to make sure everything goes okay,” Jaqueline said, her tone soothing. “It won’t be too long while we talk.”

Stacy found herself relaxing, but then it struck her that she shouldn’t be relaxing. She wasn’t about to leave her kids alone in a car while it was dark out! Why would Jaqueline suggest that? Didn’t she know that wasn’t something you were supposed to do with kids?

Wait...had she ever told Jaqueline that she had kids?

She couldn’t remember...

In fact, she couldn’t really remember the specifics of most of their conversations. When she tried to recall how she’d met ‘Jaqueline,’ she only came up with a vague, fuzzy memory of being in a store somewhere.

She squinted at Jaqueline. “You’re just wearing a hoodie. No coat? There’s snow and everything,” she said slowly.

“Oh, I had a coat. I left it in my car cause I didn’t think this would take that long,” Jaqueline said dismissively.

But there wasn’t another car nearby. Actually, she couldn’t even remember what Jaqueline’s car looked like. “And...the hood up?” she asked. “It’s dark.”

“Oh, it’s not too dark.” ‘Jaqueline’ laughed. “What is this, an interrogation? I thought we were just gonna talk.”

Stacy didn’t say anything. She was too busy thinking. Had she ever seen Jaqueline without the hood up? In fact, had she ever seen her without the hoodie?

She then remembered one of the very first questions John had asked her about Jaqueline: What color are her eyes?

She realized she didn’t have an answer. She couldn’t picture Jaqueline’s eye color in her mind. She couldn’t even picture the shape of her features, or recall the pitch of her voice.

Eyes wide, Stacy took a step back.

Jaqueline tilted her head, and took a step closer. “What’s wrong, Stace? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Um...Mom?” Mathew asked, confused. Suddenly remembering her kids, Stacy pushed Larkin behind her and went to stand in front of Mathew.

“Hey, don’t be like that,” Jaqueline said. Her voice was soothing...intoxicating.

“I just remembered—we left the lights on,” Stacy said casually. “Don’t want to run up the bill. We’ll be right back.”

“It won’t be that bad if you leave them on for a couple hours,” Jaqueline said in that lovely, luring voice. “Don’t worry about it. You worry too much, Stace. I just want to tal—”

WHACK!

Jaqueline’s head whipped to the side as she was hit with enough force to knock her over. Stacy blinked, stepping back, pushing her kids behind her. She looked to the side, and then she saw him. “John?” she whispered.

John backed up, holding a long shovel in both hands—the one from the hole she’d seen earlier. He was breathing heavily, at first looking a bit panicked, but then he turned his eye to Stacy and the kids, and his expression softened with concern. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah,” Stacy said. “How’d you—”

Crack.

The noise drew her attention back to ‘Jaqueline.’ She watched as she—it—slowly stood up. Its head was twisted to the side, far more twisted than it should’ve been. Stacy gasped softly. It rolled its shoulders, the movement accompanied by snapping, crackling sounds. The sounds of bones and stiff flesh. Its hands reached up and grabbed its head, twisting it back into place with one more Crack. A smile stretched its face, just a bit too wide. “Well. That was rude.”

Larkin cried out, burying his face in Stacy’s side. Mathew’s eyes widened. “What the fuck?!” he shouted, staggering backwards. Normally Stacy would’ve chastised him, but in this case, she’d allow it, as she pushed him back behind her.

Before anything else could happen, John stepped in front of Stacy and her kids, holding the shovel in both hands like a weapon. “Back off,” he said, voice firm.

The thing that looked human laughed. “Or what? Are you going to hit me with a shovel again?”

“If I have to,” John retorted. He glanced over his shoulder at Stacy, his eye darting between her and the surrounding areas before turning back to look at the thing.

The smile stretched wider still. “Wow. Good luck with that. This has nothing to do with you, øħŐÁê. Unless...oh, oh you’re the friend she keeps talking about, aren’t you?” John didn’t answer, but the thing gasped like he had. “Oh, you are! She’s calling you John, I suppose you don’t object because it’s not too far off. You’ve been warning her away from me, but she hasn’t listened, has she?”

“Hey, I mean, it paid off in the end.” John glanced back at Stacy again, who was frozen in place, trying to figure out what that one word the thing had called John was. “Here we are, she’s on the other side of you. You failed, so go. Isn’t that sort of your thing?” John looked around the surrounding areas again, glancing back at Stacy with some urgency in his eye. What was that…? Stacy realized he was glancing back towards where she’d parked her car. He was telling her to run.

“So you assumed I wanted her for myself?” The thing sounded amused. “Oh, no. I’ve found humans with children are more resistant than the ones with no family. They have that connection.”

Stacy glanced back at Mathew and Larkin, squeezing Lark’s hand. She also glanced in the car’s direction, and luckily her kids were a lot quicker on the uptake than she had been. Mathew nodded firmly, and Larkin squeezed her hand back, biting his lip and straightening.

Confusion crossed John’s face. “...what?”

“Humans know each other, do you not think that things like us know each other?” The thing smirked. “Misery loves company, and I’m willing to do it a favor.”

The confusion gave way to realization. “Oh my god…” John whispered. Stacy tensed, her eyes wide as she reached the same realization.

“Gods have never been any help to you,” the thing said tauntingly. “Now, if you’ll just step aside—”

John stood up straight. “No.”

The thing’s mouth curved into a scowl, and for a moment its teeth seemed a bit too sharp. “Move,” it growled.

“No. What’re you going to do, kill me?” John smirked, suddenly confident. He gave Stacy one last look. She nodded imperceptibly. A part of her wanted to ask what he was going to do. She didn’t want to just abandon him. But...she had her kids behind her. They were practically everything she had left. She had to protect them at all costs.

Oddly, the thing seemed reluctant to move forward with John in the way. It stepped to the side, only for the movement to be shadowed by John. It hissed, and looked over his shoulder, gaze landing on Stacy. “Hey, Stace,” it said, tone shifting into something more human than not. “Maybe we should—”

Stacy turned and ran, grabbing Mathew by the arm and pulling him and Larkin behind her. She heard a decidedly inhuman shriek, followed by a few sounds of footsteps, then John yelled, and there was a heavy thump! Mathew tried to look over his shoulder, but stumbled and faced forward again.

They reached the car quickly. Stacy pulled open the driver’s side door. “Get in, get in!” She shouted, and Mathew and Larkin climbed into the car through the driver’s door. Larkin tumbled over into the back seat while Mathew smushed against the passenger side window and tried to untangle his legs and sit. Stacy turned the keys—which she just now realized she’d left in the unlocked car—and the engine started. Without even bothering to put on a seatbelt, she hit the gas and threw the car into reverse. It shot out of the parking space, and after a moment of squealing and turning, darted off.

“Mom…?” Mathew said slowly. “What’s going on?”

Stacy glanced at him. “It’s...a long story, Mat. Just...remember how our last house had a ghost?” Mathew’s eyes widened, and she looked away again, back into the park. She could make out two figures rolling around, one apparently pinning the other to the ground. Hitting the brakes, she watched, trying to make out details. But they were...fuzzy. Her eyes were going out of focus, her vision doubling at times. She backed up, pointing her car towards the fighting pair and turning on her high beams. Light flooded the scene, just in time for the figure being pinned to throw off the other and back up. That one was wearing a red hood…

Instinctively, Stacy hit the gas and the car lunged forward, surging over the curb, across the sidewalk and onto the grass. The red hooded one stood up, and seemed to look in her direction, surprisingly unbothered. But perhaps she was making that up, since it was only a few seconds before the front of the car slammed into the red hooded thing. Stacy shouted, Mathew yelled, and Larkin screamed as they all felt the four wheels bump over something. Stacy quickly hit the brakes again, jolting forward. Pain burst in her face, and blood started to trickle from her nose. “Ow! Fuck!” She shouted instinctively, then turned to look at her kids. “Is everyone alright?”

Mathew sat up straight, rubbing his forehead where it had hit the dashboard. Larkin poked his head around the back of Mathew’s seat, looking shaken but unharmed. “We’re okay, Mom,” Mathew muttered, and Larkin nodded.

“Good,” she muttered, and then she rolled down the window and poked her head out. “John?!”

John was standing a mere six inches away from where the car had barrelled forward. After Stacy called for him, he grabbed the back car door and threw it open, climbing inside. “Jesus fucking christ, Stacy!” He shouted.

