#sorry this might not be the avenue you were wanting

[starry-iris]

I had such a cool dream about Michael tonight. I've been up for 2 hours or something trying to recreate how he looked like in my dream. The drawings are at the end of the post, please read the dream before looking at them, because my art skills don't match what I saw in the dream.

In it, I first saw everything from the first point of view. I woke up on the street, under a pizzeria on the main street of my city. It was dark outside, the sky was completely black and I barely could see anything. It was so late that even the street lights were turned off. I saw a man closing the last shop that was located inside an avenue nearby. He was switching off the last bit of light.

I had no possessions on me, they were all left behind In a pizzeria (maybe I fell asleep there, and was kicked out when it was closing, I'm not entirely sure). It was cold outside as if it was early autumn. I had no coat, and I might have had no shoes on me.

I walked to my bus stop and looked at the tabloid that announced bus times. My bus was due, and it arrived almost immediately. It was a big coach, the one that only goes outside of the city. It was almost full, and it seemed like there were no free seats left.

I stumbled inside, I felt very weak in my legs. The bus started to move, and I said to the driver, while still on the stairs "Sorry, I have no money, I cannot pay you, but I really need to get home". Other passengers looked at me with judgment, but the bus driver was quiet for a second and then gestured for me to sit beside him, on the last unoccupied seat.

Then my point of view switched, and I was watching Michael talking to a bus driver from my seat. Possibly I was Michael all along.

He was dressed in a light blue button-up shirt, not exactly the one you would see on a blue-collar worker, but something softer and more casual looking. He was dressed too lightly for such a late and cold night. He looked as if he was from a well-drawn cartoon. His hair was as usual, golden and wavy, one of his eyes blue. His right eye looked blind, with a red pupil, and the iris was much lighter than his seeing eye.

He looked all lost and confused. He claimed he had a very bad memory, and that he just got unlucky, falling asleep and ending up in the town that late.

But once the bus moved outside of the city, he changed. He started to smile, and tell the bus driver everything he knew would get him to listen, and everything to get under his skin. That facade of a poor lost soul was gone. He made sure that the bus driver would want to go to seek help in the Institute, and he spoke as if John was already listening to him. He said "I know what you are looking for" to the Archivist.

Some time had gone by, and the bus arrived at Michael's stop. It was a tiny village, with barely any houses. He smiled, and looked at the bus driver, with a sticker of a smiley face covering his seeing eye. He stared at him for a moment, until the dream abruptly ended.

Here's the attempts to recreate the last scene and more "innocent" version of him.

I also want to put some examples that capture the art style better. Also, if anyone who can draw better than me wants to draw this, PLEASE DO IT, I'M GOING CRAZY OVER NOT BEING ABLE TO DRAW HIM LIKE HE WAS IN THE DREAM, I NEED THIS ART TO EXIST IN REAL LIFE

Art by @thoriffix

It captures how cartoons the style was

And this art by @marshallmigraine

And this one captures the proportions and generally how he looked like.

Note: he had no distortions besides that smiley face on his eye in the end. And the smiley face looked like it was plastered on top in photoshop

[ghouljams]

Ok nobody extrapolate anything about me from this...

The first time you cry in front of the 141:

The first time you cry in front of Ghost it's because you can't fucking take it anymore. All the little things, all the comments you know he didn't mean to hurt, all the conversations you ignored because you didn't want to make him feel like the bad guy, it all comes to a head. You don't even mean it to happen, and you feel like shooting yourself on the spot as soon as the tears start flowing. It feels manipulative. It feels disingenuous. You feel like a piece of shit having him awkwardly bundle you in his arms as you break down sobbing over a topic that normally would mean nothing to you. And it all comes out. All the worries and slights you ignored, all the fears and doubts, all the things that made you question if you could ever even start to bring up with him. Like throwing up, once it starts you can't stop it.

He looks like you've hit him when you finally escape his bear hug. You barely get the chance to take it in before you're thrust back into sobbing hysterics, blubbering out apologies, how you feel like you're manipulating him, how you're a bad partner, how you're sure he's going to realize he doesn't want you and leave. You barely hear the rough "Jesus Christ" over your own hiccuping.

Ghost shuffles the two of you over to grab you a t-shirt to blow your nose in while you're sniffling and wiping at your eyes. You feel pathetic having him hold the fabric to your face and telling you to blow.

"Didn't know ya made this much snot love," he jokes.

"You're dot funny," you whine, nose still clogged with wattery mucus as your tears finally start calming down.

"I know," he grumps.

"You're mad at me," you sniffle.

"I'm not," he sounds mad, "mad at myself. Shoulda seen ya keepin' things to yourself, I'm glad ya finally told me." His scarred mouth screws to one side. "Just gotta work on makin' sure we don't get to this point again."

-

The first time you cry in front of Soap it's because you're so fucking mad at him. He's arguing with you over nothing, the same way he always does when he's in a bad mood. Finding little things that dig at you and twisting just enough to make it not his fault when you snap. Back and forth with your barbs until you got to bed angry.

You can feel the tears burning at your waterline before they spill and you know your hot cheeks don't bode any better. You're not yelling but you almost wish you were, at least of you were yelling at each other it might make you feel better about the sudden waterworks. You hate when this happens. Too big an emotion in the body, it has to come out somewhere, you suppose this is just the quickest avenue. The way Soap's face drops from anger to concern pisses you off though.

"Hen, are ya-"

"I'm so fucking mad right now," you assure him, "don't look at me, don't even acknowledge them."

"Ah dinnae ken," His voice is getting softer, it only makes you more upset, "Oh my bonnie, ahm sorry ah didnae think this would hurt ya so bad."

"Fuck off," you try to push past him to lock yourself in the bathroom and he catches your arm to pull you against him. "Fuck off!" You shriek, pushing at him.

"No," he holds you a little tighter, "my mam would 'ave my heid hearin' ah let ya walk away from me like this, yer stayin' 'ere."

"I will fucking skin you Mactavish," you struggle harder.

"Aye anno, now shut up an' quit yer kickin'."

You do neither of those things.

-

The first time Gaz sees you cry it's because no one's ever seen you before. Even in your best relationships, your closest friendships, no one sees you like Gaz. No one picks you up from work with flowers and takes you by your favorite bakery just so you can have a slice of cake when you watch your comfort show. You're not even through the title music, Gaz sorting through your takeout options after he'd gotten you a "fancy plate" and a small fork to eat with, when you break down in sobs. He's on you immediately, hushing you as he gathers you into his arms. He's so attentive it hurts.

"It's OK baby," he hums, "don't have to talk about it, you just let it out."

God even that gets you crying. You don't have to get your words right or find a way to explain what you're feeling, you can just feel it. You try to think of a way to put it into words but it all lines up wrong, sounds too juvenile, doesn't make any sense even to you. There's no need to say anything though, Gaz just sits there with you, holds you through it as you wet his shoulder with your tears.

You don't even know why you're crying by the end of it, you just kept coming up with other reasons to cry. Jesus you don't think you ever got over your last grandparent dying, or losing that one friend, that's something to unpack later. You feel drained. Literally dehydrated drained. Gaz's shirt is soaked, but he doesn't day anything when you pull back.

He cups your cheek at wipes at the wet stains on your cheek with his thumb, eyes searching yours before he gives you a tight smile.

"Why don't you go take a hot shower, yeah?" He offers, you give him a watery nod, he smiles and pats your knee. "Alright, off you go. I'll be in, in a second."

The second time you cry in front of Gaz it's before he's got you pinned to the shower wall.

-

The first time Price sees you cry it's because you're tired. You're tired of giving everything to this relationship and seeing him leave right when things seem to be falling into place. His phone buzzes in the middle of the night and you don't stop the downpour when he grumbles out a swear and turns on the light. You glare at the ceiling and let the tears flow. It hurts. Tight in your chest. This feeling like you'll never be enough, like he'll always have something more important than you, it kills you. So why can't you leave him?

Are the good times really good enough to make up for the bad?

It makes him stop what he was doing when he sees the resolute grimace and the flow of tears over your cheeks. You shudder in a breath when he sits on the side of the bed. You refuse to look at him.

How could he do this to you?

"Sweetheart," he starts, his voice low, gentling, "I'm sorry."

"You're not." You correct him, "Otherwise you wouldn't keep doing it."

"You want me to choose between you and the world, you know what I'll say." He always sounds so sharp, ready to guilt you into giving up what he wants.

"I'm asking you to choose between me and paperwork," you bite back.

"You don't know-"

"You get phone calls when you're being deployed." You remind him, "You get reminders when papers are due." You turn to glare at him. The look on his face twists like a knife in your chest. You're dead on the money, and it's killing him. "So can this really not wait until the morning, are you really that eager to be rid of me?"

"I'm sorry," he tries again, toeing off his shoes, "you're right, I hadn't noticed." You turn over as he climbs under the duvet again. You fold your legs up as his arm drapes over you hip and he curls around you. His lips touch your shoulder, a silent plea for forgiveness. "Let me make it up to you, no more running into red tape I promise."

You don't bother agreeing to empty promises, but the next day he's had the paperwork sent from the base. The same the next day. Price always told you working from home didn't suit him. Waking you up with a cuppa on the other hand and walking you to the station does though.

He makes good on his promise, he doesn't run off until the next call comes in.

[grison-in-space]

Listening to Artificial Condition again, it strikes me how much Murderbot uses empathy reflexively as a survival skill. Look at this bit.

Upon meeting it, ART allows it on board and then announces that it knows that Murderbot is rogue. Then ART threatens to destroy it if it hacks ART's own systems. Murderbot is immediately terrified and shuts down all inputs, gives serious thought to spending the entire three month journey unconscious, and then considers the potential avenues of damage from ART's drones. ART, not realizing why Murderbot had suddenly gone silent, tells it to quit sulking, which understandably pisses off the still-terrified Murderbot. It dumps a bunch of memories of coercive treatment into ART's feed, and ART goes silent.

Then this happens:

Then it said, I’m sorry I frightened you. Okay, well. If you think I trusted that apology, you don’t know Murderbot. Most likely it was playing a game with me. I said, “I don’t want anything from you. I just want to ride to your next destination.” I’d explained that earlier, before it opened the hatch for me, but it was worth repeating. I felt it withdraw back behind its wall. I waited, and let my circulatory system purge the fear-generated chemicals. More time crawled by, and I started to get bored. Sitting here like this was too much like waiting in a cubicle after I’d been activated, waiting for the new clients to take delivery, for the next boring contract. If it was going to destroy me, at least I could get some media in before that happened. I started the new show again, but I was still too upset to enjoy it, so I stopped it and started rewatching an old episode of Rise and Fall of Sanctuary Moon. After three episodes, I was calmer and reluctantly beginning to see the transport’s perspective. A SecUnit could cause it a lot of internal damage if it wasn’t careful, and rogue SecUnits were not exactly known for lying low and avoiding trouble. I hadn’t hurt the last transport I had taken a ride on, but it didn’t know that. I didn’t understand why it had let me aboard, if it really didn’t want to hurt me. I wouldn’t have trusted me, if I was a transport. Maybe it was like me, and it had taken an opportunity because it was there, not because it knew what it wanted.

The thing about Murderbot's survival is that it clearly involves quite a bit of negotiating with other constructs and bots. That's how it talks its way onto cargo hauler bots in the first place. It uses empathy--envisioning the emotional and cognitive context of the individuals it encounters--to work out what different kinds of people want, so that it can offer them fair trades. It also uses empathy to consider what humans might be looking for, so it can practice blending in and hide.

Murderbot would never have survived so long if it wasn't capable of assessing the individual desires of the people--human, bot, and construct--around it. It thinks about ART's probable fears and motivations so that it can consider whether ART is inherently an ongoing threat or a potential ally.

When your survival depends on evading detection, you get really good at assessing perceptual biases so that you can shape yourself to fit into them. People talk about murderbot being radically empathetic as a choice it makes, or as a feature of its personality that makes it a good person. But I think murderbot would be the the first person to tell you that this empathy is part of its threat assessment suite, a skill that was developed out of necessity in order to allow you to survive.

It is also a trait that makes murderbot a good person, of course: it chooses very carefully to try to survive by doing as little harm as possible and by offering things, like media, that buy it access to things it needs. But it started as a survival skill. It's part of hypervigilance.

I think one of the strengths of this series is that so many of the things we love about SecUnit are traits developed for survival in an inherently threatening world. The shape of its mind and heart have been changed by the trauma of its origin--but they don't make murderbot less good for being altered, even if that skill was developed in a traumatic context.

I like that.

[shurisasthmaticgf]

the curls are curling: lando norris x black social media influencer fem! reader

summary: the secret behind why his curls have been consistently looking perfect is revealed.

authors note: i am still very new to formula one so please don't jump me if there is some slight inaccuracies. i did my best to look things up if i wasn't sure about them. this fic isn't based off of any grand prix in particular either. also, this is a work of fiction meaning it's not REAL so please remember that as well! constructive feedback is heavily encouraged and very appreciated 🫶🏽

heat pooled through the open windows of the house as you ran around to try and get yourself ready for the long day ahead. you woke up an hour ago to give yourself two hours to get ready because today was a race weekend. usually, you only needed about an hour to get you and your boyfriend out the door but today you'd gotten up earlier to film a vlog.

the whole social media influencer thing was still fairly new for you, only having started to consistently vlog and post a few months ago. before you'd started dating lando you were posting here and there about your day to day as a university student and intern for a large company in the city. every so often one of your videos got a couple hundred thousand views but you didn't really mind that your other content only got a few likes...that was just how tiktok's algorithm worked.

once you graduated from university and your internship ended you didn't have much to vlog about until you decided to film a race weekend and post it. what you didn't expect was the video to get millions of views and likes overnight. a massive influx of fans followed but you didn't really pay too much mind to the number, this was just something you liked to do and people also liked to watch. with time you ended up opening a youtube channel where you posted longer vlogs and other videos, and tiktok became a place where you posted 1-3 minute clips of your longer videos. one thing you never really did was center your entire vlog around your boyfriend. sure, lando was the entire reason you ended up at races but you were also your own person...that and lando was oddly camera shy when it came to your vlogs so he often wanted you to edit him out if he happened to end up in the frame.

which is how you ended up in your bedroom with your tripod pointed the camera directly at you. you smiled widely, hoping that it masked the fact that you were nearly half asleep, "good morning everyone! it's race day and i'm gonna be taking you along with me. everyone's been asking for a longer race day vlog so i'm here to give you all what you want. first lets get into the fit- these pajamas were sent to me from Brooks Avenue, if you like them you can use the code Y/N for a little discount on your purchase!" you backed up to show off your pink and green pajamas that would have definitely cost an arm an a leg if they hadn't come in a PR package. the matching pink and green satin bonnet on your head slowly slipped down your forehead leaving you to push it back up with an annoyed huff. you explained to the camera once more, "okay and first i'm gonna brush my teeth then do my skincare routine...he's in the shower right now so the lens might get fogged up, sorry in advance." you knocked on the bathroom door to let your boyfriend know you were coming in before pulling your skincare products out of your travel bag. quickly you brushed your teeth with until you felt like you'd gotten rid of every trace of morning breath.

just as you finished your skincare routine, the shower turned off and you slipped out of the bathroom. while lando finished in the bathroom you sat back down at the vanity and situated the camera back in front of you. slowly you slipped the bonnet from your head and untied the silk scarf under it, letting the large twists in your hair fall against your shoulders. to the camera you explained, "it's gonna be really hot today so i'm just gonna pull the twists back with a ribbon and call it a day i think." you pulled a jar of edge control and a brush from your bag and began styling your baby hairs, effortlessly into swirls and swoops. a laugh fell past your lips as you admitted, "honestly the only reason i still do this is so my forehead looks slightly less...megamind-esque in pictures." when you finished you tied another scarf messily around your hairline and began gathering your twists into a ponytail to secure it with a holder and ribbon.

the bathroom door opened and lando walked back into your room, fully dressed but his button down left wide open exposing his bare torso. in his hands he held a blow dryer and two bottles, one leave in conditioner and a gel you'd bought for him a few weeks ago. you finished tying the bow around your ponytail then took the two bottles from him and plugged the blow dryer into the wall. a hand gently pulled on your hand and you looked up to see sleepy smile grace his lips, "good morning, beautiful." you drew closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting him pull you in by the waist. his head nuzzled into your shoulder as your hand found the back of his head, stroking his hair softly with your fingers you murmured, "hi baby." you could feel the shy smile he wore against your shoulder until you pulled away from him. you pulled a robe from the back of the door and told him, "put this on." he knew most of the reason was so he didn't stain his shirt with hair products but another part of it had to be the fact that his shirt was wide open.

lando sat in front of the camera and you laughed at how awkward he looked compared to normal. you prompted, "baby, say hi to everyone. they ask for you all the time." he stiffly waved a hand in front of the camera and you sighed, "i don't know why you act so funny around my camera but everyone else it's fine." he mumbled a soft, "because it's you..." but only the mic on the camera caught it. he sat on the bench in front of you and slightly leaned back into your body before letting his eyes flutter shut.

meanwhile you showed the leave in conditioner to the camera, "this is the kinky curly knot today leave in-" despite his eyes being shut lando let out a small laugh and you asked, "what?" he mumbled cheekily, "kinky." you let out a exasperated sigh, "oh god you're like a child...anyways i was saying, i put a little of this in his hair but not too much just a tiny amount to add moisture." squeezing the leave in conditioner into your palm then applying it to his hair you hummed along to a sza song that ran through your head. the gentle work of your fingers running along his scalp nearly lulled lando back to sleep. you worked through his hair with a practiced ease, adding product and coaxing the curls atop his head to take perfect shape. not wanting to disturb his peace, you silently showed the matching brand's curling custard and then applied that lightly to his hair. once you'd finished you turned on the blow dryer, accidentally jump scaring your boyfriend under you. a soft melodic laugh fell past your lips and one hand fell to his shoulder before you leant down and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, "my bad babe." the camera didn't miss the way he leaned into your touch, pushing his cheek closer to you with his shoulders dropping further in relaxation.

not even half an hour later you were done and the light brown curls on his head were perfectly defined. you wiped your hands on the hand towel you'd slung over your shoulder earlier and laughed when you realized your boyfriend literally fell asleep. you gently cupped under his chin and pressed another kiss to his cheek. just above a whisper you mumbled, "all done, bubs. " he opened his eyes and smiled while you mused, “my pretty boy.” his cheeks flushed slightly, “thank you” and you brushed a few curls into place before looking at his reflection, "of course." he stood up and pulled you out of the frame to gave you a quick kiss before going downstairs where you'd meet him when you finished getting dressed.

the white and navy blue floral sundress you wore was both nice and simple enough to wear for today. simple gold jewelry and a pair of white sandals finished off your look and you grabbed the camera to show your reflection in the full length mirror on the wall, "all dressed so i'm gonna go meet lando downstairs and i'll see you all a little bit later!" you stopped recording and went downstairs to find your boyfriend sitting and ready to go, his cheeks burning pink when he laid eyes on you. a subtle fluttering erupted in your stomach at the familiar gaze, the one that made you feel like the only girl in the world.

*extra*

you scrolled through your social media accounts, something you never really did if you didn't have to. the first thing that came to your attention was the flood of pictures and comments that were about your boyfriend's hair. for the past few races you'd been doing his hair and more and more fans were noticing it looked better than normal. honestly, you found it amusing that people were bringing it up and so much at that, so you decided to add to the conversation just a bit:

fans reactions to recent vlog upload:

[glow-worms-are-believers]

Tim Drake: Ugly Duckling (dp x dc)

So this is the last day of pride month, and so also the last day of me trying to write as many LGBTQ+ canon dc characters. It’s been fun (and I got to read a whole bunch of comics which was actually much more fun than the first time I’d tried to read those!!)

Now even though this is the end of June, feel free to send an ask if you want me to write a blurb with any character. I make no promises, but I will very much try! (It might take a while especially if I’m in a Tumblr hibernation phase.)

Anyways, for the last day of pride month I wanted to do Tim Drake coz he’s dc’s main “it” gay girl. I’ve been working on this Dead Tired fic for ages, based on the post about Tim getting turned into a swan and meeting Danny, who as a prince has to give him a kiss to change him back (I can’t find the prompt but it was hilarious so this was my take on it).

Here’s the beginning of the fic:

Red Robin was on patrol duty, while Batman and Robin were following a lead on possible joker safehouses. All in all, It was a pretty quiet night with only two muggings, both low-energy as both perpetrator ran away as soon as a bat-shaped shadow moved. 

So Red Robin had spent most of the night chatting with Babs. He was grappling around town, as they started on the new date app they’d both found out Jason was using.

“I told him he can’t put only photos of his motorcycle but- wait I’m getting a call,” Oracle interrupted herself. Tim waited before the earpiece came to life again.

“Sorry to cut this short Red Robin, got a full-attention request from Canary. If you need anything, beep me, and Keep your coms open.”

“Bye, Oracle,” he said, and like that, Red Robin was alone once again.

 He stopped on Grand Avenue Station and just let himself take in Gotham. The city was beautiful at night, and Tim was itching for a camera. He seen hundreds of pictures of the city’s skyline but they always managed to be unique. The night sky may always be covered by dark clouds above, but Gotham had its own stars in the lights shinning on top of the skyscrapers. So lost in his thoughts, Tim was, he almost missed the soft noise that sounded behind him. The voice that sounded behind him was harder to miss.

“Wither away so late, Little Red Bird?”

Red Robin turned to see a tall woman standing half in the shadows

“Sorry, can I help you?” Answered the vigilante despite the bad feeling creeping up to him.

“I’d like to know where I can find your guardian,” the woman said, still in the shadows.

“You mean Batman?” He chanced.

The woman nodded and Tim resisted the urge to sigh.If this was another one of Bruce’s ill-advised fling, Tim was going to hack every electronic device the man had to play sex-eds on loops for at least a week.

“He’s busy at the moment.” Then feeling like he shouldn’t assume what the woman wanted Bruce for, he continued. “But if you need any help, I’ll do my best.”

