#(kevin knows who it is that he dragged down into the mud

[foe-wrestling]

the cinnamon tography..............

[luveline]

I’m obsessed with the sister!hotch and Reid fics. I can’t stop imagining that scene where Rossi goes to Garcia’s house and she’s fresh from the shower with Kevin. But instead is Hotch at readers house and Spencer is there.

—you and Spencer are in the midst of a long weekend together when your brother shows up unannounced. fem, 1.3k

“You’re really handsome.” 

Spencer laughs as you drag your hands back over his ears and through his sopping wet hair. The shower water is blissfully warm and soaking your front as it rains down on his head. You shield his eyes but otherwise have your fun. His hair is softer than anything you’ve ever felt. 

He holds your hands flat to his head. “You’re handsomer.” 

“Am I supposed to take that in a good way or a bad way?” you ask. 

“A good way!” he says, forgetting your hands in favour of guiding you under the water. “Handsome has nearly always been used for men more than women, but it didn’t fall out of fashion for girls until the fifties.” He tilts your head upward and to one side as his own begins to fall the other way. “You’re beautiful.” His voice is warm on your lips, “you’re so–”

His kiss is ridiculous; he kisses like he’s starving. You didn’t realise men could actually kiss like this until you met him. It’s not just in the movies, it’s right now, his hand at the back of your neck, unbothered by your laughing or your hand slipping down his wet t-shirt. 

“This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done,” you say. 

“We were covered in mud.” 

“We should’ve just got naked.” 

“We’re taking things slow,” he says, laughing, “it’s fun. But what are we gonna do about our wet clothes?”

“You got the most of the mud on you,” you say. Spencer had performed a valiant rescue in that when you fell, he was straight down into the grass after you in an attempt to save your jeans. It didn’t work, obviously, but the thought was there, and he’s such a good kisser in the shower that you don’t mind the loss. “I’m gonna get out and get changed, you can have a real shower, okay? I’ll get you a towel and your pyjamas and stuff.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah, it’s fine. I think all the mud from my top half is gone.” 

Spencer takes your face into his hand. His thumb rubs a line along your jaw. “Now it’s gone.” 

You beam. Who knew Dr. Spencer Reid was such a tender guy? You could sort of guess from looking at him that he’d touch you like that, but it’s a contrast, too, to be kissed as though you’re some irresistible siren and to have your face held like fragile glass. 

You step out of the shower still sodden, clothes heavy, and close the frosted door between you and Spencer to strip down. Separated but still shy, you hurry out of your clothes and into a towel, wrapping yourself tightly to head into your bedroom. 

You put on blissfully dry underwear and blot your face. Next is loose pyjama pants and a big t-shirt: you’ve never worried about being sexy for Spencer and you’re not about to start. Your first date was a walk in the park, your second date at the bowling alley. He’s not concerned with that stuff. It’s why his frankness about wanting to take things slow isn’t scary, because when he holds your face and tells you you’re pretty, you believe it. 

“Y/N?” 

You flinch so hard your neck cracks. “Ow,” you whine. 

“What’s wrong?” 

You walk forward before Aaron can let himself into your bedroom. Sure enough, your older brother is in your apartment (as he’s allowed, given that he furnished the entire place and paid the security deposit, and, also, awfully, is a very nice big brother). He’s smiling, carrying two pizza boxes and a carton atop it that smells like French fries. “What have you done now?” he asks fondly. 

“I hurt my neck, you scared me.” 

“If you answered your phone, you’d know I was here.” 

“I was in the shower!” 

“I can see that. You’re getting slovenly, it’s almost midday.” 

You’re so genuinely happy to see him that you forget for a moment your predicament. “It’s the weekend, I can do what I want.” You’re gonna have to let him down, which won’t be easy. “I’m not feeling the best, actually.” 

Aaron lets the pizza boxes rest against his stomach. “How come?” 

“I don’t know, I just feel tired. Maybe we can do something tomorrow.” 

“Honey,” Aaron says, with all the cadence of someone who’s used to rubbing your back when you’re sick, “what’s wrong? Let’s go sit down, I can make you something less greasy.” 

“I think you should just go home, actually. I might be contagious.” 

He looks less concerned and more gutted. “What? I don’t care if you’re contagious. When has that stuff ever bothered me?” Aaron takes another step toward you, his gaze flitting past you toward your bathroom. “What’s really going on?” 

The age gap between you and Aaron is expansive. Your being adopted is another gap, and neither have ever bothered him. The moment you showed up in his life he gave you everything he could manage, which has manifested in long phone calls, in hugs, in homemade soup and delivery when he couldn’t be there. Asking him not to look after you is like telling him you don’t want him to, and it isn’t true. 

He means a lot more to you than whatever awkwardness your confession will inspire. 

“Aaron,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. “Spencer’s in the shower.” 

He squeezes his pizza boxes. “Sorry?” 

“We went to the park and I fell by the lake. He’s in the shower.” 

“But you were just in the shower,” Aaron says. 

“Well, we weren’t in there at the same time,” you drag. 

Your lie is obvious to him, not just as a profiler but as your brother. His brow pinches and his nose wrinkles, not disgusted with you or anything so cruelly stupid, but dissatisfied, at least. “Did you have to tell me that?” he asks, pained.

“I didn’t tell you that, you profiled that, and it’s sort of not what you think anyways! We didn’t do anything–”

“Honey.” 

“I’m really sorry, but it’s not what you think.” 

“Listen to me.” The shower turns off and Aaron’s cheek twitches. “You are a grown up. You can do what you like with who you like. It’s my fault for coming here unannounced, I keep thinking of you as younger than you are.” Says the adult. Then, the more friendly part of being a sibling emerges, “Could you send him home?” he whispers. “I got your favourite.” 

You laugh at his proposition. “That’s kinda rude, isn’t it? Can’t he stay? He’s cool.” 

“I’m having trouble coalescing the two of you as more than acquaintances in my mind,” he says, as though he has much more to say about it, even if he’s smiling. 

Spencer chooses that moment to walk from the en-suite bathroom and out of your room, a t-shirt stuck to his chest with damp, his own pyjama pants baggy at the ankles.

“Hey, are you okay?” Spencer grabs your hand impulsively, twining his fingers in yours. Then he sees Aaron and does a double take. “Hotch?”

You give Aaron a sorry smile. “Does that make it easier?” 

“I’ll wait in the kitchen.” 

You and Spencer watch Aaron retreat. His hand stays in yours, but he squeezes you too tightly. “Wait for what?” Spencer whispers fervently. 

You lean up on tiptoes to kiss his eyebrow. “You’re about to get the shovel talk, I think.” 

“Oh. Great.” He drops his forehead against your shoulder, wet hair dripping a path down your shirt. “This is really bad.” 

“He brought pizza.” 

“I don’t think that’s going to help me.” 

You crane your head and kiss-kiss-kiss the top of his ear. “You’re really pretty when your hair is wet.” 

Spencer murmurs to you reluctantly. “You’re really pretty all the time.” 

[kevindavidson]

Kevin Day Cooks

About three years after going Pro, Kevin gets bored in a sense. Exy has been his life for so long that at 26, he wants something new. But the only other passion he has is history but even that isn’t enough to settle him. So he searches for another hobby and finds one that he’s actually good at. 

At the Nest all meals were prepared and made by the team so Kevin had been cooking since age seven, casually. it was self preservation to him, nutrition only. Until Abby asked him the history behind the meal they were eating at family dinner and...he didn’t know. Kevin sat at a loss for a long few minutes because he knew so much about history, but he’s forgotten the most important part. 

Food.

It brought people together and tore them apart all the same but it was the one thing that tied everything together. forget religion, and work, food was what made the world. Without it, no one would exist.