“Look, I panicked, I didn’t want you to get hurt!” Stacy said.

“Fucking hell!” John slammed the car door closed. “Drive!”

“Drive?” Stacy repeated, puzzled.

“Drive!” John twisted over and pointed out the back windshield. 

Stacy turned around to look, as did Mathew and Larkin. There was a crumpled form laying on the ground, but soon it began to move. Bones audibly snapped back into place, and the thing in the red hood arched its spine, lifting itself up onto its hands and feet in an extreme backbend. With another jerking motion, it elevated onto the tips of its fingers and toes, balancing its whole bent weight on those small points. Its head cracked to the side and back, and its smile widened.

“Oh fuck!” Stacy hit the gas again, just as the thing rushed at them, still in that bizarre bent-backwards position. Stacy swerved to the side and back onto the sidewalk, then off the curb onto the road again. As soon as she hit the road, she sped up even further.

“What was that?! What was that?!” Mathew cried.

“Mat, it’s a monster! Demon!” Larkin said. “Duh!”

“Don’t tell your brother ‘duh,’ Lark,” Stacy said automatically. “And yes, it’s a monster.”

“It was doing like, the crazy thing from The Exorcist!” Mathew shouted. “I thought that was Mom’s friend, was it possessing her?!”

“I don’t think so, honey,” Stacy said. “I think it was always like that, but it made me think it was a human, a-and it got close to me, and—wait, when did you watch The Exorcist?”

“Mom, I think there are more important things to think about right now!” Mathew protested.

“Yeah, I gotta agree with him,” John jumped in. “Keep driving!”

“I’m not stopping!” Stacy snapped. “Why don’t you drive?!”

“I don’t know how,” John said casually.

“You know what that was,” Stacy said to him. “You warned me against it. Then you hit it with a shovel!”

“I would not recommend anyone else to do that,” John said. “That’s just my special circumstances.”

Stacy laughed hysterically. “What special circumstances would let you wrestle an—an eldritch horror to the ground and walk away unhurt?!”

“What, do you want my whole life story?” John asked defensively.

“No, but maybe just something! I’m so sorry for doubting you,” Stacy hurried to say. “Really, I am. But I really don’t know—well, anything about you! I don’t even know your real name.”

John laughed. “I told you my real name! Guess you forgot, too.”

“When did you do that?” Stacy asked, confused. “Did that...thing mess with my memory? Can it do that?”

“Slightly, I think,” John said. “Really it just...it’s really good at suggesting things, to say the least. You lose track of time. Want to spend more time with it. Will do anything it asks. Last time I saw it, it had wormed its way so far into someone’s head that it made him lose his fucking mind, the guy was so out of it and just screaming for this thing to come get him.” He shivered a bit. “Anyway—”

Slam!

Stacy screamed as something hit the back of the car. Something red that rolled right off the back windshield, leaving a long group of five scratches. The kids screamed in unison. “Holy shit! What the fuck?!” Stacy started to hit the brakes, then glanced in the rearview mirror and saw a figure in a red hood standing up. She then decided to speed up instead of slow down. “How’d it get here so quickly?!”

“Oh, what, you think the laws of space govern these guys?! No! If anything, it’s the other way around!” John looked out the back again. “Fuck, you need to get out of town. There’s no time to get anything from your house.”

“What? Noooo,” Larkin protested.

“Lark, honey, do you want the demon to find us again?” Stacy asked.

Larkin closed his mouth, and silently shook his head.

“It doesn’t usually follow people who get away,” John muttered. “This is weird…” He glanced at Stacy. “Did you get the same feeling that I got?”

“That this thing was somehow working with the thing in that house?” Stacy asked.

John nodded.

“Well, if we get out of the city, it’ll leave us alone, right?” Stacy asked hopefully.

“Uh...no.” John sounded almost apologetic. “I know this one. It’s not bound to one place like the house thing was. It’s a wanderer. It’ll be able to follow us anywhere we go.”

“What?!” Stacy slapped the steering wheel. “Where are we supposed to go, then?!”

“Uh…” John trailed off. “I mean...you can always do what I do and...go around. Not stay in one place too long.”

Stacy paused. “Wait, is this thing the thing that…?”

“Ohhhh, no.” A slightly unhinged smile grew on John’s face. “Definitely not.”

Stacy fell silent for a while. She appeared to be concentrating on the road and not hitting anything at high speeds, but she’d still glance back at John every so often.

“Look, what do you want me to say, Stacy?!” John suddenly snapped, picking up on the glances. “That I clicked on some random video online that I thought was just an ordinary scary Internet video like fucking Blair Witch and then the video freaked out with glitches and my life went to shit from that moment on?! Cause, y’know, I don’t feel like talking about my time in literal hell!”

“Okay, I’m sorry,” Stacy said. Then she sighed, and repeated, more sincerely, “I’m sorry. I’m just...we can’t just wander around. The kids need stability, and to, you know...not be in danger.”

“That would be nice,” Mathew muttered.

John nodded silently. After a moment, he said tentatively, “There...might be one place it won’t follow us.”

“Where?” Stacy immediately asked.

“It’s a town in Ireland,” John said. “It won’t go near there.”

Stacy paused. “Why?”

“Uh...well.” John hissed, sucking air through his teeth. “More...supernatural shit. But if you don’t go into the woods, you should be okay. And at least you can, y’know, stay there. Instead of travelling all around Europe, afraid for your life.”

Stacy thought about it for a while. It was either this, or constantly flee. She sighed. “Alright, fine. How do we get there?”

“Uh, well, first you need to get to Ireland, so head west.” John glanced out the car window. “We’ve left town already, I see.”

“West. Okay.” Stacy awkwardly dug her phone out of her pocket—difficult under most circumstances, more dangerous when she was going this fast. She handed it to Mathew. “Mathew, can you use my GPS, please? Tell me how to head west.”

Mathew nodded, opening up the Maps app. Then he suddenly gasped. “I left my phone in the house.”

“We left a lot in the house,” Stacy sighed.

“I mean…” John piped up. “I grabbed your handgun.”

Stacy jumped, then coughed as Mathew and Larkin stared at her. “You...did, huh? When?”

“That night you left the kids alone and got arrested,” John explained. “I found it in your room. Wanted to make sure you didn’t...have anything that could hurt anyone. So I, uh, confiscated it. Put it with the rest of my stuff.” He paused. “Uh...then, earlier today, when I started to leave, I, uh...decided I couldn’t just...y’know, leave...you alone. So I, uh...put my stuff in your trunk.”

Stacy blinked. “Oh...I didn’t lock it?”

“You did. I picked it.” John smiled faintly. “Handy trick I figured out.”

“...huh.” Stacy bit her lip. “Maybe you can teach us how to do that.”

The car sped through the dark night, heading west, not stopping for as long as possible. And somewhere else, a thing in a red hood eventually stopped following. If they were heading where it thought they were heading, it would probably be for the best if he stayed away.

Still, there was more than one way to skin a cat. And more things hidden in the darkness that would be willing to help.

[zwantstobe]

16th July - Do you have a lot of work to do for school or university or your job this summer?

Not rn!! But I did take a course last month. It was very chaotic and stressful and I ended the course with a low C but I’m hoping to develop stronger study habits before my next course starts!! And I’m hoping at least one of my job applications get accepted. I don’t want to go job hunting anymore.

For some reason I’m forgetting what I did today? Perhaps it’s because I didn’t do much that I’m proud of. But now I remember most of it, so I will relay it to you.

I had to wake up early again, but once again I fell asleep on the couch once I got to it when I was supposed to do work. I honestly didn’t have a plan for today, which is why I allowed myself to doze off (or maybe I was just too tired). But eventually I got some things done, i.e. helping my dad take notes in his virtual meeting and writing down things in my planner to help me set up for tomorrow’s productive day instead. I tried to read some of the book my dad assigned me (Guns, Germs and Steel) but I couldn’t focus on it, so I found an audio version of it on YouTube. Hopefully this will help me go faster.

I biked over to my friend’s house today! Her mom asked my mom to borrow a book so I went with my sister to drop it off. I hadn’t seen my friend in a while so it was nice to catch up, even if it was only for a few minutes. Her mom gave me jam, biscuits and mango juice to take back home. I really, really miss interacting with people.