The woman stepped forward, and Tim could see her better. Her face was bare, but her distinctive outfit seemed to indicate she was some kind of vigilante-slash-criminal. The outfit did, in fact, ring a bell in the back of his mind, but it was dim. Tim didn’t tense up, but he did angle his body in a way to accommodate for a better escape through grappling. She continued walking until she was within arm’s reach of Tim, towering over him. She extended a hand to lightly caress his cheek, and Tim went still at the touch.

“Such a kind Little Bird you are,” she said gently. “You know, you remind me of my daughter.” She sighed. “Oh, what pretty children you both are.”

“Thank you,” said Tim as he sidestepped out of the way. “I’m sure she’s a lovely person.”

“Oh she was,” the woman said and through his growing wariness, Tim spared a thought for the girl. “She had dark hair and the fairest skin, just like you. The most beautiful girl in the land some would even say.”

That niggling feeling came back as a feeling of familiarity poked at him once again. “You must’ve been very proud.”

The woman let out an airy laugh before saying playfully/contemplating. “mustn’t I?”

A shiver ran down his back. Alright, there was something wrong with this woman, and Tim wasn’t waiting around to find out what. Not without any information or backup.

“Well, if there’s nothing I can do for you, I really have to get going,” Tim said as he took out his grapple gun. In a second, the gun was ripped from his hand , and he was slammed to the side of the staircase leading up to the roof. He let out a gasp at the impact and his features tensed in pain. The woman hadn’t even touched him.

“Not so fast, Little Bird. We don’t want you going back to the Batman just yet.  I’m not ready to make him my Knight yet.”

“Your knight?” Tim managed to get out. He tried to move his arms, but some unseen force was pinning him in place. Shit, that meant he couldn’t reach the comm to send out a distress signal. Hopefully Babs would check in soon.

The woman smiled as she approached him once again. “What better for a Queen, than a Dark Knight?”

And just like that it clicked. “You’re the Queen of Fables.” 

“Well look at this, you’ve got the brains and the beauty,” she teased, her voice as smooth as honey.

“What do you want with Batman?” Tim asked though he could guess from previous encounters she had had with the Justice League that the villainess wanted to turn Bruce into a fairytale character of some sort. She’d done the trick on Clark, and twice on Diana, so it was probably Batman’s turn now. So, yes, Tim could guess, But the longer he kept her talking the more time he had to figure out a way out of this.

“I told you, he’ll be a Knight of the Queen,” She extended a hand and tilted Tim’s face up. “Do you know what that would make you Little Bird?” 

Most villains assumed the batclan worked like a crime family. So the family of a knight? “Nobility,” Tim guessed, unsure where this was going.

“Exactly.” She smiled, and then she moved. Tim braced for the hit.

Instead of a punch though, he only felt a tingling sensation. Cautiously, he opened his eyes, only for them to grow bigger as he took in his uniform. Or the lack thereof.

He was in something-century clothing, in some sort of frilly shirt and pants, all in white. This was worse than a punch. Then, as the thought hit him, Tim’s hands flew to his face only to come in contact with the silky fabric of a masquerade mask. He sighed in relief, and as he calmed down, he realized he was now free of the force pinning him down.

“The color is for my daughter,” the Queen said. Then, she let her head fall to the side before tracing a line across his forehead and Tim could feel something like a circlet setting down on it. “There you go. Now, it’s perfect. You could practically be siblings.” 

“No thanks.,” Tim answered.

The Queen tsked him. “That’s no way to behave Little Bird, has nobody taught you to say thank you when you receive a gift.”

“I don’t want anything from you,” Tim disagreed mildly as he took stock of his weapons. Everything was gone, including the earpiece, which meant Babs had to have been alerted and someone was en route.

The Queen frowned. “I was going to be merciful, for you guardian’s sake, but I no longer feel generous.” She raised her hand and Tim tried to roll away, but the magic beam swerved and hit him in a blinding flash of light.

When he managed to open his eyes once again, the world seemed quite a bit bigger than it had been moments before. 

“What did you do to me?” He said. Or tried to say.

Instead a strange squawk echoed and Tim took a step back in surprise. However, he lost his balance and started to fall and as he tried to catch himself with his hand, two large white wings unfolded. He dropped down, which wasn’t as far as he would’ve estimated and laid stiff. He moved his left arm, and a white wing followed suit. 

Oh, no. Oh no no no.

A grating laugh interrupted his freak out. “There you are my pretty Little Bird, all better. White really is your colour, don’t you th-“

With a loud hiss, Tim propelled himself towards the woman. Making use of his newfound beak, he pecked and bit everything he could, as he flapped his wings.

“Blasted creature- Get off! Stop it, you despicable, puny-“ 

Finally she managed to grab Tim and throw him away from her. He landed with a squawk, but managed to get himself back to his feet quickly. “You little/awful brat,” she snarled. “You’ll pay for this!”

But as the Queen threw out her hand, something rippled in the air between them and the magic beam seem to explode midway into a green vortex. Tim’s clumsy attempt at waddling away had him head straight towards it, and it was in vain that he tried to redirect the course. She and Tim made eye contact as the swan-boy tipped right into the swirling green vortex, both of their eyes wide-open in surprise.

Danny was exhausted. He was currently on week one of the full month of Royal Duties he’d promised Clockwork. Being Prince of the Infinite Realm was not all that it was cracked up to be, and that was saying a lot since he had already been expecting it to be awful. 

When Clockwork had made the request, Danny had proceeded to freak out about his new status, and then tried to abdicate. It was only the master of time reminding him of all the terrible possible candidate for the throne per rites of combat (such as Vlad) that stopped him from washing his hands of this mess. And now Danny was forced to spend one whole month of his summer vacation in the Ghost Zone to fulfill his duty as a Prince. 

He thought it would be some paperwork, maybe a battle or two, nothing too bad, but nooo. Because, of course nothing was easy, Danny had to show up at Events, and be Diplomatic. It was meeting, after meeting, after weird parties that were a mix between Medieval Banquets and Debutante balls. 

And worse of all were the marriage proposals. Danny could sorta understand, marrying into royalty was a definite plus for a lot of more powerful ghosts but when they called him a half-breed behind his back, only to smile in his face with a marriage contract in one hand and flowers in the other, that was where he drew the line. 

Plus there was also the fact that he was, like sixteen.

Suffice to say, Danny was exhausted and hiding out in Pariah Dark’s old castle as a last resort. It wasn’t his favorite place all in all, but the gardens were absolutely beautiful, which was where he was walking. He was currently headed to the hedge maze, since it was the best way to get rid of any tails he may or may not have. 

The maze was nasty if it didn’t like you, and it didn’t like anybody but Danny, and even then, it still tried to take a bite every once in a while. Despite the snaking vines and roots trying to capture anything that moved, the flowers that wailed softly when disturbed or the sharp thorns of the hedge plants themselves, it was still a beautiful place. Uniquely, the closer you got to the centre, the more colorful (and dangerous) everything got, which was why he liked it best. 

He reached the centre much quicker than the first time he tried, thanks to the maze actually helping him, and something pale caught his eye right in the middle of the open area, right next to the bench Danny loved to use. As he got closer, he realized it was a swan laying on the floor, seemingly unconscious.

“Oh no,” Danny said as he approached. “What happened to you?”

As if awakened by the sound of his voice, the swan started to shift, its wings twitching and it rose its head groggily. As soon as it clocked in Danny, it let out a surprised squawk, followed by a long hiss as it struggled to move away.

“Hey, hey, none of that, Duckie, you’re ok.” Danny raised his hands placatingly. “I don’t want to harm you, ok? I just want to make sure you’re ok.”

The hiss subsided by a bit, but that may have only be due to the swan managing to get further away.

“Sh, sh, it’s ok,” Danny repeated as he slowly inched forward. The swan stopped hissing but still observed him warily. “I don’t want to hurt you Duckie, but I do think we’d better get you out of this maze.”

Danny took another step, and this time the swan stayed still. “How about bringing you back to my rooms just for now.” The swan hissed louder at the statement. “Don’t worry Duckie, I’m not keeping you prisoner it’s just this maze has been known to eat people. And you’re too pretty to be eaten,” Danny flashed a smile at the swan which had it stare back with a gaze saying really?

“So what do you say, wanna crash at my place?” Danny asked. The swan didn’t move forward but he didn’t move away either.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t trust a guy who talks to birds either,” Danny allowed. “And the place where I’m staying is a little gloomy, so I don’t blame you, but I can’t leave you here. The maze is honestly really dangerous, especially for a nice bird is like you. “

The swan seemed to hesitate before it hesitantly made its way to Danny. Ghost animals were usually smart but the swan seemed to understand English, which made communicating that much easier. Danny smiled and opened his arms. “I can carry you.” The swan just looked at him, with what Danny would’ve thought was a deadpan stare. “It would go much faster.”

If the swan was human it probably would’ve sighed, but instead, its wings just fell a little before it waddled towards Danny and looked up as if to say ‘get on with it’.

Danny smiled and gathered the animal in his arms. “Buckle up,” he said before flying off towards the maze exit, which was accompanied by a low hiss. Making sure there was nobody there to ambush him, Danny made it back to the castle in record time.

“Here we are Duckie.” Danny set the swan back down and it plopped down on the ground and just steadied themselves for a while.

Tim was a swan. He had wings and no fingers, and his feet were webbed.

He was handling it though. By which Tim meant he was shelving the impending panic attack for later when he wasn’t stuck in a swan body. 

Ok, so he’d been turned by the Queen of Fables, so there had to be an answer in a fairytale,a way to make him normal again. He knew the ugly duckling story. That had a swan in it, right? He didnt know any other swan stories, except maybe as a dish during the wedding banquet of whichever princess. He vaguely remembered a Barbie movie that had passed on the TV when he was younger but the only thing that came to mind were a scary-looking Troll thing, and ballet.  So with lack of better alternatives he was going to go with the ugly duckling. The ugly duckling’s happy ending was reuniting with family, so maybe all he needed was to make his way back to Gotham.

“Are you ok?” 

And that was another thing. The guy. The one Tim had at first wanted to get away from. He seemed nice and all, but he also had neon green eyes, and fangs. Unfortunately, while they suited the boy very well, they also marked him as an unknown. 

On the other hand, if the glowing portal wasn’t enough of an indication, the green tinge of everything around was clear indicator that Tim wasn’t in Kansas anymore. The guy seemed to want to help him, and having an ally wherever he was could only help.

Tim nodded as best as he could with his long weird neck, and he had to take a few steps to regain balance.

“That’s good,” the boy smiled with his white pointy canine. “How did you end up in the middle of that maze?”

Tim just looks back tiredly. He didn’t know how to even try and explain when he couldn’t say a word and had no opposable thumbs.

“Yeah, sorry.” The boy winced. “Maybe stick to yes or no questions.”

There was a sharp knock at the door that had the boy turning away.

“Prince Phantom!” A voice rung through the door.

Prince? 

The newly-dubbed Prince Phantom got up to open the door, “yes, what can I do for you?”

“Your meeting with Queen Dora is approaching. Do you still prefer to forgo an escort guards?” a purple lady was saying.

“I’ll be fine without, Maj but thank you very much,” Phantom answered with a polite smile.

“I’ll pass it along, my Prince.” She bowed and closed the doors behind her.

Phantom walked back to lay on the bed with a sigh. “I really hate that they call me that.” He turned towards Tim to continue. “I bet swans don’t have royalty. You guys had the right idea.”

[sims3fiend]

Some dumb sims 3 updates/stuf

Or, how to develop severe brain damage in 10 easy steps.

Sooo… This is going to be more of a blog post than anything of any real substance, more of a whinge with maybe a few teasers for some stuff I may or may not release (probably not). Feel free to skip if you're after hot tips or coherent writing.

Stutter "fixer"

Sooooo…. The sims 3 has some stutter issueeesss… Incredible discovery, I know! I started looking at remedying them with settings, found some hidden settings that help reduce some of the issues but that can only do so much when the game was made in 2009 for 2009 computers.

So I had a looky at some things I thought could be causing it, mainly WinAPI functions because that's the easier route (h-haha…), and started to try to "optimize" some of the more common ones:

ReadFile: Was the first, and looking at the sheer volume of like 12783972198 calls a milisecond every time you move the camera, I thought surely I can speed it up a little r-right. Not really. I tried all sorts of… interesting things, file caching in memory, implementing the overlapped flag (took ages), etc. Oh and the performance increase? Literally nothing. It's called weirdly from wherever it's called and so we must suffer.

Threads: So, I had a look at other areas that were potential targets for speedup, ran an actual profile and it showed a problem areas namely threads and some other stuff I don't remember. ZwWaitForMultipleObjects and WaitForSingleObject take up a lot of time, so I very poorly attempted to optimize them, adding some timeout optimizations (and a bunch of other failed attempts). Despite being the most insane, this actually worked, and I got like a 40% speed increase in a very very niche metric that did not noticeably effect the game one single bit. I plan to combine all my failures into a single script eventually, maybe once combined they'll do something…

Actual insanity - Memory IPC: Then I had an idea, everyone hates e12, why don't we shove the games memory into another process and that'll fix it. No brain moment. No clue what past me was thinking, for some reason I thought you could like, access another processes memory if it was spawned from it, but uhh.. no, that's not how things work… I tried a few other things in a similar vein but it just crashed and crashed, so for now I'm just gunna work on:

Alloc/free mee - Current insanity: Currently, I'm still working on VirtualAlloc and VirtualFree (which is what I was redirecting to another process), but more from an optimizing memory usage standpoint than a… whatever the IPC thing was. There's a lot of things to try, and I've had some luck in some areas and some abysmal failures in others. There's a few promising functions calling VirtualAlloc/Free that seem to be potentially pointing towards memory leaks (004e54d0), but I'm too dumb to investigate that. At the moment, I'm going mostly just gathering more logs which takes forever and hurts my brain real bad.. On testing there's like 180 allocs that we could probably yeet no problem, which is like 750mb saved… Maybe idk.

I have plenty of ideas for deduplication, memory pool implementations to reduce churn/fragmentation, shoving things aggressively into pagefiles if they're not being used, etc. etc. Basically, there's a lot of avenues to explore, and I feel like there's potential… though I've definitely said that before and been dead wrong so…

Anyway, rambling over. I plan to release a dumb little renderer settings mod maybe-soon-ish that'll let you do dumb stuff that might be useful for reshade like turn shadows/drop shadows off and post processing off and on. I guess I could add max lots and other settings eventually too since they're static values.... Might also do a mythbusting post for some performance "tweak" stuff I see thrown around that isn't super accurate but I also don't want people to be angry at me so maybe not.

Sorry to whoever read all this, but also thanks :)

[slytherheign]

A WALK TO REMEMBER | tasm!peter parker

PAIRING: tasm!peter parker x reader

WORD COUNT: 3.4k

SUMMARY: you take one last walk with the love of your life.

WARNINGS: illness (unspecified), HEAVY angst, insecurities, death. let me know if i missed any warnings. [⚠︎︎RATING: G]

AUTHOR’S NOTE: inspired by the movie/novel with the same title, but only slightly. THIS IS A GENDER NEUTRAL FIC BTW, but if you see something that pertains to specific gender then pls reach out so i can change it. also, i’ve planned another part for this focusing on their first walk but it’s still not finished. though when that part comes out, you can either read it as a one-shot or a prequel for this. EDIT: the prequel is out! READ HERE. again, i apologize for the lack of uploads, i just got busy with university and life in general. thank you for understanding and enjoy reading! you might want to get tissues before you proceed.

DESTINATION: Angst Avenue | GO BACK TO THE STATION. CLICK HERE FOR ALL THINGS AWTR (reviews, commentary, etc. about this fic).

The scent of the hospital permeated the room, mingling with the soft whirring of medical pieces of equipment. You were lying on your hospital bed, your frail form engulfed by the sterile white sheets. Your family surrounded you, their faces etched with worry and exhaustion.

The doctor entered the room, his expression grave. You watched him closely, a flicker of hope dancing within your eyes. Perhaps there was still a chance, a new treatment or some kind of breakthrough medication.

But as the doctor spoke, his words fell like heavy stones, shattering your fragile heart and optimism. "I'm sorry," he began, his voice laced with regret. "But it seems the treatments have stopped working."

Your heart sank like an anchor in your chest. You felt as if the air had been sucked out of the room, leaving you gasping for breath. Your family's hushed whispers filled the silence, their words a blur as tears clouded your vision. "I-I don't understand," you murmured, your voice barely a whisper. "What does that mean?"

Your mother's trembling hand reached out to grasp yours, her eyes brimming with tears. "It means we have to consider other options, sweetheart," she said, her voice breaking with emotion.

But you knew what those "other options" meant. It meant more pain, more uncertainty, and the terrifying prospect of saying goodbye. You turned away, burying your face in your pillow as a sob wracked your body.

The doctor spoke with your family and discussed the other options. You listened to his words, but they felt distant, as if they were coming from the end of a long tunnel. You knew what he was saying, and you could grasp the gravity of his words, but you couldn't bring yourself to fully process them.

“What do we think?” he asked, looking at your faces for an answer. 

If you were being honest, a part of you didn’t want to try anymore. You didn’t want any more pain. You were already tired—exhausted, even.

But then you remembered him.

You remembered Peter.

And you remembered how you promised him that you would do everything to survive. You promised that you would keep trying until all was well. 

After a moment of unnerving silence, you spoke. “I think we should do it,” you breathed out, looking up at your parents and your doctor. “The other options… let’s do it,” you smiled weakly.

So, that was what you did. You kept trying.

Peter lightly traced the lines on your hand as you waited for your order. Every now and then, he would look up and gaze at you lovingly. You couldn’t help but chuckle. “What are you doing?” you said, smiling.

“Admiring you,” he smiled, intertwining his hand with yours atop the table.

The smile left your face almost instantly. “Even when there’s nothing left to admire?” you stated sadly.

He immediately frowned at that. “What are you saying?”

“You know what I’m saying…”

“Y/N…”

“Peter, I’m not the same as I was. I don’t look like what I used to when you fell in love with me.”

“Stop.”

“No, Peter. I’m pale as snow. I look so sick, I’ve lost my hair. This—” you pointed at your head. “This is just a wig. My real hair is gone—the hair that I know you loved playing with and twirling the ends with your finger. I’ve lost a lot of weight—I don’t have the chubby cheeks you loved to pinch anymore. I-I’m so w-weak,” you sniffed. “Look at me, Pete—I can’t even stand on my own feet anymore. I have to be in a wheelchair.”

A tear fell on Peter’s cheek but he quickly wiped it when he noticed the waiter approaching. You immediately turned your face at the window, pretending to look at the parking lot on the other side so the poor waiter wouldn’t notice the emotional distress you were in.

Peter smiled at the waiter. “On second thought, can we take these out?” he gestured to the food. The waiter smiled in return before picking up your table number and taking the food back to pack it up for the two of you. Peter sadly looked at you as you continued to stare at the window. He heard you sniffing and he cursed himself for not knowing the right words to say at the moment. God, if he only knew how to take this pain away from you, he would do it right this instant.

He thanked the waiter, grabbing the paper bag with one hand and placing his other on your cheek to turn your face to him. He wiped the tears with his thumb before moving his hand to clasp yours. “Let’s go.”

“Where are we going?” you asked.

“To your favorite place.”  

He sat on the bench beside your wheelchair before opening the takeout bag and handing your food to you. The two of you ate in peace while admiring the sight of the beach in front of you, the cool breeze that swept off the ocean instantly finding its way to your bodies.

You remembered this beach. It was where Peter asked you to be his, and it was where you answered him “yes”. You remembered how it was snowing then, and how both of you thought it was weird, but beautiful nonetheless.

Moments after you finished eating and Peter threw the trash in a garbage can that was nearby, he cleaned his hands with an alcohol spray. He then went back to you, knelt down, and held your hand with both of his. “I have an idea.”

“A good one or a bad one?”

“A good one. A very good one.”

There was a glint of excitement in his eyes and you couldn’t help but laugh lightly at him.

“Well then, count me in,” you smiled.

He smirked before standing up and starting to carry you bridal style. 

“Peter—Pete! What are you doing?!”

“Just trust me, okay?”

You looked at him, searching his eye for some kind of clue to what he was planning on doing. Unfortunately, you couldn’t find a clue or anything. “Okay,” you forfeited.

He noticed the slight pout you made and he rolled his eyes jokingly. “You really know how to get me, huh?” he chuckled. “Fine, I’ll tell you what we’re doing,” he said, starting to move his feet towards the beach. “You and I, my love, are going for a walk.”

Peter carried you as he gently walked along the sandy shore, his footsteps leaving imprints that would soon be washed away by the tide. You stared up at him, memorizing his features just like you did every time you would look at him. His hair moved smoothly with the flow of the breeze, his mouth looking perfect as he talked about something you weren’t really paying attention to because you were busy paying attention to his face. And then you wondered how a man as beautiful as him loved you. You smiled, thinking you must’ve done something really good in your life for you to have him.

Seagulls soared overhead, their cries blending with the gentle rustle of the palm trees lining the beach. The rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the shore filled the air, a poignant backdrop to the bittersweet moment you were having.

Right. This was a bittersweet moment. There was something you haven’t told him yet.

“Pete, can we sit for a moment?” he frowned but did what you asked for nonetheless. He set you down gently on the sand, sitting beside you right after. 

You sat in companionable silence, the only sounds you were focusing on now were the sounds of Peter’s breathing and your heart’s beating. With each beat, you drew closer to the inevitable. You needed to tell him what he deserved to know.

“Pete—”

“Y/N—”

You laughed. “Okay, you go first,” you told him.

He smiled. “You were wrong,” he stated after a moment. 

“I’m confused.”

“You were wrong,” he said again. “You were wrong when you said that there is nothing left to admire about you. You were wrong because there is always something to admire about you. When I look at you, I question myself if you’re even real, because surely a person as perfect as you could not exist. The way you smile at the smallest compliments, the way you tilt your head back when you laugh at something, the way your brows knit together when you’re confused, the way your tongue sticks out sometimes when you’re concentrating—everything about you, big and small, I admire them. And I love them.”

“Surely, there are some imperfections in me,” you said.

“Yes, of course, we all have them. But those imperfections are what makes you perfect.”

