#remember when you could make posts answerable by ending them with a question mark. i dug that

[spacealiencafe]

if anyone else here hums to stim, do you have a go-to song?

mine is the pine forest from the nutcracker

[funishment-time]

🔵 Kodaka BlueSky Q&As: Female DR Characters (Specific)

⚠️ DISCLAIMER: Please be advised! Translations of all Japanese answers derive from a combination of Google Translate and my manager's three-quarters-remembered Japanese. We've tried our best to work out what he's saying, but there will be mistakes here and there. Do not take this as gospel!

To avoid spreading (too much) misinfo, where we're completely boggled about an answer, we've decided not to even make an attempt. We'll still list the post, but mark it accordingly.

➡️ AN IMPORTANT NOTE FROM KODAKA BEFORE READING:

First of all, the questions answered here are not official. Everything that is official is what is said within the work. In contrast, this is simply what Kodaka, the creator, thinks, and it is not the correct answer. Use this as a starting point to enjoy the depth of each character, or to say, "That's not right!" and enjoy it with your own interpretation. I think of this as a way of communicating with the characters who live in fiction. This is important, so please spread the word.

💕 FEBRUARY 2024:

Q: I apologize if this has already been discussed somewhere, but I would love to hear about the reasons and episodes behind choosing Kitayama Takekuni as the author of the novel "Danganronpa Kirigiri."

A: I like Kitayama's novels. They are mysteries, but I felt there was something in common between them [DR & Kitayama's work] in the writing and dialogue.

/////

Q: In her report card, it was stated that SDR2's Nanami Chiaki has a father and brother who are programmers, but does this only apply to SDR2's Nanami and is she separate from Despair Arc's Nanami? In the reference book, there is no data about Nanami's alma mater, but is there a possibility that information such as the alma mater of Despair Arc's Nanami will be released in some form in the future?

A: That's right. It applies to only SDR2 Nanami. I wonder if there will be any information released about Despair Arc Nanami...

/////

Q: Excuse me for asking a question!! I think games are essential to Nanami, so I wonder how she would react if they were confiscated!

A: I guess she'd end up looking like Gudetama.

NOTE: The adorable Sanrio depressed egg guy.

/////

Q: Mr. Kodaka, do you have any comments about Kitayama Takekuni's "Danganronpa Kirigiri"?

A: Before the series began, I had consulted with them about the overall structure and points of reference, but after the series began, I felt like I was mostly enjoying it as a reader.

/////

Q: Excuse me for my second question. I would like to know the reason why Kirigiri Kyoko has her braids undone on one side in the timeline of the anime "Danganronpa 3: The End of Hope's Peak Academy Future Arc" and the manga "Danganronpa Gaiden Killer Killer" and if there is any background reason for this...

A: I've not heard why, in part because it was left up to Komatsuzaki-kun. I thought on my own that it was because she had become an adult.

NOTE: Komatsuzaki is the guy behind Danganronpa's art.

/////

Q: Excuse me for the second question! Yumeno-chan was called a "shishamo roe" by Iruma and a "grilled horse mackerel" by Ouma, but what does she think about those metaphors?

A: "Huh?"

NOTE: A shishamo is a type of fish. Also, he's answering as Himiko, if it wasn't clear.

/////

Q: Why do we not get any undisguised Mukuro sprites in Danganronpa S?

A: I had absolutely no involvement with Danganronpa S.

NOTE: You'll see him reference this a few times too. He didn't do Summer Camp at all!

/////

Q: Why did you decide to become a maid, Tojo-san?

A: I think that because she could do anything, she felt it was boring to use her power for herself and felt more comfortable serving others, and that is why she was so selfless.

/////

Q: If the characters in Danganronpa were 16.7 years old in 2010, they would be 30 years old in 2024 if they were still alive. What do you think they would have been like when they turned 30 if they had lived a normal life? I don't need to know everyone, but I'd like to hear it.

A: At the very least, Fukawa is dead.

NOTE: It's true, but he shouldn't say it.

🍀 MARCH 2024:

Q: In the profile of Genocider Syo from Ultra Despair Girls, she lists "girls that aren't moe" as something she dislikes, but since she has deliberately stated "aren't moe", does that mean that "girls that are moe" exist in Genocider Syo's opinion?

A: "I think it's either 'not moe' or 'other.' I don't do moe."

NOTE: Answering as Syojack, it seems.

/////

Q: Does Yumeno-chan ever wear casual clothes? If so, does she wear a wizard's hat?

A: "A robe like a dark mage's is my personal attire. I don't go out on windy days because it all flips up."

/////

Q: when you wrote the ending to Danganronpa Another Episode, were you expecting to use Monaca more or was her arc always going to end the way it did in Danganronpa 3?

A: In truth, Monaka's story ended with just another episode. However, we wanted to have as many characters in Danganronpa 3 as possible, so we decided to add her to the anime.

/////

Q: Does Harukawa-san eat sweet things?

A: She used to lick rock candy on the job to replenish her energy.

/////

Q: What would happen if I confessed to Mioda Ibuki?

A: She sometimes responds with songs, but she usually doesn't know how to answer.

/////

Q: I believe the character of Fukawa Toko (Genocider Syo) is originally based on the protagonist of Clock Tower GH, but are Genocider Syo's murder weapon and motive for murder also based on Tono Masayuki's mystery novel "Scissors Man"?

A: Neither of them are right...! I imagined Genocider as a monster like the ones in Ushio & Tora.

NOTE: Clock Tower GH is a video game known as Clock Tower 2 in the US. It's a point and click survival horror. Ushio & Tora is a supernatural/dark fantasy manga from the early 90s.

/////

Q: Does Fujisaki have a favorite food?

A: Mini katsudon.

NOTE: Katsudon is a pork cutlet bowl.

/////

Q: What kind of clothes does Fujisaki Chihiro like to wear (or usually wear)?

A: Unisex jeans.

NOTE: It's not exactly a question so I won't list it here, but a Chihiro fan responded with excitement, at which Kodaka replied "100 points for your reaction."

/////

Q: Excuse me for asking a question! In Ultra Despair Girls, Fujisaki Taichi had a photo of Fujisaki [Chihiro] in a sailor uniform, looking like they were in their rebellious phase (?)! It's so cute! I'd really like to know how the photo was taken and if there are any untold details about the Fujisaki family!

A: No matter what Fujisaki [Chihiro] is, their father can't help but take pictures because they are a cute kid, but Fujisaki [Chihiro] themself is embarrassed, and since those around them are becoming more and more rebellious, they are acting a little like a rebel, but later they will probably feel sorry for their father and be depressed.

/////

Q: Why is Enoshima Junko so cute? What's her favorite food?

A: "I think it's because I live life the way I want to. I get bored easily, so my favorite things change every day."

🥬 APRIL 2024:

Q: I think Celes' dream is to live in a Western castle surrounded by handsome men, but if she had to choose one of the handsome men from Danganronpa, who would she choose? From watching Celes' fantasy scenes, it seemed like she only had a limited number of handsome men, so it's possible that there isn't a type among the characters that appear, but if there is, please let me know.

A: Probably none of them are in that category. I think she wants to create a world like Interview With Vampire.

/////

Q: Yumeno-chan, what type of handsome guy do you like?

A: Something like a pop star.

NOTE: My manager says another great translation would be "trendy bastards." Kodaka loves his fictional daughters...

/////

Q: Why does Fukawa Toko hate taking baths?

A: It's a hassle because you have to put the clothes on after you take them off, and you have to dry them after they get wet.

/////

Q: Today is Asahina-san's birthday. What would you give her that would make her happy? I'm sure she's been getting lots of donuts from everyone, so I'd like to give her a unique present that will leave a lasting impression!

A: "Shoes for my younger brother!"

���� MAY 2024:

Q: Did Enoshima clean up the victims' bodies and rooms?

A: I think she used technology to that extent, though Enoshima, impatiently cleaning up the mess, also looked hopelessly cumbersome and hopelessly kawaii.

/////

Q: Why does Yumeno-chan hate the ocean?

A: Because it's big.

/////

Q: Excuse me for asking a question! Is the story about the school festival in the Danganronpa original drama CD written by Kodaka-san? There is a scene in the drama where Fujisaki wants to wear a cute apron, which was quite unexpected for Fujisaki in the main story, so it was a shock. Was there a possibility that Fujisaki would embrace cute things in the main story as well?

A: I think I only wrote the very first one. The one that has a white and black disc. If I remember correctly.

/////

Q: Excuse me for asking a question! I think that in the articles(?) released during the development stage there were many scenes that were not in the main story. Were these scenes faked to hide the contents of the main story, or were they actually there during production? I'm curious if there were any scenes where Fujisaki-kun was suspected in court!

[This person included this image:]

A: This is an image made up for a proposal. It was made before the story even existed.

/////

Q: What do you think is Kyoko Kirigiri's favorite type?

A: Just look at Danganronpa!

/////

Q: Iruma Miu's favorite thing is "programs for young children," but what kind of programs for young children does she like? Programs where you can sing and dance along, educational programs, or maybe anime programs for young children...

A: "I sing along when the host sings, and I work with her when she's doing crafts. Other than that I just watch while swearing."

/////

Q: Can you cook, Kirigiri-san?

A: "I want to cook but I need to wear gloves and that's where I'm stuck. I really want to cook." In response to all this, that guy…(oops, no more on that)

/////

Q: Excuse me for asking a question! (Sorry for asking so many times lol 💦) In DR2, Nanami Chiaki said, "I have a father and brother who are programmers," and I interpreted this as Fujisaki Chihiro and Fujisaki Alter Ego but are they actually different people (because they were created by the program left behind by Fujisaki?)? She also said other things that reminded me of Fujisaki, so I've been wondering about this for a long time!!! I look forward to your answer!!!

A: I am pretty sure that was the impression I had at the time.

☀️ JUNE 2024:

Q: Celes, I believe you usually wear gothic lolita clothes, but do you ever wear sweet lolita, hime lolita or other types of lolita clothes?

A: "I just tried them on and threw them away."

/////

Q: Does anyone in the Danganronpa series get headaches?

A: Fukawa.

🎇 JULY 2024:

Q: Is Nanami-chan popular with the guys?

A: I think a lot of guys like her.

/////

Q: What content does Tsumugi Shirogane like more? Yaoi content or Yuri?

A: "I like all of them, so I change my taste depending on the season."

/////

Q: What were Junko and Mukuro's parents like?

A: They were an ordinary couple and a normal family, but their ordinariness had made Enoshima Junko despair from the moment she was born.

/////

Q: I'd like to hear more specifically about Maki Harukawa's usual diet!

A: Rations.

🌭 AUG 2024:

Q: I would like to know about Mioda's family relationships. I wonder if she often plays alone because she didn't have a good relationship with her parents.

A: It is possible that the whole family is like that.

/////

Q: If there was a punishment for Iruma Miu, what do you think it would be? She has a bad mouth, but I think she's a good girl at heart and I love her, so I want her to be happy.

A: You can't be as happy as a good child. It's so unfair lol

🍁 SEPT 2024:

Q: Do you have any favorite games, Owari-chan?

A: Any where I don’t have to use my head.

/////

Q: What is your best magic, Yumeno-san?

A: Self-hypnosis magic

/////

Q: Did Kirigiri cry as a child the first time she went on detective work with her grandfather (a murder detective would see a body)?

A: Kirigiri has never cried over a dead body.

/////

Q: If there was a motivation video in Danganronpa 2, what would Nanami's video look like?

A: 4K video of the Despair Arc of the anime, in which Nanami Chiaki, the model for the character, dies.

/////

Q: What would Chiaki Nanami do when she's in a desperate situation? Will she become a million-man murderer?

A: No.

[grandlinedreams]

hiii i hope you’re having a great day/night!!

may i request a not really physically affectionate reader with zoro law or ace coming to them drunk being really excited and kissing&leaving lipstick marks all over their faces. it could be a hc type thing or whatever you like if you’re not comfortable w that!

also I absolutely love your writing ♥︎♥︎♥︎

hi there!! I hope that you're having a wonderful day/night too bb!! absolutely you can! This is my first attempt at a reaction type of post so I hope that this is to your liking!! and thank-you so much!!

[heads up!: mention of alcohol consumption, being drunk, tw for vomiting in Ace's]

Zoro ㅡ Alcohol is his forte, not yours. It isn't that you're opposed entirely to the idea of drinking, just that you're not as accustomed to it as he is ㅡ and as such, your tolerance for it (especially the stronger stuff) is not the strongest.

"Having fun?" He asks, amused by the flush of pink that's spread across your cheeks and bridge of your nose, the glossy, unfocused quality of your gaze. It'd been a playful challenge from Usopp that even he has higher tolerance than you and now the sharp-shooter is sprawled out a few feet away, fast asleep.

You nod enthusiastically, giggling when Zoro reaches to stop the unsteady bob with his hand. "Man, you're absolutely trashed," he comments. "We need to get you some water before you end up regretting this. Come on."

He reaches for your hand to help you up, steadying the way you sway before leading you towards the kitchen. You're still giggling when he guides you into a seat and retrieves a glass of water for you, pushing it towards you.

"Just how much did you have to drink, anyways?" He asks, reaching to thumb at your cheek affectionately ㅡ and watches you lean into it rather than pulling away. Affection is also far from something you normally indulge in very often, and he can't deny that it's nice to see this side of you.

"Not much," you answer at last, foggy mind finally registering Zoro's question, studying him for a moment. "C'mere." You add the forward curl of your hand to emphasize your words, pouting when he laughs. "I said c'mere!"

"Will you drink that water if I do?" Your head bobbles in a clumsy nod again and he leans forward to comply with your wish, only to blink as you lurch forward to press your lips to his cheek. They're cool and a little sticky, smelling of whatever alcohol you've drank ㅡ but you're on a determined self-imposed mission of peppering his face with kisses. It's a little silly with the way you add a verbal "mwah!" at the end of each one, but it still makes Zoro's own cheeks flush all the same.

"All done," you report when you finally sit back, satisfied with the little marks you've left across his skin, and you reach for the glass of water to drink it, as you'd promised. Zoro is silent for several moments. You won't remember this, he's almost certain ㅡ but now all he can think about is how cute you are when you drink.

ㅡ

Law ㅡ "I think that's enough for tonight." Nimble fingers pluck the half-finished glass of alcohol from your grip, ignoring your pout as he hands it off to Clione, who gladly downs it.

"Spoil-sport," you huff, and Law raises an eyebrow. It's not every day that he gets to witness you acting more like a child than adult, and he'll admit that the way you sulk is amusing.

"You'll thank me in the morning." He reaches for your wrist and gently tugs you up, relying on the fact that the others are in varying stages of inebriation to cover for him being so forward with you in front of the others.

He's already had a drink or two, though he stopped when Ikkaku pointed out that you'd been roped into a drinking game with some of the others. Guiding you to the bathroom, he leans in the doorway to watch you sway as you reluctantly ready yourself for bed, studying your own reddened cheeks in the mirror.

"I could've finished my drink," you tell him petulantly, and he watches you struggle to climb into bed. Another reason he's grateful that no one else will remember much about this evening ㅡ he doesn't need them knowing that it's been months since you last slept in the crew bunkhouse.

"I'm sure you could've, but I'm doing myself a favor when I'm the one who's going to have to look after you when you end up with a hangover." Hat tossed gently to the side, he moves to slip into bed beside you and frowns warily when he finds you eyeing him. "What is it? You're not going to throw up right now, are you?"

You shake your head and lean up, your lips on his cheek before he can ask what you're up to. Slow and a little clumsy, each kiss you press is intentional ㅡ his jaw, his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, his forehead ㅡ and you giggle when you pull away to admire your handiwork. "Now you can't be grumpy," you tell him.

Your own perchance for physical affection is usually on par with his, but it's clear that however many drinks you've had have pushed aside your own personal boundaries.

"Aww, you're blushing!" You crow, and he scowls at the fit of giggles that follows. You're lucky that he loves you, and you're lucky that you're cute.

"Whatever," he grouses, reaching to cover your eyes with a hand. "Go to sleep. And don't puke in my bed, got it?"

ㅡ

Ace ㅡ "See? I told you this was a bad idea."

"Shut up," you groan, venom absent from your tone for the way you're forced to stop walking in order to halt the vicious spin of your head. "I don't drink much, you know that."

"I do," Ace agrees, "which is why I'm telling you it was a bad idea." He pauses, head tilting in thought. "Not gonna lie, it was hot to watch you drink them under the table, though. Who knew you had it in you, huh?"

He waits for you to answer and when you don't, he turns to find you half-way into an alley, emptying the contents of your stomach as quietly as you can. That kind of thing doesn't disgust Ace, however, and he hurries to rub your back until the shuddering heave of your body has stopped. "Feel better?"

"Much," you rasp, fumbling for the strap of your canteen and chugging from it greedily. Ace waits until you're satisfied that you've rinsed your mouth clean before he loops his arm around your waist and continues guiding you back towards the Moby Dick. "Still think I'm hot?"

"Absolutely, babe." Ace's answer is swift and as honest as it always is, which makes your heart do something funny as you turn to look at his side-profile. It doesn't take long for him to notice, his expression somewhere between confusion and concern as you come to a stop. "What is it? Gonna get sick again?"

You shake your head. "No, I just really want to kiss you right now." There's the answering spark of fire from Ace's fingers in response, though you take advantage of his momentary fluster to cup his face between your hands and promptly pepper his face with kisses.

Clustered over his freckles, the tip of his nose, eyebrows and even his eyelids, it's several long moments before you pull away. "There," you say, and Ace wonders if you're sober enough to realize his face has gone roughly the temperature of the sun from your burst of affection. "Come on, I wanna go to bed."

Ace lets you pull him along, still dazed by the lingering warmth of your lips on his skin. He goes to bed without washing his face, eager to soak in this side of you that's far less reserved with your affection ㅡ and when the men of his division point out in the morning that he has your lipstick dotted across his face, all he does is grin.

[laterreurofficial]

Hi! I found this au today and it's SOOOO interesting to me!! I literally scrolled through every single post about it, lol. I do have some questions of my own (a few of them actually, I don't expect all of them to be answered! Just answer which ever you want!):

- You mentioned that Paris is under quarantine, but also established that Paris is vital to the France economy, plus there's the fact that so few people are actually connected to Hawkmoth (like, around 2000, but Paris has a population of 10 mill). So, would there be any pull to allow some Paris citizens to leave Paris? Provided that they haven't been marked by Hawkmoth? Like, maybe only very skilled workers would be allowed to leave? And only a certain number of them?