Me being tired and dehydrated all the time and having no physical communication with anyone other than my family makes me more sensitive than usual when it comes to online friendships with people I know irl. Sometimes when my close friends don’t reply all day or “sound” off when they reply, it makes me anxious and a bit paranoid, as if I said something wrong and I don’t know what it was. I’m hoping to become a better, more understanding person once all this is over. Although I’m not sure how easy that will be, considering my mess of a mind and the jumble of emotions I feel (or don’t feel) on a daily basis. I think I’m feeling a bit lonely. But why do I feel that if I have my family and friends...? It makes me feel that I’m ungrateful now. I am grateful for all the people around me and online and I love all of you. Ahh I hope that mini rant doesn’t inconvenience anyone.

My main goals right now consist of finishing one chapter of my fic, continuing Guns, Germs and Steel, and becoming more active. I’ll try to bike more often.

I hope you all are doing well, to the 7 followers which I have~

Here’s a video of Mikey drinking from a salt water pool

[blastberrydragon]

MagiTech Institute of Art -Chapter 1

Tyler walked up the concrete steps and pushed open the double doors to the plain-looking admission's building for MagiTech Institute of Art. A rush of cold air and the smell of commercial cleaners filled his lungs as he braced himself to approach the stern-looking Asian lady seated at the front desk.

"Oh! You must be Tyler Risky! You look just like your father! Is your mom here with you?" She said warmly as she walked around her desk to greet him.

Tyler stopped mid-step, 'You knew my father?"

"Oh yes, he went to school here at the same time I did. He was a sophomore when I was a junior"

She leads Tyler to a small sitting area in the corner, keeping up the small talk, "Would you like something to drink? Where's your mother?"

"Some water would be nice; she's dropping off my little sister at a friend's house," Tyler responded while accepting the glass of water, "I'm sorry, but I never got your name?"

"Oh, sorry, I'm Ai; I run admissions for the university," she responded as she ambled over to the reception desk.

"Let's get you started on some paperwork while we wait for your mother," She called as she rifled through one desk drawer before moving on to the next one.

"This might take a while, our receptionist just stepped out for lunch. Jame's is the one who knows where everything is"

"New student files are in the top drawer in order of expected arrival for the day. An electronic copy is made, and papers get filed alphabetically with the rest of student records after the paperwork is filled out." A large dark man called as he strolled back out.

"Hello, I'm James! I would love to stay and chat, but I just cam back for my wallet", the man introduced himself.

"I can handle filing the paperwork after lunch if you leave it on top of my desk!" he called over his shoulder as he walked back out.

"Here we go!" Ai handed Tyler the paperwork, "Fill this out, and I can take you and your mother through orientation after you finish. Sometimes I wish that we could admit students all at the same time. Still, the rolling start dates allow us to welcome more unconventional students."

Tyler filled out paperwork for about 15 minutes before his mom walked into the office.

"Ai! It's been so long since I've seen you! I'm here to go through orientation with my son Tyler Riksy."

"Suzzy! I haven't seen you in forever, your son is right behind you. Such a nice young man, you did a good job raising him."

"If your paperwork is done, Tyler, you and your mother can follow me into my office."

"The paperwork is done, ma'am. Hi, mama," Tyler said, walking over to hug his mother.

"Let's get this started, shall we? The orientation room is right this way." Ai lead way through a door in the back of the reception area.

Tyler walked into a grey conference room, except for the floor-to-ceiling windows on the far side overlooking the rows of servers that seemed to stretch so impossibly far.

"Welcome to the MagiTech Institute of Art, but more importantly, welcome to your birthright," Ai proclaimed as she guided Tyler to a seat facing the windows.  A sense of vertigo overwhelmed Tyler as he tried to focus on the servers.

"What?" Forces itself out of Tyler's mouth. He's sure he's misheard, birthright? Who uses the word birthright anymore? Did Ai mean he's a legacy because of Dad?

Tyler looks over to his mother, trying to figure out what going on. His mother beams at him with barely contained excitement.

"Oh, I had hoped you would take after your father. Keeping it a secret after you got admitted was so difficult," Suzzy rambled. "I'm getting ahead of myself, aren't I?"

"Just a little, but most parents do. Tyler, your mother, is excited because by finding and completing the application to the school, you proved to have the innate ability to perform magic." Ai explained. Tyler stared incredulously at Ai and his mama, wondering what type of cult he'd gotten himself into and how to get out without causing a scene.

"And this is the part where you think we are delusional, and we have to prove it to you so you'll listen to the explanation," Ai says teasingly with a smirk on her face.

"So what do you think this is? Cult, drugs, hallucination, dream, multilevel marketing scam?" Tyler's mama asked him.

"Um, a cult?" Tyler responded. Questions raced through his head. Did cults acknowledge their cult status during orientation? What was happening to his mama? What do the servers have to do with magic?

"I can assure you that the school endorses no particular religion, but how about we start with a video explanation and a demonstration? I can answer any questions you'll have afterward," Ai said. She walked over to the screen at the end of the conference room and pressing play on the laptop connected to it.

"Welcome to the MagiTech Institute of Art and the world of magic" came blaring out of the speakers as scenes of students in classrooms played on the screen.

"Before we begin with the history of the school, let us go further back and discuss the history of magic. Magic was discovered by many cultures across the world at different times. We'll generalize the method in which magic was found by most peoples, although exceptions do exist.

Usually, the first people discover the use of magic within a culture could only do minor things with the ability. Light a fire a little faster, prevent food spoilage for an extra day or move a little quieter during a hunt.

Eventually, most cultures discovered that physical objects can enhance a person's magical ability. These objects were usually a form of artwork, sculpture, painting, and pottery were frequently used. Now they can walk through a crowd unnoticed, increase harvest yields by 10%, or better the odds of someone surviving an illness.

So it remained for hundreds of years until science came along and with it better, more reliable methods of ensuring a more abundant harvest or preventing disease. Magic use started to die out kept alive only by individuals looking to preserve their cultural heritage.

In 1972 a research study into the cross-cultural similarities in magic use was conducted. The paper never made it past peer-review, but the individuals who participated in the study, 200 of them, organized a convention of sorts. During the conference, it was discovered that many magic systems use physical objects to enhance their practice. After a bit of tinkering by a few programmers present, it was found that computers could strengthen the connection between objects and magic. An informal group was formed, and work began to design a supercomputer to enhance magic use.

This eventually gave rise to the MagiTechs, a group of people who have created, updated, and maintained the mainframe for the last 48 years. The mainframe is a supercomputer that came from those early efforts. Any magic-user can access  the mainframe to enhance their magical practice."

Ai hits pause on the video "Do you have any questions before we get to the school's history?"

"Am I just supposed to believe in magic just because you said so?" Tyler says as he fidgets with keys. He glanced at the doors, wondering if he could convince his mother to leave with him.

"Not yet, we haven't really provided any proof. We do expect that our students be intelligent enough to ask for proof and examine it themselves," AI responded.

"We can do the demonstration now or after we cover the school's history, which would you prefer?"

"The demonstration now, please," Tyler responds, hoping to get this over quickly.

Anxious thought swirled around his head. I wish I had been more suspicious of the application. Rolling admission & start dates so I could finish working with Mrs. May on adding an art section to the bookstore? Need-based scholarships? Only 45 minutes away from mama and my little sister Jane? It was too good to be true.

"Ok, I'm going to give you a piece of clay and a laptop. The laptop is connected to the mainframe and will enhance your magic as you work it through the clay. Think of the one thing that would convince you that magic is real as you work the clay. Keep in mind that magic isn't limitless and try to keep it to something that can happen inside this room," Ai instructed.

Tyler turned on the laptop and started messing with the clay. His mind wandered to the many instances of magic users flying in popular culture. Superheroes flying through the sky loomed in his mind's eye as he worked the pattern of an updraft into the clay. Witches on a broomstick as he stretched the earth upwards. Levitating genies as a broad platform formed at the top of the sculpture.

"Tyler, honey, look down," his mother asked him.

Tyler opened his eyes and looked around the room. Everything, including Ai and his mother where floating 2-3 inches above the surface under them. Tyler looked down and found that he was hovering over the seat of his chair, and the chair itself was floating a few inches above the floor.

"I thought magic was supposed to be grander," Tyler mumbled.

"That's a common misconception, a tall tale if you will. Magic has always been limited to small things, and you are untrained. With training, you might be able to levitate everything in this room up to a foot or a single object 7-8 feet." Ai explained.

"Ok, so why all the secrecy? Why not just tell people? Why did Dad hide it?" Tyler asked.