“But I don’t look the same as I was before—”

“And I don’t care. Y/N, you are perfect in my eyes. Listen to me, I love you. I don’t care if you lost all your hair, or if you lose your teeth, or if you lose everything you have—I don’t care what else you lose as long as I don’t lose you.”

Oh.

As long as he didn’t lose me.

Your heart should’ve leaped with joy when you heard those words. But instead, it shattered like a plate of glass getting thrown into a wall. You hated this feeling. And you hated the feeling you would soon make Peter feel.

“Peter…” you called his name. “Pete—I love you,” you sniffed. “I love you,” you repeated. “You know that, right?”

“Of course,” he nodded, a tear escaping his eyes.

“And because I love you so much… I have to tell you something.”

“What is it?”

“They didn’t work,” you cried.

“What didn’t work? I don’t understand.”

“When my treatments stopped working, my family and I decided to try the other options. Those other options,” your voice broke. “Those options didn’t work either, Peter…”

“W-What does that mean?”

“That means that I’m dying, Peter. And there’s nothing left to stop it.”

“No.”

You held both of his hands when you noticed them shaking.

“It’s inevitable,” you explained, looking at his hands instead of focusing on his face. You couldn’t look at him while he was crying. You couldn't do it. Your heart wouldn’t be able to bear it.

“No no no no no.”

“I love you, Peter.” 

“Y-you can’t—no. Maybe there’s still a chanc—”

You shook your head, lips trembling as you kissed his hands. “I love you.”

“What about our dreams, the future we would have? The family we would make? Y/N…”

“Peter, it’s getting cold,” you whispered. “We should go back.”

“But—please, Y/N. Y-You just can’t…”

“Peter, it’s getting really cold…”

“You can’t just leave me, I don’t think I can live without you. I already lost a lot of people—”

“I love you, Peter,” you repeated.

“I–I can’t lose you too…”

And in one frail movement, everything turned black.

As soon as you opened your eyes, the darkness from your eyelids was changed into the blinding white of the hospital room. To your left were machines that connected to your body, the only reason why you were still breathing. To your right was Peter, sound asleep on his chair while he held your hand in his.

If you were back in here, then that would mean one thing… you didn’t have much time left.

Your face was pale and the once vibrant eyes you had were now dimmed by the weight of your illness. Despite the pain that was evident in your features, there was a peacefulness in your expression. You had come to terms with your fate. 

You could feel it. Death. It wasn’t just at your doorstep, it was already beside you, just waiting for the right moment to touch you and consume you. You supposed you should be thankful, for the heavens did not take you yet.

If it would take you within this week, then so be it. But you hoped it would at least be merciful.

If it would take you today, then so be it. But you hoped it would spare you a chance for one more wish. 

One last wish.

To give you time. 

Not more time to live, but just enough.

Just enough time to say goodbye.

“Peter?” you said, squeezing his hand with all the strength you had left.

He woke up, eyes widening when he realized you were awake.

“You’re awake,” he smiled, you swore you saw his eyes tearing up at the sight of you.

Your features were drawn with pain and fatigue and your body was weakened by the relentless progression of your illness. But despite your frailty, there was a quiet strength in your eyes, a determination to make the most of the time you had left.

“I don’t think I have much time left,” you admitted.

Tears welled up in Peter's eyes as he stood up to lean in and kiss your forehead, his heart breaking at the thought of losing you. He sat back down again, his gaze fixed on you with a mixture of love and sorrow. He longed to take away your pain, to make you whole again, but he knew that was beyond his power.

"I'm sorry, Peter," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I wish things could have been different."

He squeezed your hand gently, his heart breaking at the sadness in your voice. "Don't apologize" he replied, his voice filled with tenderness. "You have nothing to be sorry for. We've shared so much love and memories together. Your time may be shorter than what we’ve hoped for, but I’m very lucky and glad that you decided to spend most of it with me."

A small smile played at the corners of your lips and you moved your hand to caress his cheek. "I love you, Peter," you whispered, voice trembling with emotion.

"I love you too, Y/N," Peter replied, his voice thick with tears. "More than anything in this world."

“My parents?” you asked.

“They’re outside.”

“Can you please call them for me?”

“Of course,” he said, standing up to fetch your parents. He stayed outside the room to give you and your family some privacy.

“Oh, sweetheart,” your mother immediately ran up to you, stroking both of your cheeks gently with her hands. Your father stood behind her, you could tell by their faces that they’d been crying.

God, you hated seeing them like this.

“Mom, Dad,” you whispered.

“We’re here,” your mother responded, wiping your tears with her thumbs. “We’re right here.”

Your father reached out to hold your hand. “We’re always here.”

“I don’t know w-what to say… I can’t think of words that are nearly enough to express how grateful I am to each of you,” you stated. “Thank you for everything you have done and given me since I was a child. Thank you for reading me bedtime stories when I was little, for bringing me to school and then picking me up when it was done, for cooking my favorite meals, for hugging me when I was sad, for cleaning up my wounds whenever I injured myself while playing, for being there for me through my first period, first heartbreak—I am who I am because of you.”

You glanced at your dad only to see him crying, his grip on your hand getting tighter as if trying to see if the tighter he held you the longer you would stay with them. You never saw him cry like this before.

“We love you so much,” he whispered.

“We’re so proud of you,” your mother added.

Your father agreed, nodding. “You’re the strongest person I know. You’re even stronger than me,” he chuckled sadly.

“I love you both so much,” you cried. “I don’t want to leave, but the world has other plans for me… thank you for being the best parents I could ever ask for.”

And there it was.

You could feel death’s hand slowly reach for you. You closed your eyes, it was getting hard to breathe. 

“C-Can you please call Peter?” you breathed out.

With all your might, you opened your eyes again. Peter was now beside you, holding your right hand while both your parents held your left. You stayed like that for a moment, clinging to each other as if you could defy fate itself. But you all knew that you couldn’t.

Your breaths came shallow and labored, each one a struggle against the weight of your failing body. You closed your eyes, trying to block out the pain that pulsed through you with every heartbeat. But despite your efforts, you couldn't escape the truth that loomed over you like a dark cloud.

You could see and hear them crying, the grips they had on your hands getting tighter and tighter and tighter… afraid that if they held you loosely then you would slip away sooner.

But that wasn’t how it worked. A tight grip would not save you. There was nothing they could do to change the inevitable.

As the seconds stretched into minutes, your thoughts began to wander, drifting through memories of happier times. You thought of your childhood, filled with laughter and innocence, and of the love you had shared with your family, with your friends, and with Peter.

The memories faded as soon as they came. And then you felt death’s touch linger on your skin, its distance becoming closer to you than you could ever imagine. Like a distant echo growing louder with each passing moment, the realization dawned on you that your time was running out. You tearfully looked around the room, taking in the faces of your loved ones, each one bearing pain and sorrow.

Your strength continued to wane, your body growing weaker with each second. And as you lay there, surrounded by the ones you loved, you found a sense of peace in knowing that you weren't alone.

With a final breath, you closed your eyes. You welcomed death’s touch with a smile, surrendering to the darkness that beckoned you. And as your family and Peter wept beside you, you drifted away, hoping to have left behind a legacy of love and memories that would live on long after you were gone.

7 MONTHS LATER.

Taking a walk along the beach never felt the same anymore. 

Peter concluded that without you beside him, it wasn’t as fun as it used to be. The only fun thing for him, he guessed, was the fact that with each step he walked along the sandy shore, the memories with you played in his head and he would smile as he recounted them. Sometimes, he could even feel your presence somehow.

He ditched his shoes and played with the sand with his feet. It only took him a few minutes before he decided to wear his shoes again and leave the beach.

The next place he decided to visit was the cemetery. He stood across your grave, still not believing that 7 months had passed since you took your final breath. There was not a day that passed when he didn’t miss your presence or longed for your touch. He sat on the grass in front of your tombstone.

“You know…” he started speaking. “Walking along the beach used to be my favorite. After you died and I started doing it again, I wondered why I didn’t like doing it as much as I did before. But now I know why… I realized that it only became my favorite because I was doing it with you.”

He played with the grass with his hands, picking some of them as he tried to hold back his tears. “God, Y/N,  it’s been 7 months and it still hurts the same… I miss you so so much. I miss our walks, our dates—I miss everything about you,” he cried.

“I want to love walking along the beach again, but I know I only loved it in the first place because I was with you,” he continued. “To be honest, I don’t think I’ll do those walks again, at least not now… I don’t know… it’s just, without you, I can’t—”

Something just crawled and bit his hand. “Shit,” he swatted the spider, before facing your grave again.

“Anyway, I just want you to know that I will forever treasure those walks that I did with you,” he smiled weakly but genuinely, wiping his tears. “I will never forget them.” 

Especially that last one.

That last walk.

That was a walk to remember.

SLYTHERHEIGN TAGLIST: @writingstoraes @joshiiieeenesx @checo2011

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[a-very-tired-jew]

I have an interview for a position outside of academia in a few hours and I’m both excited and saddened.

I love teaching. I love being a professor and lecturing on topics that I’m truly passionate about. My years in various performing arts has given me a skill set that translates very well to teaching students of all ages.

If you were to look at my student evaluations at the end of the semester you’d see that they repeatedly state I made students become passionate about subjects they’d never thought about because I was able to teach them in an entertaining way. Because at the end of the day, that’s what matters.

Did my students learn what I wanted them to learn? So what if I said “look at these fuckin bugs” or that “Anopholes mosquitoes feed face down, ass up”, my students learn the material and are engaged. They’re coming up to me the next semester to let me know that they’re now double majoring, minoring, or switched majors because of my classes. It’s a fantastic feeling and I love watching people fall in love with entomology like I did years ago.

But after the events of the Fall and Spring semesters at my university and academia as a whole… well, I no longer feel welcome. I no longer feel safe. I no longer feel like it’s worth trying to exist in this space.

I never made my politics or views on the I/P conflict known to my students, only a few of my colleagues have any clue and that’s due to me correcting misinformation. It is university policy to not put any of our politics into our lectures or advising. And let’s be honest, I’m lecturing on insects and other arthropods, the only politics that sort of become relevant are ones about conservation and climate change. Even then, I maintain as much neutrality as I can while sticking to empirically supported evidence.

I made this blog because my inability to actually speak out and vent about these things in my everyday life was just getting to be too much. I needed, and still do, an avenue to just talk about all of this shit and put my thoughts down.

However, the fact that myself, other Jewish faculty, and Jewish students have been harassed, assaulted, and our offices, dorms, and centers vandalized for simply being Jewish with no response from the university besides “we’re sorry that happened” is too little. I can’t, in good faith, stay in a profession where people target a minority for simply existing and leadership does nothing.

I’m hoping this interview is my way out for the time being and I get to stay local. I might come back to academia, but only to universities/colleges like Brandeis where I know I’ll be safe. I’d rather not have to clean “die kike” off my door again if possible.

[paper-mario-wiki]

i have been struggling to find it, you seem like you might know tho.

i think you may have reblogged it or maybe you've seen it but it's an actor redoing a photoshoot of an older actor wearing like a really thick and soft looking sweater and the modern photo's sweater is just depressingly thin and lame? do you know of any avenues I could use to look for one of those really thick soft knit sweaters?

you seem to be good at finding 'vintage' or otherwise good clothes so have you seen anything like this in your travels thank u

i think ive seen that, let me look it up for you.

i remember the specific context of the discourse around that post was highlighting the difference in quality between a genuine Aran sweater (super fancy special expensive irish heirloom knitting technique, thats as best as i can summarize off the top of my head), and a fast fashion sweater made of cheap bullshit materials warn by a stupid dumb- sorry i started thinking about how shit the modern fashion industry is my insults started pouring onto the dude in the picture whose name escapes me. i remember hes from parks and rec so i'll look up the IMDb for it. i dont remember his name but i remember his face and his bit. he was the really energetic neuvo-yuppy freak who was always doing weird fashion stuff, or so ive gathered from my limited knowledge of that show.

ben shwartz! so if i look up "ben shwartz aran sweater"

here ya go!

actually looking at him he is kind of a doofus in that rinky dink thin ass bullshit nothing sweater. i dont think he IS one but he looks like one here, i feel.

anyway, this has been the process of finding that thing you wanted. thanks for stopping by.

oh wait i just reread the question, u were looking for how to buy old vintage stuff. uhhh ebay, vestiaire collective, and uhh. i mean if you'd be willing to just buy from an actual aran sweater company, which would be similarly spendy to buy a genuine vintage one in good condition, you can buy one made of recycled wool from an irish knittery called Sheep Inc, who display the carbon offset each individual product they produce creates.

they could be secretly evil, i dont know because this is all information ive had to dust off from the back of my mind.

anyways, i hope that you have found something similar to what you were looking for.

[offside-the-lines]

Give my all to you | Nico Hischier

Summary: It's been two years since Aurora was set up on an unwanted surprise date with Nico. He's become her best friend and her son's favorite person. Aurora finds herself wondering if this truly is all she wants from him. Title inspo: Best Part by HER & Daniel Caeser

This fic is dedicated to @wyattjohnston for her birthday bingo. Happy birthday, Demi! You are an absolute gift to this community and to my life. I hope you have the best day. Here's to 30!!! 💖 Pairing: Nico Hischier x F!OC Word count: 5.8k Bingo card tropes: match-making, single parent, FREE (friends to lovers), sworn-off love, coworkers (barely mentioned tho lol oops). Warnings: Kid fic! The kid does get injured, but he is okay! (Please let me know if I missed something) Some Swiss German words used: Schätzli (little treasure), Bärli (little bear). This fic is un-beta-ed coz I wasn't about to make you edit your own b'day fic. LOL Masterlist

I. THE PAST

Aurora has always hated being late, even when it wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t her fault the production meeting ran late. It wasn’t her fault that there was something wrong with the subway line she needed to take. It wasn’t her fault that her bag strap decided to snap, spilling its contents onto the busy 8th Avenue sidewalk halfway through her approximately twenty-block walk. She had texted Nicole to let her know she was running late; she didn’t have the wherewithal to consider how strange it was that she never got a response. 

By the time she had gotten to the restaurant, she was sweating and looking forward to a cold drink. Which is why she was even more annoyed when she couldn’t find Nicole in the restaurant. It was garnering her strange looks from the maitre d’ who had told her there was no reservation under either of their names. 

Aurora checked the location twice before stepping back onto the street and pressing ‘call’ on her phone. It was a precarious balancing act, with her bag grasped to her chest.

There was no response.

As she pressed ‘call’ again, her eyes caught sight of Nico Hischier. A pit was beginning to form in her stomach as she began to realize what was happening.

No response.

At that moment, Nico looked up and caught her eye. His smile and wave all but confirmed her suspicions.

She quickly typed out a message as she ventured back inside.

To Nicole 💁🏼‍♀️: nicole laud, what the fuck have you done. if this is what i think it is, im going to fucking kill you.

“Hi, Aurora!” Nico smiled; it was endearing, the way it dimpled his cheeks and crinkled his eyes. He stood up to give her a hug and pulled the chair out for her.

“Nico,” she said, “It’s nice to see you! Although I’m a little caught off-guard, I’m not gonna lie.”

He scrunched his brows. “Oh? What do you mean?”

“Nicole didn’t tell you?” She paused, examining his confused expression, and sighed. “She didn’t tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

“Look, Nico, I don’t know what Nicole told you to get you to come here, but this is not that. I thought I was meeting her for dinner, but it seems this has been some sort of setup. I’m really sorry if that’s not what you were expecting. Especially after waiting for me, which, I hope she at least did you the courtesy of passing along the message that I was running late?”

“She did,” Nico said.

“Well, at least there’s that,” she sighed, “I know you’re a great guy and everything, but I’m really not looking to date. At all. I mean, even if I was, I don’t date coworkers. I’m really sorry. She shouldn’t’ve done this. We can just call this a night if you want.”

Nico let a brief flicker of disappointment cross his face before schooling his expression into a soft smile. “Well, I mean, we’re already here, and you look like you might need a drink and some food. We can just have dinner as friends. Or colleagues if that’s what you prefer. I don’t mind either way. It’s up to you.”

Her stomach rumbled, reminding her of just how long it had been since she’d last eaten.

“Yeah, okay,” she said, “I’m pretty hungry, and I was really looking forward to the gnocchi.”

Despite the way the evening started, Aurora admits she had a good time. Nico was easy to talk to: open, attentive, and responsive. Maybe it was just the bottle of wine they shared, but it was rare for her to get as comfortable with someone so quickly as she did with Nico. How quickly they were both willing to share the deeply personal stories they usually kept to themselves.

Nico talked about what it was like to leave his family and move to a new country as a teenager. He shared stories of his siblings and his childhood in Switzerland. He confided in Aurora about the pressures and joys of being named an NHL captain so young.

Something about Nico made her feel safe enough to share her life story. It was rare for her to talk about her son with someone who was practically a stranger. But she found herself telling Nico about the ex-boyfriend who broke her heart at the age of 20, disappearing when she was in the third trimester of her pregnancy. 

Nico indulged her by asking her question after question about Theo; admittedly, it’s always her favorite topic of conversation. Nico seemed genuine when he mentioned that he looked forward to meeting him, even going as far as offering to take her son skating for the first time. It was a nice thought, but she didn’t think he would follow through on it.

The time passed quickly, and soon, her phone alarm was alerting her that it was time to relieve the babysitter. 

“Ah, shit,” Aurora said, “I need to get going.”

“No problem. Do you need a ride?” Nico asked, smiling warmly.

“No, it’s okay. Should we get the check?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Nico said, shaking his head, “I got this.”

“Come on,” she prodded.

“No, no. I feel bad; you were absolutely ambushed today. It’s the least I could do.”

The earnestness on his face made her pause, eventually relenting. “Okay, fine. Thank you.”

“No problem! I’m serious, though. I would really like to be friends. And I would love to take Theo skating.” He took out his phone and handed it over. “Here, type in your number, and we’ll figure out a time to make it happen.”

“Okay,” she said. She felt warm and bubbly; his smile settled her for some reason.

Later that night, after she had gotten home and checked in on her son, she responded to the two unread messages on her phone.

From [Unknown number]: It’s Nico! Lemme know if you got home okay! When do you wanna do skating? To Nico 😈: home! weekends are usually a good bet for us. especially before the reg season starts. From Nico 😈: How’s next Sunday? Maybe after practice. I can reserve some ice time at the rink.

From Nicole 💁🏼‍♀️: he thinks you’re cute! you should give it a shot. he’s a really good guy. To Nicole 💁🏼‍♀️: i know you were trying to help, but that was kinda fucked. he IS a great guy, and i think we WILL be good friends. but i’m still really pissed that you ambushed me like that. From Nicole 💁🏼‍♀️: i’m sorry. i didn’t think it through. To Nicole 💁🏼‍♀️: it’s okay. just don’t do it again.

II. THE PRESENT

[two years later]

Aurora watches as Nico chases Theo around the rink; with all the time he spends on the ice with Nico, he’s getting so good. As they skate past, Nico slows to send her a smile. She waves back.

She hears someone sit down in the seat next to her, and she doesn’t need to even turn to check who.

“Teddy’s getting good,” Nicole says.

“Yeah, he is.” Her gaze never leaves the boys going round and round the ice.

“Must be all the help he’s getting from our dearest Captain,” she laughs.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, you know.” She knocks her shoulder into Aurora’s. “First overall. Captain of the NHL team. Not everyone gets dedicated skating lessons from someone like that.”

Aurora doesn’t respond to that, but she does let her eyes drift over the other players on the ice: Curtis with his kids, Erik with his kids, Brendan with his kids… She swallows the lump in her throat. 

“When are you and Jesp gonna have kids?” she asks.

“Shut up,” Nicole laughs, “You’re deflecting.”

“Deflecting from what?”

“Fine, we can talk about something else,” Nicole sighs. “When are you going to start dating again?”

“Oh my god, I can’t believe we have to go over this again. I don’t want to date. At all.”

“Oh, come on,” she whines, “Teddy’s seven already. It’s time. When was the last time you even got laid?”

Aurora doesn’t respond, focusing on the squeals of laughter and the scraping of blades on ice.

“Rory, I just want you to be happy,” Nicole continues gently.

“I am happy. I’ve got a great kid who I love,” she grinds out, “I just want to focus on him. He’s enough.”

“I know, Rory. Of course, he is, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t want more.”

“Well, I don’t,” she pouts. She knows it doesn’t come off nearly as resolute as she intends it to.

“I don’t believe you,” Nicole says; she sounds so sure. “You’re a romantic, Rory. You’re always reading those books and watching the shows and movies.”

When Aurora doesn’t respond, she sighs, adding, “When are you going to stop punishing yourself? And don’t say that you’re not. I know you still beat yourself up about it. You’re a great mom, Aurora. You can still be a great mom while dating.”

They let the silence linger.

“I don’t want to introduce new people into Theo’s life. I don’t want to have to explain to him why these men come and go from our lives,” she responds finally.

“Things don’t have to happen like that, you know?”

“Like what?”

“New guys coming and going.”

“What do you mean?”

“It doesn’t have to be someone new at all,” Nicole says carefully.

Aurora finally tears her eyes away from the rink and finds Nicole’s eyes boring into her own. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“Oh, come on, Aurora,” she says, rolling her eyes, “Be so fucking for real right now.”

Aurora just keeps glaring at her.

“Okay, fine, be like that,” Nicole huffs. “Be honest, how much time do you two spend with Nico? Like, every day when he’s not on a road trip, right? Nico’s down as his second emergency contact at school. He was a new guy at one point, but he sure isn’t going anywhere.”

“Nico’s different,” Aurora says, grinding her teeth together as she turns back towards the ice. 

Her eyes immediately find Nico; he’s leaning over the bench so casually, so easily, as he helps Theo with his water bottle. When he looks up, his gaze locks with hers as if he knows exactly where to look. He smiles, and she can see his dimples even from here. She feels herself smiling back. A laugh bubbles in the column of her throat when he turns back to stick his tongue out at her son.

Nicole snorts. “Yeah, he’s different, alright.”

“Yeah,” Aurora sighs, not at all picking up on the subtext. “He is. Not every guy is like him. God, I don’t even know if there are any guys like him.”

