#thank god illinois is out

[atlabeth]

my bracket is so busted it's a little sad

[knuts-and-bolts]

something about van being the storyteller of the group. something about the stories she chooses to tell out there. something about that combined with the fact that she knew before anybody else’s that they would inevitably kill each other. she let herself die on the inside, but kept telling stories. she kept the others alive by giving them somewhere else to go in their heads while she planned how to choose who would die. if she didn’t have such a vital role in keeping the humanity of the group alive, she would have scarified her body, too. she leaves the burning house last, making sure that everyone is okay. she stands with shauna as she butchers javi. she believes in the wilderness because she has to believe something. she makes sure the others believe, too, because otherwise they would lose the last glimmer of hope they have. i’m literally obsessed with her and i have no idea what i’m gonna do waiting for season three. stay tuned for me rewatching the whole show just to psychoanalyze van palmer

[rynbutt]

pierced. pt. 4 | spencer reid.

"Focus here, sweetie."

you can find the other parts on my masterlist.

cw: fem!reader, 18+ content, suggestive as fuck, making out, nipple stuff (my finger slipped), fluff

a/n: this made me feral

He had been gone for weeks. 

You hadn’t seen Spencer in almost four weeks after your little date at his desk. Case after case came through and he and his team were sent all over the country. You came to understand that Spencer’s job was hectic, wondering how any of them had social lives at all with how often they were called into work only to disappear for days or weeks at a time.

Spencer had called you a handful of times while he was in Illinois, telling you all about the UnSub they caught while you were half asleep working late at your desk. But after that, it was radio silence from Spencer and you could only assume he was neck deep in work just like you. 

You sat at your desk, leaning back in your chair with a loud sigh. You were sure your boss had it out for you, given how you were basically the last one in the office trying to finish up a project. You tried to take it as a compliment that they trusted you to handle these things but god you just wanted to go home, pour a glass of wine, put on a face mask and pretend to have your shit together.

The exhaustion made your eyelids feel heavy and your vision blurry. You let out a tired yawn, attempting to blink away the deep desire to crawl under your desk and nap. The sudden buzz of your phone kept you from nodding off at your computer.

Spence: Are you home?

You: Nah, I’m at work, sorry :(

Spence: Still? Isn’t it a bit late?

You: What can I say, I’m an ass-kisser

Spence: Have you had anything to eat?

You: Not yet, I’ll worry about that later

Spencer read your message but didn’t reply. You turned your focus back to your work, sipping on your cold coffee to hopefully bring you back to earth. After forty-five minutes and another two cups of coffee, you finally finished your project. You were in the midst of sending a half-assed email to your project manager when you heard the elevator ding.

“Is Y/N still here?” You heard Spencer’s voice and your heart fluttered.

“Oh yeah, she’s just around the corner,” one of your coworkers replied. You rolled your chair back from your desk, peering around the corner as a lost little Spencer looked around.

“Spencer?” You called softly. His eyes darted to the sound of your voice, his face lighting up at the sight of you. He looked so precious in his sweater, with his messy hair and mismatched colourful socks. He did a little run down the row of cubicles to your desk, holding a plastic bag of what you assumed was takeout. 

You stood up to greet him, the exhaustion suddenly dissipating, “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to bring you dinner,” he replied, holding the bag of the best smelling food out for you. 

You pouted at the gesture, “Spencer, you didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to. As a thank you for bringing me dinner the other week,” he said with a smile. 

“Wait… how did you know where to find me?” You raised a brow at him, staring at him sideways. Spencer’s face went red, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

“I’m sure you told me,” he lied.

“You’re a bad liar.”

“Garcia maybe… did some digging,” he replied under his breath, staring at everywhere but you.

You playfully punched his shoulder, “you stalker,” you laughed. 

You pulled another chair over for Spencer, sitting down at your desk and finally pulling your dinner out. You don’t know where Spencer found this food but it was probably the best thing you’d ever eaten… but you also hadn’t fed yourself in 12 hours so maybe your judgement was slightly skewed. 

“When did you get back?” you asked, mouth full of food.

“Two hours and four minutes ago,” Spencer replied, playing with the little Hello Kitty figurines on your desk. 

“Spencer!” you scolded. “You must be exhausted!”

“I’m okay, really,” he quickly said. He let out a breath, shyly avoiding your gaze, “and… I wanted to see you.”

You smiled softly at his confession, reaching over to move some of his messy hair out of his face, “you’re cute.”

“Thank you,” he beamed.

The two of you sat at your desk for another hour as you ate your dinner and finished up your passive-aggressive email to your manager. Spencer helped you clean up your small collection of mugs and carried your bag for you while you cleaned up your desk. You walked to the elevator together, reaching up to gently grasp Spencer’s hand in your own.

“This okay?” You asked.

“Y-yeah, of course,” he replied quickly, feeling his hands going clammy and praying you didn’t notice.

You were lucky you lived within walking distance to your job, it proved to be very convenient for exercise and the price of fuel didn’t murder your already dusty bank account. Spencer opted to drive you home since it was late and he wanted to make sure you were safe. You tried to offer him cash for fuel but he waved you off (you hit twenty dollars in his glove box). 

Spencer pulled up outside your apartment building, the two of you sitting in a comfortable silence for a moment before you spoke, “you… want to come up?”

“Oh… yeah, yeah, sure I can,” Spencer replied nervously, clearing his throat.

“You don’t have to,” you laughed.

“No, no, I want to,” he said quickly, putting his car in park and taking his keys out of the ignition. 

The two of you walked up to your apartment, Tofu rubbing against Spencer’s leg upon his arrival. Spencer was delighted by this revelation (he’d done a lot of research on cats after finding out you had a cat).

“Did you know cats rub up against you like this as a way of putting their scent on you?” Spencer said, running his hand along Tofu’s back, “so other cats know you’re theirs?”

“I didn’t know that,” you lied, of course you knew. But you would never let Spencer stop talking. You shrugged off your coat, tossing it over one of the chairs at your kitchen table. “Make yourself comfy, I’m just gonna go change.”

Spencer watched as you walked to your bedroom, Tofu trotting behind you. He awkwardly shuffled around your apartment, admiring the polaroid photos stuck to your fridge of what he assumed was your friends from your hometown. He smiled softly at how happy you looked. A particular photo of you at a halloween party made his face heat up. You were wearing a white lacy bralette, a white skirt and angel wings. Your friend next to you was dressed like the devil and your other friend dressed as… the Pope?

But that’s not what caught his eye, it was the fact he could clearly see your breasts through your see through top. He could see the little gold studs on either side of your pert nipples, truly juxtaposing the whole angel costume. Spencer had honestly almost forgotten you had your nipples pierced (no he didn’t).

“Whatcha lookin’ at?” you almost scared Spencer out of his skin. He was so distracted by your… assets, he didn’t hear you leave your room.

“Uh, nothing- nothing… just this,” he grabbed the closest thing to him, which happened to be your toaster.

“My… toaster?” your eyes narrowed.

“Yup, love this model,” Spencer nodded, putting your pink toaster back down on the counter. 

You glanced at the polaroids on your fridge, deciding not to embarrass him further, “you want a drink? I have wine, wine and… wine?”

“Oh, no, that’s okay. I need to drive home,” Spencer waved you off before shoving his hands in his pockets. Spencer glanced at your outfit, the baby blue tank and grey shorts made a comeback and now he was rethinking the whole ‘wanna come up?’ scheme. 

“How bout a coffee?” you asked.

Spencer gave a tight-lip smile, “Sure.”

You made Spencer his coffee and watched as he almost emptied your sugar jar. You poured yourself a glass of wine before sitting down on your plush couch, patting the spot next to you for Spencer. He sat down next to you, taking a sip of his sugar drink. He looked positively adorable drinking coffee from your Kirby mug.

“You should tell me about your recent case,” you said, tucking your legs under your butt, giving Spencer your undivided attention. 

“...You want to hear about that?” he asked, brows furrowed.

“Duh, of course,” you retorted. “I like listening to you talk, Spencer.”

Spencer’s heart quickened at your genuine words, making him beam internally and his brain turn to mush. Spencer proceeded to tell you about the BAU’s most recent case, a string of seemingly unrelated murders of college students at house parties. Your heart leapt to your throat when Spencer told you how the UnSub started shooting at him and Emily before he was arrested. 

“If you get shot, I’ll be so mad,” you told him after he finished his story.

“Okay, I’ll try not to get shot,” Spencer grinned, “so you won’t get mad.”

“Correct answer,” you nodded, downing the last of your wine. Spencer watched you as you stretched your arms over your head, a yawn pulling from your wine-stained lips. His eyes darted to your blue tank top, one of the thin straps falling off your shoulder. Your apartment was cold and your nipples pressed against the thin fabric of your top.

Spencer reached a hand over, gently lifting the strap of your top back over your shoulder, his warm hands making the hairs on your skin prickle. You glanced up at Spencer as he retracted his hand, quickling reaching your own hand out to grab his wrist.

Spencer stared at you with wide eyes, so beautiful and brown.

“Do you… want to see?” You asked quietly, your voice low.

Spencer looked at you, unsure of what you meant, “See what?”

You smiled, “My piercings,” you clarified.

Spencer felt like he exploded. His cheeks went red at the idea of seeing your breasts and the tiny intimate piercing he had only seen through your shirt and in his mind late at night. Sure, he had seen breasts before but he had never seen yours and that’s what made him nervous. 

“I know you must be curious,” you said after Spencer didn’t reply. Spencer opened his mouth, attempting to form a single coherent thought. “Earth to Spencer?” you sang softly.

“I, uhm-”

“You don’t want to?” You asked.

“No, I do!” He quickly said before the weight of what he said hit him, “Wait, no… Y/N, I like you and I don’t want you to think that I’m only here to see… that,” he gestured vaguely.

You grabbed his hand gently, leaning over to kiss his cheek softly, “I like you too, Spence,” you muttered, his eyes finally meeting yours, “and I don’t think that you’re only here for that, trust me, guys have before and you’re not them.”

Spencer felt jealousy at the thought of other men seeing such an intimate part of you nag at the back of his mind. You watched his expression change, knowing his big genius brain was in overdrive. You reached a hand up to cup his face gently, bringing his attention back to you.

“Focus here, sweetie,” you whispered with a smile.

“Sorry,” Spencer whispered back.

“I don’t have to show you if it makes you uncomfortable-”

“I am curious,” Spencer interrupted, his voice nervous and quiet. You let out an airy laugh at his sweetness and let go of his face, sitting up straight.

Spencer swallowed the painful lump in his throat as you crossed your arms, fingers grasping the hem of your tank top. His eyes never left yours as you lifted the fabric over your heart, your breasts fully on display for him to see.

It took all of Spencer’s courage to glance down.

And god you were perfect.

Your breasts were smooth and soft, your nipples hard against the chilly air of your apartment. If Spencer were any less respectable, he would be drooling. His eyes stared at the gold jewellery threaded through your hard nipples. He had never seen anything quite as attractive as this and he was sure that nipple piercings were the single greatest thing to ever exist.

“...You’re giving me the wrong idea, Spence,” you chuckled after he stayed quiet for several minutes, simply admiring your beauty.

“I-I’m sorry,” he quickly said, “You’re just…”

“Bit weird, you think?”

“Perfect,” he said, looking up at you again. “You’re just… perfect.”

A small smile graced your lips, “Do you… want to touch?”

“I-I’m not very good at… any of this,” Spencer quickly replied, all he wanted to do was impress you and this was sending him spiralling. 

“I don’t care about that, Spencer,” you grabbed his hand, “I like you, I trust you and I want it if you do.”

Spencer kept his eyes on you, “I… Yes. I want to.” He let you guide his hand to your breast. His hand was warm and large, cupping the soft plush skin gently. His breath hitched in his throat as he felt your soft skin, curious and nimble fingers exploring your skin. His thumb came up to touch the cool metal of your piercing, your breath catching in your throat at the feeling, “Sorry,” he quickly said, pulling his hand away.

“No, no, it’s okay… they’re just sensitive. An added perk of nipple piercings,” you replied. Spencer nodded, taking a mental note as his hand reached back out to touch your skin again. 

You wrapped your hand gently around his wrist, catching his attention. Spencer’s beautiful eyes stared into yours and you lost it. Your hands reached out, pulling him in by his tie to plant a hard kiss against his lips. Spencer’s hand cupped the side of your neck, tilting your head back to kiss you deeper. Your hands came to hold the back of his head, fingers tangling in his soft hair.

He pulled away to breathe, thumb stroking over your cheek, “are you okay with this?” he whispered slowly.

“Are you?”

“Yes.”

“Then so am I.”