"Well, most parents hide it from their children since there's no guarantee that children will inherit the ability. There were several cases of non-wielding children growing resentful and jealous of parents or siblings that did have the ability. Coupled with children's' habit of telling everyone everything, it's become customary to let children find their ability by themselves. There's no official rule that requires discretion, you can tell anyone you want. Most of us don't tell anyone except our partners because outside society is a bit judgemental about magic," Ai explained.

"I almost stopped speaking to your father when he told me, I thought he had either joined a cult or was planning on becoming a stage magician.  I didn't know which would've been worse. I came around eventually," Tyler's mom said, grinning.

"Ok, I'm not fully convinced, but I'm willing to listen" Tyler replied

"Good, that's all we ask for, I'm going to keep going with the video, and we can cover any other questions after" So said as she pressed play.

"While the use of objects to channel magic is mostly something that could be passed down from generation to generation or from master to apprentice, the involvement of technology marked a need for a specialized school. The MagiTech Institute of Art was founded in 1974 with 3 areas of focus, technology, art, or magic history. More areas of focus have been added as the school has grown. However, students still spend the first 2 years at the school, focusing on these 3 areas.

The main campus began to be built shortly after the formation of the school. It was designed to be accessible to as many magic wielders as possible.

The school has been designed to be accessed through 73 different properties scattered around the world to better serve students. All of these properties will lead students, guests, or staff onto the main campus. All others see only the admissions building disguised as an unremarkable office building. 3 more entrances to the school are planned to come online by 2023.

The main campus of the school exists partially between all these locations and the mainframe.

We hope you will join us as a student and start your journey to becoming a MagiTech." The screen went black as the video ended.

"Ok, what does staying here, entail? Do I get to go home to see my family? What are the rules about visitors?" Tyler asked.

"We ask that all first-year students live in the dormitories, but there's no curfew. You are free to leave campus just like you would be at another University. Visitors need to be approved to come on campus. Staying here entails that you attend classes, obtain passing grades, and follow the rules set out in the student handbook," Ai said.

"Ok, if I agree to this, can I drop out if it's not a good fit?"

"While we hope students don't drop out, it does occasionally happen. We have a more generic description of classes for those who wish to transfer to a more traditional university."

"Ok. I'll stay. What happens next?" Tyler asks.

" We'll get you an access card, and assign you to another student who will show you around for the first few days. Your mom can drop off your stuff at the lobby of your dorm room on her way out," Ai said.

Ai led Tyler into a new glass-clad building. Once inside, they traveled through a few well-lit hallways cluttered with art before coming to a stop in front of an art studio with several students inside.

"Hello, everyone! Where's Alby? He's going to be Tyler's orientation person," Ai calls out.

"Alby's in the bathroom, he should be right back. Hi Tyler! Long time no see!" A guy in the back corner called Diego answers. Diego was small-framed with bright pink hair blending into purple roots. Warm brown skin crinkled around his eyes as he smiled at Tyler.

"Do you two know each other?" Ai asks.

*We went to high school together," they both respond.

"Tyler, would you mind if Diego introduces you to Alby? I'm running a bit late."

"Not at all, it would be nice to talk to him for a bit."

"Wonderful! Drop by my office if you need anything or want to chat" AI called over her shoulder.

"So, what's this place like Diego?"

"It's amazing! The classes are fantastic, the people super friendly, and you won't need to worry about people being assholes because they think you're gay," Diego answered.

"I'm not gay," Tyler responded, a well-worn joke between them. "I'm.."

"One of those no homo dude bros, I'm assuming." Interrupted a handsome person with beautifully painted eyes and a delicate mouth. Bleached white hair fell into their eyes, and a tank top reveling buff arms completed the look.

"I'm Alby, I go by they/them and I don't tolerate bullies."

"Umm, hi? I'm Tyler, I think you are the person assigned to show me around?"

"Yep. Get your stuff. I'll take you to your dorm room and pick you up for dinner after you unpack." Alby called over their shoulder as they stalked out of the room.

Tyler chased after them, catching up as they stepped out of the building into a tree-shaded courtyard dotted with chairs and tables. The wide-open grassy space was surrounded but other buildings. Tyler spotted students studying at the tables and hanging out with friends.

"Here's a map of the school and do try to keep up," Alby snarled, pushing a crumpled piece of paper into Tyler's hands.

Tyler trailed after them, bewildered as to what he had done to get off on such a wrong note. Maybe it was the polo shirt? Did it make him look like frat bro? He was just trying to look put together for orientation. Tyler resolved to ask Alby what his issue was when he managed to catch up to him and raced after him into a large brick building.

Alby stopped abruptly in front of a door in a corridor plain wood doors that left Tyler with an impression of the vague uneasiness of gazing upon the mainframe. " This is your dorm. I'll be back in an hour." Alby spat out as they turned on their heel and started to march away.

"Wait, Alb,y! What did I do to make you this angry this fast?" Tyler shouted at Alby's back.

"Clearly, you're one of those straight people that feel so fucking threatened by any queer person they have to let everyone know that their straight and not one of those people" Alby ground out.

"I'm pansexual?" Tyler responded, disconcerted.

"I don't care... Wait, what? But you told Diego you weren't gay?" Alby faltered.

"Oh, that's a joke we had in our high school LGBT club about people erasing the identity of anyone who isn't strictly gay. I mean, the name itself was pretty exclusionary, you know? Gay Coalition? But the school would barely let us have that," Tyler rambled.

"Oh, I fucked up," Alby muttered as they leaned heavily against the wall, "I fucked up bad. I thought you were homophobic, one of those guys that need to protest even the hint that they're not masculine enough. So you know Diego?"

"Yeah, we went to high school together, he graduated a year before I did."

"Well, if Diego thinks your cool, I guess I should give you a chance. Sorry for being an asshole." Alby mumbled to the ground.

"Don't worry about it. So this is my dorm?" Tyler asked hesitantly.

"Sure is, walk-in, and you should meet your new roommate. I'm going to turn in a paper, and  I'll be back in a bit to take you to dinner." Alby replied, grinning.

"Um, Alby? How do I get in?" Tyler asked.

"It recognizes your student ID; press it on the door, it should let you in."

"Ok awesome! I'll see you in a bit for dinner!" Tyler called scrambled to get his ID out of his backpack.

[margridarnauds]

🔥 gatekeeping in academia

I don’t think that jargon, in and of itself, is gatekeeping, since it CAN be really important to have specific terms to refer to things. 

That being said, I think there’s still a certain expectation that, once you graduate with your BA, you are at the very least middle class. Because you went in! You’re getting your MA! You’re part of that elite! And that can be a more insidious type of gatekeeping, because it goes beneath the radar. And, unless your classmates, like you, are poverty level, they won’t get it, either. Your professors, in general, won’t get it, because THEY didn’t have to go through that, and so their advice will be tailored to someone from a middle to upper class background. (I’m NOT saying that all professors are middle to upper class, but I am saying that a significant portion of them, at least that I’ve personally met, are, or have been out of the job hunt for so long they can’t provide help.) People will talk about just being able to book a plane/train ticket, and I just kind of FEEL this weight on me, because even a train ticket to a few hours away from me, about....20-30 Euros....that’s my grocery bills for at least a week, two if I need to be conservative. Bonus, in my case, if you aren’t in Dublin, because that’s where all the major manuscripts are. (That, or safely sequestered in the British Library......which it obviously warms the cockles of my heart to see valuable Irish cultural artifacts in the hands of the Brits still.) Fuck you if you’re in Galway, Maynooth, Cork, or Limerick, right? 

College application fees? Tell me why it costs sometimes upwards of $100 for them to read a form and tell you “no.” 

Journal articles, books? Yeah, you have your school’s library behind you, but NOW? The cracks are showing as far as how useful that really is. I just submitted my draft for my edition of a text; I had to make use of about TWO SOURCES for the section on kingship, because those were the ONLY things I had on hand, and one of them was sent to me by my legal scholar friend. 

I recently saw a bit of an admissions scandal for a certain ivy league university. Not one that would be in the news, but, really, the same as every admissions scandal. And I was like “And....so?” Yeah, they let in the rich and famous while kicking the rest of us down. That isn’t news. Not if you’re already poverty level. That’s been something I’ve been familiar with since before I walked into a classroom. That’s just “people who thought they were safe suddenly realizing they were in the exact same boat as the rest of us while it’s sinking.” 