He started learning where dishes came from, and the cultural history behind them. He asked Jean about French dishes, and Jeremy about southern ones, and whenever he crossed paths with someone visibly not from the States, he asked them their favorite meal so he could learn both how to make it and the history. 

Due to all this cramming, the facts started pouring out of him very quickly. Andrew, Neil, Jean, and every other player on his team got very fed up very quickly. It was Bee who suggested he share it. The blog idea was shut down, as was the guest starring on a cooking show because Abby said that he wouldn’t be able to ramble like he tended to do.

So, Youtube. He created a Youtube, watched a few hundred videos on how to edit, and other cooking videos for an idea of what he was supposed to do, and got to work. He started easy, a dish anyone could make - Garlic Bread. he chattered on about the timeline and history of the bread while mixing ingredients, kneading the dough - sleeves rolled up his forearms because Nicky said it would get views from Non-Exy watchers if he did that. 

Immaculately dressed in slacks and a flannel, Kevin Day made Garlic Bread while babbling on about the history of Ancient Rome, 15th Century Italy, Bruschetta, and the new Italian-American version of the food. He edited it, posted it, and by the time he woke up the next morning it had over a million views, had been written about in dozens of articles, and was all over twitter. most especially being dragged through the mud by the Foxes for the shots of him bending over to but the bread in the oven and slight muscle flexing. Allison coined it “Borderline Fanservice”

Kevin didn’t care. He liked that people wanted to hear him talk about history while also being able to indulge in cooking for more than simply needing nutrition. As the channel grew people started recognizing him as Kevin Day the Youtube cooking man almost as much as they did Kevin Day the son of Exy.

One video turned to two to three and so on and so forth. 

As it grew cameos were made. 

While making brownies and blabbering about Bertha Palmer, Andrew sat cross legged on the counter just barely in frame with a cat in his lap wearing plaid pajama bottoms and what was clearly a Palmetto hoodie with JOSTEN across the shoulders - how the Josten-Minyard Rivalry was outed as the Josten-Minyard Romance. The press had a field day. The video also factures not only Andrew pelting Kevin with chocolate chips throughout the video, zeroing in on Kevins ass when he bent to put them in the oven, but the ‘keeper pouring an extra half bag of chocolate chips into the batter when Kevin wasn’t looking whilst wearing what some fans deemed a smile.

When Kevin chose the Dobson Schnitzel recipe, he invited Bee onto the channel and pretty much smiled at her the entire time she talked about the origins of the recipe. Her great-great grand mother, and her proud Jewish roots. (Whenever asked about his favorite episode, Kevin always says its that one.)

He posts a Cooking w/ Dad video in which Wymack cracks not one, not two, but five different smiles at his son while they make regular old chocolate chip cookies as they should have been doing when Kevin was eight and had a bad day instead of Kevin working through injuries on a court and Wymack grieving Kayleigh during PT while feelings for his therapist bloomed.

There’s a few dozen videos that Aaron just pops in every once in a while to watch Kevin work. In one he’s arm crossed, practically a statue off to one side. In another he’s wearing scrubs, dead on his feet, and stealing a bite off Kevin’s plate and humming in approval. He’s passing through the kitchen and swiping frosting from the piping bag, or staring diligently at the coffee machine pulling an espresso shot too slowly for his liking. In every video Aaron appears in Kevin always has this dopey look on his face until Aaron is gone in the next cut, in every video there is some type of soft physical touch, and an air of domesticity that leads the press to talk and receive absolutely no answers.

Dan and Matt pop in from time to time, passing through the kitchen during a kitchen party for the OG Foxes and their partners. There’s Allison sitting on the counter, phone in one hand, lipstick in the other, applying a new layer with Renee leaning into her, back to Allisions chest. (The fans and press have already taken notice that Renee always puts her back to a wall and find this little event to be something to look into.)

There’s always Neil. Neil in the background, Neil stealing food, Neil trying to pester Kevin about stats that lead to such a big conversation that Kevin forgets what he’s going and has to record a voice over for the rest of it - the fans pester him to post the original sound and it doubles the views of the first. Neil staring at the finished cooled apple pie, glancing at Kevin, and just bashing Kevin face into it so hard the pan cracks in half. Neil and Aaron, who was also in the shot, both fell to the floor laughing. 

Abby cameoed some of the time which led toward Abby gaining a large following. Mother Abby everyone called her for the motherly way she fretted about Kevin, of which Kevin reveled in. She became the only other “Celebrity” on Tumblr besides Neil Gaiman. Ask about the Foxes, Wymack, herself and much more flooded. Everyone loved Abby, and Abby loved sharing her people to the world. she liked cracking open the door to shoe them that their heroes - Andrew, Kevin, Matt, Jean, Jeremy, Neil - were just people after all. 

Matt could sing. Kevin pouted when he burned himself on the stove. Jean shouted in French whenever annoyed. Jeremy had a knack for finding every corner to bash his toes into. Andrew’s diet consisted of sugar, caffeine, some more caffeine, and spite. Neil never shut up about Exy.

As the years went on and children happened, they started showing up. Kevin’s hair went gray, he retired, he and Aaron adopted four kids from the system who couldn’t wait to be Foxes, Dan and Matts kids loved coming on the channel. The channel made for more than just a hobby for Kevin, it became a home. A recording of the life and family he’d made for himself by simply having the spine to say, “No.” Once in his miserable life.

Kevin Day, a six time Olympic Gold Medal Champion, Son of Exy, and the best Striker in the world would forever say to anyone who asked that his greatest accomplishment wasn’t his medals, or his skill, or Exy. It was his channel.

Just...Kevin Day finding that he was worth more than Exy by being a perfect househusband.

[knickknacksandallthat]

Flavors of Fall - Chapter 20

Read Chapter 20 Here

Andrew smirks, listening to Neil groan as he drags himself down the stairs.

“Andrew, I’m dead,” he complains.  “I’m done.  Kevin’s killed me.”

Andrew hums as he turns down one of the burners.  “Pretty mouthy for a dead man,” he remarks.

“It’s because I’m pissed off at being dead, and I’ve decided to haunt your cottage as punishment for letting me go.”

“As I recall,” the blonde responds, not bothering to look Neil’s way.  “You were the one who agreed to join him for this venture.”

“I know,” Neil whines as he shuffles into the kitchen.  There’s a little jolt in Andrew’s stomach as he looks at Neil’s freshly showered hair and the sweatpants and sweatshirt he’s thrown on, both clearly belonging to Andrew.  “And it was fine – when we were actually running.  It’s all the other crap they threw in there.”

“Mm-hmm,” Andrew continues to nod, moving between different pots on the stove.  He watches Neil slowly approach him out of the corner of his eye, like a tiger stalking its prey.

“I mean, why isn’t it just a run with mud?  That’s what I thought it would be.”