That was all the encouragement Spencer needed to kiss you again, pulling you closer until you swung one of your legs over his thighs, straddling his waist as you kissed him. You tasted slightly of wine and sweetness, the smell of your perfume sending him dizzy. Spencer’s hands came down to rest on your waist, his thumbs resting against your ribs. 

“You want to keep going?” You asked breathlessly against his lips.

“I don’t want to stop,” Spencer replied just as breathlessly, pressing a kiss to the underside of your jaw. You whined softly as one of his hands reached up to grasp your breast again, the pad of his thumb rubbing against your pert nipple. 

“Spencer,” you whined, your hands grasping at the hair on the back of his neck. He planted a kiss on the column of your throat, then another to the small divot of your collarbone, and another to your sternum. His fingers gently pinched your nipple, making you whine softly. “Not good at this, my ass,” you breathed.

“I have an IQ of 187,” Spencer retorted, “I remember a lot.”

“Clearly,” you replied, lifting his head back up to kiss him again.

a/n: i hope everyone is okay with the lack of smut, i just want everyone to feel comfy (i'll totally write it in a future chapter ;) if you want tho)

taglist: @crazycat-ladys-blog @cillsnostalgia @secretly-tumb1r @33-81 @elissanatok @outrunangelss @cultish-corner @666-gothic-bat-666 @evvy96 @littlemarvelstan8 @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @meg-black

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Multiverse Police (pt.3)

JL very soon finds out there's no reasoning or controlling this particular brand of crazy. Amity, as they like to call themselves - 'Because saying Interdimensional Law Enforcement every time is long and ILE is boring', Dani explains to them - do whatever they want and deem necessary, and no one can stop them.

They have bargained with the US government to let their whole town stay for a week in Illinois like one would ask to stay in a hotel room. They have all but swiped all the tech shops in the nearby area, and somehow, they had real, actual money to pay for it, despite not even originating from this dimension. They claimed it was due to the Ghost - or God, the opinions were mixed - of Time making it work. They visited a bunch of people. Heroes, that was.

One memorable visit was one they paid to Flashes. Vlad, the mayor of Amity Park and unofficial leader of ILE, and Tucker, a kid with an insane knowledge on all and every kind of tech, performed a whole lecture to Flash family as well as their friends and colleagues, on importance of safety while time-traveling, the best ways to fix the timelines and even on upgrades to their costumes.

The other important visit was the one they paid to Diana, although that one was not so climactic - Jazz just gave her a bunch of letters and a card with a summoning sigil on it. 'It's for Pandora, she enjoys having a cup of tea with Themyskirians,' the redhead claimed.

Now, it was Batman's turn, it seems.

Danny was standing - more like floating - in front of Red Hood. They were at the Watchtower since Batman did not like Amity coming to Gotham. In his opinion, that would be just calling for trouble, and both Valerie - head of ILE security - and the records of other Batmans said he was not wrong.

"Yeah, this one's fucked up," Danny says after almost three minutes of looking straight at Hood, and the man huffs:

"Thanks, I got that part," he throws back, but Danny just laughs softly.

"No, sorry, I didn't mean it as you personally. Just, like, compared to the other Red Hoods I've met. At least you're not fucked up beyond reason, I can still help you," the ghost boy says cheerfully and claps his hands, "Ready to get rid of the boiling rage in your veins?"

And, before either Hood or Batman can say anything, he reaches his hands inside Jason, and the man tenses up, holding his breath. Batman hovers close - he's read about the same kind of procedure being performed by Danny on other versions of Jason in the files, but reading about it and witnessing it is two entirely different things.

Danny's hands start turning green. The same thing he did with the portal before happens again: glowing, Lazarus green flows up his hands, like veins outside his skin. Only this time, it's not as bright as the portal was. It's murky and dull.

A few seconds later, Danny slowly takes his hands out of Red Hood's chest, and Bruce is really glad he was standing so close because Jason all but falls down to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. Batman holds him by the shoulder, keeping him up, but Danny shakes his head:

"No, he better sit down. He's probably gonna feel lightheaded for a few minutes. Oh, and catch," he throws something to Batman, which he catches on reflex. It's a weird, jello-like substance of dark, dirty green color, almost like a stress ball.

"What is it?" He asks, and Danny grins:

"A souvenir. That's his Pit Rage," he nods to Red Hood.

"My what?!" Jason snaps his head to the ball in Batman's hands.

"The parts that made it actual Rage. Think, like, an infection, or a parasite, or just- You know what, it's what you get when some crazy asshole bathes you in ghost sewers," Danny shrugs, completely disregarding the face expressions Batman and Red Hood are giving him. "Speaking of which, do you wanna come with us when we get rid of those Lazarus Pits of yours?"

There's a bit of silence, before Red Hood breathes out:

"Hell, yes."

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

I'll be writing another part with Amity getting rid of Ra's and Lazarus Pits, yeah. In the meantime, Sam is looking for Constantine to give him a slap on the hand because all the John Constantine's pieces of soul were like a massive jigsaw puzzle to her, considering there's more than one John Constantine and all of them can't stop selling their fucking souls even for a minute and Sam is so done.

Tucker and Tim are nerding out in WE with no sleep or food, Damian gets to play with Cujo, Kon is discussing clones' trials and tribulations with Dani, Jazz is giving Supes a long overdue lecture on how to treat clones, Dan is looking for someone to fight - so far he's found Captain Marvel but he knows he is just a kid so instead of actual fighting they are playing Mario Cart - Val is having fun with Arrows because sharp shooters gotta stick together, and Vlad had abandoned all of his responsibilities and is hiding in Lex Luthor's penthouse, discussing cat breeds and how annoying heroes can be.

Paulina made her way into Gotham without anyone noticing and befriended Harley and Sirens, so Batman may or may not find a particular clown dead when he comes back to his city. Dash is actually not up for trouble, so he is on duty in Amity Park, doing tours for all the curious people who got interested in ghost town and decided to visit. GIW agents are in the process of locating all the Pits, Maddie is elbow deep in a scientific discussion with Martian Manhunter, Jack is upgrading the Amity Ship with all the new tech he's got, and Cyborg is keeping watch on him.

Did I forget anyone? I most likely did.

| <- prev | next ? |

Tag list: @mae-mae-mae @okami-love @fantasticstoryteller @ultra-stormsaga

[2tcs]

Day 3: reunions after a long time and rain

“Hay Bruce?” Duke asked as he walked out of the locker room. It was the end of his shift, thank god, so everyone was getting ready for the night shift.

“What's going on chum?”

“My cousin is coming to Gotham for a senior field trip thing next week to visit Gotham U and I was wondering if he and his friends can stay at the manor so they don’t have to pay for a hotel.”

“We’ll have to run a background check on them” “Already done!” Duke interrupted Bruce and jumped around him to get to the batcomputer to open up the files.

“Hmm. You really want your cousin to visit huh.” Bruce said as he scanned through the files.

“Ya. I haven’t seen him in ages and even though we text it’s not the same as an in-person visit. And Gotham isn’t safe for tourists so, manor.”

“Mhm, Duke?”

“Yes, Bruce?”

“Why are his and his friends' hometown labeled as unconfirmed?”

“Well, that may be one of the reasons I thought it would be a good idea for everyone to meet them? I know Tucker lives in Amity Park, Illinois. I’ve even visited him there when we were kids. But when I tried to look it up for the background check I couldn’t find it. It’s like it never existed. When I tried to ask him about it he kinda dodged my question and changed the subject. Like he was nervous about someone overhearing.”

“Alright. I’ll inform Tim about their hometown and see if he can find out what’s going on. Make sure you tell Alfried that we are having guests.”

“Thank you so much Bruce! I’ll go tell Alfried right now. Night!” Duke yelled as he ran to the elevator.

👻🦇👻🦇

“Tucker! Over here!” Duke yelled as Tucker and his friends got off the bus.

“Duke! It’s good to see you! How have you been?” Tucker said as he ran up to Duke and gave him a side hug while using his free hand to point. “This is Danny and Sam. Danny, Sam. This is my cousin Duke.”

“It’s nice to meet you guys. Tucker’s told me a lot about you two.” Duke said as he accepted handshakes from Sam then Danny.

“It’s nice to meet you too Duke. Hopefully, Tucker has told you only the worst of things about us.” Sam joked.

“Of course. Hay, did you really switch out all the frogs in your freshman biology class with robot frogs?”

“Don’t remind me. Those things were so creepy. They talked to you as you cut them open.” Danny said with a disgusted face.

“It was more humane than dissecting living animals.” Sam defended herself.

“Wait. The frogs were alive? Tucker! Why was your school using living frogs instead of cadaver frogs?” Duke asked in shock.

“I got no clue man. Anyways, do we need to call a cab to get to your place? Cause I’m not walking in this downpour.” Tucker said while looking around.

“Hold on right there Mr Foley. You all need to sign these forms so we can get ahold of you in case of an emergency.” Mr Lancer said as he walked up to the group with several papers. “And I would also like to speak to your guardian before my students leave so I know they are in safe hands.”

“Ahem. I’m afraid Master Wayne is occupied with work right now but I am his butler, Alfred Pennyworth and I am in charge of taking care of all the needs of the Wayne family and their guests. If need be here is the main phone number for the manor as well as the address. Is there anything else I can do to ensure you of your students’ safety?” Alfred said as he seemingly appeared out of thin air and handed Mr Lancer a business card with the aforementioned information written on the back.

“Thank you for this Mr Pennyworth. My name is Lenard Lancer. As the vice principal of Casper High School, I have a duty to the students of our school. So I will still need these three to fill out these forms before they leave.”

“Of course Mr Lancer. I fully understand. Now if you all would please finish with the paperwork, we can load into the car and get out of this dreadful weather.” Alfred said watching as Danny, Sam, and Tucker traded off on using each other's backs to fill out the forms and hand them back to Mr Lancer.

[ma1dita]

im begging on my knees for you to see my vision of riding Luke in the driver’s seat of a car after a stressful and dangerous quest 😩😭 THE TENSION!? THE ROUGHNESS??

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

mdni

luke castellan x reader

a/n: it's 7am... i... don't know either. smut. unprotected sex. semi public. slight exhibitionism

wc: 835

riding luke in the driver's seat of a car he stole while accompanying you on your first official quest.... having a car was a quicker way to get the job done he said, and chris also reasoned the old lady they carjacked won't know what she's missing. with two sons of hermes against you, even if you disagreed with them they still wouldn't hear a single complaint from your lips once you could sit in the ac instead of trod through the summer midwestern heat.

a week later you're sitting in the parking lot of a motel in rural illinois. one second you're grinning over the success of your quest and waiting for chris to come back with the room key and the next second luke's pulling you over the console into a bruising kiss that makes his cracked lips bleed. days ago you remember watching luke pick the locks of this car just as easy as he flicks your belt open just now, your knees digging into the hot metal of the seatbelt mechanism next to his thighs as you rise up from your haunches and he can see the sweat glistening on your tummy, back arching over the steering wheel. your shirt flies over his shoulders and lands somewhere in the backseat. shorts following as quick as he can pull them off you, slick rubbing against the meat of your thighs so much that when you sit back down on his lap he can feel it through his jeans---the heat isn't just coming from the red glow of the motel sign almost vibrating with the words 'open 24/7'.

he presses your back across the wheel, one hand snaking up to your throat and the other dragging your panties to the side for him to peek and prod at in the dim light. with his seat leaned all the way back, he watches you like you're something out of the porn magazine chris jokingly nicked from the gas station earlier, shiny with sweat and something he can smell, desire reeking from every pore of your tired body. demigod aside, you're a fucking fever dream, a nasty thought that keeps luke hard at night until he can jack off when everyone finally goes to sleep in cabin 11. the only thing he'll be thanking the gods for is the fact that his brother left you two long enough for a quick fuck.

"luke, we're still dirty," you mumble, but he knows you couldn't care less, both of you covered in blood and grime and unable to know where he ends and you begin once his fly goes down and you sink onto him like a perfect mold. this is filthier---the feeling of your pussy clenching down on him tight with every thrust of your hips downwards like he'd ever want to leave this small slice of heaven.

"f-fuck, just like that...you're so tight f'me..."

you grab onto his curls to make him look at you in the dim lighting, dipping your fingers into his mouth as you rock your hips hard and he sucks on them like they're covered in nectar---sharp tongue and plump lips dancing around your digits despite the dirt under your nails but he's entranced by the way your eyes roll back once he starts fighting against your rhythm. it's not a competition but with every noise that spills from your lips as he pistons into your sopping warmth, he thinks he might be winning.

"so dirty baby... you're right... feels too good to stop though huh?" he grins at the sound of sticky skin slapping once he bucks his hips up faster. through the steamy windshield, he can see curtains rustling in the windows near where he parked the car. maybe it's the way the whole vehicle is shaking with the force of your hips, the headlights he accidentally turned back on when taking your clothes off, or maybe its the way you're screaming his name like you want someone to hear.