- About Paris being quarantined, I can't remember if this is a thing in the show, but is there a reason why Hawkmoth only affects people in Paris?

- you mentioned a research fallacy studying akumatizes.... Do they.... Actually help? Like, is their research ever helpful?? Does Ladybug ever ask for their findings? Or are they rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic?

- is master fu more.... Evil? In this au? I mean, he did give radioactive jewelry to two kids, that will forever affect their lives, and permanently mess them up. Was he not aware of the effects it could have on the kids? Or, like Tiki, did he choose not to tell them? Even if he didn't, he must have had his own reasons for giving some powerful and dangerous jewelry to two kids??

Thank you for listening to my questions!! You've created an awesome au, I can't wait to see more of it!

Paris is under a complete and total quarantine. People can come in, maybe, but they sure as hell can't go out. Felix, Amelie, and Lila enter Paris post-lockdown, and they are not allowed back out. There are actually guards posted with orders to shoot anyone who tries to escape. Commerce and such doesn't completely end, products can be transported in and out, and non-physical communication continues, but it does get notably worse. MAGIC JEWELRY CAN'T SAVE YOU FROM ECONOMICS and Hawkmoth is. very scary.

In LT, it's a range issue. The butterfly miraculous has a set distance you can send the little magic butterflies, and besides that, Hawkmoth here is doing terrorism with the goal of getting his hands on the Ladybug and Black Cat miraculous, which he knows are also in Paris after his first akumatization. Why would he make a villain and have them march all the way through the barricade, even if he could?

The general public knows next to nothing about Hawkmoth other than A. he can possess people if they get too upset and B. these people then go on to cause mass death and destruction. This is very scary, a lot of people think he's he devil, and also mostly why the whole quarantine gets set up. The emergency government division researching the akumatizations mostly kidnap people and collect useless information, but some of their data turns out to be relevant, even if it's only verifying the obvious.

Fu is both deeply panicked at the time he passes on the miraculous and too trusting in the process. He gives Marinette and Adrien the miraculous when the first akuma attack has already occurred, and generally knows that if all else fails, the Kwami will mold these already good kids into people who can solve the problem at hand. It's just that the process of adjusting to the miraculous and the frequency of the akuma attacks makes their lives hell. He's from a place where the Kwamis' toll is accepted as a worthy price for the big magic powers, the side effects are invisible to him, as a fellow holder, that's part of the job description.

[talesofesther]

scorch marks | ch 3

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Series Summary: Wednesday has been careful to keep what you two have behind closed doors and far away from labels; but when someone starts to take it — take you — away from her, she realizes how much she cares.

A/N: I'm not sure if I'm completely happy with how this turned out, but that's my life nowadays. And I wanted to post this for you guys before I leave for my little trip for new years, so I hope you enjoy it. Also, I think I ended up writing this one exclusively from Wednesday's pov lol. <3

Masterlist | Read ch 2 here

Human emotions were a strange, bothersome thing. Love could make you kill just as much as anger; ambition could make you get down on one knee to pledge your devotion to someone just as much as love.

They can get in the way of a clear mind, making you say or do something that would come back to torture you later.

That was probably their most devious power. And they lead to feelings; that are messy and unstable.

Wednesday prided herself on having control over them, not the other way around. Or at least she did. Because recently she has been victim to so many, that she didn't have the stomach to keep count.

She remembers the coldness of the rain against her skin as she walked away from Weathervane — away from you — it was pleasant and comforting; a safe blanket as the droplets trickled down her forehead all the way to her chin and hid the few stray tears that escaped her.

Her steps had been fast in desperation to get away. Her throat closed so tightly that she thought having someone choking her would be more bearable. Her heart beating so painfully, that maybe a bullet would've been more merciful.

She walked, and walked, and walked; her feet carrying her to school without realizing it. She was soaked when she stepped into her dorm, making puddles of water with each step she took. She remembers Enid talking, but the words were blurred.

Wednesday had made a beeline to the shower, turning it on with a temperature colder than the rain she had just escaped from.

Some say the second time around is more bearable. This certainly wasn't the case for her.

It was the day Wednesday put an end to whatever was happening between you and her. The day where she hated the most that she was forced to feel her own emotions.

The week that followed wasn't an improvement either.

Your words kept replaying in Wednesday's mind like a broken record; this is not a date, and please can we talk?

What would you have said, had she cared to listen?

Wednesday sat in front of her typewriter every day, staring at the blank paper and being unable to fill it. She'd hit a stump, because maybe she'd never know what you would have said.

You passed by each other in Nevermore's hallways as if you were just two strangers in the street, never to cross paths again. When you stood on one side of the bee keeper's shed, Wednesday stayed in the far opposite one, and if she so much as tried coming closer, you'd drop whatever it was you were doing and walk away. Even if Enid asked, you didn't come to her dorm anymore, prompting the werewolf to ask questions even though she could guess the answer.

Wednesday didn't know it was possible to miss someone this much. She caught herself tracing the lines of her own palm in a motion that was yours to make, brushing the corner of her lips in the place that was yours to kiss. And as much as she hated this feeling with all her might, hated you for forcing it into her, she couldn't chase it away.

It was so sadistically ironic that Wednesday kept you at arm's length in order to avoid attachment and loss, and that's exactly what she got. Maybe this is what Goody was trying to warn her about, that no matter the road she takes, the end will always be the same.

—

Today was a friday, ten days and four hours since the last time Wednesday spoke with you, since she replicated a damn drama cliche with her pitiful walk in the rain. Not that she was keeping count.

She sat at one of the tables on the quad, Enid at her side talking about something she wasn't listening to. The day was gray, morbidly so as the clouds loomed above, dark and cold in a way that Wednesday would've loved if it wasn't for you.

You who sat at the other end of the quad, putting as many tables and obnoxiously loud students between you and Wednesday as you could. You who looked so undeniably beautiful under the shadows. You who was smiling, happy as you laughed with your friends and spared no glances into the crowd to look for anyone.

Were you happier without her?

Wednesday sucked in a sharp breath at the mere thought of it, her lower lip quivering slightly as she exhaled, before she averted her eyes from you with a blink.

She turned to Enid only to find the girl's bright eyes already on her, a knowing smirk on her pink lips; "I won't even ask if you were listening."

"I got bored after the word shopping," Wednesday stated, raising an eyebrow that got Enid rolling her eyes.

"And because you were stalking our resident pretty girl," Enid teased, bumping Wednesday's shoulder with hers.

It was a truth that Wednesday countered with a lie; "I only stalk people who are hiding something or who have something I want, she doesn't fit on any of those."

Enid slumped on her seat, resting her head on her hands as she looked at Wednesday, "you can't keep doing this, Wednesday."

"Doing what?"

"Pretending like you don't care," Enid says then, with the frustration of someone who's just seen their favorite couple from a tv show hit another almost.

"Why would you assume the opposite?" Wednesday asks irritatedly.

Enid gives her best friend a look that could only be read as seriously? before she sits up straighter; "you two went from hanging out in the dorm for hours and sneaking out when you think no one's watching, to staying on different sides of the school and avoiding each other like the plague. Even you have to feel that change."

But I don't want to; Wednesday thinks to herself. Her only response is to look away.

With a sigh, Enid softens; "why won't you just tell her the truth?" She asks gently. The werewolf doesn't know the full story, and when her roommate ignores her questions and neither you nor Yoko will talk, gossip can only do so much; but even a blind person can see that whatever happened, hurt both of you.

Wednesday frowns; "what truth?"

"That you have feelings for her, silly. Like, genuinely more than friends feelings." There's an excited smile on Enid's lips as she says it, eyes glinting with the prospect of a love story.

"That's a horrible idea," Wednesday's face does something complicated, as if she's sorting on how to feel about this — or tasted something sour. "Besides, you know what happened the last time I did something remotely close to that."

And just like that, the muddy waters start to clear, the fog starts to dissipate and Enid understands what is happening — if just a little better.

The blonde reaches out a hand to Wednesday's forearm, squeezing softly; "Wednesday, this is Y/N we're talking about, she's not gonna turn into a murderous monster and break your heart."

Wednesday visibly gulps, her jaw painfully clenched as she felt uncharacteristically small under Enid's gaze.

"Plus I thought you'd be into the whole potential heartbreak thing." Enid teases, fighting back a grin, to which Wednesday can only mumble back;

"Not nearly as fun as I thought it'd be."

Switching her gaze between you and the raven-haired girl by her side, Enid hums; "want my advice?"

"No."

"I'd take my chances if I were you, because I know she genuinely cares about you. A lot."

There was something about the way Wednesday dropped her shoulders slightly, about the way she stole another glance at you as if you had just bought a one-way ticket to another country. It was that bittersweet feeling of a good thing that came to its end way too early.

Enid felt like crying.

"I'm afraid I'm too late, Enid."

—

It wasn't until dinner time — and after much, much insistence from Enid — that Wednesday decided to try and mend her mistake.

The cafeteria was already filled with students when she arrived, in true Nevermore fashion, the place was big and ancient; a meticulously decorated stone-walled room with tables and a kitchen area. Werewolves, Enid's brothers probably, were making a scene near the kitchen; there were gorgons and sirens playing a card game on one of the tables; and you sat with the vampires, with Yoko by your side no less.

Wednesday felt curious eyes on her, undoubtedly her peers wondering why she'd been staring unmoving for so long. A deep breath passed through her lips as she begrudgingly swallowed her pride and took the first step, her boots thudding against the stone floor.

With each of her steps, she repeated the words in her head; can we talk? Do you still wish to talk? Or would it be better, I need to talk with you?

Wednesday decides that fighting a murderous monster would be infinitely easier.

Your eyes locked in on her figure before she even reached you, and Wednesday smiled, a tiny tilt of lips that only you would notice; but you looked away from her before it happened.

Did people care about each other only because they enjoyed the pain that comes with it?

Something akin to panic fluttered inside Wednesday's stomach when you got up from your seat, reaching for your backpack and muttering a few goodbyes to your friends as you walked between the tables. The Addams girl quickened her steps, almost bumping into Bianca and not bothering to turn around when the siren called her out on it.

Wednesday just about managed to stop in front of you before you left for the doors.

Is this what you felt on that day?

Your eyes closed with a sigh, your hands were buried deep in your pockets and there was a rigidness to your shoulders. You were nervous, and even if it wasn't the right time, Wednesday was proud of herself for knowing it.

But having you this close again after so long — not really, ten days aren't that long, yet Wednesday hates that it felt like ages — has its downsides.

Wednesday couldn't speak. The only thing she needed to do, and her words are stuck. Feelings are a pain in the ass to deal with.

Yoko stood by your side, arms crossed over her chest; "do you have anything to say or what?"

She's protective, Wednesday doesn't blame her for it anymore.

Yes, she should say. There's a glint of hope in your eyes when you look at her; Wednesday finds herself wanting to reach out, but she's not sure she's allowed to anymore. She wonders if you missed her as much as she misses you.

"No," is what she says, and it's quite painful.

—

It's well into the night when Wednesday makes her way back to her dorm, the stairs creaking under her boots, a half-moon shining high on the sky being the only source of light.

her insides are twisting with a mix of rage, frustration, self-pity, and something else that's just heavy.

She pushed open the door to her dorm only to find it empty. Enid's bed is unmade and Wednesday's typewriter still has a blank page on it.

Enid had texted Wednesday earlier, something about going out with Ajax and not coming back too soon. The solitude was well appreciated, it gave the Addams girl some much-needed peace to work on her novel. The only problem is that her mind was nowhere near peaceful.

The first thing that caught Wednesday's attention after she walked in was the potted cactus by her window, it looked a little sad, its soil all dry and the color not as green as it should be. Wednesday didn't think twice as she walked to her bathroom, filling a cup with water and gently emptying it into the plant's pot. At least of that part of you, she'd take good care of.

She took off her hoodie next, throwing it on top of her bed. It was pathetic that the simple action got her thinking of you too, of when you'd lounge on there talking nonsense with Thing while she wrote.

How could one person hold so much power over another was beyond Wednesday, especially because she didn't allow it; it just happened. It happened that she kissed you out of impulse, just because she couldn't die without knowing what your lips felt like; or that she kept calling on you more and more after that, feeling a hole in her chest whenever you were away for too long.

It just happened that she fell for you, and maybe it was inevitable, maybe you'd be her doom. But it was her choice to push you away, and she'd be lying if she said it wasn't the one thing she regretted the most.

There was a knock on Wednesday's door that snapped her mind back to reality. She turned around, frowning as she stared at the dark wooden thing, wondering who would seek her out this late in the night.

Honestly? Wednesday should've seen it coming as soon as Enid suggested she should talk with you. She should've known.

She swung open the door only to reveal you on the other side, in plaid pajama pants and a white shirt, hugging yourself because of the coldness of the empty hallways.

Your posture went rigid as soon as your eyes found Wednesday's, it got her wondering if you forgot this was her dorm, if you knocked on the wrong door by accident.

"Hello," Wednesday said as she looked at you, features impassive, her hand tightening around the door handle until her knuckles turned white.

You ran your tongue over your bottom lip before you spoke; "Enid texted me, said you needed help with something. That it was an emergency," you gulped, diving into over-explanation, "and that she wasn't here, so she asked if I could…" You trailed off, your fingers nervously tapping your arm.

Oh. Maybe her roommate wasn't too far off when she said you cared. It was rare the times where anyone would be able to easily read Wednesday's emotions. This was one of them and it wasn't a surprise that you were the cause.

There was a glint to Wednesday's eyes that belonged to you, her features softened in a blink — no more creases to her eyebrows and lips parting in vain when her words got tangled on her tongue — it was the calmness after a raging storm.

Wednesday used to mock the people who spoke about soulmates, about the invisible red string that few ones were lucky enough to find the other end of. But could there ever be any other explanation for the way you set her at ease?

She nodded once, stepping aside so you could walk in.

You were hesitant in the way you did so, as if you didn't belong, and Wednesday hated it — because you did belong, right here by her side. You stood in the middle of her dorm, right between the division of colors to blankness on the round window.

The air felt electric around you. Wednesday chanced a step closer, her gaze casting over every twitch of your expressions; "I do," she started, and a beat passed as she refused to take the last chance to back down and let you go, "I do have something to say."

You scoffed, "that doesn't sound like an emergency," but there was no bite to your tone, almost as if you wanted her to object.

"It is," Wednesday told you, allowing the affection she held for you to drip from every syllable. One more chance, that's all she needed, and maybe she’d tell you just what it is that you do to her.

"Okay."

You had a kindness to you that she was underserving of, Wednesday thought. But maybe she could work her way to it. She raised her chin, striving to keep her heartbeat in check; "I wasn't completely fair last time we spoke, I'll measure my words better if you're willing to talk to me again."

Wednesday said the words as if they were the particularities of a contract, and not an apology to someone who held her cold heart in their hands. She realized it was the wrong thing to say as soon as your features fell.

You took on the glow of the moon effortlessly as it came through the window, it framed the lines of your jaw and cheekbone, all delicate and pretty. You ducked your head, allowing your hair to partially cover your eyes as you nodded a few times. "Great," you mumbled, before taking a few quick steps with intent to go around Wednesday and back to the lonely hallways.

She didn't let you, her cold hand closed around your own as you made to walk past her, keeping you in place in a gesture that surprised both of you.

Having your skin against hers again made Wednesday feel like coming home after a long journey. It's strange that that's what you became to her.

The hold she had on you wasn't strong, you could easily pull your hand away and leave. But you didn't.

"It was unfair of me," Wednesday started, each word tighter than the next as she forced them out. More than anything, Wednesday despised talking about her feelings, but words are all she has now, "the mistake was mine and I will accept the consequences for it. But you should have all cards on the table when making your judgment."

If there was a heaven, you already had your place on it — you turned back around to face Wednesday properly, and without letting go of her hand, you adjusted your hold so that your fingers could intertwine; your thumb tracing random patterns on her skin in a motion that you knew calmed her down. Because you knew how hard this was for her — Wednesday was sure you were an angel in your past life.

The dorm room had never felt this detached from the outside world, as it does now, holding this one moment for you and Wednesday alone.

For a split second, where she allowed herself the luxury of only existing in your presence, Wednesday wondered if this is what real love felt like. She took in a deep breath, feeling your perfume as she did so before focusing her gaze on your joined hands; they fit well together.

"I used to ask myself why I was the one who kissed you first that day." Wednesday hesitated, nagging on the inside of her cheek with her teeth, "and I realized that it's because you make me feel something I never- hardly ever feel when around other people."

Her eyes glanced up at you in a lazy motion, only to find that your eyes never left her once. There was a soft smile on your lips, overflowing adoration. Wednesday was sometimes envious of the way you wore your heart on your sleeve so effortlessly.

"It's an annoying feeling really," the raven-haired girl admitted, raising an eyebrow at you, "I wanted to rip it away from me the first time it happened." Her lips hovered open as she heard her own heartbeat, thunderous as ever, "but the one that came in your absence was much worse."

The passage of time felt equally too slow and too fast. You weren't doing anything. Did she do something wrong?

Wednesday tensed when, carefully, you raised a hand to her face. You were tender in the way that you pushed the black strands of hair behind Wednesday's ear, your fingertips lingering and tracing her cheek before you dropped your hand. As if you'd missed touching her too.

And oh you did, if Wednesday knew just how much, she'd probably be all over you already. "I feel it too," you whispered, a secret confession only for her to hear.

"I know we never talked about what we were, and I'm not asking you to," you spoke calmly, "but you really hurt me, Wednesday, at the very least I thought we were friends."

What if I'd like us to be more? What would you say, is that something you'd ever want too?

Before Wednesday could ask any of the questions she was dying to know the answer to, you asked yours first;

"Did you mean that? What you said?"

And the Addams girl figured that this was a more pressing matter anyway.

Wednesday shook her head with urgency, her hand squeezing yours to keep you in place, "it could never be true." She took a step closer, her boots bumping your sneakers, "hurting you, it's the last thing I'd ever want to do, and I apologize that it happened."

The raw honesty of Wednesday's tone was all you needed to hear to let go of her hand in order to cup her cheeks, pulling her into a kiss that spoke more than any of you ever could.

Wednesday grasped onto your waist almost desperately, her hands bunching up your shirt as she glued your body to hers in a nearly bruising grip, dying to feel the most of you that she could manage. She pressed herself into you, her nose brushing your cheek as her soft lips molded with yours; telling you she'd never miss anyone as much as she misses you, that she'd never feel so strongly for someone as she does for you; that she'd have you until death's cold embrace took her.