I have never felt particularly excluded from my field for being queer or a woman. There have been MOMENTS where I’ve been like “Would you say that to me if I was a dude?” but in general? Not really. But I have felt it for being from a poor family. That is the one barrier that I have never been able to get through. 

I’m only here because of the sacrifices my family made, and every time I talk about extending my stay, every time I hear about my aunt getting mad at my mom for buying a whole-ass four cokes (99 cents each) to last for the week, every time my mom has to sneak something in because she ordered something online, I feel the worst possible guilt, because I KNOW what I financial strain I am, and there’s very little hope of me making it up in the field. 

And, of course, this is from the perspective of someone who’s IN that elite group. God help anyone who just wants to access a good book on Celtic Studies that is accessible. I’m a fucking MA student who’s spent the last year learning Old Irish and Medieval Welsh, have generally been said to have a decent handle on languages, have done editions of two manuscripts, and know more about mythological texts than most PhD students in our department (who have their own specialties that they could tromp me in), and yet I still sometimes get brushed aside or treated like a child. Which isn’t ego on my part, it’s me not going for false modesty or downplaying what I can do. Maybe it’s because I’m 22, maybe it’s because I have a young looking face, maybe it’s because I’m too....American. I don’t know. I have a long way to go, but I’ve made it a long way, too. And if I’m not Enough to have earned respect, I feel a huge amount of sympathy for anyone trying to get in. 

I get why we do have the jargon and the specialized stuff, but Young!Rachel was lucky that she fell face first onto Celtic Heroic Age and Ireland’s Immortals, otherwise where would I be? It’s a problem, in my field in particular, that we lock ourselves behind etymological debates (which are valid and important, especially in such a linguistically oriented field), but then wonder WHY the public has so many misconceptions. And then we make fun of them for not grasping things that we were taught in class or found in the course of our research. If people believe that Áine is “Goddess of summer” or something, whose fault is it? Whose is it really? Them for believing what their research (ie Google) told them, or ours for not having the resources they needed and locking ourselves in that ivory tower? How dare they not have read a Charles-Edwards article from 1989. How dare they not know. How dare they want to learn. It’s easy to make fun of people for having misconceptions, it’s harder to actually provide them the tools they need to free themselves from it, especially since it’s letting The Rabble into our nice, clean workspace. Especially because we might have to TALK with people instead of simply talking down to them. (Incidentally, the first time I ever met my supervisor, he said something along the lines of “It’s our fault, too” and that was the moment I knew I would die for him.) 

Anyway, that’s why I always try to answer any questions I get on this stuff as thoroughly as possible + with sources, because it’s utterly unfair to anyone trying to get in. 

[thetravelerwrites]

Ironblood Interspecies Daycare

Rating: Teen Relationship: Male Orc x Female Human Additional Tags: Exophilia, Orc boyfriend, Daycare, POV First Person, First Person Perspective, Male Reader Content Warnings: Kids, Children, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Worth Issues, Disowned Words: 5035

An orc running a daycare takes on a new employee and feels an immediate attraction to her, having to struggle with his own feelings of inadequacy to get close to her. Commission for @ban23​. 

The Traveler's Masterlist

You might think that running a daycare would be a weird job for an orc, but orcs are a clan-oriented people. Caring for and watching over the young is sort of ingrained in our nature. I couldn’t imagine doing anything else.

Of course, since my daycare is open to all species, we have quite a few kids. There are a lot of human-only care centers, orc-only, fae-only, and so on. They’re usually pricey and exclusive, so an interspecies daycare that takes lower income families was a boon to the community.

Unfortunately, we couldn’t take all the kids whose parents applied, which made me feel terrible. According to the law, there had to be one care worker per five children, and I only had four employees plus myself. I was hoping to expand, but I was having trouble finding more caregivers.

It wasn’t for a lack of wanting to pay more people, it was more a lack of experience. I didn’t hire weekend babysitters; I only hired people with professional experience in child care, whether it’s a degree or a teaching position or several years of homecare, like a nanny or au pair, accompanied with references that were nothing short of glowing. Just because these children came from poor families was no reason to think they deserved anything less than the best.

Thankfully, there was a new applicant with a degree in child psychology with a special focus on interspecies relations, and spent four years as a school counselor. She was also a registered nurse. She sounded perfect, and if hiring her meant we could take more kids, then that was all the better.

I had scheduled her interview after close of the business day, when all the kids had gone home. I always tried to be in the back when the parents arrived; some of the moms were… handsy.

After closing, the five of us gathered in the back area for coffee and so the others could grab their personal belongings to go home.

“Ms. Jones keeps asking if you’re single,” Jacob said as he grabbed his things from his personal cubby.

“Mrs. Peterson, too,” Said Emily, wrapping a scarf around her neck. “I swear she’s gonna start camping out near the front door to ambush you when you leave.”

“Please, Karen from the grocery store has been leaving notes with her weekly fees. I keep giving them to Jukah and he keeps throwing them away.”

“They’re wildly inappropriate and very graphic,” I said, sipping coffee and looking over invoices.

“Really? Oh, damn,” Jacob said. “If that’s the case, I’m going to keep them from now on, then. I’m not above living vicariously.”

“Why don’t you ask one of them out, Jukah? They’re clearly into you, and there’s no shortage of options,” Emily asked, putting on her coat. She was the only other person besides me who worked here that wasn’t human. She was a bright blue kobold with dark spikes along her jaw and two sets of horns. Her tail was smooth, however, and dragged the ground when she walked. She often let the smaller children ride on it to make them laugh.

“They’re too pushy,” I replied dismissively.

“I thought orcs liked pushy women,” She said.

“That’s a gross stereotype and you’re wrong for saying it,” You said playfully. “Different orcs have different tastes, just like everyone. I don’t push you toward every buff bodybuilder I see, do I?”

“Gross,” Emily said, her face scrunched up.

“See? Because I know you like skinny weirdos,” I told her, laughing.

She laughed too. “You’re right. I can’t even lie about it.”

“So what kind of woman do you like?” Esther asked me. She was the grandma of my employees, having been a pediatric nurse for decades and started working at the daycare because she refused to retire.

“Why are you people so interested in my love life all of a sudden?” I protested.

“Because it’s weird that all these women are literally throwing themselves at you and you’re not interested in even trying with one of them,” Kody said. Kody was non-binary and was a big help in teaching the kids to be respectful to each other.

“I keep my work life and my personal life separate,” I said simply. “End of story.”

To be honest, I really didn’t know why these women found me so appealing. By orc standards, I was considered extremely ugly. I’m about a foot and a half too short for an orc, and even though all orcs are born with a natural muscle tone, I was way too skinny. My tusks are too small, though that’s actually fine for my line of work. I even file down and cap them, just to be sure I don’t accidentally gore a kid when I pick them up. I don’t wear my hair long the way other orcs do, in braids or plaits; I keep it short so the kids can’t pull on it. I even catch flack because of my eye color, a flat turquoise, which is exceedingly rare among orcs.

It wasn’t just my looks that made me unusual among my people. I’d grown up in a typical stronghold, but I’m quiet, introverted, and self-conscious. I’ve never felt the same sort of personal pride that other orcs feel in being an orc. I don’t hunt or fight or spend my time in other typical orcish pursuits. Timidness and a lack hubris are seen as personality defects for my people. In the eyes of other orcs, I might as well be human, and that’s in no way a compliment.

My only redeeming features were my skin, which was the deep, dark forest green found most attractive among my kind, and my natural ability and instinct to care for and teach the young, which is a high priority in orcish culture. That’s probably the only reason I wasn’t thrown out before I came of age. When I was old enough, however, I left the stronghold with no intent to return, and I’ve never regretted that decision.

So, these womens’ attention, especially the more aggressive ones, is baffling to me. I’m nothing special, in fact, I’m downright substandard, so this new-found attention was jarring.

“Just think about it, man,” Emily said. “You’re a nice guy. It’s a shame for you to be alone.”

“Guys, seriously, stop worrying about me. I don’t need to have a girlfriend to be happy. Now git,” I said, waving my hands. “I have an interview to conduct in thirty minutes.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kody said. “Whatever you say, Boss.”

I shooed them out and started cleaning up the play area. I enjoyed the time alone in the daycare after work. It gave me time to think about ways of improving the atmosphere for the kids. It was always good to have new things for them to do or they’d get bored and tear the place apart.