"oh, luke, i can't! slow down, people are gonna...see!"

you're holding onto his shoulders and peeking at his face through teary lashes and this motherfucker has his tongue between his lips smiling---mortals be damned. they can watch if they want, regardless he fucks into you like he means it. until you fall apart on his cock and there are red handprints on your hips from where he pulls you off of him, the both of you pulling at his cock with his hands over yours until hot streaks of cum paint your tummy to your tits.

there's a knock at the window. rolling the window down at eye level, luke makes eye contact with chris who looks at his brother with a knowing grin. you've thrown your head onto his shoulder in embarassment, sandwiching the multiple stains and fluids between your shaking bodies.

"shower's open. you guys were... occupied so i went ahead. you both need it," chris smirks, before sliding luke the extra key card.

and he's right. the both of you need a shower. good thing the next step after getting dirty is scrubbing each other clean, right?

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Playthings | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader (Eventual ? ;) )

Warnings: DESCRIPTIONS OF CHILDHOOD PARENTAL ABUSE. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO THIS. descriptions of parental death, canon violence, canon gore. please take care of yourselves, lovebugs. 

Word Count: 6025

A/N: look at his gorgeous face i'm gonna scream.

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

Dean definitely changed after that night with you before Sam disappeared. To be fair, you had as well. But both of you refused to talk about it. It was just subtle enough that Sam couldn’t pick up on it, but there were some lingering glances Dean stole at you and moments when your heart would swell in your chest just catching sight of him. 

Well, Sam probably would have noticed your change in behavior had it not been for the John-Winchester-level investigation he was doing into Ava’s disappearance. Papers covered every inch of your motel room in Peoria, Illinois; some of which were of Ava’s face, some of etchings of demons from the pages of library books, and some even you couldn’t quite make out. You were one-hundred percent beginning to worry about Sam’s mental state.

He’d been on the phone with Ellen for about thirty minutes now searching for more information. You sat on the floor, leaned against Dean’s bed, scribbling in your journal. Dean returned to the room carrying three coffee cups toward the end of Sam’s phone call. “What'd she have to say?”

Sam sighed. “Oh, she's got nothing. Me, I've been checking every database I can think of— federal, state, and local. No one's heard anything about Ava, she just— into thin air, you know?”

Your lips twisted to the side in confusion. He gave you a coffee cup and one to Sam.

“Ellen did have one thing,” said Sam. “A hotel in Cornwall, Connecticut. Two freak accidents in the past three weeks.”

“What’s that got to do with Ava?” you questioned.

“It’s a job,” he replied simply. “I mean, a lady drowned in the bathtub; then a few days ago a guy falls down the stairs, head turns a complete one-eighty. Which isn't exactly normal, you know? Look, I don't know, it might be nothing, but I told Ellen we'd think about checking it out.”

Dean’s eyebrows raised. “You did?”

Sam scoffed. “Yeah. You seem surprised.”

“Well yeah, it's just, you know. not the, uh, patented ‘Sam Winchester’ way, is it?” Dean joked.

Sam deadpanned at him, “What way is that?”

“I just figured after Ava there'd be, uh, you know, more angst and droopy music and staring out the rainy windows, and—”

You gave Dean a look.

He deflated. “Yeah, I’ll shut up now.”

“Look,” Sam huffed. “I'm the one who told her to go back home. Now her fiancé's dead, and some demon has taken her off to god knows where. You know? But we've been looking for a month now, and we've got nothing. So I'm not giving up on her, but I'm not going to let other people die either. We've got to save as many people as we can.”

Dean snorted. “Wow. That attitude is just way too healthy for me, and I'm officially uncomfortable now. Thank you.”

Sam ducked his head, chuckling, as did you.

“I’ll call Ellen,” you said. “I’ll tell her we'll take it.”

***

“Dean, can I pick a cassette? I’m dyin’ over here with Metallica. Love ‘em, but you haven’t changed the tape in, like, a week and a half now,” you groaned.

“(Y/N), you know the rules,” Dean warned.

“Yeah, but—”

“ ‘Sides,” he cut you off, “We’re almost there anyway. I’ll change it when we’re back on the road, deal?” 

“Deal.”

Sam looked between the two of you strangely. 

“What?” Dean questioned.

“When’s the last time you changed your music when somebody asked you to?” Sam questioned.

Dean thought for a moment. 

The younger brother shook his head. “Exactly.”

“I’m thinking,” replied Dean, scratching his head. He seemed to pick up on what Sam was suggesting and was doing his best to dodge questions. You understood; the two of you hadn’t exactly had an opportunity to discuss anything— not that you even wanted to. You were perfectly content just… “being,” as you’d written in your journal.

The car’s rumble quieted down considerably as Dean slowed in front of a victorian-style structure marked “Pierpont Inn” by the sign on the front. The air was slightly misty, blanketing the ground in a bit of a haze as your boots hit uneven gravel.

“Dude, this is sweet. I never get to work jobs like this,” Dean grinned.

“Like what?” you asked.

“Old school haunted houses, you know? Fog and secret passageways, sissy British accents— might even run into Fred and Daphne while we're inside.” He closed his eyes contentedly. “Mmm, Daphne. Love her.”

You jokingly shoved his head as if to say, “Shame on you, I’m right here.”

He chuckled at your antics. Sam turned to you strangely once more, but shook his head.

You noticed an urn on the porch next to the front door. “Hey, wait a sec,” you said, inspecting the urn more closely. You noticed a five-point symbol engraved on the urn. “I’m not so sure ‘haunted’ is the problem.”

“What do you mean?” Dean questioned. 

Sam nodded. “Good eye, (Y/N/N). That's a quincunx; that's a five-spot.”

“Five-spot,” Dean repeated. “That's used for hoodoo spellwork, isn't it?”

The brunet affirmed, “Right, yeah. You fill this thing with bloodweed and you've got a powerful charm to ward off enemies.”

“Only thing is,” you began, “I don’t see any bloodweed.”

“Yeah, anyway, don't you think this place is a little too, uh, white meat for Hoodoo?” Dean jested.

Sam shrugged. “Maybe.”

You held the door open for the brothers and followed in behind them. An auburn-haired woman briskly entered the room. “May I help you?” she asked.

“Hi, yeah, we’d like two rooms for a couple of nights,” Dean said. 

You jolted back as a young girl darted in front of your legs. You smiled at her as she ran away giggling; you couldn’t remember a time when you’d ever felt that innocent. 

“Hey!” the woman called after the girl. She gave you a weary smile. “Sorry about that.”

“No problem,” you said.

She sighed. “Well, um, congratulations, you could be some of our final guests.”

“Well, sounds vaguely ominous,” Dean stated.

You fought back a grin. 

“No, I'm sorry, I mean we're closing at the end of the month,” she said, seeming a little sad. 

“Yeah, I heard. I’m sorry about that,” you told her. “I’m into antiquing; this place came up on my radar. Figured I’d stop by before you guys shut down. I, uh, dragged these two along for the ride,” you finished, gesturing between Dean and Sam.

“Y'know, speaking of antiques,” Sam cut in, “you have a really, really interesting urn on the front porch. Where did you get that?”

“Oh, I have no idea, it's been there forever,” the woman shrugged. “So, two rooms, two kings?” 

“No, no,” Dean said hurriedly. “We’re brothers. (Y/N)’s just a friend.”

You nodded, feeling slightly upset by being called “just a friend,” but you understood why he did. Still, you wanted him to proudly show you off and claim you as his. “Two queens. And a king, please,” you said, handing her your card. 

Moments later, she handed it back to you along with a key. 

“Thanks,” you told her as she rang the bell on the desk next to her.

“You'll be staying in rooms two-thirty-seven and two-thirty-eight. Sherwin, could you show these people to their rooms?”

You turned to see a balding old man in a black blazer shuffling up behind you. You found him incredibly endearing. He grinned at you, introduced himself, and dragged your clunking duffel bag up behind him.

“I could give you a hand with that,” you suggested to him.

“I got it,” he politely insisted.

You smiled softly at him, grateful.

“So the hotel's closing up, huh?” Sam jumped in.

“Yep. Miss Susan tried to make a go of it, but the guests just don't come like they used to. Still, it's a damn shame,” he explained.

“Oh yeah?”

He went on to explain the history of the hotel; lots of weddings, politicians, and a popular spot for those passing through. He let you into your room, and you tipped him generously before telling him goodbye.

The decor of the room unsettled you quite a bit. An antique wedding dress was displayed on the wall in a weird configuration that almost made it seem like someone was actively wearing it. The room itself was clean, but everything about it made a chill crawl up your spine. You’d take a dilapidated motel room with possible bed bugs over an inn where someone definitely died on the pillow you were going to have to sleep on. 

You connected the victims from the file you put together that both victims were tied up in shutting the hotel down. However, Susan and Sherwin didn’t strike you as the type to be dabbling in spellwork. Given what she said about the urn, you thought it possible that someone who owned the hotel previously or worked here long ago was dealing in hoodoo. 

You caught sight of the little girl running around outside on the playground and heading over to one of the swings. Seeing her so happy sucked you back into your memories.

Reliving your memories always gave you an almost bird’s-eye-view of the situation; you weren’t you. You were standing in the corners of your memories, helpless to change anything and forced to watch your younger self go through those moments all over again.

Your dad was cleaning his guns on the “dining room” table of the motel you were holed up in for the week. You couldn’t have been anymore than ten at the time of this memory. Stevie was playing on the floor of the room with a truck while Scooby-Doo, his favorite cartoon, played in the background on the staticky television. 

“Dad, I want my toys back. I promise I’ll still practice, can I have them back?” you pleaded.

“No can do, kiddo. I sold ‘em,” he replied, not looking up at you. 

“What? Why?” you sniffled, beginning to well up with tears.

“Baby, my job doesn’t pay well. I needed that money to get Stevie his toys,” he sighed. “Besides, you’re better off training with me than playing.”

“But… I don’t wanna train,” you cried softly.

Your father’s head snapped up to you, and he slammed the gun he was cleaning on the table. “Too damn bad. This is important, (Y/N). You’re the big sister. I need you sharp for when mom and I are out.”

“But Dad—”

“(Y/N). Enough,” he stated menacingly.

You cowered away, wiping your nose with the back of your sweater sleeve. 

Your dad picked part of his gun up again. “And cut the crying crap. You’re too big for that.”

Your heart broke as you watched little you trying to stifle your cries. You knew if you kept crying for much longer, your father would be sure to punish you. You wanted nothing more than to hug your smaller self and tell her that it was okay to be sad, and your father was wrong. You watched Steven get up from the floor and bring you his well-loved toy airplane. He offered it up to you, and you took it, smiling through a sniffle. That gesture broke you even more. 

Your brother’s kindness truly knew no bounds. He was often the one to pick up the pieces after you’d gotten into a fight with your father or mother. As much as you tried to be the strong one for your little brother, there were just some things you couldn’t hide from him.

You were sucked into another memory from that stream of consciousness.

“Dad, I wasn’t gonna shoot with you standing in the way! I couldn’t get a clear shot!” you screamed at him. The two of you had gone after a werewolf in Arkansas, leaving your twelve-old-brother and mom back in the motel room. Your dad had insisted you needed to kill this thing yourself as one of the many tests he laid for you to prove your abilities. You were fourteen at the time.

“(Y/N), we’ve discussed this. You always. Take. The shot. No matter what,” he argued.

“What, even if it costs me somebody else’s life?” you protested.

“You should be a good-enough shot that that shouldn’t matter!” he roared. “You and I are going to the range. First thing tomorrow.”

“Dad, no,” you shook your head, backing up in fear. The last time you missed a shot on one of the moving targets, he beat you so hard when you got back to your motel room that he bruised one of your ribs.

He glared at you harshly, stepping closer to you. “What was that?”

“I— I’m sorry,” you said. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Uh-uh,” he said firmly. “You know ‘I didn’t mean to’ doesn’t mean shit. You argued with me. We’ll go to the range every day for the next week.”

You brushed the scar on the right side of your jaw from the beating that followed one of your sessions at the range that week as you came out of the memory. He punched you so hard that he split the skin deeply, and you had to stitch it up yourself. You refused to speak to your father for a month after that.

“I do this because I love you,” he’d said. “I need you to keep getting better, so I know you’ll be safe when you’re on your own. I want you to be even better than me.” 

You’d been doing well with keeping memories like that at bay while you helped Dean and Sam recover from their father’s passing. However, it was beginning to overwhelm you. The mental walls you’d built around those awful memories were beginning to crack. Leaking through those cracks was the memory of having to lay your parents to rest.