Nicole hums, “Uh-huh. So, why won’t you date Nico?”

Aurora’s head whips around so fast she has to blink at her friend for a second.

“Nico’s a really good friend. That’s it. And that’s all it will ever be,” she bites out.

“You know, he agreed to go on that date with—” She cuts herself off when she sees Aurora’s glare. “Okay, I know we don’t talk about it, but just hear me out. He wanted to go on that date with you. He’s into you.”

“Yeah, he was,” Aurora says, shaking her head. “That’s before he knew I had a full kid who I am responsible for 24 hrs a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year. No one wants to walk into that situation. Someone like Nico definitely doesn’t want—”

“I’m gonna cut you off right there,” Nicole says. “Nico literally has lunch with you at work most days he’s here. He takes Teddy skating as much as he can. He goes with you two to museums, or zoo, or whatever, almost every week. He helps you make dinner and watches kid shows like Paw Patrol. Like, I just don’t understand why you refuse to see this, but he’s all in, Rory.”

Aurora feels her throat tighten and tries to cool the heat in her cheeks.

“Yeah, as I said. Nico’s a great person. He’s probably the best person I know. But he’s a 25-year-old NHL player. He doesn’t even date ‘cause he wants to focus on his career. He certainly doesn’t want to be tied down to a family already.”

“Oh my god,” Nicole laughs humorlessly, “Like, serious! Do you hear yourself?”

Aurora just keeps glaring back at her.

Nicole shakes her head. “You know, he used to date, right? Or, at least, hook up. Jesper says he hasn’t seen Nico pick up in well over a year. What do you think that’s about? You got an excuse for that, too?”

And for once, she doesn’t know how to respond. She didn’t know that. She has always assumed that he didn’t pick up when she was around, so she can let loose a little without having to worry about Theo too much, knowing that Nico has her back. She has always assumed that he hooked up on the road. And she doesn’t know what to do with this information.

Luckily, she doesn’t need to, as a loud thump makes her jump.

Theo’s banging on the glass in front of her with the biggest grin on his face. Nico leans against the glass a few feet over, beaming at him.

“Hi, mama!” he yells, “Nicki’s teaching me how to use my edges better when I skate backward. See?” 

He grins so wide before he puts his hands in front of him, tongue poking out of the side of his mouth, as he begins to wiggle. Aurora admits she has no idea what she’s looking for, but she smiles and cheers all the same. Her eyes flit over to Nico, and he’s tapping his stick; she recognizes the proud look on his face.

She looks away quickly, only to catch Theo losing an edge and falling to the ice. It makes her breath catch every time. Nico raps his knuckles on the glass twice before skating over to check on him. By the time he gets there, Theo’s already back on his feet, doing little hops.

She watches as Nico bends down to talk with him. They skate another lap before heading towards the exit together. She watches as Theo hops up onto the bench, and Nico kneels down to unlace his skates for him. She doesn’t know what they are chatting about, but Theo’s being especially animated.

Aurora is startled when she hears Jesper behind her; she has forgotten Nicole’s there.

“You ready to go, älskling?” he says, bending down to give her a kiss before sending Aurora a smile. “Hi, Rory.”

“Yep!” Nicole stands up, her hands sliding easily into his. She smiles at Aurora. “See ya later, yeah? Think about what I said?”

“No,” she laughs, sticking her tongue out like her son does, “Bye, you blond assholes.”

She watches Nico and Theo go down the tunnel together. Theo’s holding Nico’s hand despite telling her that holding hers was embarrassing; she tries not to be a little hurt by that. She sighs and makes her way over to the locker room. 

It doesn’t take long for them to emerge, still sweaty. Theo can’t shower at the rink, so Nico usually also skips the shower so she doesn’t have to wait. Theo chats excitedly on the way to the car. Aurora and Theo had moved into Nico’s apartment building, a few floors down, not long after they had met, so they will carpool occasionally. Those days are always Theo’s favorite.

They hit traffic on the way back, and Theo’s questions and musings gradually fade out until he passes out in the back seat. Nico and Aurora sit in companionable silence for the rest of the drive, both happy to let the kid sleep.

It does mean that Theo is cranky when he is awakened from his nap, refusing to walk and then refusing to let go of Nico to let him shower in his own apartment. She sends him an apologetic look, but he just smiles and shrugs as he carries her son back to their apartment, Theo’s cheek resting on Nico’s shoulder as he blinks at his mom lazily.

She makes dinner as the boys shower, singing and dancing along to a playlist they have been adding to for two years. She feels, more than hears, Nico returning to the kitchen, his hand on her hip, a warm presence at her back, as he watches her stir the creamy chicken pasta. He steals bites off the spatula every now and then, laughing at her mock horror.

Theo has lost all the energy he was filled with only a few hours prior, and it makes dinner a battle. She feels guilty about the way Nico bargains with him to eat the vegetable. She should be able to get Theo to eat his dinner without help, and she knows she absolutely could do it, but it’s nice to have the help. 

Besides, Theo wasn’t in the mood to listen to anything she had to say, always looking to Nico for guidance instead. Asking Nico for his bedtime story when the time came for it.

She’s not jealous, anything but. It fills her heart with warmth to see her son so smitten with her best friend. But that doesn’t stop the ache that fills her chest: this could’ve been Theo with his father. He should be getting this with his father. And it’s her fault he isn’t. Every day, Theo grows a little bit more as a person, and while it’s bittersweet, she always wonders if he would be different if he had a dad. If her mistakes are holding him back.

Aurora is startled out of her thoughts when she hears her son’s voice get progressively louder and more upset. She rushed into his room.

“Why not?” Theo whines, his voice wet with tears and his bottom lip trembling.

“Bärli, I—” Nico says, voice wavering and raw. When he turns towards her, he looks white as a sheet, his eyes darting back and forth between Aurora and her son. 

“What happened?” she hisses at him as he stands up to give her space on the bed.

“I—I really don’t know. He asked—Never mind, not important right now,” he whispers, nodding at Theo, who is now bawling. 

She rushes to her son’s side and pulls him into her arms, shushing him. She presses soft kisses to his forehead and just holds him until his sobbing subsides. Eventually, he tires himself out enough, hiccuping occasionally as his eyes drift close and his body grows heavy. Once she’s sure he’s asleep, she slips out of the room.

Nico is leaning against the wall in the hallway, worrying at his lip. His head snaps up as soon as he hears her exit the room. She pulls him out of the hallway and into the kitchen, the furthest place from her son’s bedroom.

“What the fuck happened in there?” she whispers.

Nico presses the palms of his hands to his eyes. “He asked me—Fuck—He asked me if I was his dad. Obviously, I said no. And then he got really upset, and I don’t know why. I have no idea what happened.”

“What do you mean he asked—How did that even come up?”

“I don’t know,” Nico sighs, finally looking at her. His brows are pinched tight, dark strands of hair falling like a curtain around wet eyes. “He was saying something about the kids at school all having dads. And then he asked me if I had a dad. And then he just asked me, ‘Are you my dad?’ And then he kept asking me why not. Like, ‘Why don’t you wanna be my dad?’ What the fuck am I supposed to say to that, Aurora?” His voice breaking at the end.

She feels the claws of panic dig into her chest, sharp pain in her sternum as her head spins. Technically, it’s not the first time he’s asked that. He used to ask about ‘dads’ a lot when he was a toddler; before he really understood what the word ‘dad’ meant. He hadn’t brought it up in years so she had assumed he was over it.

“Fuck,” she breathes.

“Rory, stop. Don’t apologize.” He pauses and takes a deep breath. He runs his fingers through his beard, a nervous tick she has seen enough times to set her on edge. “When are you going to tell him, Aurora? He deserves to know.”

She clenches her jaw. This is not the first time they’ve talked about this.

“We’ve talked about this, Nico,” she says.

“I know we have, but you’re being selfish, Rory. You should’ve seen his face. He thinks no one wants him.”

Aurora’s heart clenches, the panic spreading through her whole body. She feels the sweat prickling at her back, her neck, her forehead; it makes her itchy all over.

Nico is still talking. “He doesn’t understand why everyone else he knows has two parents, and he doesn’t. He thinks I don’t want him. And I can’t—”

“You can’t what, Nico? Because you don’t have to do anything. You’re right. He’s not your son. What I do or do not tell him is none of your business. You can think I’m selfish, you can think I’m a bad mother, you can think whatever you like. It was none of your business then. It’s none of your business now. It won’t be your business ever,” Aurora hisses, her chest heaving as she rants.

The silence hangs between them, thick and stifling.

“I don’t think I can keep doing this,” Nico says, voice so small and so raw.

And if she felt hot before, she doesn’t anymore; the words feel ice cold in her ears. She’s plunged into freezing water, falling through pristine ice into a frozen lake. Her fingers feel numb where the nails dig into her palms. 

“Can’t keep doing what, Nico?” her voice sounds foreign even to her own ears.

He doesn’t answer.

“Can’t keep doing what?” she says, louder, “because I didn’t ask you to do anything, be anything. Don’t worry; you’re under no obligation to be anything to him. So, if you can’t put up with this anymore, then just leave. I won’t be upset. I won’t be anything at all. Because you’re right, you—”

“Schätzli, stop,” he interrupts firmly, “that’s not what I said.” He reaches for her, but she shrugs him off.

“Maybe. Maybe not. But I heard what you meant. I’m fucking up his life, right? Fucked up my own, practically was a teen mom. But that’s not enough. I’m not enough for him.” She doesn’t even register the tears streaming down her face.

“Schätzli—Aurora, please. You know that’s not what I meant,” Nico says, and he might be crying too. His hand keeps coming up, reaching for her, before going back to hanging limply by his side.

“You don’t get to tell me how to parent my son, Nico. You don’t get to tell me that I’m fucking it up.” The words spill out of her mouth, and she has no control over it anymore. Through the tears, she can’t even see his face anymore, can’t see the heartbreak in those brown eyes she loves so much. “You don’t get to say this shit, Nico. Because you’re not his dad. You’re not his anything.”

She hears what may be a sob, but she can’t tell if it’s coming from her own mouth.

“Schätzli,” he whispers, “You don’t mean that.”

“It’s the truth, isn’t it?” she says, wiping her eyes. 

“Aurora, please, come on. You know that’s not true. You can’t say that after the past—” He takes a breath. “I know this is hard for you. But I’m trying to be here for you. To be what you need.”

“What are you trying to say,” she whispers.

“You have to know I would be anything you asked me to be. You can’t possibly not know that by now.” 

“I’ve never asked you to be anything. To me. Or to him. And if you can’t understand that we don’t need anything from you, then you should just leave,” she says through clenched teeth.

“Schätzli,” he pleads.

“Please just—just go.”

“Aurora, I want to be there for you. Both of you. I love Theo. I love—”

“Don’t,” she warns.

Nico sighs. “It’s always been fine that you don’t want me like that. I don’t care about that. It’s fine. But this… This makes me feel kinda fucking used, Aurora. This makes me feel like you think I’m nothing to you. No one. And that’s—Fuck—You need to decide what you want.”

“I’m asking you to leave,” she says through gritted teeth.

“Okay. Fine, I hear you. God, I’m so—” He stops himself, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling for a moment before continuing, “Fuck. Yeah. Okay. I’ll go. I’m leaving.”

Aurora doesn’t respond; she just keeps looking at the floor until he finally sighs and walks out of her apartment. When the door clicks shut, she slides down the wall and sobs into her hands.

III. THE FUTURE

The next few days pass excruciatingly slowly. It’s the longest Nico and Aurora have gone without talking in the two years they’ve known each other. He opens the text thread with Aurora countless times: typing and deleting, typing and deleting, before giving up. Every time he steps into the apartment building’s elevator, he stares at the button for her floor, but he never presses it.

Nico finds himself checking his phone so often that the boys have begun to notice and chirp him for it. He has never had a problem with focus before, always pouring himself into hockey when things go awry. It’s usually the one thing that keeps him centered, but for the past few days, it always feels as if his skates are too tight, the edges too dull, or his stick too short. 

It all grinds to a halt when he sees the missed calls, voicemails, and texts from Aurora after an unsuccessful pre-game nap.

It’s Saturday, and Aurora’s exhausted. She can’t remember the last time a week has gone so poorly. For the past few days, it’s felt like everything in her life has been moved one foot to the left: out of place and disorienting. She has been lying awake at night thinking about Nico, playing their conversation over and over again in her head, pouring over the past two years. Every morning, she wakes up feeling more tired than the day before.

Theo’s not been much better. He has been grumpy and whiny. It seems like nothing she does can cheer him up. He asks her at least ten times a day about Nico: where he has been, what he is up to, if we can call him, and when we will see him next. It has been tearing her up inside that she doesn’t have an answer for Theo.

She has only known Nico for two years, and, between away games and the summers, it’s not like they are together every day. She shouldn’t feel his absence so acutely, but she does. She finds herself looking at the empty chair at her dining table and his empty spot on the couch; she feels the ghost of Nico so acutely. It hurts like a phantom limb, a gaping hole in her life, and she doesn’t know what to do about it.

Aurora thinks she’s holding it together until she isn’t.

When it happens, she doesn’t think anything of it. It’s hockey. She’s seen Theo fall during hockey countless times. It looks like any other fall until Theo starts crying, still lying on the ice, clutching his hand. And it’s as if the entire universe focuses in on that one point.

She doesn’t remember getting up from her seat and running down to the bench. She doesn’t remember the conversation with the U8 coach. She doesn’t remember the walk to the car, clutching him so tightly to her chest, despite the fact that he is far too heavy for her to carry now. 

She’s trying to calm herself down enough to drive to the hospital, head on the steering wheel, gasping for air, when she hears her son speak up.

“Mama,” Theo says, voice wet and wavering.

“Yes, baby?” she manages to respond.

“Mama, it’s okay. I’m going to be okay. Nico always tells me, when I’m sad or hurt, to take deep breaths. I think you might need to take some deep breaths, Mama,” he says between quiet sobs.

It makes her chest feel cracked open and raw; it takes everything in her body to tamp down the sob that threatens to spill out.

“When did you get so grown up?” she says, her voice sounding thin and reedy.

“Mama, I’m 7. Nico says I’m a big boy now.”

Aurora swallows around the tightness in her throat and tries to take three deep breaths before starting the drive to the hospital. 

The panic only subsides long enough to get them to the hospital. By the time they receive the X-ray results, she can hardly process what they are saying. The words “broken arm” and “no surgery” ring loudly in her ears. 

Somewhere in her consciousness, she knows she calls Nico. She knows it’s a game day, knows his routine. But some part of her hoped hearing his voice would make things alright, even just a little bit. She calls a few times, pushing down the disappointment when he doesn't answer. It’s a game day. She knows the routine.

She is sitting in the waiting room, staring at her hands clutched tightly in her lap, when she hears Nico’s voice call her name. 

She blinks and feels a pair of warm hands envelop hers.

“Hey,” Nico says, kneeling in front of her. “Hey, Schätzli, it’s okay. You’re okay. I got you.”

She deflates like a balloon, tilting forward to tuck her face in his neck as sobs wrack her body. His solid arms envelop her, hands rubbing her back. He keeps murmuring in her ear, a combination of English and Swiss German. She has no idea how long they stay like that, but eventually, she feels the terror and panic begin to subside.

“Nico,” she says softly, “what are you doing here?”

“You called,” he says as if it was the simplest thing in the world. He squeezes her hands.

“Oh god, Nico. Don’t you have a game? What are you doing here? You shouldn’t—”

“Rory, it’s okay. I called out. I told Coach that an emergency came up. I wanted to make sure I was here for you if you needed it.”

“You’re skipping the game? For us?” She swallows down a sob. "For me?”

“Yes, Schätzli. Of course, I did.” He reaches a hand up and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Is Theo okay?”

“Yeah,” she hiccups, “he’ll be okay. He broke his arm. And they’re just setting it and putting in a cast to make sure it heals right.”

“I’m so sorry, Schätzli.” 

His hand cradles her face gently, wiping at the tears as they fall. There is a long stretch of silence as she leans into his hand.

“How did you get in here? This is the family waiting room,” she asks.

Nico blushes and turns away, mumbling something.

“Sorry, what?”

“I told them I was his dad,” Nico mumbles, rambling, “I didn’t mean to—It’s just, they weren’t letting me in. They said it was family only. So I had to tell them that. I’m sorry; I totally overstepped. I didn’t mean to. I get it if you’re mad—”

Aurora reaches out a finger and presses it to his lips. He stops abruptly, eyes wide.

“It’s okay, Nico. I’m not upset,” she says. She takes a deep breath, and with sudden clarity, she asks, “Is that something you might want to be one day?”

“What?” he squeaks.

“Theo’s dad.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, God, I hope I’m not reading this wrong. But—Well, earlier this week, you said I needed to decide what I wanted. And I just kept thinking about that conversation and how unfair I was to you—to us—by totally underplaying the past two years. ‘Cause they’ve been two of the best years.

“Theo loves you. I love you. You are the second most important person in my life, and I’m sorry it took this mess of a week to realize that,” she sighs. “I don’t know what I’ve been so afraid of. Or what I was waiting for. But it’s so clear to me now that you have been there the whole time. You never asked or expected anything of me. And maybe I was taking advantage of that while hiding behind my past.

“I know I can raise Theo alone; I know I can do it. But I don’t want to do it alone anymore. I don’t want to do it alone if I could have you by my side instead. And, oh God,” she says, her eyes darting frantically across his face, “I really hope I’m not misreading things. Nicole keeps saying that you—I feel like I’m being—”

In an instant, his lips are on hers, warm and soft and insistent. She closes her eyes and lets herself melt into his embrace. The kiss is chaste, but it feels like everything finally snaps back into place. 

“God, Aurora. Schätzli. I would be whoever you want me to be. Whatever you’re ready for. I’ll be here. I’ve known that since the first time we met, Liebling.”

“God, Nico,” she says breathily, “I want everything.”

“Okay,” he smiles, “Everything it is. We can take it as slow as you’d like.”

“Haven’t we wasted enough time?”

He laughs, dimples appearing on his cheeks. “Fuck, I love you, Aurora.”

“I love you too, Nico,” she smiles.

They share a few chaste kisses. And they wait, Aurora wrapped in his steadying embrace, until the doctor finally comes to tell them that Theo is in a recovery room and is doing great.

When they walk into the room together, Theo immediately spots Nico and his eyes light up.

“Nico! You’re here!” he yells.

“Yeah, of course I am,” Nico says warmly, walking across the room to pull Theo into a tight hug.

“Where have you been? I’ve missed you.”

“Yeah, Bärli. I’m sorry.” He runs his fingers through Theo’s messy hair and smiles. “I’m here now. And I promise, I’m not going anywhere.”

He looks up, eyes meeting Aurora’s, and he smiles. And she never doubts for a second that he means it.

[dianawinchester03]

Season 2, Episode 18 - Hollywood Babylon

Series Masterlist

Authors Note: The long awaited new episode is finally here! Once again, I’m so sorry for taking so long with this update (I’m still trying to kick dengue in the ass LOL) and thank you for your patience and understanding <3. Okayyyy, on with the story!

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Third Person POV

Los Angeles, California

The trio were currently on a tour guide bus, taking a tour around a Hollywood set. “First opened in 1927, the lot has been in continuous operation for eight decades” A tour guide said over a megaphone, rather enthusiastically as they drove around the set. Dean looked intrigued and excited as took in the surroundings.

Sitting next to Y/N, his arm draped over the back of her seat. “Hey, you know this is where they filmed Creepshow?” Dean leaned in to whisper in her ear. Y/N chuckled at Dean's enthusiasm, nodding frantically. Equally excited because she had a love for horror movies herself.

“And Scream. God, I love me some Billy Loomis” She swooned, licking on her vanilla ice cream cone. The set was bustling with activity. Actors and crew members were everywhere, rehearsing lines, setting up props, and adjusting lighting.

Sam sat in-front of Y/N and Dean in the tour bus, wearing a bored expression. He rolled his eyes at Dean's excitement and Y/N’s fangirling. “You guys are embarrassing.” He muttered under his breath, just loud enough for them to hear.

Dean chuckled at Sam's comment, nudging his brother's shoulder. "Oh, come on, Sammy. Live a little." He teased, his other arm around Y/N's shoulders, pulling her closer. Y/N stifled a laugh, knowing Sam wasn't as fond of all the movie chatter.

“Now, to the right here is Stars Hollow. It’s the setting for the television series Gilmore Girls” The tour guide stated over the megaphone. Sam visibly tensed up at the mention of Gilmore Girls, his eyes widening as Dean and Y/N looked over curiously. “Gilmore Girls?” Y/N muttered confused, Dean shrugged in return, having no clue about the show either.

Sam, however, seemed to know about the show, the sheer panic evident on his face. “And if we’re lucky? We might even catch one of the show's stars” The tour guide said over the megaphone. Sam turned to Dean and Y/N, Dean offering his brother an enthusiastic thumbs up. “Come on” Sam grunted, quickly rushing out of the bus.

Dean and Y/N’s faces dropped, “What?!” Y/N exclaimed through a mouth plastered with ice cream. “Let’s finish the tour!” Dean huffed. But Sam seemed serious on leaving the tour, the two rolled their eyes as the guide said, “And then to the right, here we have New York Avenue, and that’s where they shot Lois and Clark”

Y/N groaned as they exited the tour bus, catching up to Sam who was walking briskly to the car. She couldn’t believe he was making them leave mid-tour. “Seriously?” She grumbled, licking at her ice cream cone again.

Dean was clearly annoyed, huffing as he shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “I mean, come on, Sammy. It was getting interesting.” He looked back at the tour bus with longing.

Dean’s eyes flickered to Y/N, who’s mouth was still messed up with the melted ice cream. He snickered at the way she looked like a toddler, defiantly licking away at the cone, annoyed with Sam for wanting to leave the tour. The trio now strolling around the Hollywood lot.

Y/N continued to lick at her ice cream cone, trying to salvage it. She shot a glare at Sam’s back, annoyed that he had cut the tour short because of some TV show. Dean chuckled beside her as he reached into his jacket pocket, taking out a handkerchief to wipe a bit of ice cream from her chin.