Your hands traveled from her jaw to the back of her neck, fingers mingling with the wisps of hair there. You pressed your lips to each corner of her mouth, bumping your noses as you did so, leaving testimonies of your affection each time your upper lip grazed hers; letting her know that she'd ruined anyone else to you, that you'd never feel for someone else, what you feel for her.

Wednesday pulled back just enough to be able to breathe, her forehead brushing yours as you felt more than heard the shape of her words; "let me make it up to you… Please."

You chuckled, tracing the outline of her lower lip with your thumb. It was reddish and just a little swollen, warm to the touch and it was your fault.

It got you smiling, because you could also feel her own smile under your digit; "gladly."

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I'd appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

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[heartthrobin]

making merry, oh my little fairy (2)

sam winchester x fairy!reader

wc: 5.3k

warnings: soulmate!au (partners share scars), fem!reader, implied age gap (reader is early 20's), hella pining, tooth-rotting fluff, destiel is canon, town being mean to reader, some shaky police jargon, references to thick reader (everyone cheered) but can be ignored, dean being dean, canon-typical warnings (child kidnapping, violence ect.)

an: part 2 of my little fairy series! it's been sitting in my drafts for weeks and part 1 was pretty unpopular so i've been hesitant to post it but then i realized i write for myself and not for recognition! so enjoyyyyy. remember to comment and repost to support your favourite writers :)

summary: you flew around Sam's mind with your pretty little wings all night and all day, it doesn't help that you're popping up around every corner of this case. he's trying not to think about it.

part one part three part four

They'd sat in the car parked out front maybe longer than they should have. Sam noticed you peak through the curtain at the twenty minute mark, he only noticed because he could feel your curious gaze.

It disturbed him enough to allow Dean to fly down the neighbourhood road noisily at too many miles an hour.

Naturally, sleep became a stranger.

Dean was long passed out on the questionably lumpy motel bed and Sam was still at the desk. The white light off his laptop made his eyes itch.

A dryad is a tree nymph, commonly inhabiting oak trees, and generally born into the form of beautiful women. Many dryads were considered to be originally human or children of the nature Gods and it is widely believed that they take on the physical characteristics of the trees they protect.

Your eyes returned to him again, if not for the hundredth time that day. The way the greenery reflected off of them at him. The strength of your legs, how they were wide and grounding like the tree that engulfed your house. Your movements, your walk, how you floated like how the leaves shivered in the forest beyond your garden walls.

Sam had given considerable thought to his soulmate, as most people did.

He was turning thirty-one in a few months time and it had occurred to him that maybe you were on the other side of the world. Maybe you were dead. But people had warned him that he'd know if that were true. He'd feel it, like a gaping wound in his soul.

Castiel had appeared to Dean in a flash of light. In a heroic swoop of love, and Sam thought maybe that could happen to him too.

His thumb was warm where it ran over the scar down his arm.

He wondered if you thought the same.

If you dreamed of his arrival the way he'd dreamed of yours.

It was a silly thing, to dream of meeting your true love. Far too trivial in the life of someone like Sam Winchester when the fate of the world, of good versus evil and heaven versus hell was always in the palm of his hand.

But your figure was burned into his corneas like a blinding torch.

It scared him. Not an easy feat for the man who'd seen it all.

Sam had asked Dean a few years back.

Can someone live without their soulmate?

Dean had shrugged. "Sure, plenty of people do."

Sam had sunk back another sip of his beer at the time, they were somewhere in Florida.

"What if they'd already met them? Can they decide that they don't want to be with them?"

Dean chuckled at that. "I doubt that works out very often."

It was already long after Dean had met Castiel. Long after he'd survived his "my soulmate is an angel and a man what the fuck--" stage.

"What makes you say that? I'm sure some people have a strong enough willpower."

Dean had answered him by referencing some movie, one that Sam knew he loved and it took a bit of pestering for Dean to admit he knew the quote by heart.

He'd blushed nearly red and shrugged, accompanying it by another long slug of his beer.

"It's like at the end of the movie--" When Harry Met Sally, specifically, "When they're at that New Years party and Billy Crystal goes up to Meg Ryan and gives that whole speech, and he says that line."

Sam was grinning by then. "What line?"

Like he hadn't seen the movie enough times to know.

"You know, he when says ... when you realise you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible."

Sam had long made peace with the fact that even if you did ever come around, that it would be better to leave you be. To leave you in the safety of a life different to his own.

At least he had.

In the slim hours since leaving your doorstep he'd found himself choking over the thought of never seeing you again. Of his eyes never laying again on your face that gazed so happily up into his own, like you felt his warmth in a cold winter.

He was plagued, possessed, by the thought of never knowing more.

Never knowing the way you liked your tea, how you looked first thing in the morning, or worse, how your lips would feel slow and warm against his own.

He wanted to know your favourite song, and your worst fear. He wanted to know where you came from, how you found Fernglade, Washington. What's your favourite book, do you like to read? Would you like it if he read to you instead? Maybe you would, you'd be tucked against his side in bed and he'd tell you about his favourites. His favourite movies and the way he drinks his coffee and the shampoo he used. Maybe you'd play with his hair, braiding little flowers into the ends--

Sam groaned. His face fell into his hands.

This wasn't supposed to be happening. Not now.

But he supposed there would never be an adequate time for your arrival.

And god, you weren't even human.

Cross species soulmates weren't impossible - improbable, sure (about as much as being hit by lightening) - but not impossible.

It was only Sam's luck, the Winchester's luck, that they'd both been struck.

Castiel was an angel, but the concept seemed to fade off Dean quickly at the time.

Dean himself had been little help on the matter during the blurry drive back to the motel. "Hey. I mean, all things considered, fairy sex must be crazy."

Sam closed the tab on Dryads: A Modern Day Delve into Greek Mythology. Another page blinked up at him.

When the sun was still setting and Dean was still seated across from him, he had managed to do some work.

It distracted him, barely, but he managed to somewhat narrow the list of potential suspects.

The filters helped. Creatures that steal children. Creatures that live in the woods.

In all the webpages and in some text from John's journal he'd found a common thread. A thinly veiled one, but a lead regardless.

Goblins are generally found living in communities in burrows of forests across Western America. They are known to be mischievous and malignant spirits which often feed on small animals or easy prey and hunt during the warmer months before hibernating in Winter.

Children are easy prey, Sam thought.

Some subspecies were believed to be able to shift into the form of naughty children and sneak into nearby villages to prey on young humans.

It was the last thing his eyes ran over before he slipped the laptop shut. He crawled to the bed, wishing more than anything that his mind would cut him a break, before sliding under the sheets: seeking respite from the crisp autumn Washington

-

"Rise and shine, Sammy."

The hangers reeled noisily against the rod where Dean had ripped open the curtains and the stark light brought Sam to gasping consciousness.

Sam pulled the pillow up over his face, grumbling into it.

He made out the sound of Dean setting a coffee mug on the side table.

"What time did you get to sleep?"

Answered by another indiscernible whine, Dean sunk into the chair at the tiny table in the room. "Fine, fine ... but did you find anything helpful? Besides fairy porn probably."

It earned him a well-aimed smack in the face with a pillow.

Dean laughed jovially, "Okay, okay."

Sam rose up into a sitting position with a moan. He ran a hand over his face, the other grappling for the already cooling coffee mug on the table.

"Goblins." He muttered around the rim.

Dean paused his own sip, face falling into incredulity.

"Did you just say "goblins"?"

Sam nodded. He didn't elaborate.

"Listen, I know it's a conversation you probably don't wanna have ... but are you sure we're ruling out your little garden fairy from this equation? I mean, it really doesn't look good for her--"

"You're right. I don't want to have this conversation."

Dean shrugged. He fiddled with the coffee mug against his hand.

"It's not her." Sam added quietly.

Nodding slowly, Dean watched his brother with tentative eyes. "Have you thought about that? What you're gonna do?"

Sam rose from the bed, stripping off his shirt. "I don't know man. I don't even think she knows."

It had been a thought that occurred to him at some point in the previous night, that you didn't know. That it was probably selfish to keep it to himself.

"Right, well anyway," Dean reached into the tupperware you'd gifted them the previous afternoon. He'd already cleared out his own and was starting on a pastry from Sam's box. "I was thinking we should go speak to the third vic's mom. Kelly Williams. We haven't spoken to them yet and maybe they can tell us more."

Sam nodded. "Sure. You got an address?"

"No, but she's working a stall at..." Dean picked up a leaflet from the table that Sam assumed he'd found on his coffee run before he was up, "The Fernglade Sunday Market. We can find her there."

"Fine."

He disappeared into the bathroom, Dean heard the shower turn on.

"And you can tell me about this goblins story on the way there!" He called after him.

The door slammed shut.

-

"So you think goblins are coming into town and stealing kids out their back yards?"

The morning was warm and the market made it more so. It was out on a farm a couple roads down from the boys' motel.

There were little set-up stalls as far as he could see over lush green grass, selling cakes and jewellery and home-made soaps. Couples strolled hand-in-hand and children chased their parent's ankles.

Sam shrugged. "I mean yeah, it makes sense. Dad mentioned about the trees, Y/n mentioned about the forest too."

Dean nodded, his eyes rolling over the scenery. "Sure, but goblins? I've never heard of that anywhere, I mean, how do you even kill it?"

"Them." Sam corrected. "They live in groups."

Dean sighed. "Well that's gonna be fun."

Somewhere down the row, a man was singing behind a set up microphone with a guitar in his lap. A small crowd had formed to watch him.

Sam's stomach had begun churning with that feeling that made his organs feel like jelly again. He shrugged against the collar of his shirt.

"Right, well, there's Kelly Williams' stall." Dean glanced again down at the pamphlet, "Rings and Things ... how creative--"

But Sam's eyes had found on another stall. One further down from Kelly Williams', a little set-up of vases and stain glass sculptures. Rather ... they found the woman standing in front of it.

Of course it was you.

Standing against the breeze in another, unsurprisingly, light green dress. It was ruffled and shimmering and glittery and short. It made Sam's airways tighten to a shut.

You seemed intent on avoiding wearing anything that draped any further than just over the curve of your ass, and Sam prayed to anyone listening that it would stay that way.

"Sammy?"

Dean's face shrunk in confusion, he followed his brother's line of sight. He began to laugh, clearly finding you, and jostled Sam with a hand on his shoulder. "Well, isn't this just your luck."

Sam was sucking in deep breaths again. Dean shoved him in the side.

"Go talk to her, I'll speak to Mrs Williams."

Jumping back into semi-consciousness, Sam shook his head, "No, no, it's fine. We'll go--"

"Stop being a baby, Sam." Dean shrugged him off. "You're gonna have to talk to her eventually. And I hope you do a better job than you did yesterday, because that was a train-wreck."

"Thanks."

But Dean's figure was already retreating.

"Asshole." Sam muttered under his breath.

Eyes found you again, they strained against the sunlight. He could make out your face from where he stood: it was twisting, falling into a creased brow that Sam didn't like the look of.

His legs began moving before he had chance to instruct them and it only took a couple paces of his long structure to find your side, heart thumping violently in his ears.

Your eyes lifted from the table, there was an elderly lady sitting in the shade of the cover and looking unimpressed.

"Sam." You smiled up at him and he swore in that second he could listen to you saying his name forever on repeat and never grow bored. "What a pleasant surprise."

"Hey." He sighed, it was louder than he anticipated and he could feel his cheeks growing warmer. "W-What are you doing here?"

You stuttered, "Well, I was just looking at this cute little crocodile--"

His eyes found where your hand was motioning over the woman's table. He was unsurprised to find it littered with stained-glass sculptures of animals. Lions and fish and elephants among others.

But the woman interrupted before you could find the end of your sentence.

"I don't sell to kidnappers."

Her elderly face was curled up in disgust. Sam was taken aback by her directness.

He was more taken aback by your polite smile at her.

"That's fine. I'll be on my way." You nodded kindly, looking back up to Sam. "Wanna take a walk?"

Sam's bones had begun aching with fury in the small seconds since he'd arrived. His brow-bone was heavy set against his eyes.

He glanced over at the crocodile you'd referenced. It was about the size of a shoebox, glassy in bottle green tones and grinning a mouthful of sharp teeth up at him. He could already see it sitting happily on a spot between your books and photo frames, maybe up on the mantle above your fireplace.

Brushing softly against your elbow with his hand, a movement that sent a stone cold shiver up his whole body, he shook his head. "Just one sec--"

He turned to the woman, sticking his finger in the direction of the lifeless creature.

"I'd like to buy that crocodile please."

"Oh, Sam, you don't have to--"

But the woman was unmoved, "No. I'm not selling anything to anyone associated with her."

She stuck a shaking finger in your direction and Sam suddenly wanted to rip the stall to pieces.

"We should just go..." Your voice was small and he fought hard against pulling your frame into his side.

Instead, he reached into his jacket pocket for his FBI identification: flipping it out into the daylight for the woman to see. Her eyes widened behind thinly framed spectacles.

"I said I'd like to buy that crocodile." His voice was stern, heavy laden with his trembling aggravation. "How much is it?"

The woman's face flickered between emotions, before settling on vexation. "Forty dollars." She mumbled.

"I'm sorry?"

"Forty dollars." She replied more clearly, face turning red in embarrassment.

Sam slipped away his badge and dug for his wallet in his pocket, he flipped between the notes and handed her two twenty dollar bills. The woman was quiet while she wrapped the creature, avoiding your and Sam's eyes in the process.

She handed it over with a scathing, "Get away from my stall."

"With pleasure." He turned to you, your face was a cherry red shade. "I'll take you up on that walk."

You stepped away, offering a small sheepish "thanks" to the woman scowling at your and Sam's retreating figures.

"Here." He handed you the crocodile gently, and you took it with tentative hands. "Get a lot of that?"

But you shrugged off his question, grabbing for your purse. "You really didn't need to do this, Sam. Let me just pay you--"

Sam stopped, taking your forearm into his hand - the tingle it sent up his body again didn't go amiss - and he huffed. "Please, please. Don't. It's a gift."

The sun was shining off your dress and it made your face seem lighter. "Sam, really, I can't ask you to--"

"Please?"

You paused, lashes blinking carefully up at him and god he could really kiss you right there--

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

Smiling again, easing the tightness in Sam's chest, you nodded. "Fine."

You held the crocodile up to your face, "What are we gonna name him?"

"We?" Sam laughed and you laughed back at him.

"Sure, he's ours now." You tucked it under your arm again.

Ours. He was fragmentally taken away with the thought of something belonging to them, to us. A house, a couch, a dog (or a fox if that's what you wanted)--

"Anyways, where's the other one?"

Sam was brought back to the conversation.

"Oh, uh, Dean?" his eyes grazed over the stalls, pointing over to where Dean was talking with the tall Kelly Williams behind a tray of seashell necklaces. "Talking to one of the victims."

"Right, I almost forgot." You fiddled with your bag over your shoulder. "He decided whether he's killing me yet?"

His mouth tilted teasingly. "What makes you think that I've decided I'm not here to kill you?"

You shrugged, teeth flashing in a gut-wrenchingly beautiful smile. "Well, you bought me this, and ... you don't seem the type."

"The type?"

"Nah, you're too sweet on me already."

Sam's stomach did a somersault in his chest. "I--"

"Besides, you couldn't do it here. Too much blood, too many witnesses ..."

Sam's hair flicked over his shoulder where he tossed his head back to laugh. "Right. You've thought about the logistics already."

"Sure have." You nodded. "Any headway on the kids?"

"Some." He shrugged. "There's this fairy--"

"Dryad."

"--living in this petting zoo in this cottage on the outskirts of town..."

"Fine." You conceded. "I won't ask."

"No, but we have--"

"Ah, look at you two. Getting along like a house on fire."

Sam hadn't noticed his brother's approaching footsteps. Dean clapped a jolly hand over his brother's arm.

You smiled in greeting. "Good morning Dean."

He nodded. "'Morning Tinkerbell."

"Dean."

Chuckling you nodded. "Good one. Haven't heard that before."

The sun was hot on Sam's shoulders, Dean was making it hotter with his conspicuous side eye.

"What's that you got there?" He motioned over the figure under your arm.

You lifted it up proudly, "It's my crocodile. Sam got it for me. The lady wouldn't sell it to me."

"Oh, Sam got it for you, huh?" Dean smirked, relishing in the admission.

"Yep."

The glitter in your eye was making Sam's knees buckle.

"W-We should get going ..." He shifted from his one leg to the other. "Work to do ... and stuff."

"Right," you agreed, fixing the strap over your shoulder again. "I should also head home, not very welcome 'round here anyways."

Confusion glazed briefly over Dean's face but he said nothing on it.

"Yeah, stuff to do." He nodded.

You began your walk past them, finding Sam's gaze. "Thanks again, Sam. I'll see you boys around."

His eyes followed you where your crystals were clinking around your neck. "Yeah. No problem."

Barely out of your earshot, Dean turned to Sam. "A crocodile, huh?"

"Shut up."

-

It wasn't another two days before Sam saw you again.

The boys dove head first back into research, Mrs Kelly Washington hadn't much more to add beyond the fact that she heard another child's voice in the moments before her daughter's disappearance.

"I mean, there was some mention in the lore about goblins being able to turn into kids. Naughty ones at that."

Dean sighed over his bar-top lunch. He took another swig of beer.

"Okay, so what, these ... goblins are coming into town as children and grabbing the kids from their yards? Maybe they'd met somewhere before then, at school or the park?"

Sam shifted the salad around his plate, bored. "Yeah, maybe."

There was a depressingly thin amount of information in John's journal on goblins and the website lore was too broad to even begin sifting through it before another child was taken.

"Well we know that eight kids are taken each time, right?"

Nodding, Sam took an unenthusiastic bite of tomato.

"That means there's still two kids to be taken. I mean, there's only been six victims and autumn is two weeks away from ending, if the story is true that they hunt before winter."

The boy's didn't have to wait long. They were less than an hour clear of the dilapidated bar they'd stopped in for lunch when the call came over the police monitor in the car.

"Units, this is dispatch. We have a suspected 134 at 98 Calvary, requesting assistance."

Code 134. Kidnapping.

Dean found Sam's eye across the front seat before taking a screeching turn into the next street.

Cavalry road was just a few streets down and the scene was as they'd expected. Burning red and blue cop cars littered the street and Dean pulled the Impala into a space between them.