Their screams had been horrible. As fangs ripped through their gums, red rimming their eyes as the blood of the recently-decapitated vampire dripped from their lips. Your father approached you first, teeth bared. You ran through the hallways of the abandoned house, trying to find a way out. The windows of the house had been boarded, though, giving you no opportunity to escape. Cornered in a room at the back of the house, you realized what this would likely come to. You gripped the handle of your machete tightly, tears streaming down your face as your father broke into the room by destroying the door. 

“Dad, stop!” you pleaded. He approached you slowly, chest heaving as he noticed a cut on your arm that one of the vampires you’d slaughtered earlier had given you. He stalked toward you, teeth glistening in the room’s dim light.

“Dad, please! Don’t make me hurt you!”

“(Y/N), you have to—” he breathed out. “I can’t control myself—”

You shook your head furiously. “Dad, I won’t—”

“(Y/N)!” he roared. “You have to!”

Your tears flowed freely down your face.

“(Y/N)! Now!” he ordered, just as he reached you. 

Your sobs wracked your body as you sliced his head clean off. Your breath caught in your throat as you heaved, trying your hardest to gain your composure. You knew your mother wouldn’t be far behind him, and you were trying to keep yourself from breaking down and becoming vulnerable to your mother’s attack.

“(Y/N)!” she called. “Baby, please! Please, help me!”

You ran to her despite your instinct telling you not to. When you arrived, she was sobbing on the floor, shaking. You stayed a distance back from her to avoid her lunging at you.

“Baby, please— you have to—”

You shook your head. “Not you, too, Momma. Please—”

“Baby,” she sobbed. “I can’t control it. I don’t wanna be this. Please. Please!”

“Momma, I can’t—” You backed away from her. 

“I won’t be a monster,” she said. “Listen to me.” She temporarily stopped her cries and steadied herself. “You have to. Please. It’s okay.”

You took in a shaky breath.

“(Y/N), I don’t want to hurt you,” she continued. “I don’t wanna hurt Steven. Please.”

At the mention of her potentially hurting your brother, you nodded. “I’m so sorry,” you cried.

“It’s okay, my girl. It’s okay,” she said, closing her eyes in preparation for the blow.

You swung your machete forcefully to make sure her death was quick and as painless as possible. Horrified by your actions, you dropped the machete and screamed. You sank to the floor next to your mother’s body and cried, draping yourself over her bleeding, headless body.

“I’m so sorry, Mom,” you sobbed. “I’m so sorry.”

Forcing yourself back to the present moment, you took in a shuddering breath. You pressed your hand to your mouth to keep yourself from crying out as you sank to the floor. You buried your hands in your hair and pulled your knees up to your chest, allowing yourself to cry for the first time in quite a while. 

“(Y/N)?” you heard from the other side of the door.

‘Dean.’ You couldn’t respond due to the hold in your throat trying to suppress your cries.

“(Y/N), I think we got something, you in there?” he tried again.

Still, you couldn’t answer.

You heard him fiddling with the lock for a few moments before entering your room, searching for you frantically. When his eyes landed on your crumpled form, he rushed to your side. “(Y/N), hey, hey.” He held your head in his hands and swiped away tears with his thumbs. “Hey, I’m right here, sweetheart.”

You collapsed into his arms and wrapped your arms around his neck. You buried your face in his chest as you clung to him, and he held your head to him with one hand and held your waist with the other. “Shh, sweetheart, it’s okay.”

Comforted by his presence, your sobs turned to sniffles. You wiped tears away with the backs of your hands and apologized profusely for crying all over him.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said. “What happened?”

“Just… memories.” Your mind was still hazy.

He nodded solemnly. Neither of you needed to say anything after that. He just held your hand and sat with you against your bed while you tried to collect yourself. When you had, Dean talked again. 

“C’mon,” he said, standing. He pulled you up with him. “You want a burger? I’m starving.”

You snorted, grinning widely, and nodded. 

***

“So,” Dean began through a bite of his cheeseburger, “We think the shut-in granny might be our witch doctor.”

“What makes you say that?” you questioned, chomping a fry.

“She’s got a bunch of creepy ass dolls, Susan was really weird about us going to see her, and they’ve got a creepy ass exact replica of the hotel,” he explained.

“Dolls can be used in hoodoo spellwork,” you considered. “So, I’m guessing after dinner, you and I are lookin’ into the grandma?”

“Yahtzee.”

“What about Sam?”

“Left his ass back at the room. He’s got enough laptop research on his plate to last him enough time for us to look into the history of the hotel at the library.”

“Aw, why’d you do that to him?” you pouted, smiling a little. 

“He’s a nerd. Probably enjoys it,” he shrugged.

“You sure you’re not using this as an excuse to get me alone?” Your tone shifted to slightly more sultry, attempting to tease him.

He chuckled. “Sweetheart, I’m a professional. Just thought the two of us could cover more ground lookin’ up the records together.”

You hummed, unconvinced. “Sure.”

***

When you returned to the inn, police and EMTs were flanking the building. 

“What the fu—” you mumbled, looking around. You spotted Susan, and you and Dean hurried to her. 

“What happened?” Dean asked.

“Oh, the maid went in to turn down the sheets and he was just… hanging there,” she explained, covering her mouth with her hand.

“That's awful. He was a guest?” you asked.

“He worked for the company that bought the place.”

Dean hummed. You’d discussed your theory with him about the spellwork being used against people trying to get rid of the hotel. 

Susan shook her head. “I don't understand.”

“What?” Dean pressed.

“Had a lot of bad luck around here,” she sighed. “Look, if you'd like to check out, I'll give you a full refund.”

Dean shook his head. “No thanks. I don't scare that easy.”

When you arrived at Sam and Dean’s room, Sam had his back turned to the door and was sitting in an armchair.

Dean was all-business as he shut the door behind him. “There's been another one. Some guy just hung himself in his room.”

“Yeah. I saw,” Sam said.

You turned to him, surprised. His tone wasn’t usually that dark.

“We've gotta figure this out, and fast. What'd you find out about Granny?” Dean said, still pacing.

Sam raised his hands sarcastically, mocking his brother. “You’re the boss.”

Dean wheeled around in surprise. “What?”

“You’re bossy. And short,” Sam giggled. He actually giggled.

“Are you drunk?” you asked him.

“Yeah,” he replied, still laughing. “So? Stupid.”

You suddenly noticed the several empty bottles around the room.

“Dude, what are you thinking? We're working a case,” Dean scolded.

Sam began to tear up, staring at nothing. “That guy who hung himself. I couldn't save him.”

“What are you talking about? You didn't know, you couldn't have done anything,” Dean assured.

Sam moved his gaze to his brother. “That's an excuse, Dean. I should have found a way to save him. I should have saved Ava, too.”

Dean approached his brother. “Yeah, well, you can't save everyone. Even you said that.”

Sam slammed the table next to him. “No, Dean, you don't understand, all right? The more people I save, the more I can change!”

“Change what?” you asked.

He leaned forward toward you, a hand to his chest. “My destiny, (Y/N)!” 

“Alright. Time for bed. Come on, Sasquatch.” Dean leaned over and hauled Sam up by the shoulders. “Come on.”

“I need you to watch out for me,” mumbled Sam.

“Yeah, I always do,” Dean said simply.

Sam stopped his brother. “No! No, no, no. You have to watch out for me, all right? And if I ever... turn into something that I'm not… you have to kill me.”

“Sam—” Dean protested.

Sam shoved Dean to get him to face him. “Dean! Dad told you to do it, you have to.”

“Yeah, well, Dad's an ass,” Dean replied. “He never should have said anything. I mean, you don't do that, you don't, you don't lay that kind of crap on your kids.”

“No. He was right to say it!” Sam cried. “Who knows what I might become? Even now, everyone around me dies!”

“Yeah, well, I'm not dying, okay? And neither are you. Neither is (Y/N). Come on. Sam.” 

He pushed Dean down onto the bed, but Sam remained seated, clutching Dean’s jacket. “No, please! Promise.”

Dean shook his head. “Don't ask that of me.”

“(Y/N), please—”

“(Y/N), don’t you dare!” Dean cut his younger brother off.

“Sam, I can’t do that,” you protested.

“(Y/N), please.” Sam stared past his brother at you with sad eyes. “You have to promise me.”

You looked between Sam and Dean. Dean cut his eyes at you harshly. However, you knew Dean could never kill his brother if it really came down to it. You weren’t sure you would, either, but you would rather Dean not have another dead family member to blame himself for.

“I promise,” you mumbled.

“Thanks,” Sam grinned. He extended a hand to you. You grabbed it and squeezed. “Thank you. You are—”

“Alright. Come on,” Dean grumbled. He shoved Sam back on the bed. Sam hugged his pillow and snuggled into it. You stared at him sadly, afraid to meet Dean’s gaze.

You turned and left the room, Dean hot on your heels as you unlocked your door.

“How dare you,” he growled. “What the fuck, (Y/N)?! I’m not gonna let you kill my brother!”

“And I’m not gonna do it, either!” you argued, shutting the door behind him. “But I couldn’t let you promise that. I won’t let you.”

“And why not?!” He roared.

“Because I’m not gonna let you have another death to blame yourself for! You’re falling apart, Dean,” you pointed out. “No matter what I say, you’re always gonna blame yourself for John. I’m sure, in some ways, you blame yourself for your mom. Sam is your world. Trust me, I know how that feels. I won’t let you be the one responsible for his death.” You held your ground as he stepped closer to you. 

“You don’t get to make that call for me, (Y/N)!” he yelled. “I don’t care what happens, you’re not fucking killing Sam.”

“Dean, you think I wanna kill him? Fuck no! He’s family to me,” you retaliated. “You know I wouldn’t do that to him. But I also saw your face. You were gonna promise him, weren’t you?”

He didn’t answer, looking away from you.

“Exactly. I’d rather you blame me than yourself,” you said, voice quieting considerably.

Dean’s turned-away face was set in hard lines, but he seemed to have nothing else to say.

You stepped in front of him and held up your pinky. “I promise you, I won’t make a move on Sam unless it’s absolutely last resort. I promise I’m gonna do everything I can to try and save him, first. And even then, I won’t do anything until you give the okay.”

Dean considered for a moment, and you could see his brain flooding with conflicting thoughts. Finally and wordlessly, he linked your pinky with his.

“My parents begged me to kill them,” you said after a moment. “I didn’t want to. Everything in me screamed at me not to. But I realized they didn’t wanna become something that wasn’t, y’know, them. I can imagine Sam’s in the same spot. Except… he knows it’s coming. He wants to know that if it does happen, we’ll take care of him.”

Dean still didn't say a word to you for another few moments. “I’m gonna get a drink,” he said finally.

“Okay. G’night, Dean.”

***

The next morning, you were afraid to talk to Dean or Sam. You didn’t want Sam to remember the promise you made to him, and you didn’t want Dean to be upset with you because you were trying to protect him and his heart. You didn’t want him to have to cope with the guilt you felt every single day, clawing at your heartstrings and pounding against your memories. 

Knuckles rapped against the door of your room. Having been dressed since three that morning, you opened the door expecting Sherwin or Susan. Instead, it was Sam.

“Oh, hey!” you said cheerfully.

“Hey,” he grimaced.

“Hungover?”

He nodded. “Look, uh, we’re gonna go talk to Rose. You should come with.”

“Sure,” you said. You couldn’t quite gauge if Sam remembered what you, he, and Dean had talked about the night before.

Dean picked the lock to the private quarters after ensuring the room was clear. You headed up a winding staircase to see an old woman, possibly in her nineties, sitting in a wheelchair. She was trembling unceasingly, and you started connecting the dots as to what was going on here.

“Guys… she’s had a stroke,” you explained gently as the two of them were trying to soothe her tremors.

Dean turned and spoke to you for the first time that morning. “Yeah, but Hoodoo's hands-on; I mean, you've got to mix herbs, chant, and build an altar.”

“Yeah. So it can't be Rose,” Sam added. “Hey, maybe it's not even Hoodoo.”

“Or she could be faking,” Dean suggested.

You scoffed. “Yeah, what are you gonna do, poke her with a stick?”

Dean frowned, nodding.

“Dude! You’re not gonna poke her with a stick!” you hissed.

“What the hell?!” came Susan’s voice from behind you. “What are you doing in here?”

You and the brothers babbled, searching for an explanation.

Susan rushed over to her mother. “Look at her, she is scared out of her wits. I want you out of my hotel in two minutes or I'm calling the cops.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you nodded, leaving without hesitation.

***

When you got in the car, Dean pulled just down the road from the hotel to watch the entrance and exits for anything suspicious and searching for an opportunity to go back inside.