Annndddddd that's a wrap folks! Flavors of Fall is DONE! For all those who've been following along, thank you so much for your lovely comments! 💖💖💖

For those of you who have been waiting until this beast was complete...feel free to dig in! 😉😉😉

[red-hood-vigilante]

more hbo spn rambles, thoughts, drabbles etc. long long post.

part 1 here

there’s some things i’ve omitted here bc others have already posted about those things, certain headcanons and characterizations and stuff. those posts are in my likes somewhere (and i’ll reblog them someday), and there’s some posts i’ve read but not liked, which i now can only vaguely remember, which is why some ideas/thoughts are similar

ALSO most of these follow the model i talked about in part one: how s1-5 will stay more or less how they are but s6-10 is changed (some things are cut out entirely, some things are tweaked and some characters + arcs are more fleshed out. more focus on sam’s trauma and post-cage adaptation to the real world as well as dean letting his rage and control issues consume him and how he’d recover and redeem himself)

as i typed these paragraphs, i realized i really have 10 seasons mapped out and ready to go. hbo hire me!!

alright go:

sam and dean get wearier as the show progresses (second half), and eventually they stop putting so much care and thought in the people they save. like...hm how do i say this, like as long as a victim/victims are saved, they don’t care about how that happens or how those people suffer potential consequences, like if the victims lose a limb or have their homes burned down because of the monster, then sam and dean don’t really care. they saved your life, now they’ll leave you with your life in potential shambles and not care because all that matters is that they saved your life, not how it is afterwards. they still care about saving that one person, but eventually it pales a little in comparison to a war between heaven and hell, being the vessels etc. ---> saving people becomes less about making sure they’re actually alright and healing from horrific events and more about just making sure they have a pulse before they move on

when angels lose their wings they are either burned off in the actual fall or ripped off of them in their vessels, which leaves pretty nasty scars on the vessel

ed and harry are so young and bright eyed about the whole hunting thing; sam and dean as kids, idolizing it, finding it exciting and intriguing when they shouldn’t. sam and dean try to get them out of the business before they too are too traumatized and desensitized to do anything but hunt. neither sam or dean will say it but they are jealous of ed and harry and their freedom to leave, and hate them for choosing this voluntarily instead of being dragged into it by tragedy

hbo spn is a slow burn. there’s a lot more shots of sam and dean in silence just sitting together after a hunt, exhausted and too tired to move yet. they’re covered in blood and guts on the side of the road after killing or covered with dirt in a graveyard after burning bones, sitting next to the fire, just watching it. the times they park the car and watch the stars? we get to see it. 

dean wears rings and the amulet all the time in the beginning, for the first five seasons. the rings vary; first they’re some of john’s old ones and stuff he finds in thrift stores. then later on he begins wearing rings from people they’ve saved/haven’t saved as a keepsakes etc. when he begins his descent to the holy murderer in s6-10 he wears less and less rings. they don’t matter anymore -> symbolically shedding who he was and what mattered to him

the only accessories sam has is a rosary/cross around his neck. he has jess’ engagement ring in his pocket/wallet. after the cage he vaguely remembers why the ring was there and who jessica was (more on this further down)

the four horsemen are manifestations of different aspects of human nature at its most grotesque and strongest, can’t be killed as long as humans live. war is conflict, famine is desire, pestilence is physical and mental illnesses.

(the seven sins are like the horsemen, tulpas of human nature instead of demons)

death isn’t a concentration of an existing aspect of humans as much as it is the end of life, the antithesis of life. death the oldest of the horsemen and has existed since the beginning of any life, organism, cell and atom. the opposite of life and light, the other half of god (as i’m typing this i’m confused as to why  amara was the opposite of god instead of death). death isn’t evil or good, remains 100% objective. doesn’t care for sam or dean at all, but has a begrudging respect for their stubbornness and entertainment they provide due to their flat out refusal to do as they’re told by celestial bodies when anyone else would crumble

by including death i feel like it very naturally begs questions of who decides when someone dies, when someone lives, why would death follow these guides instead of reaping whomever whenever, what happens if a life isn’t reaped at the right time etc. the reader in me adore the idea of death having a library with books and records of everyone who has ever lived and died and how they died - but then, who writes these books and why? do they decide, and if in that case, how? these questions are above my paygrade but you know what i mean? like there has to be some sort of system right, god created everything, death executes to maintain order, some third party deity writes the laws and the books. the three branches of government. ok but it’s hbo so again, i think we shouldn’t dive this deep into things, like as much as these topics intrigue me i don’t want to stray too much from the dirt road trip aesthetic

shapeshifters are extremely rare because they don’t require any kind of human blood or organs/sacrifice to live

i want more exploration of how magic is like science, like it just needs the right ingredients and right conditions. sam thinks of magic as an obscure branch of science; it just requires research and knowledge and clear intentions because science can be controlled and do a lot of good when used responsibly. dean doesn’t like it. he doesn’t trust the unpredictable elements and he’s seen enough to know it never goes well. magic is a force that can’t be controlled by anyone.

sam and dean have full on fist fights regularly. to practice and keeping each other sharp, but also because they’re siblings. they’re feral, insane and unhinged with each other and they get on each other’s nerves A LOT. it’s petty and childish and sometimes it can get a lil ugly but it becomes their way of family therapy. after a fight the next scene cuts to sam and dean with ruffled clothes, nosebleeds and swollen lips at a diner eating silently after beating each other up. either they sit in silence because they’re tired or both are harping on the other’s openings and weaknesses

sometimes they’ll fight a little dirty but they do so in different ways; dean will pull the old ‘look!’ and point to something and then tackle sam when he turns to look while sam will just cry out in fake pain which makes dean stop dead in his tracks before sam headbutts him or kicks him in the groin

we, the audience get used to these fights, they’re sometimes funny and for comic relief, sometimes for narrative purposes (like tricking a monster they’re fighting each other when they’re really not) BUT. then comes the times when sam and dean are actually fighting without holding back and we see how much they are capable of hurting each other or how heartbreaking and difficult it can be to watch when of them are incapable of fighting back/doesn’t defend himself -> swan song when dean doesn’t fight back against possessed sam, or when dean beats soulless sam unconscious

sam and dean also just verbally bully each other constantly but they do have their odd ways of expressing affection and care. they get the other person their fave snack whenever they go grocery shopping without being asked to and are the only other one they truly trust to have their back in hunts. have a cup of coffee ready before the other asks for one. brothers and each other’s best friend. nightmare duo but in a sweet way. the cooperation of ‘the usual suspects’ when they’re in different interrogation rooms but still has the cover story down to a t. code words and code names and cover stories, they know it all

when sam and dean fight together against a common enemy they’re a damn nightmare - because they know each others weaknesses and habits, they cover each other perfectly and in complete silence. they’ve been at it together since they were kids and read each other’s nonverbal cues like a picture book

to build off of what i said in part 1; the winchesters are pretty hated in the hunter’s community. even the people sam and dean frequently work with (bobby, ellen, jo, ash, rufus, bela, kevin, charlie, castiel etc) roasts them all the time and don’t hesitate with calling them out on their self-pitying crap when it get’s too much (spn was just objectively better when characters weren’t afraid of dragging sam and dean through the mud for being selfish and stupid) and this WILL persist in hbo spn. the only reason people continue working with sam and dean is because they know deep down a lot of the things that happens aren’t sam and dean’s fault - but they still blame them for it. doesn’t make it easier how sam or dean sometimes start crap on purpose to save the other

the winchesters are terrifying and people for sure tell stories about them, but not like ‘they’re heroes’, more like ‘they’re insane and dangerous. stay the fuck away from them’. some stories are true, like how they’ve worked with demons, but some are just game of telephone. (dean has apparently a ghost he is frequently possessed by while sam is actually a mutant vampire). hunters hate and are scared of the winchesters. sam and dean are never invited to hunter stuff (burials, memorials etc) but crash them nonetheless even though the hunters do NOT want them there.

you know what drives me insane when i think about it? how some characters in spn already are their hbo spn counterparts; john. mary. adam. maybe kevin?