“You’re a mess, sweetheart,” Dean said affectionately, gently wiping the ice cream off her chin with the handkerchief. He shot a sly glance at Sam, who was walking ahead of them, still rattled by the mention of Gilmore Girls.

Y/N let out a soft huff, still annoyed at Sam for cutting the tour short. She looked up at Dean and couldn’t help but pout a little. “Stupid Sam and his stupid Gilmore Girls phobia...” she mumbled, as Dean wiped away the ice-cream from her mouth.

Dean chuckled at Y/N’s pouty expression and her comment about Sam’s aversion to Gilmore Girls while Y/N was trying to ignore the excessive pace her heart was beating. He tucked the handkerchief back into his jacket pocket as they continued to walk around the set.

Leaving the tour bus didn’t spoil their excitement however, Dean and Y/N were still scanning the set with wide smiles as Sam looked bored, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Hey, fellas. Check it out. It’s Matt Damon” Y/N pointed to a man who looked like Matt Damon. Dean’s mouth fell open as they continued walking. Sam snorted in amusement, “I’m pretty sure that’s not Matt Damon” Sam snickered. “No, it is” Dean insisted. “Well, Matt Damon just picked up a broom and started sweeping” Sam sassed, Y/N rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, he was probably researching a role or something” She shrugged. “Uhh…I don’t think so” Sam shook his head. “Hey, this way. Uh, I think Stage 9’s over here” Sam gestured to the entrance of stage 9. Y/N felt a familiar chill raise at the back of her neck, clearing her throat abruptly at the feeling.

“Come on, man. Let’s keep going this way” Dean groaned, pointing in the opposite direction. “Dude. No, come on, we gotta work” Y/N’s tone instantly went serious, grabbing Dean’s hand to pull him over to Stage 9. Dean groaned childishly. “Dude, you guys wanted to come to L.A.” Sam retorted. “Yeah, for vacation! I mean, swimming pools and movie stars. Not to work!” Dean exclaimed.

Y/N rolled her eyes at the brother’s bickering. She knew how stubborn the two could be, especially when it came to hunting.

“Does this feel like swimming pool weather to you, Dean?!” Sam shot back as they bent the corner. “I mean, it’s practically Canadian” He snorted. “Yeah, I know. I just figured after everything that happened with…Madison. We could use a little R&R. That’s all. You know?” Dean defended.

Sam sighed heavily, rolling his eyes again as the twinge of pain in his chest rose again. “Did you hear from Jo?” Y/N asked Sam curiously. Y/N’s question broke the tension for a brief moment, and Sam’s face lit up at the mention of the blonde-haired huntress.

“Actually, yeah” He answered a little reluctantly, shoving his hands into his pockets. Y/N’s eyes widened, waiting for his answer. “And?” She urged, wanting the information.

“She’s a couple towns over tracking something” Sam answered, clearing his throat. He refused to make eye contact with both Y/N and Dean, keeping his gaze focused on the crowd of people walking by them. “She say if she’s gonna meet up with us soon?” Y/N asked, missing her friend.

“She didn’t say” Sam answered, his voice coming out slightly harsh. He was worried about Jo, she was a good friend. A good hunter. But he knew how dangerous hunting could be. Sam didn’t want her to get hurt.

After everything that happened with Madison, the thought of his girl out there hunting on her own tugged at his heart. He hated himself for getting closer to her, for getting attached. God knows he wished he wasn’t so knee deep into his attachment to her. He was trying to force himself to pull away, selfishly not wanting to get hurt but also, praying that Jo wouldn’t hunt.

But he knew her well enough to know, she wouldn’t listen to him, not that she had to. He was torn between wanting to keep her safe, and knowing that she was her own person, she had her own life. And he had no control over what she did. He could only hope she’s safe, but deep down he couldn’t shake the feeling that she might be in over her head.

Dean and Y/N picked up immediately on Sam’s dreadful tone, sharing a look as the younger Winchester seemed lost in thought. “Look, I just wanna work. It keeps my mind off things.” Sam finally said after a few moments of silence. “Okay, okay, alright” Dean sighed, gently placing his arm around Y/N’s wrist to move her from the end of the sidewalk to the inner part as they continued walking through the set.

“So this crew guy, what did he—?” Y/N asked crunching on the last of her cone, changing the subject as she tossed her napkin into a bin. “He died on set?” She asked, wiping her mouth with her sleeve. “Yeah, rumors are spreading like wildfire online. They’re saying the sets are haunted.” Sam stated.

A smirk raised on Dean’s face as his eyes flickered over to Y/N, “Yes, I got that ‘ESP’ feeling, Dean” Y/N scoffed, rolling her eyes before he could ask, already knowing he was gonna mock her. Dean’s smirk widened as Y/N rolled her eyes.

“I wasn’t gonna say that!” He grinned, feigning offense as he dramatically put his hand to his chest. Sam snorted at the interaction before turning to Y/N, a concerned look on his face. “So you really sense something?” Y/N nodded in return. “What, like Poltergeist?” Dean asked.

“Could be a poltergeist” Y/N responded, with a shrug. “No, no, no. The movie ‘Poltergeist’ ” Dean shook his head, Y/N’s mouth formed an ‘o’, now understanding what he was referencing, “Yeah, I guess” She snorted, shaking her head, while Sam looked confused, his brows furrowed. “Huh?” Sam mumbled.

Dean and Y/N shot the younger Winchester a nasty side eye. “You know nothing of your cultural heritage, do you?” Y/N said In disappointment when Sam just shrugged. “It was rumored that the set of Poltergeist was cursed. That they used real human bones as, uh, props” Dean explained the lore as they continued to walk through the set.

“Like, at least three of the actors died in it” Y/N added, Sam tilted his head as he listened. “Yeah, it might be something like that” Sam nodded as Dean's eyes wandered, taking in the surroundings of the set, until they landed on a cute perky blonde-haired woman, strutting by.

His gaze lingered on her for a bit, a subtle grin forming on his face. He wasn’t one to miss an opportunity when he saw an attractive woman, especially a blonde. “Hey, check out the talent” Dean smirked, nudging Sam and nodding in the direction of the blonde woman. Sam rolled his eyes, clearly not impressed. Y/N shot Dean a look, silently warning him not to flirt.

She felt that burning feeling in her chest again. Before reaching up to swat him at the back of his head, “Focus!” She reprimanded him, pointing a firm finger at the elder Winchester. “Ow!” Dean exclaimed, rubbing his head where Y/N had swatted him. He grumbled slightly under his breath, but he chuckled a bit.

He looked back over at the blonde, who seemed to have noticed his attention and smiled at him. He smiled back, and was about to approach her when Y/N yanked on his sleeve.

“Dean! We’re working!” Y/N hissed, giving his sleeve a tug. She shook her head at his behavior, annoyed with his inability to focus on the task at hand. Dean rolled his eyes playfully at Y/N’s scolding. “Hey, I’m just looking!” He defended, his eyes still shamelessly wandering over the blonde.

Sam watched the interaction between the two with an amused smirk. “Keep it in your pants, man” He teased, causing Y/N to laugh softly. “Anyways!” Y/N exclaimed, tugging Dean along, who was still trying to get out of her grasps. “So, this crew guy, what’s his name?” Y/N asked Sam. “Frank Jaffy” He responded.

“You got a death certificate or a coroner's report or anything” Dean asked after finally giving up on running away. “Well, no, but, uh, it’s L.A, you know? Might not even be his real name” Sam sighed as Y/N let go of Dean’s wrist, he winced slightly at the loss of contact but swallowed it down. “Fuck, you’ve got a point” Y/N cursed.

“But the girl who found him said she saw something. A vanishing figure” Sam informed them, placing up a finger before shoving his hands back into his pockets. “What’s the girl's name?” Dean asked. “Uh…Tara Benchley” Sam answered. Y/N’s jaw dropped as both her and Dean paused in their tracks. “Woah, woah, woah! Tara Benchley?!” Dean exclaimed.

Sam looked confused again, his brows furrowed, “From Fear.com and Ghost Ship Tara Benchley?!” Y/N exclaimed. Sam's confusion morphed into realization when Y/N and Dean said Tara Benchley's name with such excitement. He didn't know much about pop cultural references, but he assumed Tara Benchley was well-known for horror movies.

“I guess so” He shrugged, still not fully comprehending their excitement. “Dude, why didn’t you say so?” Dean chuckled, a grin widening on his face. “What? So now you’re suddenly on board?” Sam snorted, shaking his head. Dean rolled his eyes, “I just- I mean, I’m a fan of her work. It’s very good” He cleared his throat, trying to hide his obvious starstruck expression.

Y/N didn’t bother to hide hers, smacking Sam on his arm. “She’s smoking, dude” She swooned, fanning herself. Dean tried to play it cool, but his excitement was evident in his voice. "Her horror movies are great. She’s an amazing actress” He added, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Y/N nodded in agreement, still fanning herself. “And smoking hot” She confirmed, her grin widening. Sam could only roll his eyes at their behavior, amused by their fangirling over the famous actress. They ended up wandering onto the set of the movie as one of the snooty producers, Brad, was rambling on with the directors, McG and Jay.

Brad’s eyes scanned the set, they landed on Y/N, assuming she was a Production Assistant (PA) “Uh, excuse, uh, leather jacket girl!” Brad called out, waving Y/N over. Y/N’s eyebrows rose in surprise at being addressed, but she exchanged a confused glance with the brothers pointing to herself in confusion.

“Yeah, you gorgeous. Come here” He ushered her over with a crooked finger, while munching on nuts. “Yes?” She asked as she approached him, trying to sound composed. “Could you get me uh, a smoothie from Craft?” He asked her, “You want a what from who?” She asked confused as Dean approached besides her.

“You two are PAs. This is what you do” Brad scoffed arrogantly as Sam quickly ran up to them, placing his hands on their shoulders. “Yeah, yeah. They, uh..one smoothie coming right up” Sam chuckled awkwardly, giving Brad a thumbs up before ushering them away. “What’s a PA?” Dean and Y/N asked Sam in unison.

“I think they’re kinda like slaves” Sam mused as they walked away. Sam turned and gave Brad another thumbs up while the producer checked Y/N out shamelessly. “They’ll let anyone into this business, huh?” Brad snorted.

Sam’s sarcastic remark about PAs being like slaves echoed in Y/N and Dean’s ears as they followed him away from the set. They were both baffled by the whole interaction and the producer’s entitled attitude.

As they sneaked away, Y/N glanced back at Brad, who was ogling her shamelessly. She felt a wave of disgust wash over her as she stuck her middle finger up at him discreetly.

____________________________________________

A little later, Dean and Y/N adjusted into their covers as PA’s, now each carrying around trays of smoothies. “I hate this” Y/N grumbled. “Agreed. This is so humiliating” Dean agreed with a nod, his voice laced with annoyance as he grimaced at the smoothies in his hands. Some actors and staff took some of the smoothies off the trays without a ‘thank you’ as the actors and staff chattered indistinctively within themselves.

Dean’s eyes went up to the catwalk, judging Y/N lightly: “That’s where he was found” He whispered. She nodded lightly before they both rested their trays on one of the snack tables. They quietly snuck up the stairs as the lights went off, indicating they were gonna start shooting. Dean kept his EMF meter handy, just in case as they creeped up the dark staircase.

The set fell into a soft darkness as the lights went out, signaling the start of the shooting. Dean and Y/N silently creeped up the dark staircase, the elder Winchester holding the EMF meter in his hand, just in case.

They reached the top, trying to be as quiet as possible to not draw any attention. Y/N glanced at the spot where the body was supposedly found, her stomach twisting into knots.

Y/N gently placed her hand on the spot where the body was found. Her fingertips gently brushed against the cold, hard surface as she closed her eyes and focused on any kind of energy, hoping to get a reading or some kind of vision.

Dean hovered closely behind Y/N, his breath tickling the back of her neck, as he quietly whispered, "Got anything? Anything at all?" He studied her expression as she continued to concentrate, hoping for any sign of a reaction.

“Yeah, the fact that you had too many cheesesteaks” Y/N grumbled, trying to ignore the quickening of her heartbeat in her chest as the cheesesteaks they had from his breath wafted from her ear to her nose. “Hey, don’t blame the cheesesteaks” Dean retorted defensively, rolling his eyes at her comment.

His hot breath fanned across her ear and caused her heart to quicken, not that he knew. He was used to standing close to her like this so he thought nothing of the effect it had on her.

Y/N forced herself to focus on the task at hand, pushing her crude thoughts about Dean’s close proximity to the back of her mind. She got up and began to press her hands all over the catwalk, trying to detect any lingering energy but nothing came. Shaking her head, “Nothing” She sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat.

Dean watched as Y/N searched, hoping she would find some clue. But when she came up empty, he let out a frustrated sigh. "Fuck" He muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair in irritation. "Try the EMF, maybe I missed something” Y/N suggested.

"Good idea" Dean nodded, pulling out the EMF meter. He scanned it over the catwalk in case there was something they missed. The EMF was silent no matter where he pointed it, making his frown deepen in annoyance. "Nothing" He muttered, shoving the meter back in his pocket.

____________________________________________

The bell rang, indicating shooting was over. Dean and Y/N we’re back on ground level, eating cheesesteaks once again. “So??” Sam asked hopefully, approaching the snack table where Dean and Y/N were hounding currently, snout deep in the miniature sandwiches. “No EMF anywhere” Dean told him, “No feelings either” Y/N added through a mouth full of food.

“Great, so what do you think?” Sam grumbled disappointed, Dean shrugged, “Well, I think being a PA sucks. But..the food these people get. Are you kidding me? Look at these things” Dean whispered, picking up two more cheesesteaks, handing one to Y/N. The female hunter nodded in agreement.

Dean's eyes lit up, “They’re like miniature Philly cheese steak sandwiches. They’re delicious” Y/N moaned as she bit into the sandwich along with Dean. Y/N then picked up one, handing it to Sam but he shook his head, rolling his eyes at the duo. “Maybe later” He grimaced.

Dean and Y/N shared a look before shrugging. She handed it to Dean, who immediately shoved it into his mouth, munching on it after finishing his other sandwich. “What did you find out about the dead crew guy?” Dean asked Sam through a mouth full of food, a piece of the steaks hanging out the side of his mouth.

Sam raised his brows at the way they were savagely demolishing the stack of sandwiches before clearing his throat, “Uh, Frank Jaffy was just filling in for the day. Nobody here knew him or where he lived, or anything” Sam explained. “Oh, great. So you found out as much as we did” Y/N scoffed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Not quite, I-” Sam went to say but Walter, one of the crew guys, reached between them to grab a cheesesteak. “Hey, guys” Walter greeted them. “Hey” The Winchesters greeted back in unison. “They’re wonderful!” Y/N smiled at Walter as he walked off. He gave her a thumbs up in return. “Listen, I did dig up some stuff about Stage 9’s history.” Sam began.

“Yeah?” Dean and Y/N mumbled in unison. “Yeah. Four people died messy here over the past 80 years ago. Two suicides and two fatal accidents” Sam said. “Any one of those could be a vengeful spirit” Dean mumbled. “Yeah. Just gotta narrow it down more” Sam sighed. “God I hate vengeful spirits” Y/N groaned, annoyed.

Rightfully so, since every encounter they’ve had with vengeful spirits drained her energy completely, due to their aggressive nature and aura.

Dean’s expression softened, “You know, if you want, you can sit this one out. Me and Sam can handle it” Dean said gently but Y/N shook her head. “Nah, it’s fine. I’m a big girl” She joked, nodding as she chewed on the cheesesteak.

Whilst mid chew, y/n’s eyes flickered over to Tara Benchley, a small sly smile appearing on her face. “I’ll get right on narrowing it down” Y/N muttered, wiping her mouth before stuffing her half finished sandwich into Dean’s hand. “Son of a-” Dean groaned as Y/N made her way over to Tara, snatching a script from one of the other PA’s hands.

Dean watched Y/N walk away, grumbling under his breath when she stuffed her half-finished sandwich into his hands. Sam snorted in amusement as Dean tossed the sandwich into the bin, dusting his hands off as his eyes narrowed in Y/N’s direction. “Are you supposed to get one of these?” Y/N timidly asked Tara, handing her the script with a starstruck smile on her face.

Dean clenched his jaw as Tara’s eyes roamed Y/N, a coy smile appearing on the actress’ face. That familiar burning feel returned as his nostrils flared. He schooled the act but his little brother caught onto his expressions quickly. “Oh lord, here we go” Sam muttered to himself as his brother quickly took up a smoothie from the table, stalking over to them.

“Sorry about that, it’s her first day” Dean smiled widely at Tara, handing her the smoothie. His charm radiated as he smirked at the actress. “Thanks” Tara giggled, accepting the smoothie from Dean. Y/N clenched her jaw, shooting subtle daggers at him before clearing her throat.

“You know, I know it’s really uncool to say this, but we’re big fans” Y/N said sweetly, Dean nodded enthusiastically, “Oh, God. What a terrible script” Tara snorted, “Uh, but thank you” She added, winking at Y/N. This made the hunter blush and Dean internally roll his eyes. “Yeah…” Dean chuckled.

“You found him right…the dead guy?” Dean asked awkwardly, Y/N’s eyes slightly widened as Tara’s smile dropped. She shot him a look that said, ‘Way to be subtle, hotshot’. with a gentle elbow to his ribs.

Sam rolled his eyes from afar as he watched the exchange, shaking his head at Dean's less than subtle approach to questioning Tara. Sam shot him a disapproving glare, knowing that they needed to be more tactful in their questioning. Dean winced at the nudge to his ribs, shooting Y/N a subtle glare in return.

“He’s sorry hun, you probably don’t even want to talk about this” She quickly apologized on Dean’s behalf, “No, actually it’s-…it’s okay, but nobody around here really brings it up very much” Tara assured him before whispering. “I think they’re all scared that I’m gonna have some sort of breakdown” The hunters nodded in understanding.

“That must’ve been awful” Y/N said sympathetically, Tara gave her a grateful smile. “What happened?” Dean asked gently. “It was horrible” Tara sighed, biting her lip as she reminisced on the terrible experience. “There- there was all this blood coming from his eyes…and from his mouth, and, uh…I saw this…um..” Tara’s voice was low as she explained, an unconvincing smile on her face.

“What?” Y/N asked curiously, “I saw this shape” She whispered back, Dean and Y/N’s brows cocked up. “To tell you guys the truth, I don’t know, actually what I saw, I just know I saw it” She explained as Walter approached them with a juice. “Here you go, Tara,” He said sweetly, handing Tara the juice and a bag of chips.

Y/N glanced at Dean, her eyes wide with interest and confusion as Tara spoke of the "shape" she saw. It piqued her curiosity as to what it could have been, and it clearly piqued Dean's as well, judging by the raising of his eyebrows. Walter approaching them interrupted their thoughts as he handed Tara a juice and a bag of chips.

“Thanks, Walter,” Tara said gratefully, accepting it before the PA left. “Uh, so this crew guy, Frank. I mean, did you know him?” Dean asked curiously. “Uh, no. Not that well.” Tara shook her head, opening the bag of chips. “It’s funny. It’s like no one around here knew the guy” Y/N said, shaking her head. “I’ve got his picture,” Tara told them.

The starstruck smiles reappeared on the hunters faces as Tara turned to fetch her folder from her bag. “You do?” Dean grinned. “Yeah, I take Polaroids of all the crew. It’s just one of those things you do to kill time on set” Tara blushed shyly, flipping through her folder as the two hunters smiled, eyes shining with excitement. “Um…right here”

Dean and Y/N moved to either side of her chair to get a better look. As Y/N scanned the picture, a sudden realization slapped her in the face. That familiar face looking back at her. Her jaw dropped, mirroring Dean's expression. They shared a look before muttering expletives in unison.

"Son of a fucking bitch"

"Jesus fucking Christ"

____________________________________________

The trio were now knocking on the door to the apartment of the man who was thought to be Frank Jaffy, “Gerard St. James?” Y/N questioned as Gerard opened the door. “Yes?” He raised an inquisitive brow at the three as Sam and Dean narrowed their eyes at him. “You’re still alive” Sam scoffed, “And you’re not Frank Jaffy” Dean added.

“Uh..no..” Gerard shook his head. “You were Desert Soldier #4 in Metalstorm: Destruction of Jared-Syn?” Y/N asked in a knowing tone, trying to keep her fangirl side at bay. “I was,” Gerard nodded. “I knew we recognized you” Dean chuckled, “We are huge fans. I mean your turn as a tractor-crash victim in Critters 3”

“Critters 3!” Gerard chuckled along with Dean as Y/N nodded enthusiastically. “Wow” She fanned herself again as Sam looked between the three, "And in Critters 4," Y/N added, her smirk growing wider as Gerard chuckled along. She was practically swooning as she fanned herself, her excitement palpable. Sam rolled his eyes at the trio, shaking his head at their fangirl behavior.

“Alright, well please. Come in” Gerard ushered them into his apartment. “Oh, cool” Dean muttered, gesturing for Y/N to go in first. As Y/N eagerly entered the room, Dean gestured for her to go first, his eyes quickly darting to her ass before he followed after her. Sam entered last, shutting the door behind them.

-

The walls were lined with pictures of Gerard in various roles, the trio now questioning him. “Yeah, it was the producers. I mean, they brought me in to play Frank for the day” Gerard explained, handing Sam and Y/N two coffee mugs. “Just to fake your death?” Dean asked, accepting a mug of coffee from Frank as he settled on the couch next to Y/N.

“Well, rumors of a haunted film set. Free publicity. Especially when you’re making a horror movie” Gerard explained as Sam sat across from Dean and y/n and Gerard settled next to Sam. “I mean, uh, it’s already all over the internet” He added, “Yeah, we know” Sam muttered, smiling tightly. “Well, these days, it’s all about new media. Building buzz” Gerard chuckled.

“They say that I’m the new Lonelygirl” The actor smiled proudly as Sam awkwardly sipped his coffee. “Who?” Dean and Y/N asked simultaneously, both confused. “And the ghost Tara saw?” Sam asked, “Projected on a screen of diffusion” Gerard explained, a lump grew in Y/N’s throat as he said this.