There was a scuffle of officers, in the corner of the driveway a man holding a sobbing woman to his chest. The parents.

Dean and Sam flashed their badges at the nearest deputy.

"What's the situation?"

The officer huffed, tightening his grip on either side of his belt. "We think the kid was taken, Frankie Moore. Disappeared about two hours ago, the parents only called in the last twenty minutes. They thought he'd just run off."

Dean nodded and Sam watched over the scene around him.

"Any witnesses?"

The cop shook his head, Taylor, his badge read. "None. Right out the backyard, just like the others."

"Did the parents see anything, hear anything?" Sam pressed.

"Not from what we can gather from them right now, they're pretty out of shape." Taylor motioned back to where the Mrs Moore was desperately pushing out sentencing between racking sobs. "But we've got a suspect, they're out fetching them right now."

Dean glanced over the officer, "A suspect?"

Sam's hands were starting to itch. He twisted them against his the cuffs of his sleeve.

"Yeah, neighbour saw them out in the forest about an hour ago. Called it into dispatch. They never took it seriously until this call came in."

Somewhere behind them a short siren yelped from one of the cars.

"Did they have the kid or what?" Dean's face was laden with confusion, the story twisting around his brain.

"No, but they've been taken in on suspicion. Talk of the town and such." Taylor responded and Sam's heart sunk to his knees.

There was a click over the officer's radio. "Suspect is in custody."

He pulled it closer to his mouth, "Copy that."

Sam tugged up on the end of his sleeve, revealing his wrists in the afternoon light. They were turning a pinkish red. Handcuffs.

"Dean."

Dean's back stiffened at his brother's tone, eyes finding his wrists. He sighed. "You've got to be kidding me."

Sam's brain was turning muddy. "The suspect, is she a woman?"

Taylor nodded. "As far as I know, yes."

-

There was nothing else said.

Sam fled the scene as if the perpetrator himself. He flew into the passenger's seat with the force of an attacking bear.

Dean chased after him, slotting the key into the ignition: setting the car alight.

"Sam, I know what you're thinking--"

Houses flew past the car, streets and pedestrians, but Sam had no space to consider them.

"You don't know what I'm thinking."

But Dean was persistent, knuckles white around the wheel. "She's your ... your soulmate, I get that, but our leads are thin. Have you considered that she could really be doing this?"

The station came into view at the end of the road. Lights from the cars were flashing in Sam's eyes. His head spun.

"She's not a monster, Dean."

"But she is, Sam! She is! She's not a human."

Dean pushed down on the brake in front of the sheriff's station and Sam was out the car before it had fully pulled to a stop.

He threw the doors open. Officers were flocking around like seagulls over an abandoned hot dog.

Sam grabbed the arm of the nearest one, firm in his grip.

"The suspect, where is she?"

"Uh, they've just moved her to--"

The doors swung open again behind him and the rumbling of the station was overpowered by a loud low whine. It was followed by an equally distressed yelp.

Sam turned to find a row of officers, leading one after the other like ducks, each with a rattling metal cage of a different animal. Your animals.

Goose was yipping wildly in the confines of the box. A woman holding Lydia followed him. They come in procession: the rabbits, the ferrets, the ducks, the budgies.

"What the fuck!" An officer close to the door jumped out the way where Lydia hissed angrily at him from between the bars.

"No, please!"

Sam spun on his heel. His hands felt heavy with helplessness. It was your voice, echoing across the station and reverberating in his brain.

"Please, just leave them! They're not gonna hurt anyone. I haven't done anything--"

His feet chased after the sound. Sam found a long corridor near the back of the room, there were two officers tugging on either of your arms. Your eyes were bouncing wildly between each of the officers where they disappeared into the evidence room with your pets.

Your gaze found his own. "Sam!"

"Y/n." He was bounding down the corridor, long stretches of leg, but the officers were adamant in their grip.

"Sam, I promise I didn't-- it wasn't me. I swear--"

There was a loud huff and a heave and you stumbled backwards into a closed holding cell. Your hands wrapped between the bars.

"I know," Sam was breathless. "I know you didn't--"

Suddenly there was hands on his chest. "Sir, you need to get out of here."

"I need to speak with her--"

"Sir you can't do that. You need to speak to the sheriff."

Sam's chest was rumbling with a frenzied desperation. He couldn't pull his eyes off the fragments of your figure behind the bars.

The officers shoved him again. "Sir--"

He ripped himself off their grip, hair flushed back against his reddening face and he turned back down the corridor.

Dean was already at the sheriff's desk.

"--suspicious behaviour--"

"What the hell is going on?" Sam's voice rumbled across the room. "On what basis are you holding her?"

The sheriff was a small man and he looked smaller under Sam's furious stature.

"It's like I was telling your partner here, agent," He was patting a handkerchief over his balding head. "Y/n Y/l/n is being held on the basis of suspicious activity."

"What exactly is your definition of suspicious activity?"

The sheriff shrugged, "Well we got a call in of her roaming around the forest--"

Sam could feel his fists tightening at his sides, "What are people not allowed to go into the forest in this town or does that make them all kidnappers? You have no evidence--"

"Sammy, calm down." Dean's hand found Sam's chest but he shrugged him off.

"Release her. Right now."

But the sheriff shook his head. "Unfortunately, not even FBI have the power to do that. State's laws say she can be detained for 12 hours pending investigative procedures."

"Investigative procedures--?"

By then, Dean had him by the arm. "Okay, okay. Let's go cool off--"

He tugged Sam towards the door, surprising both himself and Dean by allowing him to do so successfully.

The cool dusk air rushed over his face. Sam took a deep breath.

"They have no evidence, Dean--"

"I get that, but you need to calm down. You're not helping the situation by threatening the sheriff."

An officer passed them with another cage. Three hedgehogs.

Sam ran a hand over his face. He took a deep breath.

"You don't even believe she's innocent, Dean."

There was quiet for a long moment.

Sam fell into a bench bolted against the side of the building. His hands found his face again. After a moment, Dean crouched into the spot beside him.

"Look." He sighed. "If you believe her, I believe you. Alright?"

Sam's eyes were watching his shoes. He nodded, only half believing his brother's claim.

They sat like that for nearly an hour with evening settling over Fernglade around them and the autumn crisp seeping into their suits.

After a long resounding silence, one that had stretched on past Dean's wide yawn, Dean rose to his feet.

"Sammy, we should go home. Get some headway on this goblins angle."

At that, Sam shook his head. "I'm gonna stay."

"What, until she's out?"

"Yeah."

Dean's eyes were dripping in pity and it made Sam's blood boil.

"That's--" he raised his watch into his eyeline, "She's still got another ten hours. It's only six o' clock now."

Sam nodded. "Yeah."

"Sam--"

"Dean."

Another cold silence.

Sam pressed his hair back with a wide hand, conceding. "Look, I'm sorry. But I'm gonna stay. You head back to the motel, do some work and get some sleep. I'll be fine."

Dean considered him, but he made no further argument and Sam thought momentarily it was maybe because he knew he couldn't budge him in the same argument with Cas.

"Alright. Fine." Dean nodded, tugging his jacket closer against the cold. "I'll see you in the morning."

Sam watched his brother's retreating figure all the way until the Impala had disappeared down the next street before going to stand.

The doors swung open with a whine, the station had cooled to a quieter buzz than when he'd first burst in. The sheriff had disappeared into an office off in the corner of the room.

Finding the nearest officer, Johnson, behind a short wooden desk, Sam approached him.

Officer Johnson glanced warily up at him from the papers he'd been filling out. He'd probably been witness to his first outburst.

"Uhm," Sam cooled his voice to a deferential timber. "The animals at the back, what's gonna happen to them?"

The officer set his pen down, "Well I'm doing the paperwork on them now. They'll be released if and when she does."

"If?"

He shrugged, "Yeah, if they don't find anything they'll let her go. Only got twelve hours."

Sam shifted his weight, running his eyes over the station. Somehow it was colder inside than the bench he'd just abandoned.

"Right."

The image returned to him again of your tiny green dress, the satin sleeves that reached down over your arms - he wondered for a moment if you wore them to cover all his scars - and the shiny ends that left your legs a prize for the bite of the freezing air that nipped at him even through all his layers.

He dug his hands into his coat pocket, pulling out his badge and his wallet and his phone to slip them into his pant pockets. Then he shrugged out the jacket.

Sam held it out to the officer. "Would you mind giving this to her?"

The officer took it with tentative hands, he gave it a glance over but made no move to stand.

"There's nothing in it." Sam huffed. "It's freezing in here, and unless you want her to die of hypothermia before morning, I suggest you do what I've asked."

He was considering it, Sam could tell by how his eyes flickered over the office door behind which the sheriff was hiding, but eventually elected to stand.

"Fine."

-

comment and repost if you enjoyed &lt;3

taglist:

@firstsnowdrop @writerofthewinds @aria1245 @nyx22-blogs @lucysaloser @britishscum @pookiesnatcher @music-keep-me-sane @cryptid-with-a-cane @sammys-concubine @i-live-for-fantasy @grimbunnie @crystalreedwifey @haileycannotcometothephonern @i-cant-write-for-shit @did-someone-change-my-name @1313ek @chlorine11 @ch33ze00 @random-fandom-gurl @melancholicandmessy @harley-quinns-girlfriend @cardigan-ns @charliethealpaccaso @crystalandphoebewifey @nonbinarycryptic @multitargaryen @darylsleathervest @aquatic-bread @ferrersbiggestfan @miles-stargirl @secretsuitcasegooplawyer

[skynight110]

Child Of The Monsters

A monsterverse fic:

You can't remember when it all began. When something changed. Or maybe you could, if you thought deep enough on it. All you knew now though, was that you were alone. Because of them. Because of Him. If only you weren't so young when this all began, perhaps you could have prevented everything; the death of your parents, being one. Being forced to give up your childhood "for the sake of humanity" being another. But alas, nothing could change what has happened, and all you could do now was try and escape this hell that's been built around you, and pray to whatever deity is out there to grace you with luck. Because if they find out, if He finds out.....

The sake of the world, the sake of your life, the sake of every little good thing you've managed to keep, will be at stake.

•••

Hello, hello. I've decided to post my story here on Tumblr just...because lol. You can find it both on ao3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/55869871

Or wattpad https://www.wattpad.com/story/366621677?utm_source=android&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_reading&wp_page=reading&wp_uname=KnockoutRules

Updates will most likely be posted on these two first, and I'll post when I remember to on here. However, to be up to date I'd suggest reading on either of those platforms.

Like on both of those, here is important information that I insist you glance over before reading:

This story is definitely inspired by Screaming into the Voids "Y/n, Child of the Monsters///Platonic!Yandere!Godzilla/Titans x Child/Teen!Reader" on Quotev, I suggest going and checking it out, however it is incomplete and I'm unsure if the writer is still interested in finishing it. With that out of the way, this will be a "yandere" type story, and will have normal Godzilla movie themes in it such as

- death

- canon-typical violence(cmon, it's godzilla, he's going to end up ripping something in half)

- spoilers for the movies(except gxk, I haven't seen it yet)

and themes I've added in. There will be

- "talking" kaiju, however they don't physically speak to humans, rather its an insight into their thoughts/feelings

- mentions/forms of telepathy

I personally headcanon that mothra can "tap" into others, and while she can't speak fluent, she can send emotions or brief thoughts to others that aren't close to her. Godzilla can do similar things, but it takes more focus for him, and it works better through touch. But it doesn't happen very often.

- some forms of experimentation, both on humans and kaiju

I want to make it clear that there is no romance in this, it's purely platonic.

I've tried to align readers age with how the movies are set in time, so here's a quick guide if any of you get confused:

Reader is born in 2009, they are 5 during the events of 2014.

By the events of Kotm, reader is 10.

Gvk, reader is 12, and this is mostly where the story will take place, and continue onwards.

In GxK, reader is 15.

I also won't be adding in much from the comics because I haven't read them, but there's a chance I'll add in some small things that I've managed to find out.

As for plot family wise, as stated your parents don't appear for too long. They ded. But you will have other family members! For my own sake to make it easier for me I'm gonna make reader related to the Russels; Mark being your uncle and Madison being your cousin, simply because of plot wise it makes it easier for me to use them.

If there are any questions, feel free to comment them, I'll do my best to answer them to best of my ability.

ALSO

Fair warning now, even though I like writing, I lose motivation VERY fast. So if I fall of the face of the earth for a bit, don't be surprised. I have stuff to do in my life too, seeing as I'll be graduating next year and need to get my stuff together. If you're worried that I'll be discontinuing this story, just ask in the comments, I promise I'll answer, later or right away. I'm the kind of writer that will have random spouts of motivation in the middle of the night when I'm tired, or in the middle of the day when I'm busy.

But, I will try my best to commit to this, because I really want to write this to give both myself and everyone who finds this a story with the Big G, because there are so few out there.

[izzabela]

Gotta Catch 'Em All - Kenshi Takahashi x fem!reader

in which a certain swordsman has a hard time with you and your little friends

a/n: tumblr buggin. i think the requester said i could make it with any earthrealm character, so i choose kenshi! if you requested this, comment or shoot me a DM!

ship[s]: kenshi takahashi x fem!reader

warning(s): shameless self-insert of favorite pokémon, post-story, no (y/n) bull, hater to lover?

[look at them. loverbirds]

=====================

You sigh sadly as you sat alone under a cherry blossom tree in the Wu Shi Academy. Despite the clear joy on your pokèmon's faces, you couldn't help but be doleful as you thought about the recent events in your life.

You were on your Charizard's back, soaring through unending skies of your home in the Sinnoh region. You had come home from your travels to the Galar region and wanted to take a break by flying.

One minute, you, Charizard, and Noivern were happily flying through the clouds. Free-wheeling, diving, and looping over one another as your companions stretched their wings and flew high above the ground.

The next minute, you were downed by a flying lightning man. Forced to land, you were circled in by orange-clad people as their hands and weapons were pointed at you and your friends. It didn't help that they were both knocked out by a swordsman in a suit and tie. He had used the back of his sword to knock into the pressure point of each pokèmon's body.

How he knew where they were would remain a mystery.

You saw red at the sight of your companions limp bodies. The trauma your pokèmon had, since they had come from a background of abuse. They were rescues, all of them, diligently taken care of by you when you found them at their worst.

You remembered the rest of your pokèmon coming out as well. Your Metagross, Gardevoire, and Luxray protecting you in a defensive circle.

The madness only stopped when a man with glowing eyes, who you now knew as Liu Kang, came in and ended the scuffle. You immediately went to your flying companions' side, crying at the sight of their disabled bodies.

After reviving them with a spray, you allowed him to ask you questions. Who you were, where you were from, what timeline you were part of- you answered his silly questions honestly. Thanks to his good judgement, he let you go, but not without answers of his own.

He told you about their world. How their world was full of magic and sorcery, gods and goddesses, and bizarre things you only read in light novels. He introduced you to his own friend, Geras, who was the Keeper of Time and protector of the hourglass.

After relaying your story to him, they concluded you were not a threat, but an unfortunate accident of a pervious situation that happened. You were ordered to stay at the Wu Shi Academy, under the careful gazes of his champions, until they were able to bring you home.

Days turned into weekS, and weeks turned into months. Right now, it marked the seventh month you had no sign of going home. Despite the bleak situation, you had made the most of it by making friends.

Johnny Cage was by far the easiest to befriend. Easy to talk to, extroverted, and a natural people-person, you found his egotistical self a joy to be around. He asked you many questions of your world and pokèmon, taking pictures of them- even asking if he could come home with you to see more. He got in trouble with your Metagross once, knocking on his metallic head and getting a small Bullet Punch in response.

Kung Lao was similar in that regard, except he was filled with more pranks than a ten year old child. Yes, he checked up on you from time to time, but he mostly played with your pokèmon and included them in his pranks and bets. He once led your Noivern to scare Raiden's little sister as she was given a tour by a couple of monks. Poor girl, spooked out of her wits. Your Noivern was also quite shaken, following her to try and make it up to her.

And speaking of Raiden, he was by far the kindest one to you and your pokèmon. He offered to feed them, play with them, even bathe them with you. You rewarded him with your Pokèdex, showing him all the pokèmon that you had encountered on your journeys. The way his eyes sparkled with curiosity, asking questions about their evolutions, origins, and more.

The only person you couldn't get past was Kenshi Takahashi. His face was plastered with a constant, unreadable emotion, and the sunglasses didn't help his case. He always avoided you, whether with his eyes or his entire body. He also spoke very little with you, and seldom did you see him with your pokémon- granted, did you ever see him with your pokémon?

He also had his hand on his sword, Sento. Every time you saw him, his hand was always on his handle. You knew that it was to aid his handicap, his vision taken from him during an incident that proceeded you.

Why he avoided you, you didn't know. Perhaps it had to do with the knocking-out of your pokèmon, but you had let that go due to the fact he did it out of defense. Perhaps it's what you said, but you couldn't think of a time where you held a conversation with him. Maybe it was the way you looked at him? But his vision was only there for him to see, not truly allow him to use it to enjoy life.

Which brings us back to where we started- you sitting under the cherry blossom tree as you watched your companions playing and roughhousing with one another. You pick at the grass you sat upon, unknowing to the group of men that stood behind a circular concrete opening.

"There she is!" Kung Lao whispered with a pointing finger.

"Well not shit, razor-rang," Johnny scoffs. "Come on, Ken-doll, go and talk to her!"

Kenshi is behind all his friends as he breathes a sigh. He's nervous, but his mastery over his facial expressions allows him to keep his truth close to his chest.

Kenshi had been avoiding you for the entirety you had been here due to the fact he felt bad for tranquing your pokèmon. He had been trying to get closer to you, but he couldn't bare to hear your scared voice. That was how badly the entire debacle had been affecting him.

"Don't egg him on," Raiden scolds, "Kenshi knows what he's doing." He turns to face his friend again to try and read for any sign of discomfort.

Kenshi just looks at him with a light smile, and Raiden takes it as a sign to not push further. He then takes the other two men to leave the swordsman alone.

"But we want to watch!" Kung Lao cries as he's dragged away. Kenshi's stealth is no use as your head turns at the sudden voice. Only then does Kenshi come through the stone entrance, slightly stumbling. You get up at the sight of the swordsman, and your pokèmon stop playing as they're on high alert.

"K-Kenshi," you stuttered, but composed yourself as you greet him. "A surprise this is. To what do I owe you the pleasure?"

You're over the moon with his presence. In seven months, Kenshi finally came around. Albeit, it a confrontational way, but you were open to it so long as you made him your friend. However, you note how... unprofessional(?) he looks.