I heard the front door open as I was stacking tiny chairs and a voice say, “Hi. Are you Jukah Ironblood?”

“Yes, I am. Can I help you?” I called over my shoulder without turning.

“I’m Briauna Ramos, I’m here for the interview.”

“Oh!” I said more animatedly. “Of course, come in, I’ll be right with you, let me just finish up here.”

“No hurry,” She said pleasantly, closing the door.

I picked up the last of the chairs, stacked them, and turned. And stopped in my tracks.

The woman standing patiently at the door with a expectant smile on her face was petite with thick thighs and a cute little belly, wearing a flowing yellow top with black jean leggings that did nothing to hide these features. Her skin was a deep brown and her amber-colored eyes were wide, framed in long, black lashes. Her hair was silky, wavy, a little fluffy, and fell to her shoulders. She wore a small barrette in the shape of a bee to keep it out of her eyes.

She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen in my entire goddamn life.

“Something wrong?” She asked, her eyebrows drawing together in concern.

I realized I’d been standing with my mouth open for about a solid minute and shut it so quickly that my teeth clicked.

“No, sorry, um… please,” I said, gesturing at the door to my office. Once there, I sat at my desk and motioned for her to take the chair on the opposite side. She lay her coat over the back and sat down, pressing her her cold fingers together and putting them between her thighs to warm them. I tried my best not to stare at her thighs. I wanted to put my own hands between them and feel how warm…

I mentally slapped myself back into reality. Stop it.

Her application was on the desk in front of me, and I riffled through the papers for a moment to collect my thoughts.

“You come highly recommended,” I said, attempting to keep my voice even. “Your references and credentials are incredible.”

“Thanks,” She said. “I’ve wanted to work in childcare my whole life. Working at the school was okay, but I actually didn’t have all that much to do. Most kids who need a counseling are already in therapy, and there wasn’t much need for a nurse most of the time, so I spent hours in my office with nothing to do. I want to work more directly with children. This daycare seems like a perfect place, especially since it caters to lower income families. They deserve the same degree of care as private facilities.”

I felt myself smile. “I completely agree. That’s why I only hire the best. And you’re pretty close to perfect for this job.”

She smiled with her whole face, and I found it hard to breathe. “Thanks. I’ve applied at a few places, but I like this place the most. The facility is large and clean, and the list of activities for the kids is diverse and stimulating. You seem like you really care about kids.”

“I do,” I said. “Providing a safe environment for them is my first priority.” I looked through her papers again. “We have a former nurse on our staff, but she’s no longer practicing, so your nursing status is great. We get all kinds of bumps and scrapes here.”

“I can imagine,” She laughed.

“Well,” I said with a tired sigh. “I’m satisfied with your experience and I think you’d be a good fit here. When would you like to start?”

“Well, I just moved to the area, and I’m getting my apartment unpacked. How about Monday?”

I nodded. “Sounds good to me.” I stood and held out my hand for a handshake. “Welcome to the team.”

She took my hand, shaking firmly, and it was like an electric shock passed from her into me, making my whole body tingle. I gulped and tried to keep my professional demeanor in place.

“Great, I can’t wait to start,” She said enthusiastically as she pulled her hand away and threw her purse over her shoulder. “I’ll see you Monday, Mr. Ironblood.”

“Oh, just Jukah, please. Formality goes out the window pretty quick in this place,” I said, laughing.

She laughed with me. I could listen to that laugh all day.

“Thanks again,” She said, and left. Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t help sneaking a peek at her ample rear as she walked away. I said down heavily at my desk and tried to calm myself.

Well, shit. So much for keeping my personal and professional lives separate.

She arrived early on Monday morning, before the others got in, and you had a few minutes to show her around.

“This is your personal cubby,” I told her, showing her a cubby on the lower shelf. “You can keep your phone with you in the common area, but try to use it as little as possible. If you have to take a phone call, either come back here or go outside.”

“Gotcha,” She said. She was wearing a powder blue sundress and darker blue leggings with her hair in a tight, fluffy ponytail two tendrils of hair hanging on either side of her face. She looked adorable.

The others wandered in shortly after the two of us put our things away and I introduced all of them. They greeted her politely and engaged her in light conversation, asking where she was from and how she was liking town so far, as they started on the coffee and pastries I brought in for them every day.

I had about fifteen minutes before the daycare opened, so I went to the waitlist to notify the families at the top that I could take them. A couple of people had already found accommodations, but the ones who hadn’t were overjoyed, two of them even asking if they could fill out the intake paperwork that day.

A paper plate with a pastry and a cup of coffee was placed in front of me. I looked up, and Briauna winked and smiled at me before returning to the back room.

Oh, god. This was bad. Love at first sight doesn’t exist, I told myself. She’s pretty and sweet, sure, but this is just an infatuation. Don’t even think about it. Didn’t you just tell your team that you didn’t need a girlfriend to be happy? Besides, dating a co-worker is always a bad idea. She probably wouldn’t be into you, anyway. Just get a grip and let it go.

The children began arriving, and I was out front to greet them, dodging the over-eager mothers as best I could. Kody, Emily, Jacob, Esther, and Briauna came out of the back when they heard the children’s voices. They quickly fell into their roles, including Briauna, helping the kids take off their jackets and instructing them to put their shoes and lunches in their cubbies.

I’d say only a third of the kids were human. The rest were a mix of orcs, fae, beast creatures, and even a little half-demon girl. Most of the children were between the ages of two and five, though we did have a couple that were under two years old, and they were mostly Esther’s responsibility. She was the best at handling the babies.

“Okay, little ones, sit in the circle and play the quiet game for a minute,” I said to the group, and they scrambled to find a spot in the big, red sitting circle in the middle of the room. “We’ve got a brand new friend who’s going to be helping us out from now on. Her name is Briauna.”

Briauna waved at them and said, “Nice to meet you!”

“I want you guys to be nice to her,” I continued, “And stay on your very best behavior, okay?”

“Yes, Kah-Kah,” said the chorus of little voices.

“Kah-Kah?” Briauna asked in an undertone. “That must go over well with the Spanish-speaking parents.”

I grinned. “We’ve all got nicknames. Emily is Emmy, Jacob is Jay-Jay, Esther is Essa, and Kody… well, Kody doesn’t have a nickname, but theirs is easy to pronounce, even for the littler ones. Just wait, I’m sure you’ll have your own by the end of the day.”

Sure enough, the children had started calling Briauna Na-Na by lunchtime.

“Told you,” I said as we began laying them down for their afternoon naps. She grinned at me with the tip of her tongue between her teeth. I felt like slapping myself after wondering what that tongue might feel like on mine.

Naptime was when we took lunch. One of us was assigned to sit with the kids as they slept so that the others could eat, and there was a rotating schedule. Today was Kody’s day. I made a note to add Briauna to the schedule later.

“So, how was your first day?” I asked her over my club sandwich.

“Amazing,” She said. “It’s exactly what I was hoping for.”

“Yeah, the kids are great,” Emily said. “They almost make the pay worth it.” She grinned and stuck her forked tongue out of me. I reached out and whacked her spiny shoulder lightly.

“I wish I could pay all of you more,” I said a little regretfully. “We’re applying for low income care grant for businesses that involve children, and when the grant comes through, I’m hoping I can give you all bonuses.”

“Bonuses,” Jacob, Emily, and Esther all said in unison, like zombies.

Briauna shook her head and laughed softly. “Honestly, I don’t care about the money. Today was probably the best day of my professional career. If I didn’t need to eat, I’d do it for free. It’s exactly what I’ve always wanted. Kids deserve a good start, no matter who or what they are, or where they come from. I’m so happy to help do that for them.”

I stared at her in an awed silence, feeling as if my heart had taken up all the space in my chest, leaving no room for my lungs. There was no point in lying to myself anymore: I was head over heels in love with this woman.

I forced myself to look away from her, and ended up glancing at my other three co-workers, who had sudden knowing smirks on their faces. I scowled at them and lowered my eyes, eating to occupy my mouth so I wouldn’t have to answer questions.

Walking home that evening, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I knew myself well enough to know I’d never have the courage to just ask her out. I’ve never been that confident. All of my exes had asked me out, not the other way around. I thought about having someone ask her out for me, but I shook the thought out of my head with a grimace. This wasn’t high school. I was a goddamn adult and running my own business. I should be able to ask her out without a buffer.