You and Dean still hadn’t spoken to each other. It was odd; usually you were talking to each other at a mile a minute. However, to your shock, Dean took out the Metallica cassette tape he promised he’d change and replaced it with your favorite Alice in Chains cassette; “Facelift.” You took it as a sign of goodwill and smiled to yourself.

About an hour or two passed before you saw Susan exiting the hotel and packing boxes into her car. You and the brothers ducked down when you noticed Sherwin driving in your direction. When your heads popped back up, Susan was walking over to the playground at the sight of a swing moving back and forth on its own. Without needing to say anything, you and the boys hopped out of the car and sprinted into the woods to get closer to the situation and help Susan, should anything happen. 

The see-saw moved up and down next, then the rest of the playset. Suddenly, her red car’s engine revved. Sam knew what was going to happen and ran at Susan to tackle her out of the way of the charging vehicle. 

“Are you okay?” he asked her while he pulled her up from the ground.

“I think so,” she replied breathlessly.

“C’mon, let’s get inside, let’s go,” Dean ordered.

Sam helped Susan into the inn and over to the bar.

“Whiskey,” Susan demanded when she sat down.

You headed behind the bar and slid it over to her.

“What the hell happened out there?” she asked.

“You want the truth?” Dean chimed in. 

She nodded.

“Well, at first, we thought it was some sort of Hoodoo curse,” the older brother began, “but that out there? That was definitely a spirit.”

Susan scoffed. “You're insane.”

“Probably,” you shrugged.

“Look, I'm sorry, Susan. We don't exactly have time to ease you into this, but we need to know when your mother had the stroke,” Sam urged.

She looked at him strangely. “What does that have to do with any—”

“Just answer the question.”

“About a month ago.”

You licked your teeth. “Right before the killings started.” 

Sam looked to you and Dean. “See? So what if Rose was working Hoodoo, but not to hurt anyone. To protect them.”

“She was using the five spot urns to ward off the spirit,” Dean noted.

“Right, until she had a stroke, and she couldn't anymore,” the brunet finished.

Susan laughed humorlessly. “I don't believe this.”

“Listen, sister,” Dean grunted, “that car didn't try to run you down by itself, okay? I mean, I guess it did, technically, but, but the spirit can— forget it.”

Sam interrupted his brother’s quickly derailing train of thought. “Look, believe what you want. But the fact is you and your family are in danger, all right? So you need to clear everybody out of here: your employees, your mother, your daughters, everyone.”

“Um, I only have one daughter,” Susan replied.

“One?” Sam questioned. “I thought Tyler had a sister named Maggie.”

“Maggie's imaginary,” she said simply.

‘Fuck,’ you thought. “Where’s Tyler?” you asked, trying to keep your cool.

“Uh, maybe in the playroom,” Susan suggested, sounding frantic. “Tyler!” she called as she burst through its door. 

You were horrified to see the floor littered with broken porcelain dolls, and Susan’s panic became worse. “Oh, my god. Tyler. Tyler!”

“Susan, tell us what you know about Maggie,” Sam demanded.

She tried to steady herself. “Uh, not much. Um, Tyler's been talking about her since Mom got sick.”

“Okay, did you ever know anyone by that name?”

She shook her head.

“No dead relatives?” you chimed in. “Maybe somebody who used to work or live here?”

“Oh, my god,” she realized. “My mom. My mom had a sister named Maggie. She died when she was little.”

“Uh-huh,” you encouraged. “Where?”

“She drowned in the pool!”

***

You and the Winchesters raced to the poolhouse with Susan in tow. You could see Tyler standing on the opposite side of the balcony, leaning forward.

“Tyler!” her mother screamed.

You ran to the other side after spotting a glass window across the way. You took the butt of your gun that was tucked into your jeans and smashed the glass with it. Your breath caught at the sight of Tyler falling into the pool below, screaming. 

Finally, you managed to get the glass broken enough to get through. You dove over the balcony’s railing headfirst toward the little girl wrapped in the plastic tarp from her struggling. You turned on your back and kicked with all your might over to the side of the pool, holding the unconscious girl in your arms. You gently laid her on the pool’s edge, listening for a pulse. Thankfully, it was there, and all you could do was wait to see if she woke up.

Moments later, Tyler sputtered, choking on water, and she woke up.

“Thank god!” Susan cried, pulling her daughter into her lap. “Thank god, thank god.”

Soaking wet, you crawled out of the pool. “Tyler, do you see Maggie anywhere?”

The girl shook her head. “No, she's gone.” She buried her face in her mother’s neck, hugging her tightly. Your heart broke a little at the sight.

You rung your hair out and followed behind Sam and Dean as they discussed Maggie’s potential whereabouts, heading back up to the hotel.

Susan held Tyler close as they climbed the stairs to get the eldest woman in their family and leave the hotel.

Cold and shaking from the pool mixed with the slight chill in the air, your teeth began to chatter. Wordlessly, Dean took his leather jacket off and wrapped it around your shoulders.

“Thanks,” you smiled sheepishly.

Suddenly, Susan screamed loudly. You and the boys ran up the stairs to see Rose slumped over in her wheelchair, dead.

***

Paramedics swarmed about as Sam attempted to comfort Susan and send them off. You were slightly drier, now, having changed into a different set of clothes. Still, you kept Dean’s much larger jacket wrapped around your body. The man in question leaned against the Impala next to you.

“Are… are we okay?” you asked suddenly.

He turned to you, arms crossed. “I don’t know, are we?”

You grimaced. “I just, after last night, I just wanted to make sure that—”

“Yeah, (Y/N), we’re fine. But I don’t wanna keep bringing it up.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

A moment of tense silence passed. Then, he draped his arm around your shoulders and pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “Promise. We’re fine.”

You stuck out your pinky. He chuckled and linked yours with his.

Sam approached you and Dean, still seeming confused by the two of you. He shook his head, though, deciding against asking. 

“Feels good getting back in the saddle, doesn't it?” Dean smirked at his brother.

“Yeah, it does,” Sam nodded. “But it doesn't change what we talked about last night, Dean.” 

“We talked about a lot of things last night.” Dean’s voice had a warning edge to it.

“You know what I mean.”

“You were wasted.”

“But she wasn’t. And she promised,” Sam said.

You looked up at him. “Sam—”

“You promised, (Y/N).”

You had nothing to say to that. “But I am gonna try everything in my power not to have to do that,” you added. 

Sam nodded solemnly. The three of you got in the car without speaking to each other and cruised down the road as Alice in Chains played in the background. 

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[fukcnoplease]

Thanks to a certain krosrios on instagram ive been thinking up a new dpxdc fanfic

Cause listen having Danny leave his town cause of angst or college is cool. Having Danielle leave the town out of angst or just because is grand.

But hear me out

Dan going to Gotham because he has bonded enough with Team Phantom that they trust him to not destroy the world. He has gotten attached to Dani and reattached to Jazz and though he wont admit it is maybe a little too attached to purposefully destroy what they love.

Maybe he is following Jazz to keep her safe. Maybe he is just getting out of dodge for personal reasons and someone (cough cough) nudged him in the direction of Gotham.

But like imagine

Some angry kid settles down in crime alley of all places and quickly becomes talk of the town bc for how agressive he is he is also well known for helping when he can, in a perhaps too agressive way (not unlike a certain red hooded individual).

I imagine he is probably in his twenties and while lanky in his human form built like a tank in his ghost form. He works at a bouncer at a local bar or club and makes some side cash fixing appliances for people.

Some kids start whispering about him maybe being red hood or being related to red hood which obviously catches the vigilantes attention. Especially when some young street kid pulls a “well you would help me wouldnt you…. DAN??” *stares hard to see his reaction*

When Hood doesnt find anything he reluctantly flags it to Tim who only manages to find the name Daniel Fenton but that cant be right. His phone is actively pinging him in a small town in illinois. Unless its a twin of some kind? Or a clone, time jokes, but that cant be it bc thats just some kid. Nobody would have a reason to clone him.

Regardless some random unidentified man who can clearly fight and for whatever reason sets Jason off is a pretty big red flag. And while neither Tim nor Jason particularly wanna tell the Bat since they dont have anything concrete it is pretty concerning.

Maybe they end up breaking into a tired Dan’s apartment and questioning him.

Maybe Duke is walking through town and sees a kind old lady lecturing a fucking ghost?? God??? Guy??? And shoving food into his hands even tho he looks like he could kill her.

Maybe Barbara is spooked by a guy appearing beside her in a bookshop and reaching around her to grab a pretty in depth psychology book.

Maybe Tim finds him later with a young girl who looks just like him playing in the park.

Who knows!! I just think there is a lot to work with and his personality would be just wonderful to add into the batfamily boilin pot.

[lordgrimoire]

First of all, I thought of a name for this au, Grave Guard, so there’s that. Now onto the snippet!

(Interview 0032:Major Franklin Kowalski, 1st Dimensional Guard Battalion, Illinois National Guard)

Batman:So what you’re saying is that he’s a child?

Major Kowalski:Yes, and we’re trying to keep his ID just amongst locals, I’m sorry if the Ghosts get a bit defensive but no one wants the kid getting dragged off when he can’t protect himself.

Batman:Hn

M. Kowalski:Yeah yeah I get it, not the best situation, his current getup was partially our fault since you could easily peg who he was before, but that’s for another time, you wanted to ask a question?

Batman:Yes, President Luthor said that he would rather we not go “The Way of Krypton” I would like to know what that means.

M. Kowalski: Alright, so we send in teams into the Infinite Realms now and then, usually one of three teams. During one of these expeditions Team Dogtown found the old Resting Place of the Kryptonians, their Afterlife, or what’s left of it.

Batman:What’s Left of it?

M. Kowalski:Yeah, the Ancients of Krypton, think really old important spirits, maybe even dead gods, and the spirit of their planet were destroyed by something that carved their Afterlife apart to make a place called the “Phantom Zone”, a Prison, we encountered a Prisoner there who was bound to the outside of it, perpetually trapped against it who claimed to be the last sane soldier of Krypton, poor fool, anyways from what we figured out between him and some more publicly available data in the Realms we found out that Kryptons Core, that of the Planet, had already been destabilized, and its spirit was the only thing holding it together so when the Spirit of Krypton got Whacked…

Batman:The World fell apart…Where are we sitting on that?

M. Kowalski:Earth is Geologically Stable, the Destruction of Earths’ Spirit on the other hand…

Batman:Understood, should we assign someone to Amity Park?

M.Kowalski: Only if you feel the need to, Phantom won’t be graduating for a few years yet but if and when that time comes I’ll let ya know. If you want the League to be more prepared for Spooky hijinx like this, well this is likely the safest place to learn.

Batman:Noted, thank you for your time Major Kowalski, I hope this didn’t disrupt your day.

M. Kowalski:You kiddin? I’ve been looking forward to these debriefs, at least this way I don’t have to go over every scrap hoping not to peeve some General. Thank You Bats, now I’m off to my next thing!

(Transcript End)

[audreywblogcorner]

Illinois is finally looking to change their flag (thank GOD) The competition of submitting a new flag will be open September 3rd-October 18th via ilsos.gov From there no more than 10 flags will be chosen by the committee by December 2024.

This is the current flag of Illinois. It definitely needs a revamp.

Edit #1: Thanks for pointing out the website's name and how the I should be lowercased.

[yatima]

A propos of nothing in particular I wanna talk about Lieutenant Colonel Henry Blake from my other favorite TV show, M*A*S*H. Henry was based on a historical person who seems to have been pretty shitty, and in the sitcom he starts out as a terrible leader and kind of a hateful jerk. Over time, though, he demonstrates competence, shows real growth and, thanks to a terrific performance from a gifted actor, becomes a beloved character.

In the final episode of the third season, Henry gets his much-wanted honorable discharge from the Army and is given a hilariously chaotic send-off from his unit in Korea. Just as we think he's going to be safe for the rest of his life in Bloomington, Illinois, Radar comes into the OR and speaks the words that are engraved on my HEART: "Lieutenant Colonel Henry Blake's plane was shot down over the Sea of Japan. It spun in. There were no survivors."

My God. People were SO MAD at the showrunners. Henry worked so hard! He went through so much! He deserved an endless retirement full of fishing! He didn't deserve a random awful sudden death! We loved him and how he interacted with all the other characters and we missed him for the rest of the show!

My God if the rest of that show wasn't immeasurably changed and improved. After Henry died for real, everything had stakes. Profound tone-shift from wacky hijinks to still incredibly funny but character-driven and insightful. Frank and Margaret went from flat caricatures to - well, at least in Margaret's case - one of the best and most complex women on TV at the time. (Team Let Frank Be Trans can still win.) The shallow nihilism that the early seasons shared with the novel and the film was replaced by a hard-earned melancholy that set the comedy in high relief. Henry's death underscored one of the most memorable exchanges in the show, that came two entire seasons later:

Hawkeye: War is war, and Hell is Hell. And of the two, war is a lot worse.