Scrutinizing his every move, you watch his body language. How his head moves askance, trying to avoid "looking" at you. He shifts his bodyweight from his right to his left leg, and you see his fingers rhythmically tap the scabbard of his sword.

"Earthrealm's Greatest Swordsman" was nervous.

On cue, your pokèmon are behind you as your ensemble. Like protectors, they watch the swordsman with great intent to make sure the events seven months ago do not transpire again. You command them with your hand up, stopping them from anymore advances. Regardless, you can feel the warmth coming from your Charizard's mouth as he stood directly over your shoulder.

"I, uh, just wanted to see if there were any updates on Lord Liu Kang's search for your way home?" You're dumbstruck over this conversation starter.

In the seven months you had made friends with everyone, this was the first time Kenshi spoke to you. The topic in which he chose to converse with you, however, set in stone your thoughts on how he thought about you. Any hope you had in allying yourself with him was gone, and it was evident in your response.

"O-oh," you say, a little dejected. "Well, no, Liu Kang hasn't found any leads."

That was a half-lie. Liu Kang mentioned to you in the last week that he found the faintest tether to your world, but he would need more time to make the connection more stable. In the mean time, you were to remain alert.

Kenshi didn't know this, though. And you intend to keep it that way as you went back to sitting on your bum on the warm grass, telling your pokèmon to scatter and play once more. Kenshi is stunned at your response, but he doesn't relent.

"I, uh," he clears his throat. "I would like to apologize for what happened a while back."

Your head turns up to see Kenshi, rubbing the back of his neck as he stands where he is. His brows are scrunched together, a look of contemplation and regret as his apology rings out in the air. You sigh and let your head hang.

"Kenshi I-. Agh, it's fine, really." It's now awkward as you begin to pick at the grass, trying to fill the silence that envelopes both of you.

Kenshi takes his own seat next to you, and you're reddening at how his shoulder brushes against yours. Thankfully, his sight only limits him to see shades of teal and black, so he can't see how flushed you've become.

"I didn't mean to avoid you," he begins as he watches your pokèmon play. "I just felt... guilty? Shameful? Whatever words describe the gnawing feeling in your chest."

You give him an upside-down smile, gently shoving at his shoulder.

"You knocked my pokèmon out! At the very moment we met, you knocked them out at their pressure points- how did you know?"

Kenshi can hear your playful tone as his shoulder relax a bit more. He snickers as he rubs his nose.

"I mean, it's no different than any other animal," he explains, thumb rubbing over the sheath of his sword. "I have experience with things like these."

And he begins to tell you stories about his missions with the OIA, an organization that investigates the weird and wacky that happens in this world. He talks of dragons that tower over skyscrapers, great battles across realms, and more fantastical tales of his adventures.

You hadn't even realized that your pokèmon had begun to crowd around you two. Luxray had nuzzled himself in between you and Kenshi, his head leaning towards the tattooed man's hand. Noivern had situated herself upside-down on the tree above you two.

Charizard sat behind you both, while Metagross put his arms close to himself to indicate rest. Finally, Gardevoire sat next to you, purring her name as her hand was on your leg.

"You seem to have a strong bond between your companions," he envies, unsheathing his sword.

"Is your sword not animate?" you ask, "Johnny mentioned that it could move."

He awes you as he focuses his energy to move the sword up and down, spinning it in its place as a blue light was emitted from it.

"Amazing!" you clap. Kenshi smirks a bit as he recalls his sword back into its sheath.

The rest of the day wastes away as you two conversed amongst yourselves. Finally, you had caught all of your friends, especially the rare Kenshi Takahashi, and put them into the database of your memories.

=====================

aighr, ain't gonna lie, i restarted this fic three times because i couldn't find a way to incorporate a beginning

requester, i hope you enjoyed your prompt come to life!

i've got a couple more fics on the way, so stay tuned in

i'll see yall in the next fic!

[luzlopesarts]

Some warnings + Chapter 1 Progress!!!!!

HELLO MY LOVELY STARS!!!

You didn't expect to see me updating KoW so soon, did you???

I usually post updates on Saturday or Sunday, but I'll be traveling so I decided to leave the previews today.

In fact, this trip is the warning I have to give. I will be away from my work desk and my materials for a few days (I don't know exactly how many but between one and two weeks), therefore I will not be able to make progress on the Comic during this period.

This is sad I know. But look on the bright side, I'm going to get a lot of rest and return to work with renewed energy!!!

✨YAYYYYYY !!!✨

Anyway, without further ado, let's get to what everyone wants to see:

THE CONTINUATION OF THE OUTLINES OF CHAPTER 1 OF "THE KINGDOM OF WISHES"

( Written by @annymation , design by @uva124 )

Check out part 1 here.

"The two brothers grew up and, with their father's teachings, became powerful sorcerers."

"But when the big day arrived, Florian was crowned king, as Magnus still didn't feel confident and claimed that something was missing in his life; something that gave him strength and courage!"

"It was then that Magnus met Amaya."

"The most beautiful maiden he had ever seen had been found adrift in a boat and taken shelter in the castle by order of King Florian."

"As a form of gratitude for the hospitality, Amaya began to serve the court as a royal alchemist and, as the days went by, she ended up winning Magnus' heart, finally making him feel like he could do...anything".

"Encouraged by his new love, Magnus decided to travel in search of adventure, leaving the kingdom to prosper in Florian's hands."

"But then, a tragedy happened. When Magnus returned to Rosas he discovered that his brother had passed away due to illness. A painful loss for the entire kingdom, which was made worse by Florian not having legitimate heirs"

"Magnus was moved. He could not let the magnificent legacy of his beloved brother and predecessors end like this."

"Feeling confident with Amaya by your side, Magnus took over the throne and changed the way wishes were granted monthly, doing dozens of them a week, making them float back to your Wish Makers, during the night"

The Kingdom was so happy and grateful that they began to name their new rulers with nicknames that reflected their magnificence and passion, thus making them known as King Magnífico and Queen Amable.

"The end".

Sabino: "I admire your taste in complex stories, Asha, but... Hmm...Don't you think this is too complicated for you?"

Asha: "I thought it was a fantasy book, but it's just romance. Yuck!”

Sabino: "Never judge a book by its cover, darling! What you have here is a history book."

Asha: "But he doesn't explain things very well.Where does Queen Amaya come from? And the king's staff?What disease did Florian die from?"

Sabino: "Well, Asha, let's see..."

"First, the queen is very private about her past, we have to respect that."

"Second. That staff is just a souvenir the king got on his travels."

Sabino: "And third. Sometimes bad things just... happen... without explanation."

"And there's nothing we can do about it."

"Unless you move on..."

To be continued...

FORGIVE FOR ENDING WITH AN ANGUISH DRAWING 🥺🥺

BUT DESPITE THAT, I HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT!

And understood. Remembering that, like Anny, I'm Brazilian, but unlike her, I don't understand English and I'm always using Google translate, so maybe there are some mistakes. But Anny and you are always welcome to point out mistakes and correct me!

That's it for today and until after my little vacation Lmao 😅 I'll still be online to answer any questions or curiosities you may have, or simply to see posts and rewrites in which they mark me. I love interacting with this fun and tight-knit community of Wish Concept Art fans!

Anyway, goodbye!!

Kisses full of light and stars!

~Emy

[paula-of-christ]

hi! i remember vaguely you posted something about how mormons believe in spirit babies, could you elaborate what that belief means?

I'm going to use the language that the LDS use for their theology and then do some explaining since they use similar words but don't MEAN the same thing that Christians do when they use them.

When Heavenly Father first created the world/universe we live in (note, this is NOT the beginning of time), him and Heavenly Mother (or 'mothers' if you are faithful to what all the LDS prophets/leaders have said, that's right God is a polygamist) had spirit children, becoming angels. One of those spirit children was Jesus, one was Satan. They both came up with ideas for how salvation should come about (I don't remember the details of the supposed plans, I'd have to look it up) but Heavenly Father went with Jesus' plan. So everyone else had to choose sides. 1/3 chose Jesus' side, 1/3 chose Satan's side, and the last 1/3 didn't choose at all. The 1/3 that chose Satan were sent to earth with the 'Mark of Cain' which in the Doctrine and Covenants is explicitly dark/non-white skin. The other 1/3 were punished for not choosing by being sent down while not being in the LDS, so they had to wait until they died and went to spirit prison* to be preached to by the last 1/3rd that followed Jesus and were born into the Mormon church. It might not be exactly 1/3 on all sides, but I know for sure 1/3 was following Satan, because Joseph Smith took that from Revelation.

So basically, when a couple has sex, they are inviting a spirit that already exists, to come and reside in the body that is made. And if the child dies before the age of 7/8, well that spirit just didn't want to be born yet. And if you CAN'T conceive a child, it's because no spirit thinks you're worthy of it.

"Heavenly Father" is what they call God, and according to the LDS he didn't actually make the universe from nothing, but was created by some god before him, and became an exalted man, and got to create his own universe when he became exalted. Jesus is also an exalted man, and is NOT god. Neither is the Holy Spirit. Heavenly Mother is not usually spoken about beyond very briefly because OBVIOUSLY their god wouldn't be able to create spirit children on his own. She is NOT to be worshipped even though she would also be a god. The modern church only ever talks about one but even as early as Brigham Young (the second leader of the LDS after Joseph Smith died), there was the idea of more than one wife of god, because you cannot become an exalted being without being married to at least 3 women. And if you're a woman who is married to a man and he has less than 3 wives, you will not get to rule with him because he will not become exalted.

To contrast this, classical Christian theology surrounding the creation of new life is that a father and mother are co-creators with God, and that God creates the spirit of the person at the moment of conception, ie at the moment when man and woman biologically create life, then the spirit is there. It was a little shaky at first of when life started, but it was always 'if there is life, there is a soul, but before there is life, the soul is yet to exist'. One of the things the LDS church teaches is that babies remember what the spirit world is like, because the 'veil' between worlds is thinnest at the beginning and end of life. But eventually as they get older, they forget, and that's why we have to go through life the way we do.

It's all very confusing and doesn't make much sense, but I hope I explained it in a way that can be somewhat understandable (or at least.... answered your initial question).

TLDR: God the father created every soul that would ever live when he created the universe and having sex is just 'inviting' that soul to come down to earth. Having sex outside of a mormon marriage or with the intent of raising the child outside the Mormon church is akin to inviting the spirit to be forever damned. And so conception issued boils down to you not being worthy for the spirit to WANT to be your child.

*Yes its called spirit prison, and the only way to be 'saved' from it is if a mormon on earth goes to the temple and gets a proxy baptism using your name after you have died. This is called baptisms for the dead and the Mormon church got in a lot of trouble when they, for a long time, allowed their members to get baptized on behalf of jews killed during the holocaust. Now you can only get baptized by those who are biologically related to you, but there is almost 0 oversight on it, so even though the person doing it is supposed to get permission from the *closest* living relative, often times they don't and just say they do. How does the Mormon Church know who you're related to? Oh, they just own the largest database of ancestry paperwork in the US, possibly the world. To the point that the US government will sometimes borrow their stuff. The Vatican has put a ban (as well as other independent protestant churches) on parishes giving the Mormon Church or member ANY genealogical or baptismal information, since it is only used to do their weird necromantic baptisms, since no baptism is valid except a Mormon one.

[funishment-time]

🔵 Kodaka BlueSky Q&As: Game Development & Sequels

⚠️ DISCLAIMER: Please be advised! Translations of all Japanese answers derive from a combination of Google Translate and my manager's three-quarters-remembered Japanese. We've tried our best to work out what he's saying, but there will be mistakes here and there. Do not take this as gospel!

To avoid spreading too much misinfo, where we're completely boggled about an answer, we've decided not to even make an attempt. We'll still list the post, but mark it accordingly.

💕 FEBRUARY 2024:

Q: How is the progress of the new work?

A: The game is progressing at a rapid pace with the death march. But it is a death march.

NOTE: From the date of posting, we can assume the above refers to The Hundred Line, which was not fully announced until June 2024. However, that's just an assumption.

/////

Q: How do the death games you have released so far get through the ratings system?

A: I try to recognize and avoid expressions that are not appropriate to use.

/////

Q: i have a question! will there be more raincode games?

A: I would like to.

/////

Q: What is the likelihood that you will really create an online killer training game that both adults and children will enjoy?

A: 0% which is as close to 100% as possible.

NOTE: Likely the above refers to a game idea Kodaka had where you train someone into becoming a serial killer.

/////

Q: Are there plans to make a sequel to Rain Code?

A: I'd love to do that...! Please support me...!

/////

Q: Are there plans for a new Danganronpa release? I've loved it for a long time❗️♡

A: Thank you very much! Plans…? Thank you very much!

NOTE: Please take this with a grain of salt, but Kodaka's use of 予定, yotei, for "plans," is interesting here. My manager tells me that if someone says yotei they intend to do something and/or are actively working on pulling it together. If our understanding is correct, this could mean...well, a lot of different things, but does tell us at the very least he wants to do more Danganronpa.

/////

Q: It would be interesting to see a battle game using characters from Danganronpa or Rain Code, but will there be any games in the future that use characters from Danganronpa or Rain Code in genres other than mystery games?

A: I'd like to try it, but there doesn't seem to be a demand for it...

/////

Q: If it's OK to ask a second question, I'd like to hear about the stories behind the casting of each cast member in Danganronpa and Rain Code.

A: Generally, we choose from the sound company's selection or candidates, but on rare occasions we specify the cast. For almost all roles in Rain Code, we held auditions and selected the cast.

/////

Q: When playing the Danganronpa series and Rain Code, I feel like there is a lot of impressive music, but what kind of image did you have in mind when ordering the music? Also, do the impressions of the finished music ever have an influence on the game's production? I'd love to know if you don't mind!

A: I just roughly present the direction and leave it up to Takada. I've liked Takada ever since he was making songs with Grasshopper, so I don't reject any of his songs. Although I might use them in a different way.

NOTE: Masafumi Takada's behind all the bomb-ass music in DR and Rain Code.

/////

Q: Is there a possibility of a sequel to Akudama Drive?

A: I think there is! If you haven't already watched it, please do!

/////

Q: Is there a follow-up story to Danganronpa v3? Also, is v3 the end of the Danganronpa series?

A: I'll do a crowdfunding campaign to motivate myself…Just to motivate. The reward is to make a sequel. lol

/////

Q: May I please ask again? 🙏 Are you working on any unannounced projects? Or what project or projects should your fans be most excited for? I am a big fan of yours, and I want to thank you on behalf of all your fans for all the creative works you and your friends have brought into the world! 🌎 🗺

A: We are working on all kinds of works at the same time. First of all, a collaborative work by kodaka and Uchikoshi will be unveiled soon.

NOTE: Again, from the date of posting and the reference to Uchikoshi, we can assume the above refers to The Hundred Line, which was not fully announced until June 2024.

🍀 MARCH 2024:

Q: What are your plans for the future of Danganronpa? Something I’ve been wanting to ask in particular is if there were any ideas for possibly rantaros game or maybe a v3 animation? :3

A: I don't know what will happen to Danganronpa since Spike Chunsoft has the rights to it. But personally, I would like to make it someday.

/////

Q: Would you like to see your games in more languages? Along with English, Rain Code was released in French, Italian, German and Spanish. I'm Brazilian and I'd really like to see your games in Portuguese! Maybe even with voices in Portuguese, too...

A: I want to translate as many languages as possible in the game. And I want to visit many countries.

🥬 APRIL 2024:

n/a

🌺 MAY 2024:

n/a

☀️ JUNE 2024:

Q: Did you have any difficulties with CERO while creating Dangaronpa and Raincode?

A: V3 was canceled in South Korea right before its release, and when we tried to do a parody of Jibanyan with Jibakuma, the company stopped us.

NOTE: Jibanyan is a character from Yo-Kai Watch. CERO is the organization that applies age ratings to games etc in Japan.

🎇 JULY 2024:

Q: will a character introduction trailer be released soon for last defence academy? Also, can you tell a little about Suminos personality (not spoilers ofc)? 🙈

A: Wait a little longer! They are all wonderful characters!

/////

Q: Mr. Kodaka, do you have a policy when deciding on character names? What I think is amazing about Danganronpa is that you take impossible surnames in real life, like Fukawa and Pekoyama, and mix them with common words like river and mountain to make them less incongruous, so I'd like to know if you have any other policies when deciding on names.

A: We put a lot of importance on the sound and the appearance of the names. But we changed them a few times along the way. We can't know the balance between normal-sounding names and strange names until all the names are finalized.

🌭 AUG 2024:

n/a

🍁 SEPT 2024:

n/a

[sammyluvr]

reposting about my con experience with jared a few months later on here since laila bestie wanted to hear about it lol @rubyvhs <33 and since it was on my previous blog heh. probably more details from before because i was hugely freaking out back then lol

so i had a photo op with him and i did it with my sister!! that was first and then there was a panel with him, mark pellegrino, and alaina huffman!

it was very hot and humid in both places bc his photo op was the biggest so people were waiting outside and the door was open and all that. pretty poor circulation in his area unfortunately :,) and the q&a was in a tent outside thank fuck i brought my little handheld fan LOL anyways

it was hot... so he was all sweaty and flushed LOLLLL but someone on his staff was like wiping some of the sweat on his face in between the last photo ours so he was like "sorry, it's so hot!" and my sister and i were like "nonono take ur time don't worry." but obviously the photo ops are quite rushed so he brushed off the person helping out (politely ofc) very quickly so he could take the picture with us!!

also while i was waiting in line... i was setting my bag on the little table they had for them. and it gave a view of him and i was putting my bag down right as he ended his photo with someone. and when you're done he'll like look after you for a second and obviously i was staring at him. and you walk off i the direction of the table with bags obviously so you can grab it and so i made eye contact with him and he smiled at me before he had to take his next photo and i FREAKED LMAO i think he saw my face go 😳😳😳 shdkfhakjdfl. yeah

anyways back to the photo itself... i blacked out a little bc i don't remember the picture itself HAHA but as we walked up he was like "hi how are you guys :)))" and we were like "hi hi!! we're good thank you how are you??" and he was like "i'm good, thanks :)))" and idk if he said anything else because we took the picture and i blacked out teehee. and the whole time he was making such intense and purposeful eye contact i was like woah woah woah he's really tryna make this personal WOW !!!

but here comes the kicker !!!! basically he says like thank you all sweet and bye and all that but. but oh my god oh my fuck. i'd assume he does this for most folks but before/as we started to walk away he 100% gave each of us a quick but very sweet back rub and it fixed me. it fixed me oh my god. and i freaked out so bad LOLLLL i was like thanks!!! have a good day!!! 😳😳😳😳😳 @_@ kadkjflaskd and my sister and i walked away like... clinging to each other giggling like idiots etc. my knees buckled on several occasions. i sank to my knees in the line to get a second copy of the picture :,) and i need that again SO BADLY OH MY GODDDD it was so comforting and i think about it an unhealthy amount <3333

anyways happy to post the pic if anyone is curious! i look a tiny bit goof because of how hot and nervous if was. he is visibly flushed and sweaty as well though heart eyes heart eyes. anyways you can see his chest hair too <333 gorgeous man

this is getting so long but the panel was lovely!! they were all so cute and funny and he included gen in almost every single answer in at least some way. also i was in line to ask a question.... and the last one they took was the one right before me which was very typical for my luck LOL but honestly it's the last thing that comes to mind when i think about the experience. so overall it was definitely so so amazing <333

[janicho88]

When It All Falls Apart- Chapter 5

Pairing- Jensen x Padalecki Reader

Word count- 5,709

Warnings- Some language. Jensen isn't the best boyfriend. I warned before this started posting it would contain angst, if you need another reminder, here it is. If I missed something let me know!