other things that already are their hbo spn counterparts: dean throwing away the amulet right in front of sam. eyes burning when angels are seen. how ghosts are just tragedies, stuck in a loop they can’t leave. how a lot of the monsters they meet are just victims or their circumstances or the first victim of a curse. the impala being sam and dean’s home. dean not knowing how to comfort sam when he’s upset other than trying to do things for sam that usually brings dean comfort (driving the impala, listening to rock music etc). the roadhouse. heaven being an eternal version of the memories that made you the happiest even though it’s not real. sam wanting independence and freedom but never fully having it. dean fearing being alone more than anything else and that’s where he always ends up. sam has an eating disorder after the demon blood and dean has an alcohol problem he refuses to see as a problem. dean saying “i’d do it again” without an ounce of regret and pouring himself a drink when sam tells him it was fucked up to lie to him about gadreel

the demon/angel hybrid: THIS could be sooo interesting to explore. an angel and demon hybrid are you kidding me?? not to toot my own horn too much but i’m so clever. i should write this story myself. SO. does this creature have parents who fucked in their vessels or was this an experiment by god (yes i love the ‘mad scientist’ idea, that really should’ve been played up way more) or did a pre-existing creature (human or otherwise) drink demon blood and angel grace at the same time so that it created itself? so much potential for some really intriguing storytelling and character exploration - not only the creature itself and what they would be like, but also for the people around; sam, dean, castiel, jack etc. how would they react to this thing that is the very definition of defying heaven and hell and all the natural laws? does it exist before the show starts or will we see its birth?

the powers of the demon/angel hybrid would be tricky; a mix of holy and defiant, grotesque and beautiful. unconsciously forces people to tell the truth when talking to them. poisons whatever they touch. eyes of a demon, wings of an angel. can smite but skin will burn when touching iron. can do deals but will require a sacrifice in return, not a soul, usually a body part taken then and there (the hybrid eats it. it favours eyeballs and the liver - angels like raw meat). lights always flicker. makes things explode when angry (esp people and cars). can manipulate feelings, thoughts and memories. can travel to both heaven and hell, not welcome in either places. + standard stuff like telekinesis, teleportation, mind reading, super strength etc. 

sam and dean’s wardrobe are pretty much the same; whatever’s cheap and not covered in blood. however, they do have stylistic differences. sam thinks graphic tees are funny, dean uses whatever’s black combined with john’s leather jacket. their wardrobe melds as they stop thinking of themselves as individuals and more of “me and my brother,”. their clothes are tattered and torn to shreds all the time. hand me downs, hand me ups. when they stray off their “path” and do things that are the crux of a storyline/character arc, this would reflect in their clothes. when sam is with ruby and becomes more and more “evil” he wears more and more red, a colour he has stated in the past he doesn’t really like. when dean is dead, sam starts to wear his rings and john’s and dean’s leather jacket. when dean decides he’s going to say yes to michael he dresses in white, when sam is dead dean takes off every piece of jewelry except the amulet. he holds it clenched in his fists when he’s whispering what comes close to a prayer

logically the amulet should have a backstory but you know what? i love that it’s hinted to be just a piece of cheap jewelry sam found in a thrift store he decided to give to dean. but narratively it should be explained so... idk. what could be logical solution as to why it would react to GOD himself? maybe god wore it once cuz he thought it was neat but he sold it for three dollars because he wanted coffee and then sam found it a week later

i would prefer it if god didn’t show up at all (absent father number one) but if he DID he’s not all powerful just a true neutral (like death, 100% objective) who created a thing that just took a life of its own, much like a parent and a child - the parent helps the child but can’t control it. the times he did intervene or tried to do something it didn’t really have any real long lasting effect so he gave up on trying a while ago. 

@spneveryseason talked about this, how the storyline of sam being possessed by gadreel would be horrifying if we saw everything from sam’s perspective instead of dean’s (her fic is wonderful). in the ‘dean slowly descends into a righteous murderer to become holy’ idea i have this tracks so damn well because again, if dean believes something is right, it is right, no questions about it. everyone around him is like “that’s really fucked up and you should make amends” but dean doesn’t see any reasons for why - sam is alive isn’t he? and seeing it from sam’s pov would really underline how horrifying, dehumanizing and belittling that experience was

john and mary are adam and eve. sam and dean are cain and abel are michael and lucifer. time is a flat circle. history never stops repeating itself. 

sam is the villain of s4. he is manipulated and key information is withheld from him but in the end... would it made a difference? it crossed his mind, that he could be tricked because ruby is a demon after all, but maybe he likes the power, the feeling of freedom, that he wasn’t just the baby, the one who always needs permission to do things. if he has to drain possessed people to get that power... so be it. and it’s for a good purpose, until it isn’t. he’s hungry for more, to be feared and respected. he’s enticed by lucifer’s sweet words, the potential of all that power and the idea of ruling two out of three realms. dean manages to pull him back from the brink because sam decides he doesn’t want to be what john thought he was and fail dean and himself like that.

dean is the villain in s9. he is controlling, the mark of cain without the mark. what he says goes - it’s not a democracy, it’s a dictatorship. he doesn’t see how much pain, doubt and fear he causes the people around him. if some victims or civilians die on his watch that doesn’t matter - just some collateral damage. sam can’t make dean listen to him because dean is the older one, the one who’s always called the shots. dean is the angelic one, heaven’s chosen warrior, he is untouchable and unkillable. he’s is an excellent killer, filling the void with blood and rage which is better than the crippling fear of loneliness carved into his bones. 'i butcher for love, to protect,’ he tells himself. ‘why shouldn’t i exterminate, regardless of the cost? i’ve followed the rules, i’ve always sacrificed. now i call the shots. it’s my right.’

sam’s hell trauma is never magically removed. he’s stuck with the memories and the nightmares and the occasional hallucinations. castiel can’t do anything but offers to wipe his memory completely, but sam says no, he is still doing penance. 

after dean comes back from hell he starts calling himself old man and jokes a lot about he’s 40 years older now (after he’s more comfortable about speaking about hell) 

when sam comes back he feels ancient (he’s over 900 years old at least but he lost count), weary, tired and so so so out of place in this world. he’s forgotten how to put gas in a car, how to drive, how to use a credit card, all the song lyrics he and dean used to yell together, the faces of people he knew before he fell, the softness of a bed, the schools he went to, most of the hunts he and dean, how john died, who mary is, the initials carved into the impala, the taste of food that isn’t raw meat. it’s so much he’s forgotten that he has to relearn. he prefers figuring things out with castiel instead of dean because castiel doesn’t silently resent him for everything he’s forgotten

sam doesn’t laugh anymore. despite dean’s many and castiel’s few awkward attempts, it’s more like quick smile and a quiet “hmm”. on some days he recoils when he sees blood and guts, on other days he’s so apathetic it’s unnerving

sam sympathizes with the brought back mary and castiel more than ever. dean tries to get sam to remember things he’s forgotten from his childhood but sam can’t connect with it anymore. he stopped being that sam a long time ago. dean doesn’t know what else to do than try to force this connection to be revitalized and he fails. sam isn’t that person anymore and this wedge in their relationship becomes a central factor in dean’s s6-10 desperation and isolation. sam is here and safe but it’s not really sam, not the sam dean grew up with

while sam has forgotten how to make coffee, he now knows everything about angels, effective torture tricks, a bunch of lore + biblical history, how to navigate hell, the most powerful and influential demons, rare and powerful spells as well as perfect enochian (he will speak enochian without realizing and it feels more natural than english). lucifer and michael were surprisingly talkative (raging about the unfairness) when taking their anger and hatred out on sam and adam and each other. sam had access to all of lucifer’s memories and knowledge for the time he was the one in control. walking library and encyclopedia of biblical lore.

he still has some muscle memory from hunting and sparring, but sam is ghostly thin and very rusty. even though he’s an expert on lore, he’s not fit to go on hunts anymore and he knows it. 