Father Mulcahy: How do you figure that, Hawkeye?

Hawkeye: Easy, Father. Tell me, who goes to Hell?

Father Mulcahy: Sinners, I believe.

Hawkeye: Exactly. There are no innocent bystanders in Hell. War is chock full of them — little kids, cripples, old ladies. In fact, except for some of the brass, almost everybody involved is an innocent bystander.

M*A*S*H isn't just a show about war. It didn't just define the modern workplace comedy, it did so by making the point that the modern workplace is where most of us viewers spend our lives trying to reckon with the violent empire in which we are embedded. At its best, M*A*S*H showed us that the resistance lives and endures in pockets of unconditional love and mutual aid.

Henry wasn't being punished for anything, and his death wasn't a statement on the part of the writers that people like him don't deserve to live. The writers loved Henry too. People, unfortunately, die. We are all going to die (cue Sufjan Steven's Fourth of July), some of us old and surrounded by people who love us, and some of us way too young and unfairly and not infrequently as a direct consequence of the aforementioned violent empire. The randomness and cruelty of it is what makes love and resistance so utterly necessary and beautiful.

Rest in peace, you lovable jerk.

[the-dreadful-bard]

The Dreadful Bard Rejanis Fics Masterpost

Last Updated on Sept 21st.

Guys, I'm going on a little break to focus on my mental health bc I'm going through a lot right now. I promise I'll be back as soon as possible. I'm likely going to run out of Rejanis memes on Sept 22nd as I have been temporarily unable to make more. I'll be back with more fics too, I just need some time. I appreciate your understanding and patience during this time. Thank you.

-

Hey! I've been writing a lot since the start of the year so I thought I'd make this post just for the sake of being well-organized. I'll update this as I write and post new things, both here and on AO3.

Adding a read more link because this is a long post. Here you're gonna find the links to all of my Rejanis works and the summary of each one.

Future works post (Please take a look at that if you haven't, I mention some stuff that's very important for you to know if you like ANY of my writing and want me to keep posting it)

TLDR: New installments of the series, new oneshots for the collection, multichapter fantasy/d&d au (summary for it on the future works post so check that out), 3 other multichapters that may or may not be written, plus a bunch of other shorter stuff as I get new ideas and inspiration.

ONESHOTS

Oneshot based on this:

Under the blossom tree

Summary: Collection of Rejanis oneshots inspired by songs.

stuck on you

Summary: Regina gets home sleep-deprived and exhausted after a hard day at the office, but realizes she forgot her keys at work. Too tired to drive back to fetch the keys, she tries to get in through the window but gets stuck. Luckily for her, the fire department sends her aid in the form of one Janis ‘Imi'ike.

lyrics for a misunderstood mean girl

Summary: Regina hasn't seen Janis in two years because things keep getting in their way.

or

the one where Janis and Damian write Mean Girls the musical.

one thing I can't lose (kind of my favorite oneshot)

Summary: Janis somehow finds herself at Regina's door after the girl gets released from the hospital. Regina recruits Karen to decode her complicated gay feelings.

or

The one where Karen is a genius who can do no wrong, Regina is a feral chihuahua wearing a cone of shame, and Janis can't say no to her former nemesis.

feline disposition

Summary: Janis disappears and everyone is having a terrible time.

Completely unrelated to that, Regina rescues a cat from the rain in the middle of the night.

or

the one where Janis is a cat.

Attempt #19

Summary: Janis and Regina have been meeting in secret for six months and their communication is... not great.

Regina wants them to go public and get serious but Janis, convinced she wants to break up, never lets her say it.

or

the one where they actually talk after months of miscommunication.

Happy birthday?

Summary: Regina gets bad news on her birthday, which pushes her into acting like her old self with her friends. Janis won't have it. She has a plan to set Regina straight, but for that, she's going to need her to be willing to follow her lead.

lights and sirens

Summary: “Oh no…” Janis whispers, grimacing.

Regina glances at her with concern in her eyes. “What is it?”

“I think—I think I'm hallucinating. I'm looking at you, and I- and I see someone who can't- can't be real. Oh my god, I might be dying. Am I dying?” She confesses, still staring at Regina in shock, her heartbeat skyrocketing.

Maybe the pain is driving her mad. Or maybe death comes for you in the form of the person who you would most like to see one last time, to make the passing easier. She never thought Regina would be that person, but now that she thinks about it, it couldn't be more perfect.

Old stuff from 2019:

Hair

Home

MULTICHAPTERS

threads, oil paints, and textbooks - COMPLETE

Summary: Regina George starts a new year as one of Elizabeth T. Richmond Public School's teachers and finds out that one of the new faculty members is someone she'd been hoping to run into since leaving Illinois almost 16 years earlier. A lot has changed since then, but as everyone realizes, Regina and Janis still have a lot of unexplored feelings for each other.

The ballad of Moonlight & Solar Flare (pls give it a chance i promise its really good) - COMPLETE

Summary: Regina and Janis, as Moonlight & Solar Flare, used to fight crime together until something drove them to opposite sides, and their relationship didn't survive. Now, three years later, they realize it's not quite so easy to get rid of the love they once shared when a chain of events leads them back to each other.

SERIES

you set my world on fire

Basically, it's a continuation of the canon universe, starting during Spring Fling.

Summary for part 1: After getting hit by the bus, Regina is forced to come to terms with something she'd been running away from since she was a kid.

you set my world on fire (Part 1)

there's an old song (i wrote for you) (Part 2)

timeless like you and me (Part 3)

can't help myself (when you get close to me) (Part 4)

say you'll always keep me (Part 5)

you're still the one (Part 6)

uninvited (Part 7)

one that makes me sing (Part 8)

nothing in the world belongs to me (but my love) (Part 9)

birds of a feather (Part 10)

PS: new installments in the future

THAT'S ALL FOR NOW

Please, if you like any of these fics and want more of them, don't only leave kudos on my stuff, leave comments too! I don't care how small those comments are, just please leave some, it means a lot to me <3

[hotchfiles]

Hi!! Happy 100th follower bash! I wanted to request Seth Cohen with the prompt “what if you just want something, and you want it so bad?” If you decide to write it, I can’t wait to read whatever you come up with. Thank you!!

lari's 100th follower bash + send me a prompt and one of my boys for a blurb

seth + “what if you just want something, and you want it so bad?”

three times seth let you go and the one he didn't

┊ ┊ ⋆˚ 

      You were his best friend, two little kids watching cartoons and drawing around while your parents drank wine and talked about things you both didn't understand.

      As days and weeks and months went by, the more the drinking wine encounters became something only your mother would do, frequently going to the Cohens to talk to Seth's mom.

      "Your mommy looks sad."

      "She cries a lot too, more than me."

      Divorce is the word that has been making your mother cry apparently, and soon it makes you and Seth cry as well. Divorce means you're going away to a new city with your mom.

      Seth can't do anything about it but hug you tight and hand you the collection of not really great drawings he made of you, for you.

┊ ┊ ⋆˚ 

      You come back for high school, thank God, your mother's job is much more demanding now and she feels your dad can be more present than she is.

      It's like you never left, you feel. Seth instantly clings to you like he did when you were children, except this time his mind is going a thousand miles per hour. He wasn't exactly expecting you to come back and now his mind is completely torn into Summer obsessive thoughts and you.

      You spend hours and hours watching terrible sci-fi tv shows, he's drawing (more often than not, you're the muse), while you read or write on your journal. It's silent and comfortable and people often tease you about how you're the only one to keep him quiet for so long.

      Seth doesn't understand it much either, but he enjoys watching you, the way you furrow your brows when you forget a word, or how you take a deep breath following a surprised sound when something happens in the book you're reading.

      He's been thinking about how at peace you make him feel and he has plans to ask you to homecoming, but some sophomore beats him to it. And he could ask you to go with him instead, drop the other guy. But your eyes almost close while you're smiling telling him about it, so he just lets it go.

┊ ┊ ⋆˚ 

      2.027 miles. 31 hours drive. 4 hour flight.

      Writing came to you as drawing came to him, you both had collab comic books even. He should've known you wouldn't go for Irvine or Berkley. Or any goddamned college in California with a creative writing program. No.

      Northwestern University. Illinois. He heard you gush about it all senior year, and doubting yourself, saying you wouldn't get in anyway. But you did, obviously, you had everything they required and everything any university could hope for in a student. He knew you would get in and he obviously couldn't ask you to stay for him.

      You were just friends.

      And even if you weren't, he would never stop you from going after your passions, what made you happy.

      He visits you when he can. You both kiss and make out and tell each other the sweetest things in whispers only you can hear in those times. Nothing more comes of it though, you're busy and two thousand miles away. He accepts it, he lets go of the idea of having you just yet.

┊ ┊ ⋆˚ 

      Enough is enough though. And when you tell him about the internship opportunity outside of the country you don't smile with your eyes like prom. Your tone uncertain, your whole body weight being held by his arms as you both laid down on your terrible dorm bed.

      And as always he wants you. He wants you so bad. He wants you to stay. To ask him to go with you. Like he wanted you to stay with your dad after the divorce. Like he wanted to be your date for homecoming. Like he's been wanting to call you his girlfriend, his partner, his lover, his wife even.

      "Is it bad to want something so badly?" he says more to himself than to you, really, but still you turn your head to him, using his chest as a support for your chin.

      "I mean... It's just an internship I don't want it that bad—"

      "That's not—I want to ask you to stay. With me. Don't go. And that's selfish." He keeps his eyes glued to the ceiling as if he hadn't just made your heart skip a thousand beats.

      "Then just ask me, funny boy."

      His grip to you tightens, if that's even possible, and he's finally able to not let it go, to not let you go.

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Midnight | Chapter 15 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Summary - you and Spencer spend time with other people which ends up bringing you closer together. Meanwhile, Garcia makes a discovery.

Pairing - unsub! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - dark angst | smut | very eventual happy ending

Warnings - Spencer and reader with other people, oral (m receiving), murder, swearing, penetrative sex, protected sex, angry Spencer, fingering, suicide mentions, mentions of miscarriage, tears.

WC - 4.6k

Chapter 15 - The Haunting

Penelope Garcia looked at the confusing information on her screen with a heavy frown furrowing her forehead. The information wasn’t wrong, she knew that wasn’t possible, but it didn’t mean it made any sense. 

On Sunday JJ had gone to try and see Spencer again and had noted he had mail piling up as though he hadn’t been home for a while. She also couldn’t find his car anywhere. On Monday, armed with the information, Emily had reluctantly agreed to let Garcia put out an APB on Spencer’s missing vehicle. 

It was now Thursday and the team had just arrived back from a case in Chicago. Still frowning at the screen, Penelope printed the information before hurrying out of her bat cave and down the corridor to where everyone had just returned to the bullpen. 

Emily noticed the confusion on the tech analyst's face immediately and frowned as the colourful woman headed her way in too high heels.

“Please don’t tell me we have another one?” Emily groaned, the rest of the team now looking at her. 

“Uh not exactly. I, uh, I think I found boy wonder’s car.” She thrust the printout at Emily who took it and scrutinised it.

“What? Where?” JJ was quickly at her side. 

“You found his car, but not him?” Tara frowned. 

Emily sighed as she looked at the crime scene photographs of an entirely burnt out car surrounded by woodlands. Scanning the notes from the crime scene techs they had discerned the car had once been a canary yellow 1965 Volvo 122S Amazon. The exact same car Spencer drove. 

“Where was this?” Emily looked up at Garcia. 

“In the foothills of the Blue Ridge mountains. It’s been there for at least a week.” Garcia whimpered a little. 

“What is it?” Luke came closer and plucked the sheet of paper from Emily's hand. “Shit.” 

“Someone please share the information.” Rossi encouraged them. 

“A car matching Reid’s was found burnt out in the woods near Franklin County, Virginia.” Emily informed them. 

“Just the car?” JJ’s panic was evident in her voice. 

“Just the car. No one was in it.” Garcia replied. 

“Oh thank god.” JJ breathed. 

“But that begs the question, where is Reid? And why was his car set alight?” Matt scratched the back of his head. 

“And is Y/N with him?” Luke piped up. 

Emily exhaled, looking at the report again before addressing her team. 

“This isn’t an official case,” she regarded each of them individually. “If any of you don’t want to work this, you don’t have to.”

“We’re not going anywhere.” Rossi spoke for them. 

“Agreed.” JJ nodded fiercely. 

“JJ and Rossi will head out to the Franklin County crime lab and take a look at the car. Garcia, have a look and see if there are any rental car companies or used car lots within walking distance of where the car was found. We have to assume he’s ok and he would have needed another way home.” Emily instructed them. 