“Isn’t that kind of cruel? Messing with their heads like that?” She gaped, shaking her head in disgust at the fact that they would do that to one of her favorite actresses. “Hey, I just play the part, dollface. I don’t write the script” Gerard defended, y/n clenched her jaw as Frank continued to talk.

Y/N clenched her jaw at Gerard's words, growing increasingly frustrated with the fact that they were messing with the heads of innocent people just for publicity. She felt a protective anger towards the actress, Tara.

Dean, sensing her discomfort, placed a comforting hand on her thigh, giving it a slight squeeze. He shared her disapproval of their tactics, but knew they had a job to do, regardless.

“Speaking of, I’m playing Willy in a dinner-theater production of Salesman at Costa Mesa all next month” Gerard stated excitedly, taking up a couple coupons he had on the coffee table after resting down his own mug. “You get a free pepper steak with the coupon.” He said as he handed Dean the coupon.

The Hunter placed his mug on the table, using his free hand to take the coupon whilst the other was still rubbing gentle circles on Y/N’s thigh. A subtle shiver ran through Y/N’s body, a response to his unexpected and surprisingly comforting touch. She glanced down at his hand, then back up at him.

For a brief moment, she considered gently removing his hand, but a part of her went against it. Relishing in the comfort his touch brought to her, something she wasn’t used to much.

“Huh. Well now, wait a second. If you’re seen in public, won’t that ruin the hoax?” Y/N asked gruffly, clearing her throat, attempting to pretend like she wasn’t trying not to jump Dean right at this very moment. “Ha. Please” Gerard chuckled, shaking his head. “Frank and Willy, totally different characters” He assured them, turning to Sam.

Y/N forced a grunt, trying to keep her mind off of the warmth and comfort of Dean's hand, and refocusing on the conversation at hand. She shifted slightly, feeling more flustered as the actor explained the difference between 'Frank and Willy'.

Sam and Dean shared a look, both silently agreeing that this man before them was a complete jackass. “You know what?” Sam spoke up, playing his mug on the table, forcing a tight smile. “Thanks very much, Mr. St. James. it was just nagging at us, you know? But we’re very glad that, you know, you’re alive and well” Sam stated politely, pushing himself up from the couch.

Dean finally took his hand of y/n’s thigh, the female hunter placing her mug on the table also, letting out a breath she didn’t know she was holding in. “Yeah” Gerard smiled widely, shaking each of their hands. “Absolutely” Y/N forced a smile. A thought crossed Dean’s mind, “Hey, uh, I wanted to ask you, what was it like working with Richard Molt” He asked.

Sam furrowed his brows in disapproval and confusion as Y/N’s face brightened, intrigued. “Metalstorm. He was Hurok, king of the Cyclops people” Y/N explained, slightly excited as Sam rolled his eyes at the duo for the umpteenth time. The two turned to Gerard expectantly.

“Gentleman’s gentleman. And a bit of a womanizer” Gerard chuckled, “Yeah?” Y/N smiled widely as both she and Dean chuckled. Y/N's eyes widened with joy as the topic changed to one of her favorites. She felt a little star-struck as Gerard spoke of the actor, Richard Molt.

As he began speaking of his experience with the actor, both her and Dean chuckled and smiled. Sam just shook his head at her, unable to believe that she could still be gushing over this man after all these years.

____________________________________________

It was now the next day, Dean and Y/N both had headsets attached to their ears as they both stayed undercover in the roles as PAs, both liking it a bit too much. The previous day, Brad, the studio guy. “Hung himself” in the middle of shooting, the trio wasn’t convinced so they all stuck around to get a gist of everything.

Everyone on set was currently arguing in the middle of shooting, about whether ghosts would be “afraid of salt or shotguns”. Dean and Y/N snickered to themselves at the irony as Walter, a PA brushed past them, “These people are idiots” He grumbled annoyed, tossing his script to the ground. Dean and Y/N shared a look, both munching on taquitos as Sam approached them.

“Walter’s a little testy for a PA, huh?” Dean commented, Y/N nodded her head, taking another bite of her taquito. She looked over at Walter, who still had a sour look on his face, pacing back and forth through the commotion.

"I would be too,” She agreed. “But the food” She groaned slightly, throwing her head back as she took another bite of the taquito. Sam let out a chuckle, "How’s it going here?” He asked the duo in a low tone. “It’s going really good man. Tara’s really stepped up her performance” Dean said with admiration, Y/N had to hold herself back from rolling her eyes but schooled the act.

She nodded in agreement, “I think it’s probably all the sense memory she’s drawing on” Y/N added. “Sense memory?” Sam questioned, raising his brows at the two as they nodded. “Yeah,” Dean replied, crunching on the food. “Dean, Y/N/N, when I asked how it's going here, I’m talking about the case, right? We don’t really work here” Sam snorted, making their faces drop.

They swallowed harshly as he spoke, “You know, I thought you guys hated being PAs” Sam shook his head as they looked down at their attire. Both hunters were dressed as typical production assistants, their outfits blending in with the rest of the crew members.

Dean donned a black t-shirt, which was partially hidden by a green button down shirt. He wore faded blue jeans that were slightly stressed and his attire was topped off by brown work boots.

Y/N was dressed in dark gray jeans, light brown combat boots, and a black tank top hiding underneath a dark green button-down shirt, contrasting Dean’s outfit perfectly.

Dean and Y/N both looked down at their outfits in defeat. They looked back up at Sam, they both shrugged as Dean cleared his throat, "Well, uh, it’s just we..." He stopped, knowing he was digging themselves a hole. “I don’t know. It’s not so bad, feeling kind of like part of the team, you know?” Y/N added as De/‘ nodded in agreement.

“It’s good.” He agreed, “Oh, taquito? They’re wonderful” Y/N offered Sam a taquito as Dean crunched on his own. The younger Winchester grimaced, shaking his head, “No, um, listen, I conned my way into the morgue.” Sam began. “And?” Dean mumbled through a mouth full of food.

“News reports are right. Brad's doornail, no question” Sam informed them, but they two didn’t hear a word he said as someone was speaking to them through the headsets. “Copy that” Dean responded, “Coming right up sir” Y/N replied before covering the mic along with Dean.

“Sorry, what?” Dean asked Sam, “Copy that?” Sam muttered confused. “What did you say?” Y/N asked. Sam’s face dropped as he looked between the duo, rolling his eyes. He leaned forward, speaking low for only them to hear, "I said, the news reports are right. Brad’s a doornail."

"They’re aware!” Dean said loudly into the mic, still not hearing a word Sam said. “Who’s aware?” Sam asked, furrowing his brows. The two undercover PAs shared a confused look before looking at Sam. Y/N furrowed her brows slightly, “What are you talking about?”

“Sorry, what were you saying?” Dean asked, wiping his mouth. Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a frustrated exhale. “The newspaper’s right. Brad's a doornail, no question about it.” He stated slowly, hoping they’d hear what he was saying finally. “I guess it’s a good thing we didn’t skip town” Dean said, nodding.

“Oh, come here. I want you to hear something” Y/N told the brothers, “Copy that. On my way!” She said into the mic again, Sam and Dean looked at her confused, following behind her as she made her way to Dave, one of videographers who seemed to have a liking to her. “Hey, Dave, can you play that thing you were playing for me earlier?” She said sweetly.

Dave smiled widely at Y/N, “You liked that, huh?” He teased, his face slightly flush. Y/N smiled back at him, giving him a gentle nudge as both brothers stood behind her, watching the interaction. “I sure did, I’m intrigued, play it for my friends here, would ya?” She asked, her voice slightly low and sultry in an attempt to flatter Dave.

Dean clenched his jaw tightly, his freehand balling into tight fists by his side. He swallowed his food gruffly as he watched Y/N flirt with Dave, his eyes flickering between the two as he kept a disinterested expression on his face.

His stomach twisted with irritation. Tearing his eyes away from them as Dave handed him a pair of headphones and then handed Sam one. “Thanks” Sam muttered as they both accepted the headphones, placing it on their heads.

“Doesn’t matter, we’re not leaving till we—” Mitch, one of the actors, voice came over the headphones before the audio began crackling and a static noise came through. The boys and y/n shared a knowing look.

-

“EVP” Sam stated as they walked through the set. “After Brad’s stage dive. And all of a sudden, my head's spinning like crazy and I’m sensing the spirits” Y/N said, “Yeah, I’m getting electromagnetic readings up the wazoo” Dean agreed, “For some reason it’s a legit haunting now” He added.

“Who’s the ghost, guys? What’s it want?” Sam sighed. The boys simultaneously looked at y/n, “Don't look at me, I just feel the damn things. I don’t see em unless we do a seance, and to do a seance, we have to know who the hell the ghosts are” Y/N put her hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry, ghosts? As in plural” Dean furrowed his brows.

“Mhm. There’s more than one” Y/N nodded, “Great” Sam muttered sarcastically, “I think we should take a look at Brad's death scene” Dean suggested.

-

The trio were now outside, making sure no one noticed Sam picking the lock to Tara’s trailer. Dean knelt in front of the DVD, putting out his hand for y/n to hand him the CD. “Hey. Where’d you get this DVD?” Sam asked them as they sat back, rewinding the tape. “They’re called dailies” Dean corrected.

“I got it from Cindy, she’s kinda got this on and off thing going with Drew. He dubbed me an extra copy” Y/N explained, Sam tilted his head, somewhat impressed. “Here’s where the guy fell through the roof.” Dean paused the tape. “Right,” Sam said. “Here we go” Y/N muttered as he unpaused the tape.

“They must have super hearing” Mitch said through the TV, then an ear piercing scream came from Cindy as Brad’s body came falling from the ceiling, his neck around a noose, hanging mid air.

“Hey, wait, go back, go back” Sam suddenly said, Dean quickly rewinded the tape. “Right after. Right. Yeah, right” Both Sam and Y/N’s eyes widened as the figure of a woman appeared on the screen, “There” He gasped as Dean's brows furrowed. “It’s like Three Men and a Baby all over again” Dean muttered. Sam turned to them confused.

“Selleck, Dandon and Guttenberg. And I don’t know who played the baby” Dean tilted his head. “What’s your point?” Sam asked. “There’s a scene in the movie where people say that the camera caught a ghost on film. Apparently in the background of one of the scenes, there was this boy that nobody remembers from set. Spirit photography” Y/N explained.

Sam narrowed his eyes at the image of the woman, “I’ve seen her before” He said in a low tone.

____________________________________________

Later, they were all sitting in the cafeteria. Sam was doing research on his computer while Dean and Y/N fiddled with this equipment. “Here, check this out,” Sam told them, turning the laptop towards them. “Got your ears on? Over.” A man on their headsets asked. “Yeah, go for Ozzy” Dean responded. “Joan, here” Y/N responded back. “You guys got eyes on Tara” The man asked as Sam furrowed his brows at them.

“No. I don’t have a 20 on Tara” Dean said. “I think she’s 10-100” Y/N added with a small smile along with Dean as Sam rolled his eyes. “Copy that. Send her my way” The man said. “Okay, copy that” Dean and Y/N stated in unison, before the line went dead. “Sorry, what were you saying?” Y/N asked Sam. He just shook his head and pointed to the screen.

“Elise Drummond. Starlet back in the 30s. Had an affair with a studio exec” Sam explained in a low tone to ensure no one else heard them. Elise was the same woman they saw in the footage, “He uses her up, fires her, leaves her destitute. So Elise hangs herself from Stage 9s rafters right into a scene they’re shooting”

“Just like our man Brad” Dean muttered as he and Y/N stared at the picture. “So, what? She’s got it in for the studio brass?” Y/N questioned. “Possibly. I mean, it’s a motive, and Brad's death matches hers exactly.” Sam shrugged. “We’re digging tonight, aren’t we?” Dean groaned.

-

It was now nightfall, the trio found themselves in the cemetery where Elise was buried. “Which way?” Y/N asked as they shone their lights through the dark foggy grave garden. “Uh, over here” Dean answered, leading the way, using a map he bought. “Hey.” Dean called out to them. “Yeah” Sam and Y/N said in unison. “Ha, this map is totally worth the five bucks,” Dean chuckled.

Earning eyerolls from both younger hunters, “Hey, we gotta go check out Johnny Ramones grave when we’re done here” Dean suggested enthusiastically. “You wanna dig him up too” Y/N teased, nudging him with a small smile. “Bite your tongue, heathen!” He playfully shot back, causing Y/N to cackle.

“Guys, what I don’t get is, why now? I mean, after 75 years, Elise Drummond suddenly goes homicidal, you know. Why this movie? And how is she the only spirit that shows but Y/N felt multiple entities?” Sam questioned. “Well, maybe she’s mad they’re making a scary ghost flick” Dean suggested. “True. We could always deal with the other ghost after” Y/N agreed as they approached the grave.

“Here we go” She muttered, dropping the duffel bag, “Yep.” Sam sighed as they all got to work on digging.

-

After digging for a while, Dean finally hit her coffin. Y/N then handed him her butterfly knife to pry open the coffin. The old wood creaked open, revealing the skeletal remains of Elise. Sam immediately went to work on salting the bones as Dean climbed out. The elder Winchester took the initiative to douse the corpse with light fluid as Y/N got a box of matches out.

She struck the match against the side of the box, the flame igniting before tossing it into the coffin. Elise’s corpse was now in flames, the three watching as the corpse burnt.

____________________________________________

The next morning, cops were swarming the set. Apparently another one of the producers died horribly. “Run in with a giant fan.” Sam scoffed. “Same thing happened to an electrician back in ‘66. Guy named Billy Beard” Sam sighed as they took in the scene, blood was splattered almost everywhere. “What the hell, fellas?” Y/N groaned.

“I don’t know. At least we know it isn’t Elise this time. Doesn’t seem like her M.O.” Sam responded. “So she’s not the only homicidal ghost, great” Y/N groaned. “Yeah, but these things don’t usually tag team” Dean pointed out as they all walked outside to hear the director, McG, giving a speech.

“In light of Jay’s accident last night and in cooperation with the authorities. We’re shutting down production for a few days” McG announced, a few staff began to mutter disappointed. “I know, I know. Look, I’m not gonna lie to you, we’ve had a few setbacks this week. But we all know Jay and Brad wanted more anything….and that was to see Hell Hazers 2: The Reckoning, on screens all across America!”

Staff nodded in agreement as he continued, “Now, we owe it to them to go on and to pull together and to make this damn movie, huh?!” McG began clapping another with the rest of the crew. Dean and Y/N chuckled as they clapped while Sam snorted. “But- not- not today. Go home, someone will call you” He stated, cutting the speech.

____________________________________________

Later, Sam and Y/N were sitting in the trailer, watching the uncut version of the movie to see if there were any more spirits caught on film as Dean entered. Both were bored out of their minds as Y/N lazily munched on popcorn. “Hey” Dean greeted them, shutting the door. “Hey” Sam and Y/N muttered in unison. “So you find out where the electrician’s buried?” Sam asked, stuffing his mouth with popcorn.

“He wasn’t. Billy Beard was cremated” Dean responded, opening the fridge to get a beer. “Great. Now what?” Y/N scoffed, resting the bowl of popcorn on Sam’s lap. “No idea” Dean sighed, settling on the couch next to Y/N. “Anymore ghost cameos in the dailies?” He asked. “Not in the first six hours” Sam scoffed.

“Oh, man” Dean muttered, shifting closer to Y/N, slightly propping his arm against the backrest of the couch. “This fucking sucks” Y/N groaned, her shoulders slumping. “Tell me about it” Sam sighed, his eyes glancing between the two before going back to the screen, shoveling another fistful of popcorn in his mouth.

“You know, maybe the spirits are trying to shut down the movie because they think it sucks? Because I mean, it kinda does” Sam voiced his thoughts out loud, earning chuckles from Dean and Y/N. “Oh come on, the dialogue is, you know, I mean…” Y/N trailed off, trying to think of something good about the movie.

“Y/N don’t try” Sam stated, the two shared a knowing look. “Alright, I can’t even argue with that,” She muttered. “Yeah, it’s terrible.” Dean agreed. They all continued to watch as Tara’s character, Wendy started to chant in Latin. Sam and Y/N’s ears perked up at the familiar chant she was speaking.

Y/N quickly snatched the remote from the table as she and Sam pushed themselves up from their relaxed positions. Dean shot them a confused look, “Listen to the invocation” Sam pointed out. “Fellas….that’s the real deal” Y/N gasped, both her and Sam sharing a terrified look. “That’s a necromantic summoning ritual,” Sam added.

“What the fuck is that doing in a Hollywood movie?” He scoffed.

-

Immediately, they headed over to Marty, the writer’s, office. He was currently in the middle of a phone call, placing up a finger for them to give him a second as they timidly walked in. “Guys, we’re all shut down. What are you still doing here?” Marty asked the trio after hanging up his call. “Yeah, um, it’s just- sorry man. We- we- we just couldn’t help ourselves” Sam stuttered, chuckling awkwardly.

“We just had to tell you that we read the script” Sam told him. “And?” He asked expectantly. Sam couldn’t bring himself to compliment the horrible script so Y/N stepped in, “It was awesome, sir” Y/N gushed as Dean nodded enthusiastically. “Awesome” Dean added as the writer’s smile widened.

“Really awesome” Sam fake gushed. “I know, it’s pretty rocking, right? I’m glad you guys liked it” Marty nodded, “Yeah, I really liked all the attention to detail” Sam said vaguely. “Dude, right on. That’s my thing, I mean, color me guilty, but that is me. I mean, I’m a total detail buff” Marty bragged, leaning back on his desk, his eyes scanning Y/N’s frame.

Dean took notice of this and internally rolled his eyes, slightly clenching his jaw. “No, I can tell. The way you worked in all those Enochian summoning rituals, in all the authentic language, and-” Y/N said but Marty cut her off. “Wait, you mean that Latin crap?” His smile dropped before shaking his head. “No, man. That’s Walter. Walter Dixon, the original writer” He told them, it was their turn for their faces to drop.

“You like that garbage?” Marty scoffed as he made his way over to his chair. “Wait. Walter the PA, Walter?” Dean asked for clarification. “No, he’s not a PA. He’s got a clause in his contract that allows him to come on set” Marty informed them, taking a seat on his chair. “But he wrote the invocations?” Dean questioned.

“He wrote a whack-job screenplay. There’s no pace, there’s no love interest. It’s all wackadoo exposition” Marty rambled on with disgust. “I had to cut like 90 percent of it to make it readable. Another 10 percent to make it good” He continued, picking up a script from his desk. The trio chuckled dryly as the man continued to talk.

____________________________________________

“Should've kept Walter's original script. It’s actually pretty good” Dean commented as they all held copies of the original script, reading it in their trailer. “Yeah” Sam scoffed, folding it up and tossing it aside before resting his hands behind his head. “And it reads like a how-to manual of conjugation. Like a textbook on how to summon ghosts and get them to do whatever you want” Sam said.

“Yeah, like kill people” Y/N muttered, flipping through the script. “Yep” Sam sighed. “So let’s say somewhere down the line Walter learned some pretty Black Magic” Y/N began, tossing her script on Dean’s lap. “Yeah, and let’s say he’s pissed at these people for wrecking his movie,” Dean added. “Motive and means” Sam deadpanned as they put two and two together.

“It’s worth checking out” Dean shrugged as they all shared a look. “Just once. Once, can someone haunt a strip club” Y/N groaned, sinking into the couch next to Dean. “Or a beach house, or a Playboy mansion” Dean agreed, tilting his arm back as he rested his arm behind her on the backrest of the couch.

“Or a candy factory. I’d like to be killed by gumdrops” Y/N added, imagining such a scenario. “Or-or a theme park. Death by log flume” Dean stated. “A puppy farm” Y/N giggled, imagining herself chased by a stampede of puppies as she leaned into his arm.

Sam shot them an amused look of disbelief. “You two are unbelievable” He stated. “Yeah, yeah,” They both scoffed, waving off his judgment, neither denying nor confirming.

____________________________________________

The trio made their way to the set, wielding their rocksalt guns. Their ears perked up when they heard Marty screaming for mercy and the fan that Jay was killed in was turnt on. “Oh, God!! Walter!!” Marty screamed with terror as Dean and Y/N bent the corner. “Now you’re gonna find out what being a ghost is really like!” Walter shot back.

“Walter please, Walter help me!!!” Marty begged. Y/N immediately aimed for the ghost of Billy Beard, dragging Marty towards the fan. A round of rocksalt went through his chest, causing him to disapparate. Dean and Y/N stood over a grateful Marty as Sam turnt the large fan off. “You are one hell of PAs” Marty said breathlessly. “Yeah, we know” Dean deadpanned a bit smugly as Y/N helped Marty up.

Y/N narrowed her eyes at Walter along with Sam, she and the young Winchester started stalking towards him, jaws clenched and infuriated. “W-what are you doing??” Walter stammered quickly, making a break for the stairs. “We could ask you the same thing Walter. Raising these spirits from the dead?! Making them murder for you?! That’s playing with fire, Walter!” Sam shouted at him.

“You don’t understand,” Walter sobbed, running further up the catwalk. “You know what, you’re right. We don’t understand!” Y/N shouted, aiming her gun at him. “Wait, wait, look.” Walter pleaded. “You put your heart and soul into something. Years of hard work. Years. And then they take it!! And they crap all over it!!” Walter raged as Marty scoffed and shook his head arrogantly.

“And then- and then they want you to smile and say thank you” Walter growled. “Walter, listen, it’s just a movie. That’s it” Sam tried to reason, trying to snatch y/n’s gun away from her but she didn’t let up. Walter took a deep breath, trying to regulate his breathing. “Look, I got nothing against you, guys. You’re not part of this. Just please, please, just leave” Walter begged them.

“But Martins gonna stay” He ordered, pointing to Marty. “Sorry, can't do that” Dean chimed in. “I mean, it’s not that we like him or anything, it’s just a matter of principle!” Dean shouted, warning a slightly offended look from Marty. “Then I’m sorry too” Walter said ominously before raising the pendant in his hand that binder the spirits. “Walter, please- no!” Sam pleaded as Walter began chanting in Latin.