sam remembers adam and swears he’ll try to get him out, but he can’t. just thinking about the cage makes him vomit. he can’t talk about it, much less go near it. after a while sam thinks it might be better to let adam stay down there than let him come back up and feel this crushing emptiness and loss of direction

sam’s trials take place in s9 instead of 8; coinciding with dean’s villain arc. for sam the trials are a chance to redeem himself again, this time for good by closing hellgates forever. they’re scrubbing him clean of the demon blood and his sins and they give him a sense of purpose again now that he can’t join hunts anymore. it doesn’t matter if he dies because of it. it would be nice with a permanent and peaceful death that did something good. dean is taken aback by sam’s devotion to repent for something that happened years ago and for something sam has already paid for a thousand times over. dean realizes how messed up he himself has become and how he’s helped put sam here, on the cusp of self sacrifice again because of sickening guilt and self hatred. dean begs sam to not complete the trials at the cost of his own life and swears he’ll better himself, be a friend and a brother, not a jailer, dictator or a murderer. ‘if you won’t give yourself or life another chance, please give me one.’ ---> s10 pacifist dean learning to let go of the control, the violent tendencies and the rage

oh wait what if gadreel still possessed sam after the trials to heal him but sam is the one who invites the angel in? he’ll keep his promise to dean about staying alive, as well as heal from the inside and have breaks from the world when he doesn’t want to be present, like he and gadreel will alternate being the one in control. he keeps it a secret from dean and helps gadreel imitate him so dean won’t notice. it’s not so bad, being possessed by this angel - sam can say no anytime and gadreel is a nice guy. since they alternate on who’s present they can access each other’s memories, which is terrifying and embarrassing at first, but since gadreel and sam have been tricked and used by lucifer and been punished for it for far too long, they understand each other. now another creature knows their trauma and terrors without the need for verbal explanation. also having an angel residing in his body makes sam feel like he can hunt properly again because gadreel can heal him and take over in situations sam’s overpowered. this could show how messed up sam has come to view himself and his body. 

dean is conflicted when he finds out; sam lied but gadreel does help sam heal, sam’s traumatized and his self-worth is fucked up and dean has contributed to that. dean convinces sam to push gadreel out, that sam is still valuable, loved and a good person who shouldn’t be in a place where he views his body and mind like a property to be occupied. sam’s faith begins to come back bit by bit, not in god, but in himself, his brother, in the good things in life. they build their little family; sam, dean, castiel, the hybrids, whomever of their allies that are alive at this point.

castiel can heal sam and dean’s wounds but they are never completely gone; they leave scars and phantom pains. the brothers have SO many scars over the years. dean flaunts them to impress people because he likes the questions and the fearful admiration, the attention and the nods of approval. sam hides them.

when dean is in a bad mood or needs to get his mind off of things, sam just drops something like ‘i don’t get the deal with led zeppelin. one of the most overrated bands of all time’ and dean will go OFF every single time about the entire led zeppelin history, their discography and how they’ve shaped rock music. this will go on for hours and sam will zone out after 1 minute. but dean rants nonsensically the entire drive and it does get him to think about something else for a little bit. they stop at a motel and dean is STILL ranting while brushing his teeth. stops when going to sleep but without fail picks up where he left off the morning after and is so into it he doesn’t notice sam not paying attention at all. we could see this once in s1 when they’re searching for john, another in s3 when dean is anxious about his deal coming to an end and then again in a later season, when sam doesn’t remember to ask/doesn’t have the patience or mental capability, so they’ll sit there in tense silence, showing how much they’ve changed.

---> i can see this SO clearly in my head, how they’ll get in the car and we, the audience, will recognize the camera angle, the same lines and dean’s grumpy mood, and we’ll anticipate what comes next. but sam isn’t that kid anymore and he’s not peeking at dean to gauge what his mood is and how much of a shit eating grin he should wear when being an annoying little brother to cheer dean up. now he’s looking out the window, leaned back, they’re not looking at each other. this shot is a minute or two long, uninterrupted. dean turns on music but neither are singing along or doing anything to lighten the mood. 

s1-5: sam gets hooked on demon blood, dean has an alcohol problem. when sam goes through withdrawals, dean decides to quit drinking and joins him because he wants to be supportive, and he realizes that when he drinks two beers for breakfast there’s a problem

s6-10: sam takes painkillers, anti depressants and anti psyhosis meds to numb himself from the phantom pains and reduce post-cage effects. dean started drinking again after sam jumped and still does, but started smoking in addition because he still drives a lot and doesn’t want to die in something as pathetic as a car crash. 

there a scene in an episode in the first half of s8, when sam has decided to stay with dean instead of amelia, and dean has rejected benny in favor of sam, and then the brothers sit in a couch watching tv while drinking beer and neither of them look particularly happy about it - that’s how their relationship is a lot of the time. they know they’re fucked up and neither of them will ever be truly happy when the other’s around, but they owe each other so much and they don’t have to explain themselves to each other the way they do to others. they know each other so well, each other’s traumas and the things they’ve done, it feels fake and exhausting to try to be something other than the veteran hunters they are. misery loves company; they are miserable together but would be far more miserable apart and living a normal life. they do love each other, but neither of them are particularly happy as the show progresses. family is hell and so is the lack of it. 

OK OK i mentioned it in part one, how i had my own very specific idea about how jack should come to be and here it is. long winded but (might just write a damn fic): 

after lucifer was cast back into the cage, he is stronger than he has been in a long time (being in his true vessel helped him stretched muscles he forgot he had. and fresh air.) sam is pulled out of the cage and it leaves a rift in the magic and chains - the binding is weaker and lucifer must act fast to get out before it heals. the cage is still strong enough to hold two archangels, so lucifer has to become weaker somehow to slip out through the cracks. he can’t get out of the cage, but souls can come in. demons bring themselves and human souls as tools for lucifer to use. there’s not much he can do here - consuming them, eating them, touching them, dissecting them doesn’t give him what he wants

eventually lucifer realizes he must do like azazel and create something new of two halves, like when he created demons. he begins melding his archangel grace with a human soul. he tries with demons, but his archangel grace automatically purifies them and leaves them too weak. he must try with a human soul who is good. he finds the soul of kelly kline, who sold her soul to save a loved one. with her, the merging, works. 

he has another self, a twin, a son, who’s half human and half archangel. half lucifer. the old lucifer will die but that’s ok, his desires, presence and self will live on in his new creation. the new lucifer barely makes it out of the cage, only able to due to its human side. on earth it creates a body for itself and takes shape, no longer a form of pure power and energy akin to the sun itself but now a person, reminiscent of kelly kline on earth and lucifer in heaven. they name themselves jack. jack searches for familiarity and finds it in sam, their old self’s perfect tool and another hybrid. jack finds a mentor in castiel, a younger brother and fellow angel with human elements. they do not find anything in dean, the key to his former self’s doom.

jack’s powers: their powers are like and unlike the angels because he is half archangel. jack has wings but sometimes they don’t work, or they’ll end up somewhere else entirely. their body is their own, not a vessel, so jack can’t possess people. doesn’t talk but people “know” what they’re saying or want because jack emits their emotions and thoughts to people they’re talking to like a radio tower. jack can also have this empathic connection and communication with animals. his mood affects the weather. immortal. reads minds. can remove a soul from a body and send it to heaven/hell by touching it, with practice they don’t need to touch a body. 

other stuff about jack: the human/archangel nature means jack only need sleep and food once a week or so. eats only nougat and raw meat. because jack is a kid they nap a lot. levitates when sleeping. never blinks, stares intensely at everything. their eye colour changes based on their mood. eyes glow in the dark. normal humans who look at jack for too long experience memory loss, fainting spells or migraines and eye contact for more than 10 seconds give vivid hallucinations of their worst nightmares. always barefoot, often floats like 10 cm off the ground because they find it more enjoyable than walking. wears the wildest clothes they can find, nothing matches and nothing is weather appropriate

i have a very specific image of jack in my mind; they look like delirium from the sandman comics with the hair that looks like it’s underwater and the fishes floating around their head, here and here are examples. in live action this would look not good or maybe even ridiculous for sure but in animation... endless potential for angels and monsters to have super interesting designs sigh

castiel’s arc should end with him going from blind soldier, to the unwilling ruler of heaven, finding a place on earth with sam and dean, becoming closer with humanity and eventually a father of three (the hybrids). 