“But if he’s not ok?” Tara dared to ask. 

“The rest of you start calling local hospitals and see if anyone matching Reid’s description has been admitted in the last week.” 

Everyone nodded in agreement at their assignments and started going their separate ways. Luke felt a pang in a gut, similar to one’s he’d been having since you’d called him from the pay phone in Illinois. Something didn’t feel right and he had a sense that it related to Spencer. He wasn’t sure why, but he was fairly certain if they found him, they would find you too. 

***

Spencer stared at the light fitting hanging above his head, trying not to let himself get too distracted by the halos of light they created on the ceiling. 

His mind wandered over the events of the last week without really meaning to. Since Sunday, when he’d killed Edward Grimes, he’d killed three more times. 

On Monday he drove all the way out to Provo, Utah and murdered Burton Maxwell. On Tuesday he’d gone to Rock Springs, Wyoming and slit the throat of Jeremy Powell. Wednesday had taken him to Flagstaff, Arizona to take care of Harrison Baler. 

In three days he’d clocked well over two and a half thousand miles in the little blue Nissan and despite all the blood he’d shed he didn’t feel satisfied. 

Now it was Thursday and by this point he was exhausted, he couldn’t drive anymore even if he wanted to. Part of the reason he’d kept himself so busy was to limit time spent with you, because he despised the way his heart broke in his chest every time he looked at you. He left early each morning and returned after you were already asleep. 

This morning was the first time you’d seen each other properly since Sunday morning and the air between the two of you was so awkward but he tried to ignore it when you found him in the kitchen. 

“Oh hi stranger. Didn’t expect to see you.” You tugged at the hem of the oversized t-shirt, trying to cover your bare legs. 

“Yeah, sorry I’ve had some business to take care of.” He shrugged, sipping his coffee. 

“Right, of course.” You knew exactly what that meant. 

“I was planning on hanging around today though, if you wanted to grab lunch somewhere or I could try that cooking thing again?” He shrugged, a feeble attempt at extending an olive branch. 

“Uh, I can’t, sorry.” You moved past him toward the coffee machine. 

“Have you not spent every waking minute with GI Mountain Man this week?” He tried to remain calm. 

“Actually no, I haven’t done much of anything this week. Reading mostly. But then I finished my book so I went into town yesterday to buy some new ones and I bumped into Jesse and he asked if I wanted to spend the day with him.” You grabbed a mug and placed it under the spout of the machine. 

“So I’m just old fucking news now right?” He grumbled. 

“Spencer,” you spun back to face him with a frown. “I haven’t seen you for three days! You disappear on your vigilante mission without so much as a word and now you expect me to drop everything because you suddenly want to spend time with me?” 

“Do what you want. I don’t care.” He spat, leaving a half finished cup of coffee on the counter and storming away. 

He hadn’t seen you again after that and at some point he heard you leave the house. He spent a few hours pottering around the cabin but eventually he started to go a little stir crazy and took a walk into town. 

He told himself he didn’t mean to go to Scout’s and scope out the checkouts but that was where he ended up. And low and behold he quickly spotted that head of fire engine red hair. 

He and Mary got talking and he found out she got off work at six and before he’d known it he’d invited her over. 

The noise echoed around the room, the slightly sloppy sounds of saliva and desperation. It had been some twenty minutes now and Spencer didn’t think he’d ever enjoyed a blow job less in his entire life.  

He wasn’t even fully hard anymore, unable to maintain an erection due to the inexperienced mouth around his cock. She was trying, she was trying her best and he felt bad. But she just wasn’t very good. 

Mary kept glancing up at him, questioning with her eyes what was wrong. Eventually Spencer threaded his fingers into her hair and tugged her off of him. A trail of spit led from her chin to the head of his cock and she wiped the back of her hand over her mouth. 

“Am I doing something wrong?” She pouted, kneeling between his legs on the floor. 

“I’m just not feeling it, I guess.” He offered her a smile, taking hold of her wrist and pulling her up until she was in his lap. 

His large hand clutched the back of her neck and brought her closer to kiss her. His tongue roughly thrust inside of her mouth and she gasped into the kiss. 

He started rolling his hips up between her legs, the friction working well to get him standing to attention again in no time. She wore a painfully short skirt despite the temperatures outside and he used his free hand to move her panties aside. 

His cock nestled between her legs, already lining himself up when she suddenly pulled back from his lips. 

“Hang on, one sec,” she blushed slightly, sliding off his lap and scurrying to her bag.

He knew what she was getting and he tried to not roll his eyes. She was being cautious, he kind of admired that about her. But Spencer was really not a fan of condoms. 

She was soon coming back with the little purple packet and kneeling in his lap again. She fumbled in trying to tear it open, a pink hue on her cheeks as she fought with the packaging. 

He was losing wood again, and he rolled his eyes, snatching it from her hands and making quick work of ripping it open. He had to pump his cock a few times before he could slip the condom on. He looked at Mary in his lap, her large green eyes full of embarrassment. 

I can’t fucking look at you, he thought as he lifted her from his lap again and got her to her feet. She frowned as he led her to the side of the couch and bent her over the arm of it, burying her head in the sofa cushion. 

He parted her legs and ran one finger through her folds to make sure she was wet enough for him not to hurt her too much. Pleased she was lubricated enough he lined himself up and soon plunged inside of her. 

Mary yelped, jutting forward at the intrusion but he ignored her. He gripped her hips and started thrusting. 

He closed his eyes and tried to imagine it was you but she felt nothing like you. He pictured your face, your smile, your beautiful eyes. He envisioned your perfect breasts, your goddamn delirious pussy. 

But then he started to visualise your phenomenal body, as you climbed into the bed of another man. He pictured that bearded mountain man between your legs, eating you out, fingering you and then fucking you. 

His thrusts were getting rampant and he ignored Mary’s grunts of pain, lost in his own thoughts. His blunt nails dug into her hips as she squirmed beneath him. 

What the fuck has he got that I haven’t got? He’d never be able to fuck her the way I do, make her feel the way I do. He’s not better than me, he’s a fucking meat head mountain asshole. No, she’s mine, she’ll always be mine. 

“Andrew!” A strangled voice pierced his ears, cutting through his violent thoughts. 

He froze and looked down at Mary who had twisted her neck to look at him. Then his eyes cast downwards between their bodies where his completely flaccid cock, sheathed pathetically in the wrinkled condom, had slid out from between her legs. 

He took a step backwards, feeling more exposed than he’d ever felt in his life. He angrily removed the condom and tossed it on the floor, tucking himself back inside his jeans and flopping to the couch. 

Mary tugged down her skirt before coming to sit next to him. He wouldn’t look at her, he was too embarrassed.

“It’s ok,” she cooed. “It happens.” 

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” He grunted. 

“A little.” She shrugged sadly. 

“Well it doesn’t. Maybe if you were a better fuck, I wouldn’t have this problem.” He spat harshly. 

Mary seemed to withdraw into herself at his words, her bottom lip pouting as he landed that blow to her ego. 

“I’ve never had any complaints before.” She huffed, getting to her feet. 

“That’s because the men you usually spread your legs for are young and inexperienced and wouldn’t know a good pussy if it was literally sitting on their cock.” He growled. 

“Or maybe,” she spun back around, eyes wider than normal. “You can’t keep it up because you’re a goddamn old man!” 

Spencer saw red and it had nothing to do with her flamboyant hair colour. He jumped to his feet and advanced on her, causing her to whimper as he backed her into the door. 

“What did you say?” He spat at her. 

“N-nothing.” She swallowed, her previous bravado vanished into thin air. “I’m sorry.” 

“Get out of my house.” He snarled, taking a step back before he did something stupid. “Now.” 

Mary whimpered again, quickly grabbing up her things and scurrying to the door like a frightened puppy. He watched her go and when she closed the door behind herself he fell back to the couch. 

He was instantly flooded with remorse. None of this was Mary’s fault, he was the only one to blame. He’d pushed you into the arms of another man and now he had to suffer the consequences. 

Mary was simply collateral damage in hurricane Spencer Reid’s path. 

***

You’d spent the day with Jesse, walking in the sunshine, pursuing bookstores and drinking an ample amount of coffee in boutique cafes. He’d taken you to dinner and then you’d ended up back at his place. 

The door was barely closed behind you before he was pushing you back against it and kissing you passionately. Whatever nerves he’d had the other day were well and truly gone now and that was confirmed when his hand slipped inside your pants soon after. 

He plunged two fingers inside of you while his thumb rubbed your clit. You moaned against his lips, pushing your back up against the door. He was clearly not wasting any time and you were more than happy with that. 

His lips trailed down your neck as he fingered you and you found the bulge in his pants and started stroking him through the fabric. He hissed into your skin, bucking against your hand. 

“Fuck, I, uh,” he swallowed thickly. “It’s been a really long time, maybe we can just focus on you for now.” 

You giggled, removing your hand from his erection and letting the feeling of his fingers inside of you wash over you. 

You were clenching around his hand, your legs turning to jelly beneath you. You gripped his jaw and kissed him again. 

“Should we take this away from the front door?” You panted. 

“Uh huh, good idea.” He somewhat reluctantly removed his hand from inside your pants and then grasped your wrist, pulling you along to his bedroom. 

You fell to the bed and your lips attached again. You helped each other out of your clothes until you were both completely naked. He rolled on top of you, fingers finding their way back between your legs. You looked him up and down and moaned slightly at the sight of him. 

Almost every inch of skin on both arms from wrist to shoulder were covered in intricate and colourful tattoos. One continued over and down his chest, stopping just shy of his left nipple. You ran your nails along his ribs where another large tattoo was on display. 

“You like them?” He smirked down at you, his fingers working deftly inside you. 

“Hmm.” You hummed. “Very sexy.” 

He chuckled and bowed his head to kiss you again. You felt his hard cock press against your leg and you were suddenly desperate for him. 

“Jesse?” You panted into his mouth. 

“Yes, Rose?” 

“Please fuck me.” You whined, opening your legs and trying to nestle him between them despite the fact his hand was still there. 

He laughed again, continuing to finger you for a few more seconds before he cautiously withdrew his fingers. He knelt over you and reached for the night stand, fishing out a condom. You chewed on your bottom lip as you stared at his hard abs and even harder cock as he ripped open the packet. But he seemed to grow a little hesitant as he rolled it on, hands shaking slightly.

“Fuck, sorry. I’m nervous. Is that weird?” He pulled a face. 

“Not at all.” You tried to reassure him. 

“I’m really sorry if I don’t last very long.” He positioned himself between your legs and you ran your fingers through his thick beard. 

“Jesse, please just fuck me.” You laughed, wrapping your legs around his waist. 

He laughed too, kissing you once more as he slowly edged inside of you. He wasn’t as big as Spencer but despite thinking he would be rusty, he certainly knew what he was doing. 

He didn’t last all that long but it was ok because he still managed to make you come before he himself was pushed over the edge. 

Afterwards you laid side by side in his bed in a mildly awkward silence. You had a feeling he wanted to say something and so you stayed quiet until he found his voice. 

“So, uh,” he rolled his head to the side to look at you. “I was married once.” 

“Oh.” You replied, not entirely sure what to say to that. 

“I met a girl in my freshman year of college and we just fell so fast for each other. We got married when we were twenty one, she fell pregnant two months later. She miscarried really late into the pregnancy and she was never the same again. Her mental health declined day by day, she could barely leave the apartment to go to work. We tried medications and therapists and for a while it seemed to help.

I wanted to try for another baby but she didn’t. No matter how much time passed she wasn’t interested. Our marriage struggled, I really wanted kids. I’m pretty sure we were heading for divorce. We’d been married for seven years when I returned home from work one day and found her in the bathtub with her wrists cut. I can still picture it sometimes, the blood, the lifeless eyes. It haunts me.” 

Your chest tightened to the point it was painful as you looked into the eyes of this wonderful man as he told you about his dead wife. He’d told you his relationship history was complicated but you’d not expected that. 

“Jesus,” you breathed. “That’s horrible, I’m so sorry.” 

“It was a long time ago.” He shrugged. “I didn’t date for a really long time after that, not until I moved back to Butte. I met a woman who ran the Tin Cup Cafe in town and we hit it off. We dated for about a year until she told me one day that it bummed her out that I sometimes said my dead wife’s name in my sleep. She left town after that, I never saw her again.” 

“Shit.” You reached for him, cupping his cheek softly in your hand. “When you said complicated I didn’t think you meant this complicated.” 

“And to top it all off, now I’m falling for a married woman.” He sighed wistfully. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” 

“I wish I had a choice.” 

“Should I go?” You let your hand fall back to your side. 