A/N-You all knew this part was coming sooner or later, some of you even called for it. Starting with this chapter, we'll start to see things from Jensen's side also. A little off canon, SPN ended after 10 years. We still got all the characters in during that time though. Thank you to @writercole and @leigh70 for your help with this. You two are amazing!!

Summary-Y/N Padalecki loved acting on Supernatural.  Working alongside your older brother and your boyfriend, but after ten seasons the guys have chosen to hang up the guns.  Now the three of you are moving on to other projects, but that’s all that needs to change right?  While you have moved to Austin to be closer to your family and boyfriend, Jensen is working elsewhere.  Distance is only the start of your troubles.

Series Masterlist

Jensen takes the rare opportunity to sleep in Sunday morning and is the last one down to breakfast.  His sister and her husband Jeremy have already arrived and are sitting at the table with his parents.

“Did someone have a late night?” Mackenzie teases him.

“Not too bad.  Just taking advantage of catching up on some sleep,” he answers with a yawn.

“What did you and Y/N do yesterday?” his mom asks him.

“I didn’t see her yesterday.  I was meeting with Steve, and we had a few people to go see.  Trying to work out deals for a project.”

“What did she do then?” his mom tries again.

“Not a clue, I didn’t talk to her yesterday.  I was kind of busy.  Why the sudden interest in her day?”

He is filling his coffee cup and doesn’t see the looks exchanged around the table.

“Is everything alright with you two?” His dad questions.

“It’s fine.”

“Yeah, sounds like it,” he doesn’t hear his sister mutter.

Josh and his family arrive after breakfast, while Jensen is upstairs showering.  He misses the kids and his brother coming in to wish his dad a ‘Happy Father’s Day.’  When Jensen comes back down everyone is sitting in the living room with the kids playing in the middle of the floor.  He takes his phone out to take a picture of his nephews and notices a missed text from Gen, making a note to read it later, he snaps a few shots of the boys.

His family asks him questions about work, and what he has been up to.  He inquires about each of them.  They grill out for a late lunch before he has to leave for the airport.  His mom walks out to the rental car with him.

“You’re sure everything is alright?  You aren’t hiding something so we won’t worry?”

“No, it’s all fine mom.”

“Even with Y/N?”

“Yeah. I do have to get going to catch my flight.  It was good to see all of you.”

“I’m glad you could make it home, even for a short visit.  Your dad enjoyed seeing all of you for Father’s Day.”

He’s double checking his suitcase for his passport and not really listening to his mom at the moment, “Yeah, sure I’ll try and make it home then.”

“What?” Donna asks.

Finding his passport, Jensen stands to give his mom one last hug.  “Good to see all of you.  Take care, love you ma.”

While sitting on the plane waiting for the rest of the passengers to load, Jensen takes out his phone and lazily scrolls through it.  He remembers the message he missed from Gen early and opens that conversation, checking the date, he sees it is actually from yesterday.

‘Did you forget something today Ackles?????????????’

“I don’t know Gen, did I forget something?” he mutters to himself, while just replying with question marks of his own.

 Next he pulls up Instagram, it takes him a moment to realize he is seeing multiple posts about Father’s Day.

‘It’s not Father’s Day,’ he thinks to himself, ‘that’s not until the middle of June.”

There is a voice over the intercom telling all passengers to turn off electronics before Jensen has a chance to think more about the holiday or the date.  He goes over the next script for ‘The Boys’ and notes from the meetings with Steve the day before, never giving the date another thought. 

Your Sunday is spent with your parents and Jared’s family.  You and Gen get up to make a big breakfast for everyone.  Tom has homemade cards for his dad and grandpa he places on the table.  Your mom comes down, and helps the two of you finish it all up.

Jared and your dad take Tom out to the park for some male bonding time after breakfast.  Gen, your mom and yourself move to the living room.

 While they are talking babies you excuse yourself to go for a walk.  You are hoping it will help all the thoughts running around your head.  You pass Jensen’s house and pause.  You can’t help but think that he has already started to move on without you.  You’re the one who just hasn’t caught up with the times yet.

On Monday, Jared and Gen have meetings for Walker, so you are hanging out with Tom.   You are used to working twelve to fourteen hour days on set, but somehow this little man wears you out more than those do.  The two of you play outside on the swing set, he has you chase him during a long game of tag, you’re in the pool and back inside rolling toy cars around on the floor.  When your sister-in-law returns you happily hand your nephew back.

Jensen is on set Tuesday, when Jack is talking to some of the other cast members about his parents’ visit over the weekend.  

“They haven’t been to Toronto in awhile and decided to use visiting for Father’s Day as an excuse to come up this weekend.”

“If they were coming for Father’s Day, why did they come this past weekend?” Jensen asks him.

A few people turn and look at him. “Father’s Day was this past weekend,” Chase tells him.

“No, it wasn’t, it couldn’t have been.”

Others are also confirming this.  Jensen doesn’t have his phone with him, or his watch on.  

“What’s the date?” he asks his cast mates.

“21st of June.  Everything all right mate?” Karl asks sitting across the board from him.

“Son of a bitch,” Jensen yells out, “I missed Y/N’s birthday.  It was the 18th.”

He gets up from his chair to head to his trailer where his phone is to call you, but is called to set before he has the chance to get very far.  It’s after 2 am before they wrap for the night, he’s beat just going straight home and falling asleep.

He forgot to set his alarm before collapsing in bed, when he rolls over Wednesday morning and looks at the clock he has to move it.   He has maybe ten minutes before he needs to be leaving the apartment for set.  

Once he arrives he is sent straight to hair and makeup before being ushered to wardrobe.  His PA takes his bag back to his trailer for him.  When they break for lunch he is in the middle of a discussion with Karl and Anthony that completely distracts him.  He makes a quick stop by his trailer before he has to be back on set.  Pulling his phone out of his bag he sees a missed call from you.

“Son of a bitch, I still haven’t talked to her,” he growls out.  He tries calling back, but just reaches your voicemail. He hangs up and throws his phone back in the bag before returning to set.

Wednesday, you finally relent and call Jensen. He never has time to talk long so you make the call on your way to the studio to redo some voice over work for the Netflix show that just wrapped. You shouldn’t be surprised that it ends up going straight to voicemail.  The plane ticket you received for your birthday is to fly out Friday morning, you figure you should probably tell Jensen you are coming up.  Who knows, maybe just showing up would actually get you some time with him.  Leaving your phone in the car you walk into the studio.

Coming back to your car two hours later, you check your phone for messages before leaving the parking lot.  You have to reread the name when you see you have a missed call from Jensen, it’s rare he calls you back this quick lately or even at all.  Hitting the call button you once again get his voicemail, this time you leave a message.

“Hey Jay, I just wanted to tell you Jared and Gen got me a ticket to fly up to Toronto.  I’ll be landing around 2:30 Friday afternoon.  I’ll talk to you later, have a good day.”

Getting back to your brother’s place you are busy the rest of the night.  The two of them went out with a friend of Gen’s and you volunteered to watch Tom.  The little man has a lot of energy to burn tonight.  When you finally get him down, you start going through clothes in your room to take with you this weekend.

In Toronto, Jensen has finally wrapped for the night.  Today’s scenes were a bit…well, what one would come to expect from The Boys.  There is a knock on his trailer door as he’s finishing changing out of his costume.  Chase and Jack are on the other side.

“Hey, we’re going out with Karl for a drink after that mess.  You in?”

“Definitely, let me grab my bag,” he tells them.

One drink turns into a couple and they are out for a few hours.   In the cab on the way back to his place, Jensen pulls out his phone to check his call time for the next day.  Seeing a voicemail message, he tells himself he’ll listen to it tomorrow when he’s in better shape.  Clearing the notification he checks his calendar before turning off the phone. 

Thursday has a noon call time, and sees them filming until two in the morning on location.  It was almost four am before he got to bed.  Walking up after ten the next morning he has a new voicemail notification.  He listens to the call from the director on a schedule change for the weekend.  Because Eric is going to be in town for a few days and they want the big man on set for the shooting of certain scenes, they are going to be moved up to this weekend. 

Then his phone tells him he has a missed message. “Who'd I miss?” he mumbles to himself.  When he hears your message, his eyes go wide in surprise, “crap.”

Just as he’s hanging up from the voicemail, the phone rings with your name popping up.

“Hey pretty girl,”

“Hi Jay, how are you?”

“Fine, tired.  I just got your message.  Are you sure you really want to?”

He hears the tired sigh you let out, “I’m at the airport, waiting for the plane.  If you don’t want me to come up there, tell me now.”

“I don’t know how much time I’ll have to spend with you.”

“We aren’t spending any time together currently, whatever I can get this weekend is better than that.”  You just hear him groan over the line.  “If you want me to call Jared to come pick me back up I will.”

“No.  When do you get in?”

“The plane’s scheduled to land around 2:40, then I have to clear customs.”

“I have to be on set, I’m not going to be able to meet you.”

“Okay, I can take a cab over to the studio.”

“No, just come back to the apartment. I’ll leave a spare key in an envelope with the receptionist,” he tells you.

“Okay.  See you soon. Love you.”

“Yeah, love ya.”

His head falls back against the pillow as he hangs up.  His easy weekend is now going to be a bit more complicated. 

At the airport in Austin, you sit back against the hard seat with a sigh.  This was off to a rocky start and the plane hasn’t even boarded yet.  Thankfully the flight itself was an easy one.  After making your way through customs you exit the building to try and find a cab.  

When you arrive at his apartment building, you need to show your ID in order to pick up the envelope he left with the key.  The doorman shows you up, at least Jensen remembered to tell him you were coming before he left.  

Opening the apartment door, you take a look around.  It’s fairly empty, but you shouldn’t be surprised.  Jensen is only going to have this place a few months. You take your suitcase down the hall, you think this is the way to the bedroom.  It’s the second door you try.  There is a photo of you and Jensen on his nightstand, it gives you some hope seeing it there. Taking a few things out of your bag, you then explore the apartment.  It’s a little bit of a mess, so you spend some time tidying it up.  The fridge is empty, so you go down to inquire about the nearest grocery store.  It isn’t too far away, so you decide to walk over.  With your hands full, you take a cab back to the apartment.

There are a few items to put away in the cupboard, you make a few meals to freeze that Jensen can thaw later, then prepare pasta, salad and bread for dinner.  All this time you haven’t heard a word from Jay, not even checking that you made it in alright. You send a text asking if he knows how late he’ll be working, but don’t receive a response. 

By eight, you fix yourself a plate for dinner and eat alone at the table. Putting the rest away, you curl up on the couch, and find a movie on Netflix.  It’s after eleven when the door opens and Jensen finally comes in.  Getting up from the couch, you go over to greet him.

“Hey honey,” you say before leaning up to kiss him.

“Hi babe.” He gives you a quick kiss before pulling away. “I need a shower.”

He rejoins you in the living room ten minutes later, sitting next to you on the couch.  

“There’s some pasta in the fridge, if you would like me to heat some up for you?”

“I’m good, we ate on set.”

“Okay.  Do you have anything going on tomorrow?”

“I’ve got a 10 am call time.  Should go till 8 or so.”

You just nod in response. It’s been awhile since you’ve had his arm wrapped around you, and you are just going to enjoy that for now.  The movie on the screen ends and you suggest going to bed hoping to feel more than his arm around your shoulders tonight.

You come out of the bathroom ready for bed in a new lace chemise, and find your boyfriend sound asleep.  Grabbing one of his old t-shirts from your bag, you turn around to go back to change.

The next morning Jensen is up before you are.  You find him out at the kitchen counter with a cup of coffee and what looks like a script.

“Morning, do you want breakfast before you leave?”

“No, I already had something. But thanks.”

“Can I come to set with you today? Hang out in between scenes with you?”

“No, they don’t like other people on set.  Don’t want any secrets getting out.”

“Oh, yeah, sure. I guess I’ll go explore the city then.  Text me when you’re done, we can maybe grab a late dinner somewhere?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Do you film tomorrow?”

“No, it’s just going over some choreography for fight scenes on Tuesday.”

“So it should be a shorter day?”

“Hopefully.  Chase, Karl and I have a tee time at 2.”

“Great.”  You’re only here for a few days, but getting a round of golf in takes precedence apparently.

Once Jensen leaves for work you pull out your phone to find something to entertain yourself with today.   You decide to start the day at Ripley’s Aquarium of Canada.  

The tour of the aquarium takes you first to the Dangerous Lagoon overlook.  There you see sharks, turtles, eels and sawfish.  A sign says it is the largest exhibit at the aquarium, and has around 2.9 million liters of water.  From there you enter the Discovery Center which has interactive exhibits and features Zebra and Blacktip Reef Sharks along with Clownfish.  The Canadian Waters and Kelp Forest are next where you see octopus, lobsters, Cod, Wolf Eel, and Paddlefish.  

On the lower level of the aquarium you see the Rainbow Reef which recreates the coral seas of the Pacific.  Planet Jellies has various breeds of jellyfish. The Ray-Bay is home to five types of stingrays and the Bonnethead Shark.  A sign says that back on the main level you can pet the rays at the top of the tank. 

Back up top, you stroll through the gallery area next.  This is home to Electric Eels, Seahorses, Piranhas, Pufferfish and Mudskippers.  A quick tour of the gift shop and you are on your way out.

The aquarium is right near the base of the CN Tower.  Being so close, you couldn’t pass that up. The tower was completed in 1976 and stands 1,815.5 feet tall.

Getting off the elevators at the observation level you are currently 1,136 feet off the ground. The glass floor lets you look to the ground 114 stories below.  You go up to the Skypod which is 33 stories above the main observation level.  It is the highest observation platform in the Western Hemisphere.  You can see all the way to New York and Niagara Falls from here. You can also feel the building swaying a lot more up here. You hear a guide mention the antenna above the Skypods gets hit by lightning an average of 75 times a year.  The mix of the swaying and lightning are enough to send you back down to ground level.

You grab a light lunch and walk over to High Park to sit and enjoy it.  Finishing your lunch you take a walk down one of the nature trails.  Walking alone your thoughts drift to Jensen.  Once again today, you haven’t heard from him at all.  You are right here in his town and he can’t seem to spare you any time.

That afternoon you end up strolling through the CF Toronto Eaton Centre Mall.  It is a huge shopping center with more than 250 stores.  In your current mood nothing there really grabs your attention.  

By seven you are on your way back to Jensen’s apartment to get cleaned up to have dinner with him.   At 8:30 you send a text asking if he was going to be getting off soon. Almost an hour later, you receive a reply.

Jensen 💗-On my way back

You-Do you still want to go out and grab dinner?

Jensen💗-No

Alrighty then.  You pull leftovers out of the fridge and start warming them up for dinner.  When he walks in, you just about have everything ready to go.

“Hey honey, if you want to shower first, dinner is almost ready.”

“I already ate.”

“What?”

“It was a rough shoot, I went out and grabbed a drink with Karl, Jack and Anthony.  We ordered some food there.”

He heads off to the bathroom, and you just stare after him.  “Well thanks for telling me,” you mutter after him.

No longer hungry you put everything away once more.  Entering the bedroom you change into sweats and sit down on the corner of the couch.  It isn’t long until Jensen returns, he collapses in the middle of the couch.

“What a day.  Anything Kripke was unable to throw at us during Supernatural is sure finding its way out now.”

“Hmm.”

“This season is going to be so sick.”

You don’t respond, just keep your eyes straight ahead on the television.

“What’s your problem?” He turns his head to look at you.

“What’s going on with us?” you ask.

“What do you mean?”

“I feel like I don’t matter to you any more.  We rarely talk anymore.”

“We’re talking right now, or I was trying to but you’re ignoring me.”

“I thought we were going to do something tonight, but you went out with your friends while I was waiting for you.  You could have at least let me know what was going on.”

“It’s been a long couple of days, I don’t want to fight with you.  I’m going to bed.”

You watch him leave, biting your lip, you rest your head back against the couch trying not to cry.  That did not go the way you wanted it to at all. Going into the extra bedroom you grab a folded blanket off the unmade bed, and bring it back to the couch, planning on sleeping there tonight.  The television keeps you company, while your mind replays everything.  

The next morning, the sound of cupboard doors slamming around wakes you up.  Stretching as you sit up, you notice Jensen moving around the kitchen.  He looks over at you when he sees you move, but doesn’t say anything. He leaves a short time later. 

You don’t feel like doing much of anything today.  You hang out around the apartment watching Hallmark.  Why does everything always work out for them?

Around four, you get a text from Jensen that says he has something with the cast.  Another night alone, fabulous.  Why did you even bother coming?  Changing into presentable clothes you head out to find some food, getting into the elevator you are shocked at who you see.

“Eric, hi.”

“Y/N, how are you?  I wasn’t sure if you were in town or not this weekend.”

“Yeah, I just got in on Friday, staying a few days.  Doing alright, how are you?

“Good, are you coming to dinner?”

“What?”

“A bunch of the crew is going for dinner.  Aren’t you going to meet Ackles? I’ll give you a lift.”

His phone rings and you don’t get a chance to reply.  Getting off the elevator you follow him outside, planning to still go off on your own.  When the car pulls up, he waves you inside.  His phone call lasts almost the whole way to the restaurant, even though he keeps attempting to end it.  He is finally able to put it down just before the car pulls into the parking lot.