Thinking that was easy, doing it was another thing entirely.

As I passed a novelty store, I stopped and looked in the window. There was a very tiny stuffed deer sitting in a little gift bag with chocolates cookies.

I stood there, staring at the stuffed deer. In the old days, orcs wanting to charm a mate would go through a courting ritual which usually involved hunting large game, like bears and deer and the like. I definitely wasn’t the hunting type, but… the point was to show your adoration through gifts, to show what you can provide for your mate. I certainly didn’t intend to leave dead animal on her doorstep, but I did want to offer her affection and companionship.

I ducked into the novelty store and bought the gift bag without really thinking about it. And now that I had it, I had no idea how to present it to her. I couldn’t just give it to her during work in front of the others; I was too self-conscious. I hadn’t seen her anywhere outside of work, so I couldn’t “accidentally” bump into her someplace else. I wasn’t going to show up at her house unannounced like a goddamn creep. I sighed, hoping I’d figure it out.

The next day, I was sure to get in before everyone else and hide the gift in my desk. As it happened, that day was my day to sit with the children during naptime. After the kids were sleeping and everyone went into the back room for lunch, I snuck quietly into my office, retrieved the gift, and slipped it into one of Briauna’s coat pockets.

After naptime, Briauna took out a book she’d brought from her own home and had all the little ones sitting in a semi-circle around her. She was naturally gifted at holding their attention. Well, not just theirs. I couldn’t stop staring at her.

I had put a high precedent on early education, so lessons on shapes, colors, numbers, and letters were a weekly thing. Not enough that it overloaded their still developing brains, but just enough to keep them engaged and help them retain the knowledge. We often did a flash card game with a points system, and the winner got a reward from the toy chest.

“You’re going to scare the kids if you keep making faces at Briauna like that,” Kody told me as they looked over the children’s worksheets.

I scoffed. “What are you talking about?”

Kody gave me a deadpan look. “Come on, man. I’m not blind. You’ve been staring at her all day. Hell, you practically drool. You’re really going to act like you’re not attracted to her?”

“Just drop it.”

Kody raised their hands in surrender, their eyebrows shooting up to their hairline. “Fine, fine.” They shook their head at you. “You’re a hot mess, you know that?”

“I’m more than aware, thank you,” I told them. Again, they shook their head and wandered off to set out the art supplies for creative time.

They rest of the day passed without incident. Briauna pulled on her coat without checking her pockets. I watched her with my heart in my throat as she left with the others. Kody shot me a meaningful look before following her out of the door.

The next morning, she came in with the giftbag in her hand.

“Who left this in my coat?” She asked.

“That was in your coat?” Emily said. “There’s no note or anything?”

“No, I found it in my pocket when I got home,” She said. “I thought maybe one of the kids put it in there, but the price tag on the bottom said it was, like, twenty bucks, and I don’t think toddlers keep that kind of cash on them.”

I winced internally. I’ll have to remember to take the tag off next time. I’d never done this before, so some mistakes were bound to happen. I’d have to be more careful in the future.

“So, which one of you gave me this? Jacob?”

Jacob snorted. “Girl, you cute and all, but I’m gay as the day is long. It was one of them,” He said, gesturing at the rest of us.

“Not me,” Kody, Esther, and Emily said in unison.

“What about you, Boss?” Emily asked.

I tried my best to look affronted. “Please, I spend enough money on coffee and donuts for you losers every day.”

“So, none of you are going to own up to this?” Briauna said. “Really?”

“Hell, maybe it was one of the kids, you don’t know,” Emily said.

Briauna rolled her eyes. “You guys are impossible.”

“You like it,” Kody said, grinning.

Two days later, a teddy bear and some caramels found their way into her pockets. A week after that, there was a stuffed tiger and gourmet hard candies.

On her day to sit with the kids at naptime, I brought her a coffee, and she whispered, “Who do you think is leaving me the presents?”

“Dunno,” I said. “Could be any of them, really. Well, except Jacob.”

“Not you, though,” She asked shrewdly.

“I’m your boss,” I said. “Wouldn’t that be inappropriate?”

“I guess,” She said, shrugging. “But I thought you said formalities went out the window here.”

I gulped my heart down. Thankfully for my slowly crumbling facade of professionalism, the soft bell that alerted the end of naptime went off, and it was time to get the kids up for afternoon playtime outside.

That evening, while I was alone in my office, I was going through this months invoices while also looking at edible fruit and chocolate arrangements on my phone, when I saw my office door open. Kody stood there, leaning on the doorframe with their arms crossed.

Putting my phone face down and fixing a neutral expression on my face, I said, “What’s up?”

“Dude, do you really think I don’t know what you’re doing?” They said.

“I’m filing invoices,” I said.

“Come on, man, you know what I’m talking about. I know you’re the one leaving Briauna the gifts. Esther’s married, I’m asexual, and Briauna’s not Emily’s type. It has to be you. You’re not that slick.”

I sighed. I knew they’d caught me. “Are you going to tell Briauna?”

“No,” They said. “You are.”

“I can’t,” I said, scrubbing my face with my hands.

“And why not?”

“A lot of reasons,” I replied, reclining in my chair.

“Name one,” They said.

“I’m… weird.”

Kody laughed. “We’re all weird, Jukah.”

“It’s...” You sighed. “I doubt she’d even be into me. I’ve got… a lot of baggage, and not everyone is strong enough or willing to carry it with me. Trust me, I know. Every girlfriend I’ve had has seemed to buckle under the weight.”

“So you’re saying she’s not enough for you?”

“No!” I retorted, sitting up. “I’m saying I’m not enough for her. This place,” I gestured at the walls. “It’s all I’ve got. I’ve got no family, no friends besides my co-workers, no life outside of my work. Hell, I don’t even have my health. I’m a shit excuse for an orc. I mean, I’m too damn shy to ask a girl out. What does that tell you?”

“Maybe she likes shy guys,” Kody argued.

“Orcs aren’t supposed to be shy,” I said with a scowl.

Kody sighed in frustration. “Why are you so obsessed with what orcs are ‘supposed’ to be like?”

“You don’t understand, Kody,” I said with a return sigh. “I grew up in a stronghold, a traditional one. The pressure they put upon us to be the best orc possible was suffocating. I wasn’t the only one who who had to deal with it, but I was the only one who couldn’t live up to the expectation, the only one who didn’t grow up into the orc I should have been, and that has severe repercussions in orc communities. I was my stronghold’s biggest shame. None of my family speaks to me. My clan won’t even acknowledge my existence anymore; I’ve literally been erased from the book of clan lineages.”

“Dude… I do get it,” Kody said. “When I told my family that I was non-binary, asexual, wasn’t planning on having kids, wasn’t a Christian, and had no intention of taking over their business, they fucking lost it. I was their only kid and they had placed all their expectations for the future on me without asking me how I felt about it. They kicked me out, cut off my tuition, wrote me out of their will, refused to see me or take my calls. I went from working on a degree in medicine to living on a park bench. You were the one who gave me a chance. You gave all of us a chance.” They came in and laid a hand on my shoulder. “I don’t really give a shit what other orcs think of you, and you shouldn’t either. You’re worth so much more than they’d want you to believe.”

“Thanks, Kody,” I said. “It’s hard to undo an entire lifetime of being told you’re not enough.”

“I know,” They replied. “But do you really think Briauna is the kind of person who would think that? And if you do, why would you want to be with someone who does?”

“I don’t think she’s like that,” I said. “That’s one of the reasons I like her.”

“Then ask her out.”

I sighed sharply and ducked my head. “What if she says no and things are awkward, and she decides it’s too weird to work here? I’d have to kick out all the new kids we just took in,” I shook my head, resolved “I can’t do that. The kids come first.”

Kody groaned and rolled their eyes. “God, you are insufferable!” They walked to the door and leaned out. “Would you please come in here and put him out of my misery?”

To my complete shock and horror, Briauna walked in with a sheepish smile on her face.

I stared at Kody in disbelief. “Wow… you are… just… so fired.”

“Please, you need me,” They said, backing out of the room. “I’m basically your conscience.”

“You are the exact opposite of that thing.”

They laughed as they made to exit the building. “You kids have fun.”

Briauna stood there with one of the stuffed animals in her hands. “So it was you, then?”

I stood up and raked my hands through my hair. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? It was sweet. A little creepy, but mostly sweet.”

I snorted. “I wasn’t trying to be creepy. I just wanted to get your attention.”