The room began to shake as the spirits began emerging. Y/N’s body grew weaker, her breathing becoming more intense. “Y/N?!” Dean called to her worriedly, seeing her struggling to stand upright. “I’m…I’m ok” She lied, still trying to raise her gun, shaking uncontrollably. The spirits began inching towards them. “Sam!” Dean screamed, indicating for Sam to stay behind them.

“Come on, come on!” Y/N growled, the heaviness overweighting her and then suddenly, they disapparated. Leaving them confused. Only for Sam to be tossed to one side of the room. “Sam!!” Dean called out again, rushing over to his brother.

Y/N attempted to go shoot them but was quickly slammed against the wall, her gun falling from her hands as she cried out. “Y/N!” Dean called out to her, watching as she was repeatedly slammed against the wall, pinned against it by the flickering spirit. Dean then shot the spirit, causing it to disapparate, quickly helping y/n up.

“You good?” Dean asked her, worry staining his face as she nodded, scrambling for her gun. “Yes. I’m ok..” She lied again, leaning against him as he helped her limp into the fake house on the set, with Sam shutting the door behind them, all breathing heavily. “Come to the coast, we’ll get together, have a few laughs” Y/N mocked Dean’s words from a couple days ago in a high pitched tone.

This earned her a glare from him as they loaded up their guns with rocksalt. “Ah, fuck!” Dean groaned, cocking his gun alone with y/n. “I can’t believe this. Ghosts are real” Marty panicked. “What makes you say that?” Dean sassed sarcastically, not having any of it. The place was eerily quiet as they scanned the area. “I don’t understand. How is Walter controlling them?” Marty asked.

“Probably with that talisman” Y/N answered. “Can you see them?” Dean asked, so y/n flashed her eyes white, scanning the room. “How is she doing that?!” Marty exclaimed. “You ask a lot of questions Marty!” Dean snapped. A thought crossed Sam’s mind, the younger Winchester quickly pulling out his phone. “What are you doing?!” He asked Sam. “I mean, if film cameras pick these suckers up, then…maybe…uh…” Sam answered, using his phone camera to scan the room.

His eyes widened when the deformed spirit of Billy Beard came into view, Y/N spotted him at the same time Sam yelled. “Dean, Y/N. Right there!” The two instantly shot him, the rock salt hitting the wall behind them. “Got him!” Sam gasped, all breathing heavily. Sam and Y/N continued scanning with his phone and her eyes.

Y/N felt a chill behind her, swiftly turning around to shoot besides Dean where another spirit was going to attack him. Y/N noticed Walter above them on the catwalk, trying to get away. She and Sam shared a look, nodding in agreement. “Here, you get the idea?!” Sam instructed Marty, handing him his cellphone. Marty nodded obediently, taking the phone from Sam.

“Alright, you hold ‘em off, charming. We’re going after Walter!” Y/N told Dean, stuffing her gun into Marty’s hands. “Hey!” Dean called out to her, making her stop in her tracks as Sam ran out towards Walter, “Be safe” He pleaded as she turned to him.

“Ditto” Y/N replied with a smile, flashing him a quick wink with promise. She then hurried to the stairs, her and Sam running up the steps, they made it to the roof just in the Nick of time. Walter came rushing through the door to see Sam and Y/N, he stopped in his tracks. “It’s over Walter. Now give it to me” Sam ordered him, putting his hand out for Walter to hand him the talisman.

Their jaws dropped when Walter tossed it into the ground, breaking it. “There, okay, now no one can have it!” Walter shouted. Y/N might be a sympathetic person but she had to stop herself from laughing at the utter stupidity Walter just displayed by breaking the talisman. Pressing a hand over her mouth, “I wouldn’t have done that if i were you” Y/N muttered fearfully and Sam put up his hands in surrender.

He quickly pulled Y/N back by her wrist, backing away from Walter. “Oh yeah?” Walter scoffed. “Yeah” Sam shot back. “And why not?” Walter rolled his eyes arrogantly. “Because you just freed them!” Sam shouted as Dean and Marty came rushing through the door. “And we can’t stop them now” He added and both him and Y/N continued to back away.

“Walter, you brought them back, forced them to murder. They’re not gonna be very happy with you” Y/N pointed out as she and Sam inched towards Dean and Marty. “Yeah? So why not?” Walter scoffed when suddenly the spirits began growling, grabbing a hold of Walter. He began screaming for mercy as the spirits began clawing at him, his light blue shirt now staining in his own blood.

“And there’s your answer,” Y/N stated coldly, wincing when Walter’s cries of terror and agony filled the night air. Sam put a hand around her shoulder, gently guiding her away from the gory scene but she saw everything. Marty held the camera up, getting a clear view of all the spirits attacking and mauling Marty, unfortunately, y/n didn’t need the camera to see and it made her feel sick to her stomach.

____________________________________________

A couple days later, shooting is back in session. Two of the actors were in the middle of a scene. “Oh, God…oh god” Sandra gasped, holding up a phone camera before screaming, “There!” The other actor shot in the direction she pointed at, and all the staff were loving it. “I don’t understand. How can the spirits appear in the camera phone? And how can you see them but we can’t?” Sandra asked, pointing to a new character, Kelly.

Kelly shrugged, “I’m psychic. And the video picks up their frequencies in ways your eyes can’t” She said sheepishly, Sam and Y/N were standing besides Marty, the judgmental looks clear on their faces. Y/N cringed when Kelly’s actress said that, rolling her eyes in annoyance as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Cut!!” McG ended the scene. “Oh, print that one. That’s in the movie!” He cheered excitedly as the bell on set rang. “Oh! Loved it kids, loved it!” He exclaimed as Sam and Y/N scoffed, shaking their heads. “You find out there’s an afterlife and psychics and this is what you do with it?” Sam said in a low tone to Marty who was wearing a huge grin.

“I needed a little jazz on the page,” Marty shrugged, his eyes flickering over to Y/N. Y/N caught his glance, returning it with a glare of her own, crossing her arms over her chest. Marty just smirked in return, “Don’t look so glum, gorgeous. Tilly is playing a great you as Kelly” Marty grinned.

Y/N huffed, not amused by Marty’s comment. She looked away, watching as some of the crew members were setting up a scene in front of her.

____________________________________________

“Where the hell is he?” Sam grumbled in annoyance to Y/N as they walked around the lot looking for Dean. They stopped in their tracks when Tara’s trailer door swung open suddenly, almost hitting them both in the process. Our walked a very disheveled Dean, fixing his jacket and Tara leaning against the door, a sultry look on her face. “You’re one hell of a PA” She breathed out.

Dean’s eyes landed on Y/N, filled with guilt but the female hunter kept a stoic expression as Sam’s jaw dropped. Y/N felt as though someone just ripped her heart out, chewed it up and stomped on it with steel tipped boots. She could’ve vomited on the spot, just thinking about Dean with someone else.

No more Tara Benchley movies for her, that’s for sure.

“Thank you” Dean said sheepishly to Tara, who gave him a sultry smile. “Don’t mention it” Tara replied, the lustful look never leaving her face. Y/N’s heart was aching as she watched the interaction, a sickening nauseous feeling flooding her body. Dean’s eyes quickly flickered to her, seeing the neutral look on her face.

“You were a real gentleman” She added, still keeping her eyes on Dean as he nervously scratched the back of his head. He stole glances at his friend, the stoic look in her eye made his heart sink.

Sam was looking between his brother and best friend, seeing the hurt wash over her face and a look of guilt spreading through his brother's face. He shot Y/N a sympathetic look but she kept her face neutral.

“I guess I’ll see you around” He said quietly, Tara who just smirked at him. “I sure hope so,” She told him, eyeing him up and down. “Let’s go” Y/N ordered, trying to keep her voice firm. She turned on her heel, Sam following her as he gave Dean a stern scowl. Dean gulped, running after them with a smug look on his face.

Dean had yet to notice the clear range of emotions y/n was going through, though she was masking it well. Sam wasn’t stupid, he saw right through his best friend. Y/N fished her pack of cigarettes from her jacket, instantly lightly one up while Dean grabbed a burrito from the cart one of the caterers were lugging around. “God I love this town” Dean pranced happily between Sam and Y/N.

Y/N didn’t speak, instead keeping her gaze straight ahead as she took another huff of the cigarette, a cloud of smoke escaping her mouth. Sam sent a nervous glance at his friend, noticing the dark look in her eyes and the rigid stiffness in her shoulders.

She’d be a hypocrite to say that she wasn’t trying to get into Tara’s pants too. She totally was, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. She spent the next couple of minutes plotting to get laid at their next stop.

____________________________________________

Author's Note: And there we have itttt, I just wanna say once again, thank you for the patience and supporting me endlessly❤️❤️❤️

I hope everyone enjoyed it and I’m so excited for the next two episodes! I’ve already started on it lol

Taglist: @hjgdhghoe @rach5ive @tiggytaylor @star-yawnznn @quarterhorse19

@deangirl96 @bitchykittenconnoisseur @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @mrsjjkwinchester

@juwu-theliciosa @magiccliopleurodon @nesnejwritings @karrah89 @whattheduckisupkyle

@iloveyou2mia @thelittlelightinthedarkness @lmhf1 @littletomboy2 @zigzoggy

@hey-its-zoe @modiddys-blog @thvxr

Xoxo

[khaire-traveler]

As a devotee of Demeter, I sometimes feel that people only worship Persephone for the aesthetic.

I feel horrible for saying and thinking that but I can't help but feel that way. Certain pagans portray Persephone as some overpowered Mary Sue, downplaying the importance of her mother and sometimes even her husband.

I feel like people really ignore her as a agrarian deity. They claim to love her but feel the need to change everything about her - if you need to change her did you ever like her in the first place?

It honestly just feels like they're talking about a Wattpad main character instead of a religious figure at times it's so jarring to me. Imagine if someone on tiktok described their deity as a dark and daddy figure bad boy with piercings and then its literally just Jesus Christ.

And its not just Persephone, it's the whole pantheon! Some worshippers talk about the deities and their myths like characters and tropes from a telenovela. They are rarely treated like religious figures, they are more than just their myths.

Im sorry i just wanted a place to complain and see if i am not alone

---

Khaire, Nonny,

Honestly, I agree with this sentiment. I've seen this time and time again where Persephone, and many other deities, get "fandomized" which can be problematic for others, even if it's ok in that individual's practice. Sometimes it feels like our religion isn't taken seriously, even by the people who actively practice it, but I also understand that people have different forms of practicing that work better for them. It's frustrating, however, when Persephone is depicted as this Mary Sue characterization of her where she's seen as, like, super edgy, badass, and powerful in a really fandomized way. It comes across as this person using Persephone as an avenue of self-expression rather than worshipping who she actually is as a deity (not to say she's not badass or powerful, to clarify). While it's ok to use a deity as an avenue for self-expression in worship (some trans folk, for example, view Apollon as trans-masc, and it actively plays a role in their worship), it's a lot less ok when you're making this deity into a cartoonish characterization of themselves. The gods present themselves differently to people, but I don't know; I guess I find it far-fetched to believe that Persephone would present herself in this sort of way. I can't speak for her, obviously, but I just disagree with this interpretation of who she is as a deity - putting herself above others, hating her mom, being a rebellious "wild child". I think that, psychologically speaking, some people might just find comfort in this representation of her and see themselves in it which is likely why they gravitate towards it. It's fine to have that experience, but I STRONGLY encourage these people to actually read the myths about Persephone, do the research on how she was worshipped, and actively try to better understand where she actually came from as a deity because this isn't just a character in a show that you relate to; this is a goddess that you're trying to worship, no?

Some people finding more success in their practice with this representation doesn't negate the harm these misconceptions and misinformation can cause. I've met multiple people who believe that Persephone willingly fled to the Underworld to "escape" Demeter (which is untrue), and that is endlessly frustrating to me, especially due to the cultural importance of the Hymn to Demeter (the myth of Persephone being kidnapped). The gods are not their myths, in my experience, but their myths still hold a heavy importance in the way they were worshipped in the past, and the way we worship them in the present. Demonizing an entire deity is the equivalent of trying to cancel a constellation of stars; it's pointless, extremely bizarre, and very "online" behavior.

But yeah, I think some people care more about the "character" than they do the deity, and I will say that confidently. I've met people who "ship" deities with each other, who make their experiences with deities sound - as you said - like a telenovela, and who actively spread harmful misinformation about deities in a way that legitimately disgusts and disturbs me. I've once had someone tell me that a deity [insert reprehensibly immoral act here] them, and to this day, I still cannot believe they said that to me when I was a beginner, just to dissuade me from worshipping that deity. The lengths some people will go to drag a deity is honestly both sad and ridiculous.

I wish some people took the religion more seriously in the sense that they didn't just make random shit up about deities, actively disrespect and disregard the culture the deities stem from, and demonize some deities while bolstering others. It shows a level of immaturity and indifference towards the culture these deities come from. It's not a fandom; it's a way of worship.

---

✨ Bonus round!! ✨

Some ridiculous things I've heard people say that sound like a fandom and/or telenovela (I will put the phrases in "" to express that these are things I've heard, not things I'm saying or believe in):

"Hermes and Aphrodite constantly gossip to each other about the other gods. No one fucks with Hermes because he knows everyone's dirty laundry."

"Ares is starting a revolution on Mount Olympus against Zeus to take the throne." (Yes, I have really heard this)

"Hermes is starting a revolution on Mount Olympus against Zeus to take the throne." (Yes, I have really heard this, too)

"XYZ deity has done [insert reprehensibly immoral and highly traumatic act here] to me."

"I caught XYZ deity cheating on their spouse in the astral realm, and I'm going to tell their spouse."

"The reason the gods haven't been communicating as much lately is because Hades ran away from Mount Olympus (?) and Hekate is going after him. Everyone is panicking a little bit."

"Zeus is such a playboy." (Bruh, do you really have beef with a thousands of years old god who came from an extremely patriarchal society? What, are you trying to cancel him?)

"Poseidon is such a playboy." (Now this take is wild; I don't really understand where it came from at all)

"Apollo is such an UwU 👉👈 shy boy! He's so cute and flustered all the time." (???)

"Persephone has a lot of emotional trauma from Demeter, who was extremely controlling." (No. No for so, so many reasons.)

"Apollo is a himbo."

People say the darnedest things. You really have to wonder what possesses someone to talk about religious figures in such a way, but you know what, if it works for their practice, then good for them. I'm not a big fan of the fandomization of the gods, and I definitely agree with you, Nonny. I won't say these people don't love these deities, but I can understand where you're coming from. It feels like they love the deities in an obsessive fan type of way sometimes, but that's not for me to say, really.

[pukanavis]

Kanna Idol Story 3

⏱︎ 2 years since the establishment of ES. ⚲ Season Avenue, a shopping district on the outskirts of the ES building.

Raika: ♪~♪~♪

Kanna: …

Raika: ~...♪

Kanna: …

Raika: …’Scuse me, did ya need somethin’ from me?

Kanna: …

Raika: Can ya hear me? Hellooo?

Kanna: Ah, pardon me. I was lost in my thoughts for a moment there.

Though, what I should really say is that outwardly expressing my emotions is not a strong suit of mine.

Oftentimes, interviewers will get worried and halt our conversation just to ask if I’m still alive.

Raika: Ehihi~♪

Kanna: Is there something amusing about that?

Raika: Uh, ya mean that wasn’t supposed to be a joke?

Kanna: Humour is a skill that I lack, as much as it pains me to admit.

Raika: Hey, ya seem plenty funny to me… yer a bit of an odd one, Mr, uh…Kanna, was it?

Kanna: Yes, that’s correct. I’m glad you remembered my name.

To my dismay, it seemed that you had forgotten all about me.

Raika: I’m real, real sorry! With this bird-brain of mine, my memories go out the window after just a few steps, ya see!

Actually, I get the feelin’ that we’ve spoken about this already…Kanna-sama, do ya really swear that I’ve saved ya before?

Kanna: You remembered our conversation perfectly then? I wouldn’t describe that as ‘bird-brained’. It seems rather contradictory—No, that’s not it. This is just a simple mistake, isn’t it?

Raika: Well ya see, it was quite the shock to have ya approach me out of the blue like that. It’s really quite hard to forget somethin’ so jaw-droppin’, even if I wanted to.

Kanna: I agree.

That’s precisely why it’s simply impossible for me to ever forget you, the one who saved me. 

Though to be fair, I possess the sort of brain that makes it a challenge to delete memory data, so the past isn’t something that I have the option to forget.

Raika: Deary me…it’s much nicer bein’ able to forget about all the bad stuff.

Kanna: Without learning from the mistakes and humiliation of the past, a human being cannot hope to grow.

Granted, what comes after growth is a mystery all of its own. Is there a limit? Why pursue it? What benefit comes from it?

This act of exhausting my life to ultimately contribute to the evolution of the human race is something I’ve always found myself questioning the purpose of.

Raika: ♪~♪~♪

Kanna: Are you listening?

Raika: Oh, I didn’t think your story had anythin’ to do with me…somethin’ about the human race, was it?

Deary me, I truly think there must be some kind of mix up goin’ on here, Kanna-sama. There just isn’t a world where a bum like myself could’ve been the one to save you.

Might ya be mistaking me fer a different fellow?

Kanna: No. I’m certain it was you, Raika Hojo-san.

The day it happened, you were standing by the roadside, singing like a bird, just as you are now.

Raika: Ehihi~. I’m useless and barely have a penny to my name, ya see, so puttin’ on little street shows like this is how I’ve been earnin’ my keep fer a while now.

Kanna: Actually, there’s something I’ve been wondering ever since I first saw you.

Do you have a permit for putting on these shows? It’s possible that you’re breaking some sort of law by not carrying one.

Raika: Law!? Like what!? Are they goin’ to arrest me fer being a wrong ‘un!?

Kanna: It’s possible that you’ll receive a warning or be put under police surveillance.

Raika: No no no, I’m doomed! I’ll be sent straight back to the institution if I misbehave again!

Kanna: This ‘institution’ you speak of…about your confinement—

—Oh, just a moment. According to the research I just did on my phone, street performers and unauthorised advertisers are in fact prohibited in this area.

Raika: Y-Ya mean those kinds of laws really do exist?

Kanna: Yes, but please don’t fret.

As an endorser of the idol industry, and thereby musicians, I find it odd that ES would look at artistic works such as street shows involving singing and dancing and prohibit them from an area under their influence.

It’s contradictory of them, yes?

There’s a high probability that you could utilise this argument to defend your activities, whether by staging a protest or by taking it to court.

Raika: C-Court!? Ya mean this could escalate to that?

Kanna: Don’t worry about that yet. In order to protect you, I intend to utilise every possible means that I must. No matter what, I will save you.

That’s all.

Raika: Whyever would ya trouble yourself so much…?

Kanna: As I’ve already said, you saved me a long time ago. It is a deed that I must repay.

Causing trouble for others or indebting myself to them are both acts that I want to avoid.

And yet, I’ve found myself saved by you. You used your body as a shield to ‘erase’ the mistake that my immaturity and stupidity led me to make.

Even if you don’t remember it, even if this isn’t what you want…

It is an act that I will not forget, and nothing could be of more importance to me than repaying what you did.

That’s all.

Raika: Oh gee… I-I think I’ve wound up with some sorts of a problem child attached to me.

Kanna: No one’s ever evaluated me in such a way before. Thank you.

Raika: Uhm…uh, this all feels a bit complex fer my ol’ brain, but I think ya were tryin’ to say that I can keep singin’ by the roadside, weren’t ya?

Bein’ able to sing is enough to make my day, so I’d appreciate it if you could confirm just that one wee thing fer me.

Kanna: You really are quite simple, aren’t you?

Admittedly, I feel as though I admire that aspect of your personality. No, that’s not quite right…perhaps ‘envy’ would be a better word.

Raika: Ehihi, envy, ya say? Let’s sing together then ♪ You’re an idol just like me, aren’t ya?

To tell ya the truth, I’m still a little lost on what an idol actually is.

But if it means being something that sings, then we’re one in the same! The two of us are goin’ to be pals, I just know it ♪

Kanna: Your logic is sound, oddly enough.

However, that doesn’t negate the fact that an idol's voice is a product. To freely distribute it would be an affront to capitalism.

Though, on the other hand, we shouldn’t cause any problems as long as we don’t seek out donations and take care not to disrupt the rest of the public.

After all, the regulations in place prohibit specifically street performances—meaning a show of skill intended to raise money.

Raika: Right! No god or authority has the power to stop a bird from singin’!

Kanna: Is that so? Everytime we meet, I find that you’ve taught me something new.

Raika: Ya truly think so? I don’t think I’ve come up with anythin’ that hasn’t already been said before though?

Raika: Ehihi, fer as smart as ya look, ya know surprisingly little, Kanna-sama♪

Kanna: That’s true. Though the world hails me for being some sort of kid genius, I’m still just an ignorant, immature child.

That was the first vital truth that you taught me.

[starysky1289]

Alpha!Vanessa X Omega!Reader. Walking home.

This is my first time writing omegaverse, I hope it’s alright <:

Also shout out @707bot1 happy birthday man I hope u enjoy this.

The rain fell heavy on your umbrella, making it harder for you to trudge down the street. You didn’t have a ride home sense your S/O has dropped you. They was a delta, although they had the ego of an alpha times ten. You weren’t good enough for them, they’d yell at you, not obedient enough, not good enough for you to be called there’s.

It didn’t help you were stuck in a heat, nothing you did could even suppress it. You didn’t have the money for the suppression tablets that you used to take, your job was going through a crash and you were suffering from it. You were practically bait just waiting to be taken by an Alpha.

The whine of a police siren stopped you, looking over you watched the black and white car pull besides you. You stepped towards it hesitantly, and the window opened. Your nose filled with the scent of alpha, almost sickly sweet and heavy with sweat. You were expecting a big guy, but instead it was a petite blonde, who gave you a soft smile, waving towards you.

“ hey, what’s got you walking out here all alone? It’s a stormy mess. “

“…I missed the bus, I’ll be fine. “

“ you scared of the scent? I ain’t gonna do nothing to you dear, I’m an officer. Can I give you a ride, I’d hate to see you out here any longer.”

You were hesitant to answer. She was clearly official, the badge, the gun, the car obviously. But you were still weary. Her blue eyes shown with only kindness, it wouldn’t hurt, and you were a while from home.