“Sorry about that.  Everything is a huge problem to some of the network execs.  Talking with Jared, I thought you were going to be here this weekend, but then I never saw you around set with Jensen.”

“He told me I couldn’t come with him.  Are you sure I can be here tonight?  Jensen didn’t invite me.”

“I would have let you on set, no problem. Yes, you are more than welcome to join us tonight.  Have you met anyone yet?”

“Just Karl.”

You follow him through the restaurant, when he arrives at the large table he calls out, “look who I found on my way here.”

Your eyes are on Jensen who has Claudia’s arm around his shoulders as she is whispering in his ear.

“Hey!” Karl yells, “where have you been hiding?”

He gets up to give you a hug, Jensen gives you a questioning look, while everyone else just stares.  Eric looks around the table and asks a passing waiter for one more place setting and chair.

“I’ve been hanging out around the apartment, explored Toronto yesterday,” you finally answer Karl’s question.

“So you come all the way up here, and don’t even visit the set?  Should we be hurt?” Karl’s last question is directed at Kripke.

“What are you doing here?” Jensen interrupts them.

“Are you going to introduce us, Eric?” Anthony questions at the same time.

“I ran into Eric in the elevator, and he invited me to come along,” you answer Jensen.

“Why didn’t you bring her?” Eric asks your boyfriend, who just shrugs in response.

“Some of us still don’t know what’s going on,” Jack calls out.

“This is Y/N Padalecki, this lovely lady was Ali Black on Supernatural,” Eric introduces you.

“She also has horrible taste in men, because she’s dating that brute,” Karl tells them as he points to Jensen.

Anthony, Karen, Jack, Erin and Chase all stand up to greet you.  A chair is added next to Jensen as everyone but Claudia scoots down to make room for you.  

After the group has ordered, Karl looks at you from across the table.  “How long are you here for?”

“I have a flight out tomorrow afternoon.”

“We have some fight sequences to finalize in the mornin’, are you coming to tour the set?” He asks. 

“I don’t know,” you look over at Jensen, who has remained silent.

As time goes on you notice that Claudia seems to keep touching Jensen, her hand is on her arm, his thigh, and shoulder.  ‘Really girl’ you think ‘right in front of me?’

Erin asks about what you have going on now with Supernatural over.  You tell her about Walker.  Jensen seems agitated next to you, you finally turn and ask if he’s alright.  Instead of answering he stands up and nods for you to join him out in the hall.

“I can’t believe you got Eric to bring you along,” Jensen harshly whispers to you.

“It wasn’t my intention, I just ran into him when I got in the elevator.”

“I don’t understand what your problem is.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The attitude you had last night, sleeping on the couch,  now putting yourself in the middle of a cast get together.  What are you trying to do?”

“When did you become such an asshole? Maybe playing Soldier Boy has gone to your head. If you don’t want me here, and it’s such a big deal to have me here, I’ll leave.”

With that you turn back toward the room to grab your purse.  You expect Jensen to stop you, but he never does. The waiter is coming back in and you quietly ask him to cancel your order.  Before walking out the door, you turn back to the table.

“It was nice meeting you all.  I’m sorry, but I have to be going.  Enjoy the rest of your night.”  With that you turn and leave.

Eric is right behind you, he can’t get your attention so he grabs your arm once you step outside.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

“Nothing, I just have to go.”

“Y/N, I’ve known you a long time.  I can see you’re upset, and you’re barely holding back tears.”  He looks around for a moment before spotting a bench.  “Come sit down for a minute.”

“I’ll be alright, you should get back inside,” you try to tell him.

“Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

You know he isn’t going to let go, with a sigh you start talking.  “Things with Jensen and I haven’t been going so great lately.  He barely answers my calls or texts.  I don’t know the last time he even called or texted me to start a conversation.  Gen thought it might be good for us if I came up here and we spent some time together.  I’ve still barely seen him.”

You take a deep breath to try and get yourself back under control, but you can’t help the tears sliding down your face.  “I’m afraid our relationship might have run its course, and I don’t mean anything to him any more.  I’m just someone he used to have around because I was convenient.”

“Oh Y/N,  I’m so sorry you are feeling like this.  I don’t know what’s going on with him, but I know you always meant a lot to him,” Eric tries to comfort you.

“Used to. I can’t keep going like this, the last month has been rough.  I tried to talk to him last night and that didn’t go over well.  Now he’s mad that I’m here.  When things were good with us, he would have been the first one up to give me a hug.  He would have been the one introducing me to his new cast mates, not you and Karl.  We would have spent any free time he had together, going for a drink or golfing with the guys wouldn’t have been more important.”

“I’m sorry, you don’t deserve to be treated like that,” Eric says softly.  You can tell he is a bit out of his comfort zone here.

You nod your head, you know what you have to do and your heart is crumbling into pieces.  Turning in your seat you give Eric a hug.  “Thanks for everything Eric.  Will you do me a favor and keep an eye on him for me?”

“Anything for you.  I won’t let him get into too much trouble tonight.”

You bite your lip and wipe the tears off your face, “I don’t just mean tonight.”

It takes Eric a second, but after all you’ve just said, he understands what you mean.  “I will, you take care of yourself.  He gives you a hug before hailing you a cab and returning inside.

You stare out the window during the ride back to the apartment.  When you return you start packing up your things.  After your bag is ready you pull out your phone looking for a flight out.  You aren’t sure you could make any that are leaving tonight, so you change it to one leaving at 6:10 am.  Sitting on the couch you wait for Jensen to return.

Over an hour later he finally walks through the door. You stand up as he sets his keys down on the counter.

“We need to talk,” you tell him. softly

“We do.  What were you thinking trying to insert yourself like that?  I’m still new here, I can’t have you pushing your way in the middle of things, or asking for special tours around set.  What are they going to think?”

“As I told you earlier, I didn’t ask Eric to bring me along, I was going out to find my own dinner and ran into him when I was going to do that.  He told me to come along, and that it was alright.  Karl asked about me taking a tour, I didn’t push for one.”

“I can’t afford to have you rocking the boat here.”

“You don’t have to worry about that, I’m done.  I can’t…I can’t do whatever this has become anymore.” You gesture between the two of you.

That catches Jensen’s attention, and he notices your packed bag next to the couch. “What are you talking about?  Where are you going?”

“What I started to try and talk to you about last night.  I don’t know what’s happened to us, but I can’t take it anymore.  I’ve changed my flight to leave earlier.  I feel like I am the only one trying to hold this together anymore.  Right now you’re more worried about making a bad impression on people you’ve worked with for a few months, then about me.  You barely answer when I call or text you.  Any of our limited conversations anymore revolve around you, I doubt you could tell me what I have going on in my life lately.”    

“That’s not true, you’re filming that…um…that…”

“The Netflix series?  Maid, about a single mom fleeing from abuse and trying to make it with her child. We wrapped a few weeks ago.  I told you that in Chicago.”

“You’re getting ready for Walker then.”  

“You’re grasping at straws, Jens.”

“I don’t understand why you want to end things?  What was the point of coming up here?  Was it just to break up?  Did you meet someone else?”

You shake your head, not believing what is coming out of his mouth.  “I came up here to see if there was any way we could save our relationship.  But when spending time with you cast mates, who are here with you everyday, is more important than me who you have barely seen, I have my answer.  If you really need an answer to the last question it’s no.  Honestly, going by all the pictures online, and dinner tonight, I should be the one asking that.  But I know you better than that.  At least I used to.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know when I became so unimportant to you,  something that could just be tossed aside when I wasn’t useful.”

He looks at you in shock. “That’s not true and you know it.”  

“I really don’t, not anymore.  With everything going on in your life, there isn’t time for me.  A backseat is okay once in a while, but it’s not a place I’m willing to stay.”

 “What are you talking about?”

“Your career is really taking off, and I can’t keep up with everything.  We don’t even live in the same county anymore.  I just don’t fit in your life anymore, and I deserve better than what I’m getting.”

“Everything I do is for us.”

“You really going with that? After how you treated me this weekend?  How you’ve been treating me the last few months?”

“Any girl would be happy to be in your place.”

“I don’t know when you became this self absorbed asshole, but that’s not the guy I fell in love with, the guy I planned my future with.  I’m sorry Jensen, but I can’t take the hurt and loneliness that have come from this relationship anymore.  I don’t want to cry myself to sleep over us another night, or wonder when you’re going to feel like talking to me again.” 

“After everything I did for us, if you think it’s really so bad to be dating me, then there is no reason to drag this out,” he spits out, his anger rising.  “Make sure to be out of the house before I get back to Texas.”

You give a small shake of your head, “if you knew how things were going with me.  You would know I’ve been staying at my brother’s house because I wasn’t comfortable alone in yours.  I don’t have much left there, it will be out soon.”   

You grab your bag and head for the door, stopping before you open it.  “I did love you, you meant the world to me.  I told Jared no matter what happens between us, I didn’t want it to affect your friendship.  I wish you the best Jens, and I really am happy for you and everything that’s coming your way.  I just wish there was still room for me in your world.”  Taking one last look at your now ex, you quickly exit the apartment.

Thank you for reading!

Chapter 6

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[sequinsmile-x]

Stained Glass Windows - Chapter Fifty

Life was complicated, but they wouldn't have it any other way.

-x-

Hi friends,

I cannot believe this is chapter 50 of this fic!! Thank you so much for still being here, for still loving on this version of our favs almost a whole year into writing SGW (end of November 2022 is when I started to post it!). It means the world to me because I love this version of them so much.

As it is October 12th, our beloved Emily Prentiss's birthday, I have dedicated this chapter to celebrate that, and given it a special banner to mark the occasion.

There is still SO MUCH of this fic to go in my little head, so who knows...maybe we'll have another 50 chapters?!

Please do let me know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 3.9k

A full list of warnings for the fic can be found on the Series Master List and will be updated as we go along.

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

October 12 1991

She just needs a minute to herself. 

It’s what she tells herself as she leaves the party supposedly being thrown in her honour. The house filled to the brim with her mother’s friends and their sons, men deemed suitable for her to date and marry, and people Emily hadn’t really seen or spoken to since she left for college. 

This had never been her home, not really. It was a base. The place they came to for a month or so in between her mother’s postings, somewhere she knew could have been a home if her parents had made different choices. 

She sighs as she hears her mother’s laugh, the gregariousness that Elizabeth only ever truly had when she’d been drinking. It had been a problem for years, since her father had left, but Emily knew it had got worse since she’d gone to college, as if the loneliness her mother had always seemed to strive for hadn’t been as peaceful as she thought it would be. It made guilt bubble in her stomach even though she knows it’s not her fault, that she finally deserved her own life. The chance to find some stability. 

She pulls the office door closed behind her, grateful for the barrier it creates, for the way it muffles the sound she was hiding from. She pauses when she spots the mostly empty bottle of scotch on her mother’s desk, its presence answering a question she’d never dare ask. She walks over and grabs it, pouring herself a measure into one of the crystal glasses Elizabeth kept in here. She then drops the, still not empty, bottle into the trash can, finding satisfaction in the sound it makes as it hits the bottom, the clang echoing around her, briefly blocking out the sound outside. 

She sits on the couch in the corner, sinking into it as she looks at the drink in her hand before she blows out a breath. 

“Happy 21st birthday to me,” she says, taking a sip of the scotch. She drops her head back against the couch cushion, “At least she buys the decent stuff.” 

Her peace is disrupted as the door opens, a brief burst of sound draws her attention towards it. She furrows her brows as she sees one of her mother’s new security agents walk in. He seems just as shocked to see her, freezing in place in the doorway as their eyes meet. 

“Miss Prentiss,” he says, clearing his throat, “I’m sorry I didn’t realise you were in here, I was just looking for some paperwork.” 

She smiles politely at him, “That’s ok Agent…” she drifts off, cursing herself for not remembering his name.

“Hotchner,” he says, finishing for her, his smile polite as he steps further into the room, “Isn’t it your birthday party out there?”

She smiles and nods, “Yes, yes it is. I just needed a break from all of the suitors my mother lined up for me this evening,” she says, and he raises his eyebrow at her, clearly trying to stop himself from smiling, “I’m being serious.”

He smiles politely, “Well, I’ll get what I came for and leave you to it.”

She’s not sure what makes her say it, whether it was the fact he was nice, or because he was handsome, but she’s speaking before she’s aware she’s going to, “You should stay. Have a drink with me.” 

He furrows his brow, a mix of confusion and something close to absolute horror that makes something spark in her chest, “I’m working, I can’t-”

“Come on,” she says, smiling at him, “I won’t tell anyone. Besides, it’s my birthday. It would be rude not to.” 

He thinks about it for a moment, wondering if he should just leave, politely say he had things to do, or if he should stay. His decision is made by the slightly sad sheen to her eyes. He’d never spent much time with her, but she always seemed lonely when he saw her.

“Ok, one drink,” he says, turning to where the glasses are, his eyebrows knitting together when he doesn’t see any liquor. 

“The scotch is in the trash can,” she replies, sipping her drink, finding herself amused by the look on his face, how he doesn’t question what was, on the surface of it, a ludicrous statement. She watches as he pours himself the smallest amount, the amber liquid barely visible from where she is sitting, and he crosses the room and sits next to her, a respectable distance between them.

“Happy Birthday Miss Prentiss,” he says, raising his glass, and she smiles at him. 

“Emily,” she corrects and he nods as he swallows thickly.

“Happy Birthday Emily,” he says, clinking his glass against hers. They exchange a smile and drink. “Your mother seems to be the life of the party.” 

Emily hums and finishes her scotch, letting the liquor burn the back of her throat, “Yeah,” she replies, smiling tightly at him, “She really is,” she looks him up and down, taking in his suit, the way he looked nothing short of an agent. She has an urge to mess with him, to mess up his hair and see what he does, “What does your girlfriend think of you working late?” 

He frowns, “How do you know I have a girlfriend?”

She shrugs, “I can tell,” she says mysteriously, smiling when he looks confused, “You’re a nice guy. The nice ones are rarely single.” 

He clears his throat, feeling his cheeks go warm at the compliment, “She’s okay with it,” he explains, “Haley, my girlfriend, she knows it’s a means to an end.” 

“That’s good,” she replies, watching as he finishes his drink, “I hope she knows she has one of the good ones.”

He chuckles as he stands up, placing the empty glass on the desk before he picks up what he had come in for, “I’ll let her know,” he walks towards the door, “Happy Birthday again, Emily.”

“Thank you for having a drink with me, Agent Hotchner,” she says, and he turns to face her, offering her a half smile. 

“Aaron.” 

She nods and presses her lips together to stop her smile from getting too wide, “Aaron.”

___

October 12, 2000

Emily curses under her breath as she pushes her apartment door open, her arms full of groceries, her briefcase and the birthday gift her colleagues had bought her. 

She makes it to the kitchen counter and dumps everything she’s holding onto it. She turns and closes her front door, making sure it’s locked before she puts away groceries she knows will go bad before she eats them. She pulls out the card her colleagues had given her, the number ‘30’ emblazoned on the front, and she takes a moment to read the messages inside before she sets it down on the counter, next to the one her mother had sent her, and she heads to the fridge. She pours herself a glass of wine and stares at it for a moment, the scar on her abdomen throbbing. 

A silent warning, a phantom of her worst fear - that she’d turn into her mother. After she’d saved her mother’s life, literally giving her part of herself and turning down a once in a lifetime job opportunity to do so, things between them hadn’t got better. There were no apologies from Elizabeth, no thank you. No acknowledgement of what Emily had done. It got too painful to be in DC, to watch her mother act as if nothing had ever happened, so when she’d been offered a job doing translation in the FBI Detriot Field Office she hadn’t thought twice. She’d taken the job and started again, only letting her mother know when it was already a done deal. 

She shakes her head and pours the wine away, tipping it unceremoniously down the sink, before she makes herself a hot chocolate, the warmth of the mug in her hands a comfort. 

She settles on the couch and is about to turn on the TV when she hears the phone ring. She groans and gets up, but sees her mother’s number flashing on the screen and she decides not to answer, feeling wholly not in the mood to listen to comments about her life. Thinly veiled criticisms that she thinks she’d accept from someone else. 

Emily knew she wasn’t entirely happy, but it would do for now. She was content to simply exist until she figured out what she wanted her life to look like. 

She sits back down and waits for the call to ring out, the beep of the voicemail ringing out around her. 

“Emily, I had hoped to catch you, but you may still be at work. I just wanted to say Happy Birthday. When you’re here over Thanksgiving I’ll introduce you to Bruce Cameron’s son. He’s your age and is about to get divorced-”

She rolls her eyes and stops listening after that, not paying attention as she flicks through the menu on the television, finally pressing play on something she knows she also won’t pay attention to when the message comes to an end. 

She couldn’t help but wonder if she should be sadder about her 30th birthday being like this. If the loneliness should bother her, but she was used to it. She had friends here, people who had tried to coerce her into going out for drinks, something she’d got out of by lying and saying she was seeing her boyfriend that night, a man she’d broken up with a few weeks ago without telling anyone. 

Emily sighs as she takes a sip of her hot chocolate and she thinks of her 21st birthday. Of Agent Hotchner and how he’d been nice to her, the few minutes they’d spent in her mother’s office the highlight of her day that year. She hadn’t thought about him in years, but all of a sudden she wonders where he is, what he’s doing. If he’d married the girlfriend she’d tricked him into mentioning. If he had kids. 

It’s something she knows she wants. A family. People in her life she knows love her unconditionally, something she’s not even sure her parents had ever done. 

She just hoped she’d get the chance. That her life wouldn’t pass her by, years melting into decades, as she turned into the one person she told herself she’d never be. 

As she drinks her hot chocolate and barely pays attention to the TV, she idly hopes that one day, life will look a lot different for her. 

___

Emily is woken up by a tiny hand on her face, small fingers and sharp nails digging into her skin. 

“Careful, Lilypad.”

She opens her eyes at the sound of her husband’s voice, and smiles at the sight that greets her. Aaron is sitting on her side of the bed, Lily in his arms, and a tired smile on his face. 

“Happy Birthday, sweetheart.”

“Thank you,” She says as she sits up and stamps a kiss on his lips, her hand ghosting over the back of Lily’s head as she does so before she rests her back against the headboard, her hands reaching out for Lily, “Give me my baby.”

Aaron smiles as he does as he’s told, handing Lily over immediately. Emily laughs when she sees the onesie she’s wearing, one she’s never seen before with flowing words on the front.