[kevindayisafrog]

TW- mentions of suicidal thoughts and abuse

Kevin sits in the small waiting room down the hall from Bee’s office, legs bouncing on the polished white floor. He picks at his jagged scar on his left hand and watches the clock as it ticks closer to his appointment. He didn’t want to come here, but Aaron forced him and he didn’t want to let him down. Aaron found him the night before on the bathroom floor with his right hand clutching a vodka bottle and the other scratching vehemently across his thigh. He was repeating “it’s all my fault” whilst tears drowned in his throat. He didn’t mean to fall down this far but Riko enjoys to torment him even in death. But it was Kevin’s fault. If he hadn’t have been so selfish leaving the Ravens, then Riko would still be here. Maybe they could’ve finally sorted out their past and move on. Or maybe it would be Kevin laying in a wooden box under rotting mud. He pushed the vodka closer to his lips but Aaron pushed it away and smashed it against the bathtub, glass shattering onto Kevin’s lap. He watched the large shard closely and thought that it was all his fault. He killed Riko. His own brother. He’s a coward. Aaron pulled Kevin’s gaze away from the glass and kissed the tears away until they could both breathe again. But Kevin still couldn’t drag himself out of bed this morning without Aaron pulling him down.

“Kevin?” Bee steps out of her office and watches Kevin as he shakily rises and staggers towards her. “Beautiful day today isn’t it? The sun’s shining brightly and not a cloud in sight”. Bee’s words blur in Kevin’s mind as he sinks onto the leather couch. “I didn’t notice”, he picks at his jeans as Bee walks over to make hot chocolate for them both. The silence made Kevin want to puke as Bee slowly walks over and places the mug down in front of him. “So, how are you today?” Kevin snorts and looks out of the small window as the blue sky blinds him. “Obviously I’m doing amazingly. I’m just here for a laugh”, he looks back down at his lap and grimaces at his own ignorance. “Why are you here, then?” Bee pushes her glasses further up her nose and clicks her pen. “Aaron forced me here. I don’t actually need to be here”, Kevin starts to pick at his hands again as Bee scribbles onto her paper. “It’s good to have someone look out for you, isn’t it? Are you and Aaron close?” Kevin bites his tongue at the question as his mind flicks to the nest. To Riko beating him senseless when he found Jean and Kevin kissing in the locker room. “You’re disgusting, Kevin! You’ll never be good at Exy if you carry on with this vile behavior! You make me fucking sick!” Riko’s words merge with Aaron’s “I love you” and Kevin stops breathing. “Yeah..yeah”, he presses the knuckle of his thumb into his mouth and tries not to think. “Are you close with anyone else?” Kevin bites harder onto his thumb as he thinks of all the relationships he’s ruined: the foxes by pushing them away too far, leaving Jean behind who now can’t look at him, his mother, keeping secrets from his own Dad - the list goes on. He ruins every relationship he has. Thea hates him. Aaron will leave him. He’ll always be alone. He quietly shakes his head and drops his hand into his lap. “Okay”, Bee hums for a while before taking a sip of her drink and clearing her throat. “So, why are you here today? We’ve never talked like this before, what changed your mind?” Kevin shrugs and watches the clock. Only half an hour left. “I feel like I’m a ghost because I can’t breathe anymore and no one seems to notice. I thought that once I left the Nest everything would be okay, that people would finally understand me. But no one cares.” His voice wavers and he clears his throat before carrying on. “I mean, I don’t blame the foxes for hating me. I’m not the easiest person to get along with, but we’re all broken and I thought that they’d at least check up on me. If it was Neil instead of me they’d wouldn’t leave his side. They’d be checking up on him every second to make sure that he’s okay. But for me?” He laughs and it comes out cynical and forced. “I don’t know, maybe I’m just too self-absorbed. I guess I didn’t give them a chance to like me, I just assumed they’d hate me like everyone else does. And now they do. But I’m just tired of having to look after myself and pick myself up. I’ve come this far on my own and I don’t know if I can go further.” Bee snaps her head up to look at Kevin and opens her mouth to speak, but Kevin shakes his head. “It’s fine, I’m okay. I don’t want to die, I just..I just know that it’s not getting better and I don’t know if I want it to anymore. I think that I’ve grown comfortable with living at rock bottom. But..I would like at least one person to give a fuck”. He lets out a shaky breath and contemplates taking a sip of the hot chocolate but decides that he doesn’t need the extra calories. “I’m sorry”, Bee places her notes to the side and leans towards Kevin. “For what?” he tries to slyly lean back away from her without being too rude. “I’m sorry that you’ve been through this and that it doesn’t seem to be getting better. I don’t know what you went through, but I’m guessing that no one has apologized to you before”. Kevin shakes his head as Bee’s hand twitches near his. “I deserved it, I wasn’t good enough and that’s okay”. PART 2 IN NEXT POST :)

[willowbird]

prompt: aaron had a slight ED that he developed as a kid and is now being noticeable to the rest of the foxes even andrew and nicky kinda knew he forgot to eat but the stress from school and exy makes it worse....

I could easily expand on this and maybe one day I will. It hits kinda close to home tho so I’m going to err on the side of brevity just for my own mental space. Thank you so much for the ask! I hope this is what you’re looking for ❤️ ❤️ Take care of yourselves!

Warnings for depression, eating disorder. 

Edit: this has been expanded and can also be found on my ao3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Ao3

-----

Wednesday | 6:04am

The alarm was screaming. 

Its cries crashed against his senses like sea-storm waves and Aaron was without shelter. The sound had been crowding him for four minutes now, and he still couldn't lift a hand to make it stop -- even though he was perfectly aware and wide awake. He wanted to stop the sound, he needed the quiet back, but for whatever reason his hand just wouldn't listen to his brain no matter how many times he willed it to move. 

Aaron hated days like this.

Wednesday | 8:43am

Nicky slung his arm around Aaron’s shoulders, a grin plastered on his face. His hair was slicked back like a low-budget greaser, halfway between wet and just damp. They’d just finished morning practice and he, Nicky, and Kevin were waiting out in the player’s lobby for Neil and Andrew to finish showering and changing so they could leave.

“Aw man, I am hungry. Please tell me that Andrew and Neil are gonna finish up soon so that we can go get a real breakfast.” Nicky's whining was easy enough to ignore most of the time, but today Aaron was tired and his patience was thin. He had three tests to study for, two essays to write, they had a game coming up on Friday, and Aaron didn't have the bandwidth for Nicky, too.

He shruged his cousin off with a snort. "I'm just gonna hitch a ride to the library." There were still a few hours before his first class of the day, and he needed to use that time for something productive.

"Aww, c'mon Aaron come to breakfast with us! We'll drop you at the library when we're done. It won't take too long!"

"What won't take too long?" When Aaron looked over, he saw Neil and Andrew coming out of the locker room, clean and changed.

"Breakfast!" Nicky announced. "Neil, tell Aaron to join us! It's a family breakfast -- he should be there!"

"You can't just label things "family" events as a way to require people to be there," Kevin said with a long-suffering sigh. Even so, Aaron noticed he already had the menu of their usual breakfast joint pulled up on his phone. The pictures of pancakes topped with glistening syrup and fluffy omelets made his stomach clench in an unpleasant way.