“Well, it worked.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a little stuffed bunny, something I hadn’t given her, and held it out to me. “Would this be enough to get your attention?”

I laughed and took it. “Yeah. And… maybe… dinner when you’re free?”

“I’m free now,” She said. “And there’s a curry place I’ve been dying to try since I moved here, but I’ve never had the chance to go.”

“That sounds perfect,” I said, grabbing my coat.

“Kody’s right, you know,” She said as I opened the door for her, stepping out into the chilly winter evening. “You shouldn’t care what people think about you. Well, except for me.”

“And what do you think about me?” I asked her.

She put her arm around my waist. “I think you’re really cute. I did the day we met. I was hoping the gift giver was you. And I think shy guys are adorable.” She lay her head on my chest. She was a short little thing. “I’m also hoping you won’t be too shy to kiss me goodnight.

I put my arm around her shoulder in return and lifted her face with my other hand. I kissed her softly and she pressed into it, parting her lips as if asking for more. My tongue reach out to toy with hers, and she moaned into my mouth. I pulled away, licking my lips.

“Dinner first,” I said, smiling.

She snorted. “You might regret that. It is curry.”

“I’ll take my chances,” I said, leading her down the street.

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My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[mhdiaries]

Diary of Sirena Von Boo

I wouldn’t dream of reading your diary - so don’t read mine.

6.4

I filled out my Monster High application today (*gulp*). I’m trying not to get my hopes up – I mean, why would they accept me? What makes me so special? My only hope is that my unusual scaritage will help me stand out (it usually does – just not in a good way!). What other monster do you know who can say her parents met at the bottom of the ocean? You see, my mom was a huge bass-ketball (it’s kind like underwater casketball) star back in the day. She could dive deeper and faster than anyone else, which is really important when you need to retrieve the ball. One day during practice, she dived down farther than she’d ever been before, and she found this amazing old shipwreck… and who should be frightseeing around that wreck than the most drop-dead gorgeous ghost she’d ever seen. To hear my mom tell it, the ship wasn’t the only thing that was wrecked – so was her heart (*gag*). That drop-dead gorgeous ghost (otherwise known as Dad) couldn’t believe he finally found someone who matched his spirit. Who cared that she was a mermaid and couldn’t swim through things? He fell so hard in love that he never went back to the ghost world again. Fast forward about 20 years, and here we are today.

I got my love of anshrieking – you know, finding ordinary items from the past that have survived long enough to they’re now special, from my Dad. We can spend hours in them, mulling over faboolous finds and imagining their history. Next to the ocean, anshriek stores are my favorite place to drift off in. Even though Dad can get on my nerves sometimes (he has a tendency to hover), he’s usually pretty great company.

As for mom… sometimes I’m not so sure I belong to her! We get along fine and all, but if it wasn’t for our matching tails, I might wonder. My mom still operates at tur-boo speed, whether she’s planning cruises (her job) or shopping with sand dollars (her hobby). Me, on the other hand… well, I just like to coast along and take things as they come and lose myself in my imagination. Mom and I spend a lot of time swimming together, though, and she thinks I’m fast enough to swim competitively if I wanted to. Maybe, if I’m ever at the same high school long enough, I’ll try out for the team.

6.12

Head in the clouds, tail in the water: that’s pretty much how I feel most days. Half in, half out. Today I had to stop at the ghostery store for my dad, and this little vampire was all like, “Mommy, is that a ghoul, a ghost or a mermaid?!” (*cringe*) Poor little chomper looked totally confused.

Sometimes I think if I was just one thing I wouldn’t feel so divided all the time. But which would I choose??? I daydream about that a lot (mainly because I’d love to rock a pair of boo-jeans, and that’s really hard to do with a tail). But honestly, what would I do if I could only be on the land OR in the sea? It would be so boring to be chained to just one of them – like watching barnacles grow boring.

The only people who really get how I feel are by best friends Avea, Neighthan and Bonita. You would think we’d have nothing common, all being such different types of hybrid monsters, but they get what it’s like to be two things at once. I’m so glad they applied to Monster High, too. We made a pact that if one of us doesn’t get in, NONE of us are going. Fins crossed we all get the same news, one way or another.

6.29

One of the freaky coolest things about the summer is treasure hunting in the sea. I pretty much treasure hunt year-round, but the water is so much warmer in the summer, and I’ll take any oppor-tuna-ty I can to lurk around collecting. One of my favorite treasures to collect is pearls (diamonds are SO out with the tide, you know). I like to turn them into charms or weave them around my chains for extra-special occasions. I also string them up around my room so I can lay on my waterbed and listen to them softly chiming in the breeze (and when your dad is a ghost, there is ALWAYS a breeze). One of the great side effects of treasure hunting is I get totally lost in my thoughts down there – watching the sun sparkle through the water, wrapping myself up in the warm silence… just me, the water, and some otherworldly sea creatures. Today I woke up really worried that I hadn’t heard back from Monster High yet. I think I know what this means (and I’m not surprised), but all my worries were gone once I was a few fathoms below water. I saw this adorable family of sea horses, and I started thinking about how cool it would be to have a seahorse of my own… or maybe a whole litter of them, so they could pull me out to the sandbar… is “litter” the right word for a group of seahorses? Why are they called seahorses, anyway? They don’t neigh… hey, do sea horses make any sound at all?! (*head spinning*)

7.2

I was checking my email today at the Coffin Bean, and I suddenly realized I was the only monster there without a pet! My dad tends to creep out most animals, and my mom can’t stand the smell of wet fur, so they just refuse to let me have a pet. Sometimes my parents are so shellfish – don’t they understand how much this means to me?! The first thing I’m going to do when I graduate from high school is get a pet (well, after I find my own place, since I’d be in deep water if I brought one home!).

I spend a lot of time daydreaming about what kind of pet I’m going to get. One day I’m convinced an electric eel is the pet for me (we’d certainly light up the night together!)… and the next day all I can think about is getting a starfish (how cute would a periwinkle starfish look in my hair?! *squeee*) in fact, deciding which one to get might be the most stressful part about having a pet. I guess the only answer will be to get more than one!

7.10

I was on my way to meet Avea, Bonita and Neightan for a move (in sea-D!) this afternoon, when I decided to stop off at the catacombs to cool off from the blazing sun. the catacombs are the perfect summer hideaway. I can let myself – and my thoughts – wander without much chance of interruption. Today, however, I had a surprise. I ran through a ghost named Spectra! AND Spectra had a pet – a ferret named Rhuen! Spectra is a student at Monster High, and she writes a column for the school paper. She’s also a ghost, which automatically gave us something in common. I’m not entirely sure we’d be ghostly good friends – she asked a TON of questions – but it was scary cool to say I now know somebody who actually goes to Monster High (not that I’m getting in or anything). We talked about meeting up again, when all of a sudden, I noticed my shell phone flashing. I totally missed calls from Avea and Bonita – and, as it turns out, I missed the movie as well! It all ended up working out, though. I found everyone at the die-ner after the movie, and I had a gill-licious ice scream shake and fries. That’s what I love about my friends. They don’t take my drifting off personally.

8.1

Did this really just happen, or is this another one of my daydreams?! It started out like any other day… I was in the kitchen warming up a bowl of float-meal when my dad rattled over with mom and asked f we’d gotten anything interesting in the mail. Right away I knew something was up – I mean, you can see right through him. Dad handed me a letter, and before I even had a chance to read the first line, shrieked “Honey, you’ve been accepted to Monster High!” I rolled my eyes like, “Whatever”, but then I flew back to my bedroom and re-read the letter about fifty times. It was true… I would be starting Monster High in less than a month! I’ve been drifting around from school to school for so long. Maybe, this is just one more place to unfit in, but at the same time… maybe, it’s a chance to really make a splash.

I guess the worst thing that can happen is that Monster High will be like every other school I’ve tried… I’ll go there, hate it, then drift off to another school next year. And I guess the best thing that can happen is that I’ll love it. Avea, Bonita and Neighthan all got in, so I’ll get to see them every day. Maybe I’ll make some more clawsome friends, learn some deadly cool new things, and even try out for the swim team. Then again… I don’t want to make a specter out of myself on the first day. As my dad is fond of saying, what ghost up must come down. Maybe the reverse is true. If I keep my expectations down, then they can only go up from there!

Just take a deep breath and dip your toe in, Von Boo. You can do it!