Happy Birthday Mommy

“Oh my god,” she exclaims, lifting Lily to press several kisses to her cheek before she settles her into her arms, “You’re so fucking cute.” 

“Em.”

She looks up at Aaron and raises an eyebrow, unable to stop herself from smiling, the happiness and joy in her chest too overwhelming to suppress, “She’s 13 weeks old, Aaron, it’s going to be a while before she picks up on cursing,” she says, her smile only getting wider as Aaron shakes his head at her, love shining in his eyes, “So, what’s the plan for today? Now you can finally tell me.” 

He’d kept it secret from her for weeks. His insistence on planning her birthday for her was as endearing as it was irritating. He’d said not only was it her 40th and special because of that, but it was also her first birthday as a mom, and he wanted it to be perfect. 

Aaron swallows thickly, suddenly nervous that he’d got it wrong, but he nods, “Well, first thing this morning Lily and I went out to your favourite bakery to get those pastries you love.”

“You did?” She says, looking down at Lily, the baby’s hand tangled in her hair, “You’ve been busy this morning, huh?”

Aaron hums in response, smiling at the sight of the two of them together, “By the way the woman at the bakery is obsessed with her.”

“As any sane person would be,” Emily replies, tickling her daughter to make her laugh before she looks back at her husband, “So that’s breakfast?”

“Breakfast and then presents. Then Jack is coming over this afternoon,” he says, his heart warming at how excited she looks, her love for his son one of the many things he adored about her, “And this evening Dave is cooking us your favourite meal, and the team are coming here so Lily and Jack can sleep in their own beds and we don’t have to worry about bedtime being disturbed.” 

“You really thought of everything,” she says, the thought of spending the day with the people who meant the most to her a perfect one. She smiles at him, unhooking a hand from under Lily and wrapping it around the back of his neck, pulling him in for a kiss, “Thank you.” 

“I know it’s a bit simple-”

“Honey, it’s perfect,” she says, stamping another kiss to his lips. She smiles at him as she pulls back, “So, are you worried about no longer having a hot wife in her 30s?” 

“No,” He shakes his head at her and reaches out to tuck some of her hair behind her ear, “You just keep on getting hotter, baby.” 

“Good answer,” She smiles, her cheeks aching with it, and she looks down at Lily, the infant chewing on her fist, “Daddy is so getting laid tonight.” 

“Emily.”

___

The house is bursting at the seams. 

The whole team is there, the gifts and love they brought with them filling all the space. The laughter was so raucous that Emily keeps glancing at the baby monitor, checking the lights on it, just in case she misses Lily crying upstairs. 

As she sits at her dining table, Aaron’s arm slung around the back of her chair with his fingers skimming her shoulder, she feels lucky. She takes a sip of her wine as she looks around, not paying much attention as Derek gives Dave crap about something said on a recent case, the older man taking it in his stride. JJ was smiling wistfully at them in between continuing her conversation with Spencer, her secrecy about her new job something that scared Emily, a feeling she would put away for tonight. Something she’d bury deep inside so she could enjoy this - the life that not all that long ago she convinced herself she’d never have. 

She’s pulled out of her thoughts by the sound of a fork being tapped against a glass, the noise enough to draw everyone's attention, and she looks at her husband, her eyes going wide as she sees him raise his glass, her cheeks already turning pink at the thought of a speech.

“I just wanted to take a moment-”

“Oh God, not a speech,” Derek exclaims, any further protest cut off with a yelp as Penelope stamps on his foot, her eyes narrowed as he looks at her in question. 

“Don’t ruin this for me,” she says, always keen for any insight into Aaron and Emily’s life, and she turns back to the couple in front of her, “Carry on boss-man.” 

Aaron shakes his head and turns to look at Emily, his spare hand on her leg under the table, squeezing softly to stop her protest. They exchange a small smile and she nods. He was never one to talk about how he feels in front of other people, never one to reveal too much, so even though she already felt a little embarrassed she let him carry on.

She could never get enough of his love. It was her lifeline, the very thing she knew she could always rely on. 

“As I was saying,” he says, raising an eyebrow at Derek before he looks around the table, “I just wanted to take a moment to thank everyone for being here tonight to celebrate Emily’s birthday,” he looks back at his wife, his smile soft, “Em, sweetheart, it’s been 19 years since I first met you and somehow you’re infinitely more interesting and more beautiful than you were even then. I love you and Happy Birthday.” 

She chokes on a sound halfway between a laugh and sob, and is grateful that it’s drowned out by the other’s cheering and clinking their glasses. She had no idea that he remembered. He’d never alluded to it, and neither had she - so sure that it was something that existed only in her memory. A moment between the two of them that was just for her, so worried he didn’t remember it that she hadn’t wanted to embarrass either one of them by bringing it up. 

The sound of crying cuts through everything, and Emily goes to stand, but Aaron stops her, his hand still on her thigh, and he leans in to kiss her cheek.

“I’ve got her,” he says, stamping a kiss against her lips, both of them ignoring Penelope’s enjoyment as Emily places her hand on his cheek and keeps in place a beat longer than he’d intended. He pulls back and smiles at her, “You enjoy yourself.” 

She watches as he leaves, her eyes fixed on him until he disappears from view. 

“Em.” 

She turns to see JJ and Penelope leaning in over the table, “You never told us you met Hotch when you were young.” 

She shrugs, trying to act nonchalant, “It was nothing really,” she says, and both of her friends raise their eyebrows at her. She’s not sure if it’s the wine in her system, or the love that was warming her from the inside out, but she sighs and carries on, “It was my 21st. My mom threw me an awful party and I hid in her office. Aaron was working there at the time, he came in to get something. I made him have the world's quickest drink with me.” 

Penelope squeals and sits back in her chair, her smile so wide Emily’s sure it must hurt, “It’s like you’re meant to be.”

For once, Emily can’t bring herself to say she doesn’t believe in that kind of thing, because she thinks she agrees.

___

“Dave sure knows how to use every dish in a kitchen.” 

Aaron chuckles at his wife as she stacks dishes next to the sink and he walks over, wrapping his arms around her from behind and pulling her into his embrace. He kisses her shoulder, smiling into her skin when it makes her shiver. 

“It’s your birthday, you’re not supposed to be doing the dishes,” he says, his hands on her hips as he turns her in his arms, “I’ll sort them later.”

She nods as she wraps her arms around his neck, her fingers trailing through his hair, “Thank you for everything today,” she says, smiling as thought of it all. Of the jewellery Aaron had bought her, a beautiful necklace with a Lily flower carved into the small disk pendant,  the line of cards on the mantel from the team. The glitter that she knew she’d be finding for months which had come loose from the handmade card that Jack had made, Haley’s neat writing on the inside. 

“You deserve it and more, sweetheart,” he says, leaning in to kiss her, his lips firm against hers. He presses his hand to her lower back to pull her closer. She hums as she pulls away and she rests her head on his shoulder, content to stand there with him. 

“Mom didn’t call,” she says, her cheeks pressing into his shirt, “I knew she wouldn’t, I asked her not to but…” 

It was a complicated feeling, a situation she knew her mother couldn’t win. If she’d contacted her she’d be going against what Emily had asked of her, but it was still her birthday. A big milestone that had gone unmarked. Their usual game of Elizabeth calling and pretending she didn’t know Emily was screening her call, only for Emily to return the call a few days later, nowhere to be found. 

“I know,” he says, kissing the top of her head, “It’s hard.”

“Yeah,” she replies, giving herself a moment before she clears her throat, wanting to only focus on the good today. All the ways she’d been shown that she was loved - everything she’d hoped for as she sat in her apartment in Detriot on her 30th birthday. She bites her lip as she pulls back to look at him, her eyes meeting his as she says what she’d been wanting to say all evening, forcing herself to wait until it was just the two of them, “I didn’t realise you remembered that moment on my 21st,” she says, pressing her lips together, “I…never wanted to bring it up in case you didn’t.” 

Aaron cups the back of her head, “Sweetheart, there is nothing on earth that would ever make me forget you,” he says, his fingers trailing through her hair, “Even then I was fascinated by you.” 

She blushes and bites the inside of her cheek, “Why did you never mention it?” 

“I didn’t think you remembered,” he says, and she raises an eyebrow at him, “I’m serious, I really thought you forgot. Then a few weeks ago when we went looking for that scotch for Dave, you picked up that bottle and said-”

“I drank this on my 21st.” 

He smiles as she finishes his sentence, “Yeah. And then I realised you remembered too.” 

She leans in to kiss him, her lips firm against his, and she loses herself in the feeling of him, of the way she was drowning in his affection. They eventually pull back, both breathless with swollen lips. She looks towards the diffraction of the stairs.

“How long do you think we have until Lily wakes up?”

He looks at his watch, “Maybe 20 minutes?”

She smiles devilishly at him and pulls away just enough to push herself onto the kitchen counter, “Then we’d better be quick.” 

She pulls him in by his shirt collar and kisses him again before he can complain, her legs wrapping tightly around his waist. 

He was going to clean the kitchen in the morning anyway, so she saw no harm in making it a little dirtier beforehand. 

-x-

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[riddler-green]

Could I request a riddler/ reader w/ a reader who likes to draw him pls 🙏🙏 like as a gift or even just keeps and he finds them in their studio and realises his face is littered along their portfolio like a thoughtfully crafted tapestry and testament of their love or something corny like that I love the idea of a reader who’s just awe strikingly in love and him the same it’s so sweet WAAA but u can do whatever w/ the idea of artist/riddler ur so cool Ty <333

Mi musa.

Summary:  you are an artist with your own habits but you never forget who your true muse is.

A/N: hey hiii! it's me again! thanks so much for the request! I really appreciate it! and I hope you enjoy it, I love that Riddler/ artist concept too!1 ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ ੈ♡‧₊˚

Warning: possessiveness on the part of both, fluff!

Words: 1500.

Art can be a means to convey what you want to say when you don't have the words to get them out of your mouth, you have never proclaimed yourself as the best artist in the world, but for as long as you can remember others have recognized your talent, you are grateful for the compliments of others who find charm in your work when you only find things to improve.

Perfectionism is something that tortures you when you look at your own work, you know there are things to improve but somehow when you draw the man of your dreams it's the opposite. Sometimes they tend to be simple doodles on yellow post-its, sometimes you draw portraits worthy of hanging in renowned museums, when it comes to Edward, you always find solace. A calmness in painting is like a therapeutic remedy.

Edward couldn't stand the itch in his nose, he had to sneeze covering his nose with his shoulder, you stopped painting and looked at the palette in your hand "Sorry" Edward apologizes in a low voice but you can hear him, you move away from the canvas to look at him "No need to be completely still my love, it's okay" you inform him mixing different shades of brown to paint his hair.

Edward kept as still as possible even though he is only sitting on a chair with a dark blue background, he couldn't help but think that when he poses for you it reminds him of an ancient king asking his star painter to do a portrait of him to show his greatness and power. But he knows he is not a king, he is still a little incredulous how someone like him managed to date someone like you, someone who looks at him with so much admiration, so much love that lasts for hours, even when you are out of your studio and he is at his most unfavorable moments you still look at him with great esteem.

"I think I will have to add more red to your cheeks, they are too red" you joke behind the canvas, Edward laughs at the comment, maybe in the past he would have refused to even have his picture taken, as he didn't like the way he looked, but now, he poses in front of you naturally as it is not the first time you paint him.

He doesn't mind that your studio is full of paintings, sheets full of drawings of him, he found it beautiful and wonderful, he started to love himself with your paintings, he sees the beauty that you see in him "Some day you should draw yourself too" says Edward calmly looking everywhere in the studio without turning his head.

"I don't know, self-portraits are hard to do" you reply placing a brush in your mouth as you use a palette knife on the canvas "Although it's not impossible either".

Edward remains satisfied with the answer and is silent again, he feels so excited with the result of the painting, you always make it a masterpiece at the end in his opinion. He scribbled sometimes on his accounting sheets and on his crossword puzzle, he drew question marks, and sometimes he drew you, or well, a caricature version of you, when he showed it to you, you cried, without you knowing you already started sobbing, it's different when they draw you.

Edward catches a glimpse of a rather large picture with all the drawings he has given you as a gesture of love, all the drawings placed as a big collage and protected by glass, under the picture, there was a signature "Eddie's Drawings".

His cheeks ache for he adores that you appreciate him too, it never crossed your mind to judge his drawing skills, you always received the little pen doodles with love "I'm almost done" you speak to him and he makes a happy humming sound, for you, you could be posing for days if you wanted to.

Again he thinks again, deep in his heart he loves it when you proclaim that he is your only muse, not Bruce Wayne, not another rich guy who pays for your paintings, Edward Nashton of KMTJ brings out your creativity to make paintings non-stop.

"I hope it comes out well in this painting," he says and you switch brushes "You always come out beautiful Eddie" you assure him as if it's a no-brainer.

Edward stretches his legs a little when he notices you are putting down all the brushes "More than the plain Mona?" you laugh at his question "More than the plain monkey" you reply and call him over to come to see the painting.

"wow" is the first thing he says when he sees it is him with various mixtures of paints that make it look great, he stays a few minutes fascinated with the work while you finish putting away all the paints and utensils.

"Do you want to take it home?" you ask taking off your Machado apron of various paint textures and Edward nods his head buzzing with delight as he takes your hand.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

"Is it a cow?" you ask looking at the paper in front of you, when they came in from your study day Edward wanted to show you a drawing he did on his break from work "It's a dog" Edward clarifies pointing to the somewhat deformed figure of the dog "it's you and me and the dog we saw in the park" he explains his drawing as you look happily at the drawing, so proud of him.

"It's so cute!" you squeal with happiness placing the drawing on one of the walls of the room "I think I'll put it in my next collection" you speak to him lovingly as the two of you embrace, Gotham nights are usually cold, but when you're next to Eddie it seems like the whole apartment becomes warm.

"I would like you to attend my next Exhibition will you go, right?" the two of you look at each other face to face Edward keeps his eyes closed completely in love with the position they are in "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

The presenter looked at you with respect, he was sitting next to you with several question cards waiting for the program to start, all the time your facial expression was serious.

When the program started the presenter began with a charismatic talk about your works "So, tell us, who is that man who is always in your paintings?" he let out the question with a curious tone the cameramen pointed to your face looking for a surprised expression from you, instead you answered naturally.

"He is my partner, Edward, we have been together for several years and I always fell in love with his way of being" you start talking with a formal tone "When I see something I love, I want to capture it in my paintings so it can be immortalized" you settle back in your seat placing your elbows on armrests.

"Before I was looking for perfection in my art, but now I achieved it without realizing it" the presenter remains static before your speech "perfection is when I look at the effort I put in each work and that it was worth it" you look at the camera in front of you "sometimes art can hurt us, but I decided to be happy painting the love of my life".

The presenter you forgot his name gave a few admiring claps as you took a sip of water. God, you just hope Edward watches the show.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

The man in clear glasses leapt towards you to hug you both standing outside the program set, the stoic countenance disappeared when you noticed your boyfriend, he squealed with joy for the program "God, how I love you!" he proclaims and before you could respond he kisses you on the lips, you close your eyes to enjoy the moment.

"Me too Eddie" you reply kissing him again, you remember hearing about Edward's past, you wish the people who hurt your muse would suffer the consequences of their actions.

"I think I have inspiration for another painting, but this time I need to buy a darker green" you comment smiling at him, Edward gets excited "what kind of green?".

"Mmmm" you pretended to think making a thoughtful sound "What color is the Riddler mask?".

Edward almost choked on his own saliva, in a few times you have painted him as the Riddler and that makes him get more excited "I um, I think, I can tell which gree-en it is" he stutters nervously.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

There were nights when Edward tried to draw you with canvas, and you happily posed while Edward mixed different tones that you could easily make a rainbow vomit, still, it was a dream for you to see him like that, you swear he looks so cool behind the canvas, you seriously consider buying him a beret to match his beautiful eyes.

When Edward finished he proudly showed you the artwork, someone else would say it was a perfect Picasso with the drawings barely repeatable but for you, it was the masterpiece of the century.

Thank you very much for reading! And sorry for the mistakes!

[id-rather-be-home]

Byler omegaverse thoughts: the one a/b/o byler fic I absolutely loved was dirty rain, I think it’s been deleted now but I wish I had downloaded it/ it get reuploaded or at least knew why it got deleted since it did have almost 40 chapters. Everything about it was sooo good and I feel like people NEED to know abt it if they don’t already so here is why I love this fic: Mike walking around in the middle of the night the same night Will came back to Hawkins because of Wills scent, the slight age gap between the two, protective Mike when Will started school again, Mike courting Will and scenting everything he gives him, their desire for each other being so strong even before Wills first heat that they end up grinding against each other multiple times because Mike refuses to hurt Will since his body isn’t fully ready yet, when Wills first heat does happen he chooses to stay at Mikes house instead of his own because the scent of Mike calms him, during their first time (I think) Mike lets Will bite his neck even though it’s seen as a bad thing in society for alphas to have claim marks, Mike also claiming Will by biting him but being so careful because he knows Will has trauma related to his neck and also biting all his other scent glands if I remember correctly, and finally Mike making sure Will eats and stays hydrated in between the times when Wills heat isn’t spiked high I could honestly go on forever talking about this fic bc I love it so much and I never see anyone mention it which is 😢

side note: I recently saw the anatomy chart of a male omega and the science/anatomy college side of my brain has so many questions relating to the technical side of things bc I love combining what I’m learning with fantasy to help me understand concepts better but this is already so long and I think the answers to them will differ between different authors so I’ll save you of them

i’ve never heard of that fic and if it has been deleted that is actually a whole tragedy! i believe that i have read every a/b/o byler fic that is there (at least on ao3) and i haven’t ever come across dirty rain. and after just googling it, i’m pretty sure it’s been deleted since all that came up was “deleted byler fic” so 😔

it sounds like it has so many aspects that i love too! i’m a sucker for mating fics where they claim one another and bond - it’s usually so sweet! and it’s even better when there’s a taboo thrown in with an omega claiming an alpha but their alpha wants their mark regardless

i guarantee that it would be talked about a hell of a lot more if it was still available! hopefully the author may decide to post it again one day

also! the anatomy of alphas and omegas is such an interest of mine as well! especially male omegas and female alphas, particularly because it goes against the binary biology that we have in real life so there’s so much that can be explored. if you ever want to talk my ear off about a/b/o biology PLEASE feel free i would love it!