Aaron looked away.

"I've got a shit to do," he said. That would be his final word on it, and to demonstrate, Aaron turned to head toward the doors.

Except Andrew had moved to block him, though Aaron hadn't registered when his twin had circled them. Aaron frowned, lifting his chin in challenge.

Andrew just studied him for a long moment before looking just past Aaron, gaze darting over his shoulder to the others behind him. He lifted a hand and a second later a slim object snapped into it. When Andrew then held it out to him, Aaron saw it was a granola bar.

A quick glance over his shoulder exposed the granola bar thrower as Kevin, who was zipping his backpack shut. They matched gazes briefly and Kevin nodded toward the granola bar in Andrew's hand.

"If you aren't going to come to breakfast with us make sure you get something on your way to the library."

Aaron glared at him, then rolled his eyes and turned back to his brother. Andrew just looked at him, expression blank, and continued to hold out the damn granola bar like he could stand there all day without a care in the world.

A flash of resentment boiled through him. Of course Andrew could stand there so fucking unbothered. Barely anything affected him at all.

With an annoyed huff, Aaron snatched the bar out of Andrew's hand and shoved it into his pocket before stalking out of the building.

Wednesday | 1:15pm

Katelyn ❤️ (13:15): Hey baby! Prof Dixon bailed again ~ you free?

Aa. Min. (13:15): McCallister's?

Katelyn ❤️ (13:16): See u in 5! 😘

Wednesday | 1:23pm

Aaron stood inside the confused cacophony that was McCallister's, an on-campus restaurant that was the love child of a deli and a pub but four times too big, regretting his choices.

It wasn't even the noise that was bothering him the most. It was the smell.

Aaron took two steps into the restaurant and his stomach roiled. It twisted and tightened, curling in on itself in disgust at the sharp, slimy stench of cold cut deli meat cushioned on a waft of double-baked potatoes that filled the restaurant like wildfire's haze. He and Katelyn met here for lunch two or three times a week when their schedules lined up. They both liked the food and they had several corner booths where they could hide in and study together after eating. It was one of their favorite places. But right now, Aaron was fighting not to gag. 

“Aaron!” Relief warred with dread at the sound of Katelyn’s voice and he hastily plastered on an imitation of the smile he usually didn’t even have to think about, that always rose to his lips whenever she was around all on its own. It didn’t today, but for Katelyn he could make the effort. For Katelyn, Aaron could do anything. 

He turned around once that smile was fixed in place and wrapped his arms around her when she joined him, indulging in a quick kiss that soothed some of the nausea churning in his gut. When they broke apart, Aaron turned to lead them toward their usual booth but Katelyn stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Babe is everything alright?” Worry painted a crease between her eyebrows, her mouth drawn down as she studied him. 

Most days, Katelyn’s concern warmed him. It made him feel seen and loved and cherished. Today it put a slash of anxiety through his lungs, breath seeping out through the cut and concaving his chest under the weight of her scrutiny. 

Aaron arranged his smile into something tired and unalarmed. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a long week, y’know?”

Katelyn hummed like she wasn’t sure she believed him but was deciding to trust him anyway, then she smiled and she released his arm only to take his hand, giving it a small squeeze. “Alright, then let’s get some lunch and shut out the rest of the world for at least a little bit, yeah?”

The smell of the restaurant was still choking him and even his skin felt tight. The absolute last thing he wanted to do right now was stay there another second, let alone the hour he had until he needed to think about heading to his next class.

“I’m so sorry Kate, I’ve got to meet with the TA for my history class. I remembered right after I texted you but I still wanted to see you so I figured I’d just tell you when you got here.” He offered an apologetic smile and did his best to ignore the way guilt was now mixing uncomfortably well with the sick already sloshing around in his stomach. Aaron did not like lying to Katelyn, it felt wrong. But he also couldn’t... he couldn’t explain what was wrong with him right now -- not because he didn’t know, but because he was sure explaining it was going to make him sound crazy and that was just the last thing he needed right now. It was better to slip away, go somewhere he could focus on homework or something and just... wait for it to pass.

Katelyn’s expression fell, flashing disappointment, then a sad understanding as she nodded. “Of course. It’s okay babe, really. I’m just glad I got to see you at all.” She smiled then -- that bright, warm, just-for-him smile that always had Aaron’s heart skipping. A small knot of tension loosened in his lower chest, just enough that he was able to take a small breath and offer a more genuine smile of his own in return. 

“I love you,” he told her. 

“I love you too, Aaron. Take care of yourself and I’ll see you later, okay?”

He made no promises before he made his escape, just a smile and a wave.

Wednesday | 3:37pm

The granola bar tasted like ash in his mouth. It felt like there were iron weights attached to his jaw, making it impossible for him to chew. A fist of repulsion locked around his throat, and it was a physical struggle to swallow. 

This was the worst part about days like this.

Aaron knew he had to eat something, because he knew what could happen if he didn’t and the only thing worse than having to put up with feeling this way, dragging himself through the mud of his own psychosis one step, one mile, at a time -- was doing it with everyone watching him struggle. 

So he forced himself through half the granola bar. He knew better than to push for more than that, or all his efforts would be wasted into the nearest trash can.

Wednesday | 7:51pm

Practice had been brutal. It had been so bad that even Nicky hadn’t been able to cheer himself through it and was just as bitter and on edge as the rest of them by the time they hit the showers. 

Aaron sat in the lobby and waited for the others, feeling old. He felt tired. He just wanted these stupid pissing contests to stop and everyone to shut up. He wanted the world to be completely silent, completely empty. Emptiness sounded nice. Sounded peaceful. Sounded right.

The sharp scuff of shoe-rubber against tile had him cringing so hard his shoulders ached and he peeled his eyes open to glare at the source. Andrew stood there, hands in his pockets, blank-faced and too knowing.

Aaron snorted and looked away. 

The couch shifted slightly as Andrew took the spot next to him. There was the soft shk of a blade cutting into something crisp and when Aaron looked over, Andrew was holding out a small sliver of apple. His brother wasn’t looking at him. Instead, the other Minyard was dispassionately staring at the tv, which was playing some sports channel that Aaron knew very well Andrew didn’t give a single shit about. 

For a long moment Aaron just stared at the side of his twin’s face, but it was impossible to know what, if anything, he was thinking about. Finally, he looked at the sliver of apple. It was pale, small, unobtrusive. Aaron’s stomach clenched, a mix between hunger and repulsion. All he’d had today was that half a granola bar -- which had been both too much and not enough. His throat tightened as he stared at that innocuous slice of fruit, but he was almost focused more on the hand holding it. His eyes burned and he looked away, but not before taking the slice. 

[whump-town]

The Kiss

No warnings just a Hotchniss first kiss

I was, admittedly, pretty excited about this fic but now I’m just not. 

Go-bag in hand, Emily stands in the empty bullpen. It hasn’t felt right in months, none of it. Tomorrow she’ll start another case as the Unit Chief but it won’t be right. Morgan is at home with his baby boy and his wife. He’s the only person who managed to get away. The only one who really got away. Hotch may be out of the unit but he’s moved up the food chain simply because he can’t step away. It’s all too much because she knows that is her reality too. If Hotch can’t step away, how the hell is she supposed to?

“Miss him already?” Rossi makes his sudden appearance from his own office, scaring Emily from her thoughts. She’s not sure if that’s what it is. Just yesterday she sat in a two-hour-long meeting with him, passing glances like paper notes in high school. He nearly looked amused to see her bored of her mind with him. Revenge, one might say, for all the things she’d done over the years to torment him and stress him out.