“I don’t know. I don’t want you to, but if you stay it might make it harder.” He smiled sadly. 

“I like you, Jesse, I really do.” You confessed. “But I have no idea how long I’ll even be in Crested Butte for and there is still the matter of Sp…Andrew.” You mentally scalded yourself. 

“If it’s just a marriage of convenience, why do you stay with him?”

“It’s…complicated. For lack of a better term.” 

“I just told you about my wife’s suicide, I can handle complicated.” He took hold of your hand encouragingly. 

“He’s my best friend.” You sighed, trying to pick your words carefully. “Something happened and we had to leave our jobs, our homes. We’re not really married.” 

God Spencer would actually kill you if he knew you were telling anyone this. 

“What do you mean?” Jesse frowned. 

“We wear the rings, we say we’re married. But we’re not. It’s just easier somehow.” 

He let go of your hand and looked at you curiously, cogs turning in his head. 

“Are you like, in WITSEC or something?” 

“Not quite that dramatic, but in a sense, I guess.” 

“Is your name really Rose?” His eyebrows furrowed.

“No.” 

“Can you tell me your real name?” 

“No.” 

“So I’m here falling for a woman who I thought was married, but really isn’t and I don’t even know your real name?” He looked at you in exasperation and god how you wished you’d kept your mouth shut. “Fuck, how is that somehow more complicated than my dead wife?”

“I’m sorry.” You rolled your lip between your teeth. “Maybe we shouldn’t have…this was a bad idea.”

He watched you roll over and scrabble to your feet, quickly trying to locate your clothes. 

“You don’t have to go.” He spoke but he didn’t sound so sure. 

“It’s best that I do.” You dressed hurriedly as he observed from the bed. “Please don’t tell anyone. Especially Sp…fuck…Andrew. Please.” 

It made sense to him now why you always tripped over his name, you were hiding his real identity. But he hadn’t missed the look of fear in your eyes when you spoke about him. 

“Is he threatening you? Does he hurt you?” He sat up, sounding panicked. 

“What? No.” You were quick to answer. 

“You said he was a bully.” 

“He has a bit of a temper, but he’s not abusive or anything like that. Look, just forget I said anything, please? I really need you to drop this.” 

He looked like he might argue but eventually he sighed and chewed on the inside of his cheek.

“Can I walk you home?” 

“No, I’m fine, thanks though.” You finished getting your clothes back on and slid your feet in your shoes. 

He got up and gave you a kiss goodbye, but his eyes looked sad when he pulled away, stroking back your hair. 

“This is over before it really began, isn’t it?” He whispered. 

“I think it has to be. I can’t tell you who I am or where I’ve been, or even where I’m going. I’m sorry, I really am. But you deserve better than that.” You smiled sadly at him. 

“Friends?” He smiled back. 

“For sure.” You nodded, stepping backwards towards the door. “I’ll see you around.”

“I hope so.” He watched you slip from the room and listened to the sound of the front door opening and closing. 

You hurried home, finding the cabin shrouded in darkness and thinking Spencer must have gone out, with Mary or to kill you weren’t sure. 

You found the used condom discarded on the living room floor and rolled your eyes, knowing you couldn’t be hurt after what you’d spent your night doing. You left it there, it was his mess and he could clean it up. 

You headed upstairs, ready to collapse and sleep for a week but as you trudged down the landing you noticed a small sliver of light emanating from under the bedroom door. Tentatively you pushed the door open, worried about what you might find. It was one thing to know he’d slept with someone else, another entirely to have to witness it. 

But upon entering the bedroom, you found Spencer alone, curled up in a foetal position in the middle of the bed, still fully dressed. He hugged his legs to his chest and his face was buried into his knees. 

The lamp on the nightstand illuminated his face and when he glanced up your heart constricted in your chest when you saw the tear stains on his cheeks. He sniffed and rolled his bottom lip between his teeth. 

Wordlessly you kicked off your shoes and shucked off your jacket before padding over to the bed and dropping to the mattress. He straightened his legs and held his arms out which you curled into without hesitation. 

He pulled you close, holding you tighter than you’d ever been held before. He buried his face into the crook of your neck and you could feel his scratchy stubble against your skin. 

“Please never leave me.” He whimpered, his voice completely shattered. “I’m an ass, I’ve been so terrible to you. I don’t deserve you. But please don’t ever leave me.” 

“Spencer,” you wrapped your arms around him as your own tears appeared out of nowhere and started cascading from your eyes. “I couldn’t leave you, even if I wanted to. Partners in crime, right?” 

“Partners in crime.” He sobbed, holding you impossibly tighter. “He’ll never love you like I do, you know that right?” 

“I know, Spence, I know.” You nodded, burying your head into his chest. 

This was how you’d both eventually fall asleep, sobbing into each other's embrace. But something felt different, something had shifted but you couldn’t quite put your finger on what.

Perhaps it was an understanding that passed between you. You’d been fighting each other this whole time, pushing each other away as though that somehow might make this whole situation easier. If you weren’t so in love with one another, life would be so much simpler. 

But falling for Spencer had happened without rhyme or reason and even if he never planned on catching you and you fell flat on your face, you would love him regardless. 

Maybe he was right, Jesse never would love you like he did, maybe no one ever would. Certainly no one would understand the things you were capable of the way Spencer did. And that was both calming and haunting all at once. 

"Come on in, boy" said the skeletons,

Sitting by her closet door.

Dirty secrets, empty memories,

And broken hearts across the floor.

I was knocked out, heels over head,

So you dragged me by my feet,

To a ghost town, where you buried me,

No wonder no one heard my screams.

Love's so alive, but it died in it's sleep,

And now that it's dead,

I live in your head,

And I will haunt your fucking dreams.

No one will love you like I did,

Will treat you like I did,

So go on, wear that scarlet letter.

No one will love you like I did,

Will touch you like I did,

So good luck finding something better.

Run away, boy, if you couldn't tell,

Baby's got a thirst for blood.

A subtle system, wicked melodies,

Craving bullets from her gun.

So I tripped, stayed, follow every word,

Little spirals in their eyes.

Catch a lover, turn an enemy,

Just to watch them burn alive.

No one will love you like I did,

Will treat you like I did,

So go on, wear that scarlet letter.

No one will love you like I did,

Will touch you like I did,

So good luck finding something better.

Someday you may find that picture perfect guy,

And I'll chase my words with poison.

Until that day arrives, and swine take to the sky,

Fill your void with open thighs so.

No one will love you like I did,

Will treat you like I did,

So go on, wear that scarlet letter.

No one will love you like I did,

Will touch you like I did,

So good luck finding something better.

No one will love you like I did,

Will treat you like I did,

So go on, wear that scarlet letter.

No one will love you like I did,

Will fuck you like I did,

So good luck finding something better.

@bubblebuttwade @jay-2s-world @daddy-dotcom

[realyauza]

Non-Japanese speaking players of Yakuza 4 have been robbed! These two newspaper issues you can get through the game are as genius as unreadable (thanks for the low texture resolution).

Saejima Taiga is an alien from Japan's Area 51! Want to know more? Read these hot articles from "Nihon Sports"!

Long story short (not really):

The first issue was about:

"A three-meters-tall alien was captured on film in Kamurocho. A security camera installed on the roof of a building in Kamurocho accidentally captured a scene of what appeared to be an alien creature knocking five strong men unconscious in an instant. The scene of five strong men being knocked out in an instant was captured by chance. The creature, which appeared to be an alien, was more than three sheets tall and appeared to be the same kind of monster as the Big Foot found in the Himalayas, but information from the International Okinawa UFO & UMA Research Institute, which conducts UFO research in Okinawa, revealed that the creature was an alien returned from a mysterious facility called “Area 51 Japan” in Okinawa."

"Surrounded by high walls, the island is said to be a UFO advance base and stands eerily still, giving an intimidating impression to its surroundings. From time to time, sounds like screams and high-pitched metallic clangs can be heard." - an image capture

Then there's a short info about what types of aliens we already know. Saejima is the "beast type" and "Since these aliens have been found not only on the rooftops of buildings, but also in underground parking lots and in sewers, it is thought that they are vulnerable to sunlight." There was also an eyewitness, who called him a Green Alien and was knocked unconscious soon after: The journalist asked one more time, “Would you like to meet the an alien again?" Tanaka answered, “That's not an argument! Of course I don't want to see this again!“ He shook his shoulders and repeated, “Of course I don't want to see anything like this again!"

"We should think about why aliens came to the earth. It is not possible for them to come from a distant celestial body just for the purpose of sightseeing. They must be waiting for some purpose to come to Earth. Depending on the purpose, it is not surprising that they may have brought weapons to Earth. A “beast-type” figure suddenly appeared in front of God. Perhaps he is the first of the aliens to invade the earth." - a professor of astronomy at a famous university summed up to the author of this article.

The second one:

Is it related to violent aliens? - says the title. This newspaper we can get only after Tanimura's meeting with Katsuragi. The main photo captures this moment.

A group of people in mysterious suits on a night trip. This magazine, which was the first to report on UFOs, has once again come up with a scoop: people trying to call UFOs (unidentified flying objects) have been moving deeper and deeper into Kamurocho, which has won the title of Japan's most famous district. At first glance, the scenery appears to be the same as usual, but people with the same characteristics are clearly visible. Dressed in what appear to be uniforms, they are marching towards a point. They appear to be performing some sort of divine ritual.-main image description

A photo of an UFO described as: A UFO suddenly appeared in the sky over Kamurocho. This photo was taken by a photographer of this magazine while he was reporting on aliens. The article was about a small village in Illinois, U.S.A., in 1988.

"He was cool. I was getting tangled up with five thugs, and he helped me out. And they just took our stuff, and they paid us off!” The aliens helped the man. We were shocked to hear this, but it's the truth. What is this alien's target? The story goes on and on. - written next to the Saejima's back

I noticed that a group of men in suits had gathered around the two men who were having a secret conversation. Immediately afterwards, the group "began to mutter and mumble all at once around the man they had seized," and then they "began to walk away. I had an eerie feeling about the ritualistic child, but I could not help wondering what they were doing in the square. Aliens were speaking some mysterious language no one could understand. They contacted an UFO specialist Morikawa to get more bullshit valuable info about this event and reasons why did they come here:

"The Mendurians are not only large, but also very intelligent," he said. If I had told my fellow travellers that I was being held in the Japanese version of Area 51, they would have been very concerned about the situation," he said. As for the group of people in suits who were at the scene, I think it is very likely that they were brainwashed by the Mendoules to call for UFOs.

I hope the next interview will be more interesting. I would like to remind the readers of this article that if you are unfortunate enough to find yourself on the road to Mendul, you are not the only one. If you are unfortunate enough to encounter a Mendurian, seek shelter in a well-lit area immediately, or apologize sincerely from the bottom of your heart, and you may be rehabilitated.

So,where's the truth?

[stealingyourbones]

*meets you behind the diner, shades on, and hands you a box full of frog skulls*

I brought the goods.

And, buddy, I want you ta watch out. The old Ghost King has risen from Chaos and is comin' back with a vengeance, overshadowin' people from this... government organization. They call themselves the GIW.

They say that he's lookin' for a bride an' took interest in one of Batman's little birdies, Red Robin, I guess.

There's even an assassination group that didn't like that and is lookin' to form a temporary alliance with the Bat, on the condition that Red Robin would marry into their "Family".

*wipes sweat off face, looks frantically around*

Ya' didn't hear this from me, and I was never here, but listen buddy, LISTEN! I don't know where you live, but if you or any loved ones live anywhere near Illinois or Gotham, don't go near them cops! Don't trust any political figure for the next few months. Get out of there as fast as you can. The ghost possessions are stronger there, and you Have. No. Allies.

The old Ghost King's gonna do everythin' he can to get his bride...

The new Ghost King has not lost his title, but he has lost his court. So, unless he gathers some potential allies to keep the afterlife in line, we're all fucked. You hear me?

*pulls hoodie over head and starts walking into the shadows of the alleyway*

Stay safe, bud.

*In the distance, Nightwing silently observes you opening the box filled with not only frog skulls but also protection runes. He then opens his comm line.

"Follow that guy with the hoodie, O. They know something."

"On it, N."*

I have never received an ask like this yet but my god is this sick as fuck. What a funky little way to display narrative this is so cool.

Thank you kind stranger I’ll be sure to stay on the down low. I greatly appreciate the skills :)

There’s so many ways for this to play out. What does Danny do after he overshadows GIW employees? Does he like make them forcefully forget? Does he kill them? What does he do?

This assassins organization oh god who do they want Red Robin to marry? What would be so bad that THE Batman would agree with their deal?

—

Slinking back into the diner and shuffling behind the counter the frog bones box are slid onto a shelf underneath the bar register.