“ alright maam…thank you officer…”

She unlocked the door, and you quickly got in, closing your umbrella and keeping it between your feet.

“ just call me Vanessa. What’s you name hun. “

“ Y/N. “

“ well Y/N, Where’s your home, I’m sure someone’s worried about ya. “

“ 146 WestWood avenue, I live in the apartment building there….and no..no one’s waiting for me. Not anymore atleast…“

Vanessa pulled back onto the road, she clicked her tounge, adjusting her radio on her hip and glancing over at you.

“ awfully sorry to hear that dear. You wanna talk about it..? “

She obviously wasn’t trying to get in Your legs, maybe she just hadn’t noticed your heat yet. You where ways told how tough and intimidating alphas where, but she was sweet, gentle, the complete opposite of what you where taught to respect.

“ my former spouse…they where a delta..said I wasn’t good enough for them..I wasn’t obedient enough. So they left me for some skimpy little omega. It’s why I was walking home…I don’t have a car, and any money I get right now is going towards bills “

“ oh dear. How awful is that…some people just don’t know how to treat a girl these days. Always expecting there omega to be perfect little things for them. Shame you’ve never had a real alpha..treat you good is what they’d do. “

You blushed, gripping you pants. Was that, attraction? Nonsense, she was just beings nice, she wouldn’t make a move on you that fast would she?

“ h-hehe…s-shame I might never know…”

“ nonsense…”

As she pulled up to the stop light, she turned to you, holding you chin. Your heat in you made you want to lunge into her and make out with her right here, but you were self trained enough to know better.

“ you just need to find the right one~ “

You never had this feeling,even from your ex spouse. Vanessa chuckled, and turned back to the road. You were confused, but warm, was this attraction? It couldn’t be, why would you be.

Vanessa pulled up to your apartment building, it was anything pretty. A worn down old building with rotting architecture. You gripped your umbrella as you slowly got out of the car, looking back at Vanessa.

“ you sure you good sweetheart? “

“ y-yeah…I’ll be ok..thank you officer. “

“ what’d I tell ya, you can just call me me Vanessa. I’m of shift anyway. Have a good night “

“ yes…well..I have some homemade soup cooking right now…would you wanna join me..? “

Vanessa smiled, hoping out of the car and locking it. She waked up to you and help your hand that was holding your umbrella.

“ I thought you’d never ask. “

*~*

You both had an Italian wedding soup with garlic bread for dinner, followed by a gentle conversation about eachother over wine. Something about her made you melt, it could just be the police uniform she was still in, maybe it was just how her eyes looked like little pools of water, or maybe it was just because this heat was so bad you’d take anything you could get.

“ so, Y/n. Have you got a nest built? “

“ Huh-?? “

“ well, that heat seems like it’s not going away anytime soon. I atleast hope you have somewhere comfy your curling up. “

Your face grew red at the question, she knew about the heat, you were stupid to think she didn’t. You gripped your pants and glanced off.

“ my beds all made up..pushed against the wall so I can curl up in it…”

“ good.”

“ why do you ask, Vanessa…”

Vanessa swirled her wine, before throwing back the last bit. Her eyes glanced across the room, before back at you, smiling softly.

“ just curious. if you needed some help finishing it I wouldn’t mind at all. “

“ o-oh uhm…I..I did get this big new comforter I can’t seem to..get over my bed..would you wanna help with that~? “

You both stood up, looking up at her with your big doe eyes.

“ I wouldn’t love anything more beautiful~ “

This was wrong. A random girl, a random alpha in your home, and now you were leading her to your nest, your little spot in this world. Your bedroom was the nicest room in the apartment, your bed all covered in multiple blankets and pillows to keep you comfy. You grabbed the new comforter, opening it from its packaging. Vanessa was silent behind you, before you felt her big hands grab your waist. You didn’t pull away, letting her feel up and down your delicate waist.

“ that feel good baby? “

“ mhm…such a strong grip on me…”

She pushed her head onto your shoulder, grinding on you gently.

“ well, I can’t let you get away now. You let me into your nest…”

“ and maybe i don’t want you to go away Vanessa~ “

You gridded back against her, whimpering softly. You could feel her bulge forming from under her tight uniform. She helped you throw the comforter over the nest before humping your ass.

“ you see what you do to me princess~? Fuck…I’m gonna have to fill you with my pups now~ “

“ o-officer~….”

You turned around, and she pulled you into a deep kiss, her lips practically eating your mouth. You held onto her waist, fiddling with her belt.

“ V-Vanessa….”

“ shh…poor little mutt…all pent up with that poor heat…let me take care of it…”

Vanessa slipped her fingers around your waistband, quickly pulling them down. You wore a pair of panties that were soaked through, slick coating your folds and upper thighs.

“ look at you…all this for me baby~? “

“ y-yeah….i-i cant help it…”

“ yeah? All dirty for me baby? “

Vanessa quietly unbuckled her belt, stripping off her pants to be let with a pair of navy blue boxer briefs on. Her bulge was big through it, and the tip just poked out the top.

“ big isn’t it baby? Bigger than that ex of yours? “

“ yes Vanessa…m-much..much bigger…”

She finally dropped her boxers, letting the full thing throb against your ass. It had to off been at least 9 inches, and it was thick. You could see the knot beginning to form at its base.

“ you gonna take this baby? Gonna let me stuff you good…? “

You let yourself fall backwards into the bed, keeping your legs spread open for her to gawk at.

“ I-I’m all your Vanessa. P-please officer…m-mate me…”

Vanessa let out a low growl, pinning you down in the bed. Her breath was warm against your neck, and she kissed down your face, leaving small bites on your cheeks and earlobes. She stripped your panties off and tossed them to the side, grinding against your soft folds.

“ s-stop teasing…please just fuck m-me…”

“ your little delta may of used you up quickly…but i…I savor my meal…what i do to you..”

You whined as she continued to thrust against your folds, before letting it finally slip in. You moaned out in a pleasured relief, your head going back against the soft blankets.

“ s-so…so tight..fuck..”

Vanessa got to a steady pace, holding you down tighter every time you squirmed from its size. Your moans would grow louder every time she’d thrust in deeper, panting into your chest. She stripped off your shirt and bra, gawking down at your tits.

“ V-Vanessa…nessa please it’s s-so big!! S’to big!! “

“ Quiet baby…I-I’m having fun here…Ima…Ima make you feel good soon gorgeous…”

She bent down and burried her face between your tits, thrusting in harder. Her dick was practically ripping you in half, making sure that your hole would only take her. You’d cry out, and she’d shut you up by thrusting in deeper, making you want to whine and moan louder.

“ who’s pretty pussy is this huh? Who’s it belong too y/n. “

“ Y-you!! I-it belongs to you Vanessa!! “

“ absolutely it does..f-fuck feels..feels s’good….”

With a quick movement, Vanessa grabbed your arms and held them above your head, leaning down into your neck. You were about to complain, before feeling her night down on your neck. And she bit hard. She was marking you, marking you as hers and hers only.

“ V-Vanessa!! “

She only groaned in response, throwing herself back and picking you up, sitting you ontop of her cock. She held your hips and thrusted into you deeper.

“ F-fuck!! N-nessy its t-to much!! I-I’m gonna cum! P-please please I-i can’t!! “

“ My…my girl…m-mine…my pretty girl…f-fuck..take it..take every last drop I give you “

And with that she slammed into you, you practically screamed out in a mix of pleasure and pain. You felt her knot locked in you, and you struggled to regain your breath. You felt her cum filling you, and you could only lay into her as you could feel yourself cumming with her.

“ A-h…ah…v-va…Vanessa…”

“ shh..so good y/n…so good…gentle, get some sleep…I’ll hold you..”

You didn’t argue, you held her tightly and met your eyes close, kissing her nose gently.

“ I l-love you vaness….”

“ i love you too y/n…”

*~*

You woke up surrounded by the comfort of your nest, but your legs twitched with pain. Vanessa must of got loose in the middle of the night, and gone home. You groaned, trying to cling to her scent, before hearing a knock on the door, Vanessa slowly made her way in.

“ I’m so sorry I was gone y/n. I ran to the bathroom. Do you need anything? Money, water, food? Let me look at your mark real quick too. “

Vanessa was quick to tend to whatever you needed. She delicately looked at the mark on your neck, before giving it a gentle kiss.

“ d-does this mean I’m your m-mate now nessy…? “

“ only if you want. But let me take you to dinner first, then you can choose. I’m sorry about it..I was stuck in the moment, and I just need you closer…so my instincts took over and I..marked you…I’m sorry hun..”

You kissed her gently, holding her hands and laying on her.

“ you did nothing wrong…w-will you make me breakfast..? “

“ of course hun. You stay here, soak up my scent. I love you y/n. “

“ I love you t-to Vanessa…”

Vanessa chuckled, slowly getting up and heading out of the room. You nuzzled into the pillows and sniffed each one. Her scent was everywhere, the sickly sweet scent mixed with sweat. But you could also smell fresh cucumber, mandarin, and eucalyptus. You smiled, hugging a pillow tightly and you began to drift off again.

You finally had the alpha you were always told you’d have. But yours was different, she was tought, but gentle. She was possesive, but kind and loving. And you wouldn’t have your Vanessa any other way.

[hamsternella]

A moment for us

Albert Wesker x Reader

Cw: angst, gaslighting, toxic relationship

I don't know what this is, really. It was supposed to be something fluff but suddenly it became toxic lol

The wind swept the dust in the street. The branches of the trees alerted you to an approaching storm; the smell of rain coming through the window along with the shaking of wood through the middle of the frames. You rushed from the kitchen, throwing your hands —tibiased from the heat of the stoves— to the brass handles, pushing the windows shut without much regard. The gloom was beginning to devour reaching the avenue; the lights of the street lamps flickering on as dusk came. It was the last thing you saw before drawing the curtains. Navy blue occupying your vision, distracting you from the cream color of the living room. The house was beginning to warm up without the breeze penetrating it.

You let yourself be enveloped by the smell of dinner resting in the kitchen, and dragged your legs the length of the room, reaching the hallway. You sighed deeply, taking in the silence. Everything felt dense and dull—sad, even. It was still early to eat, considering the schedules your husband had imposed since he started working from home. Since the day of the news you had come to feel blessed by the idea that now the routine would be different; but loneliness continued to occupy the side of your bed, and even the head of the table, where Albert's cup rested empty.

What was one to do in such a situation?

"Albert, honey?" your voice thundered along the hallway; barely a murmur as the storm came down hard outside. "Dinner's ready, Al.”

One, two, three, four... You made it to the minute when you felt your legs failing under your own weight. You had to go to the office door, knocking on the wood with your knuckles, gently.

"Al? Sorry, I don't mean to bother you," you said under a breath," but I already made dinner. I thought maybe you might want—well, not like this, because I know you don't like to eat this early... I mean, it's not early really; but I know you don't eat yourself at this hour. Sorry... Al?”

The embarrassment disappeared under the silence drowned by the storm. At no time did you get a response. You continued to stand behind the door, waiting for the long-awaited appearance of your husband, but you didn't catch a glimpse of his gaze or hear a glimmer of his voice; nor did you ask again or knock gently on the wood, opting instead to open the door a little until you came upon the light of a desk lamp.

“Excuse me…”

His cologne is the first thing that envelops you; then the warmth of the radiator. You close the door almost immediately, not wanting all the components —so pleasantly familiar to you— to leave the room. The lighting was warm, but almost nonexistent. Your head ached just imagining Albert straining his eyes behind those dark glasses he hadn't left for months. Why was still a mystery; but you learned not to question it too much when you saw him grimace once. Lesson etched in your memory like a burning ember against your skin. That was the dynamic with your husband.

A distant and even narcissistic man, who seemed more attached to his work than to his partner. Even now there he was: leaning on his desk, with his head on his arms and his glasses in his disheveled hair. One or two strands stuck to the sweat on his forehead, a product of stress. He always sweated when he was stressed; but he never made it known, no matter how obvious it was. Not even to you. He could be collapsing from exhaustion and would be resorting more to his safe space —the office— than to his bed, where his spouse waited patiently.

At this point you were nothing more than a servant, though saying it out loud sounded worse than keeping it in your head as a garbled mumble. It felt wrong to think it; it wouldn't have been the right thing to do perhaps. Albert had never made you feel like a servant, much less said it in words. You didn't think there was anyone else, either. It was just the job—that, and something else. There was a secret, a dark thing that hung on his back and kept him awake at night. Something haunted Albert Wesker and made him feel guilty; so much so, that even his spouse he couldn't face, perhaps.

But what was this thing?

Lost in thought you found yourself walking towards his body. You stopped at his side, raising a hand to his back, resting your fingertips to trace a caressing path along his skin. You felt him tremble under your touch; his figure bristling as you rested your full hand on a specific point of tension, close to his right shoulder. A low growl vibrated along his throat, reaching you as a muffled murmur. You couldn't hide a smile as you saw his eyes half-open on yours, expectantly. You had missed that soft, dull-toned look of fatigue. The eyes that greeted you back before going to sleep. Other times before leaving for the office, in the morning; from the threshold of the kitchen and with the sunlight kissing his face. They were the most beautiful eyes you had ever seen in your entire life.

Albert Wesker was the most beautiful man you had ever seen in your entire life, better said.

"Good night, sleepyhead," you whispered. You moved your hand away from his back, resting it on his cheek. You watched him close his eyes again, ecstatic with the caress. "How did you sleep?”

The answer was slow in coming; Albert being too drunk with your tact to repair to your question with the usual effectiveness.

"I didn't mean to fall asleep," he said hoarsely. "I'm sorry, dear.”

"That's okay," you gently denied. "That's what you need most, anyway. Why don't you eat something and then go to bed?”

You pulled your hand away from his cheek, watching him straighten his body. You held back a sigh of disappointment as he rearranged his glasses, once again hiding the ghost of tiredness behind the dark glass. The color of his eyes continued to replay in your memory; the sweetness of his gaze causing you to shiver.

Albert leaned back against the chair, taking a deep breath.

"Too much paperwork," he complained aloud. "It would be a disaster to finish it tomorrow, so it's probably best if you eat something yourself and then go get some rest.”

You nodded with a pursed lip, clearly disagreeing with the proposal. But you said nothing. You stayed in place, crossing both hands in front of you; your eyes fixed on Albert's glasses as he turned his face to return your gaze. He arched an eyebrow, intrigued by your stay.

"Any problems, my dear?”

"Why?”

"I see you're still here, waiting for who knows what. Is there something you need to tell me?”

“No… Not really.”

The storm grew more out of control outside. For an instant you diverted your eyes to the closed office window, looking with false interest at the patterns on the curtains. A throat clearing from your husband got your attention again. He seemed disgruntled.

"And now you're lying to me because...?”

“I'm not lying to you, Albert.”

“And now you call me by my name. I see.”

You folded your arms. "What else am I supposed to call you?”

"I'm not liking that tone of voice, my dear," he said in a warning tone. "What's the matter?”

"You should tell me.”

Albert was amused for a moment by your attempt to dig the situation; but his rigorous attitude immediately settled, forcing him to hide the smile that had begun to creep up his face. He pulled the chair back, stretching his legs a little further—each one on one side of your body, with his hands on his thighs.

"What do you think I should tell you?” he said.

"Are you really going to make me ask you the obvious?”

"It must not be that obvious if I haven't noticed it yet.”

You rubbed your face with both hands, sighing loudly.

"How much longer are we going to go on like this, Albert?” When you pull your hands away from your face, you find Albert straightening up in his seat, his full attention on you. You take courage. "What am I supposed to do? Keep feigning ignorance while I play house?”

"If it's because of my late arrivals," he hastened, "I swear to you, my dear, they haven't been because of anyone in particular…”

"I know there's no one in particular, Albert!" you interrupted him. "I mean whatever it is you're hiding with all this ridiculous theatrics about hiding and abandoning me to my fate; in this huge, empty house, where I freeze and... and I don't know, just—I sometimes…”

Your voice was starting to get smaller as you neared the end. You lowered your head, embarrassed with your own feelings, but returned your full attention to Albert when you heard him sigh. He patted one of his thighs.

"Come here, sweetheart," he murmured softly.

"I don't want cuddling, Albert," you shook your head. "I want answers.”

"Well, right now I plan to give you more than just answers.”

"It's always the same with you; these kinds of distractions keep me out of whatever is going on behind my back. I'm your spouse, Albert, I deserve some of your honesty.”

He held back a sigh, removing his glasses to leave them on the desk. He seemed to be processing slowly on what to answer, though it was clearly taking longer than it should have; you were considering it best to retire and go to sleep. You weren't going to get anything positive out of today—as usual.

"Where do you think you're going?"

You moved your hand away from the door, returning your gaze to his. "To sleep. You said it yourself, didn't you? That I should go to sleep. As always, Albert. That's the way it always is with you."

"I don't like your tone—and close the door, dear. Close the door... That's right, just like that. Come here."

"Albert..."

"I know you want this, too."

You bit your lip, walking towards him again before dropping into his lap. His arms wrapped around you, forcing your figure to mold into his chest. The smell of his cologne invaded your senses strongly, and you felt yourself starting to lose your mind.

"I've missed you so much," he whispered after a long silence. He got no response. His chest vibrated with the birth of a laugh; a deep sound that settled in your heart in tandem. "You didn't miss me?"

"Shut up."

Another laugh, this time louder and longer. You felt your face heat up—with anger or embarrassment. You had no idea.

"I started working from home so I could be with you, but the paperwork is too much," he explained. "I haven't been sleeping very well either; forgive me for these shortages I've been causing you."

"Apologies are not like you, Albert. This all feels forced. There's something going on, and you're hiding it from me..." You swallowed your words, trying to gather your breath before continuing. "I found the moving papers, with as many others referring to my information."

"Did you happen to find them in my office, where you know perfectly well you are not allowed to snoop?"

His hands pressed on your body. A warning; the second of the night.

"I'm tired of things being kept from me, Albert. We're supposed to be married for a reason... There is a reason, isn't there?"

"I guess there is."

"You guess?!"

You pushed with both hands on his chest, searching for his eyes.

"You guess, Albert? What does that mean?"

"Can you calm down a little bit, please?"

"This marriage feels like a sham! Where am I supposed to hold on to keep my cool? You're mocking me; this is humiliating." You struggled against his grip, not even trying to hold back tears anymore. "Let go of me!"

Wesker clicked his tongue, rising from the seat to force both of his arms around your body against the desk, pushing your hips with his. You stifled a gasp of surprise at the distinctive pressure of his member under his pants; the bulge pushing against the fabric of your own clothing, almost penetrating it with its heat. You brought your gaze to his, finding it dilated—not with desire, despite having glimpsed that ghost cross his eyes. This was anger.

You seemed to find a different reflection in the color, a turbulent tonality.

"I thought I had made the issues regarding this marriage clear from the first night," he whispered. "I am not for games, much less do I want you to be. This is ridiculous; I have never provided you with a reason to doubt what I do."

One of his hands let go of your arm, holding your face by your cheeks this time. His fingers dug into your soft flesh, pulling you closer to him.

"I hold the reins of this house. I see to it that you eat, that you sleep in peace, and that above all things you give me the same peace I deserve for supporting you. I am a model husband; I expect you to be a spouse to match. You're not showing it right now."

His breath hit your face with the release of a sigh. His lips fell on yours moments later—a quick kiss, devoid of heat. The butterflies in your stomach fluttered again in spite of everything.

"I don't want to talk about this now because this is how things are done. The way I want them. There's nothing you have to or, much less, should do about it. Is that clear?" Silence. That was all there was. Your look was the answer. "Very well."

And then he walked away. Albert returned to the seat, looking twice as tired as before. One of his hands continued to cover his eyes; a particular heaviness taking over his figure. It was almost as if he was making sure that something was not out of place with himself. And as usual, the glasses returned to his face, neatly arranged as with both free hands he combed his hair back, ridding himself of the strands on his forehead. That was all.

"Go back to the room," he finally said. "Try to get some rest and don't let it occur to you to come back until you've thought about what you did today. You've been terrible, and it's disappointed me."

"I'm not a child," you whispered.

The mistake fell on you like a bucket of ice water as soon as you saw him turn his face towards you.

"You are right. But you are mine, and you are supposed to respond to whatever I command. I know what you need—it's what I give you and what you don't appreciate. You're ungrateful." Another sigh; a heavy one, of frustration. "Now get to the room before I have to put you in your place myself."

[brittle-doughie]

Hello again. It's me, the anon that made this ask a while back:

https://brittle-doughie.tumblr.com/post/757103029798453248/ask-3-sorry-if-youve-actually-been-getting I thought it was interesting that we both agree that the beasts are subtly corrupting Y/N Cookie and "staking their claims" so to speak. In light of this I have come here to make another ask regarding my initial idea as I let the idea of a "Partially Darkened" soul jam simmer in my head a bit more. How well do you think Ancient Y/N's fellow heroes would take the news that their friend is a possible security risk? I'd imagine that Elder Faerie probably knew of Y/N Cookie's odd soul jam and informed Pure Vanilla and White Lily that the darkness blotting Y/N's soul jam is a direct avenue for the beasts to get into their head. Pure Vanilla then goes on to tell the rest of the ancient cookies about what he learned; about the beasts and more importantly, about Y/N Cookie's soul jam and that it makes them a possible vulnerability for the beasts to utilize for their calamitous cause. How do you think they'd react to that? To their long time friend and ally being revealed as a possible risk for this mysterious new foe to potentially manipulate? Perhaps, even to add to the angst, maybe Y/N Cookie wasn't even aware of their rather unique connection to these ancient beasts. Y/N Cookie already knew there was something trying to worm its way inside of their head, but even they didn't know deep the rabbit hole went. A penny for your thoughts?

They already thought that WL being DE was impossible at the time, so hearing that their friend may not be all there in the head in terms of their soul jam having ties to the Beasts.

Golden Cheese or Dark Cacao might show some apprehension, but they’d never want to turn their back at a friend, but they have no choice but to take precautions to ensure themselves and their kingdoms are safe.

Meanwhile, White Lily or Hollyberry would want to prove that you were still the same Y/N they know, that you were not like those Beasts.