Emily shakes her head, “had enough of his ugly mug for a while.” She crosses her arms over her chest and immediately her body language betrays her. Defensive but she appreciates Rossi swallowing the call-out. She does miss him and it’s going to be hard, it’s going to be scary to go out and run his team.

Rossi chuckles and wraps his arm around her shoulder, pulling her away and toward the elevator. “He has complete faith in you,” Rossi tells her. Aaron Hotchner is not the kind of man you waste your time second-guessing. He overthinks the most simple tasks and his decision to leave Emily in charge was not something he came up with overnight. “I got him a little drunk last week,” Rossi reveals with a coy smile. “Told him to spill his guts, tell me what he was thinking. Wanna know what he said?”

More than anything. She wants to know what he was thinking. She’d gladly take a list, outlined straight from his head, of all the things that he thinks make her qualified. Then maybe she would make him one, a list of all the ways that his absence has left her questioning everything she thought she knew.

Rossi lets her go, looking her in the eyes and shifting the mood so very simply with his exchange. “He told me how you were there for him after Foyet.” The admission makes her blush and she’s rapidly coming to realize that the list would be much better coming from Hotch. “He called you his best friend.” Rossi’s face takes her by surprise. “Thought I was… I’m going to have to reconsider the layout of my will.” His mouth is twisted in annoyance but his eyes burn with coy ‘I know something you don’t’.

Emily shakes her head but smiles. To be fair, she thought Rossi was Hotch’s best friend too. But, if Rossi’s smile means anything, there must be something else she thought about Hotch that is wrong.

“What I mean, kiddo is that no one is more qualified on this team than you. Hotch knew that and I know that...” He puts his hand on the back of her neck, “you’re the only person who has any doubt.”

Emily blinks back her emotions, forcing her tears to dissipate and not slide down her face. She doesn’t feel like the most qualified. Hell, most days it still feels like she’s the new kid on the block. Other days like she’s just come back from the dead to find that her place on the team is no longer available. Closed because the only person who could take the role was dead and now that she’s back none of them know how to reopen themselves to the vulnerability of losing her again. Even she doesn’t know how.

Emily clears her throat, “what about you?” There were a few times when she and the rest of the team joked about what it would be like if Rossi were their Unit Chief. Hotch had overheard once and shook his head. “Some things,” Hotch mumbled in that dark way only he pulls off. “Just can’t be explained.”

Rossi laughs. He pats his chest, shaking his head. He gathers himself for a moment before losing it again. “Lord,” he clicks his tongue. “No. Sweet Lord, no.”

Emily sighs tiredly and rubs her hand down her face. “So,” she breathes, “I really have to do this?”

Rossi nods, “I’m afraid so.”

____________________

“Oracle of the all-knowing,” Garcia picks up right away, a small click sounding off as she awaits further instruction. Just when she was starting to think they’d forgotten her! I mean, come on. They’d landed in Seattle over four hours ago. How long does it take to call her back?

Emily’s just about to start listing off what she needs when she hears the soft sound of another person’s voice in Garcia’s office. She pauses, frowning. People don’t bother Garcia. Of course, they do when they’re home but no one but Garcia goes into her lair. Not even Kevin anymore. “Is there someone in there with you, Garcia?”

Glancing at the room’s other occupant, Garcia feels stuck. “Well,” Garcia pauses for a moment. There’s a hardly audible conversation shared on her end. A voice that is clearly Garcia and the other a grumpier, deeper-- Hotch. The other voice is definitely Hotch. “Alright, I’m back,” Garcia greets again. “You have the oracle of the all-knowing and the brave Sir Hotchner, our very own knight in shining federal issued Kevlar. He’ll strip it off for--”

“Garcia.”

Emily glances at the other’s smirking and shaking her head. The things that woman gets away with.

Garcia sighs, “right, sorry, sir.” Turning completely to her computer she rolls her eyes and under her breath, she mumbles, “he didn’t want me to tell you about that.”

Hotch groans.

Emily enjoys these little moments. It hadn’t felt right, this case or any of the others lately. Cheeks feeling warm, she realizes that she misses having him around. No one corners her in the break room to talk about silly things like how the window in her office has a great view of the field the cadets practice in. That in the spring you can sit there and watch them trip and stumble in the mud. No one else knows how to make her favorite tea or gets the sugar/creamer ratio right in the coffee. No one’s successfully replaced him, not even her.

Fuck… she misses Aaron Hotchner so bad.

“What can we help you with Emily?”

It’s embarrassing how quickly her heart beats at the sound of his voice. Emily. Fuck him for saying her name like that. Like she never wants to hear another human being to say it-- just him.

She swallows thickly around the knot now sizably formed in her throat. “Uhm,” she glances to the others and realizes they’ve definitely seen it all. She kind of hates the smirk on Tara’s lips, like she’s figured something out. That stupid look on Dave’s face certainly says he has. “We needed-- needed uhm--” Dammit. Damn him and her stupid name.

With a calming flourish, JJ rises to her side. There’s a look in her eyes too as she smiles and calmly greets their friends. “What can you guys tell us about Marcie Joans?”

They have a whole conversation but she can’t focus on a damn bit of it. She just keeps hearing the way his voice had rumbled her name. Emily. Emily like he’s been calling her that since forever… like he doesn’t know what it’s doing to her right now. Maybe he doesn’t know.

She excuses herself from the room and she knows they’ll talk about what they just saw but she couldn’t care less about that.

“Aaron,” she whispers to herself. Her eyes rise to meet her own in the mirror. “Aaron.” She’s never called him that before. No one calls him that. JJ had once. That’s the kind of power in a name. Fucking Emily though. Did he have to control her like this?

She looks down at the sink and shakes her head. “Get a grip, Prentiss.”

He doesn’t love her. He doesn’t love Emily Prentiss.

It’s kind of funny because… Hotch spent his morning telling himself that. Locking eyes with himself and saying it again and again but nothing was changing that stupid feeling in his stomach. The little flips and the way his heart aches when she’s gone.

He’d sat all day with her just two days ago. He can’t miss her. “You can’t possibly miss her,” he says to himself. He’ll just keep saying it until he believes it. Until the sting of what her rejection will feel like dissipates and he can focus again.

“Sir!”

He comes to a staggering halt. “Garcia?”

He’s only thinking about her because he’s high.

“You’re bleeding.”

A foggy kind of high created from blood loss.

He’s been lightly sweating all morning. It’s just stress… and the knife wound in his shoulder. The knife wound that is now bleeding through his white dress shirt. Damn, he wrapped that in so much gauze this morning. “It’s ugh,” he can feel his tongue getting heavy in his mouth. Vision a little fuzzy. He’s learned by now what it feels like just before you pass out.

Stepping to the side, he throws out his arm-- the bad arm-- and sinks into the wall. A pained grunt leaving his mouth, a careless mistake.

“Sir!”

He shakes his head, lifting his trembling hand up to her. “I’m okay,” he manages, pushing himself back upright and then swaying once again. He really should consider at least lying about something he can hide. “I’m fine.” It takes a lot of self-control for him to swallow down against nausea in his throat, an uncomfortable knot. Otherwise, he’d be painting the old grey tiles with his stomach acid.

Because, no, he hadn’t managed to eat anything this morning for breakfast. He can think of several people who would chew him out for that… like they’re going to chew him out for the shoulder knife wound thing. Not that it was his fault. Somehow, he imagines telling them he got stabbed helping some poor kid behind Walmart isn’t going to work out in his favor.

Well, it won’t work in his favor when he tells them he didn’t go to the hospital afterward.

“Garcia,” he fails to admonish. He’s pulled to his feet with surprising strength and they walk, his stumbling, shaking knees leaned against her bright pink cardigan. Quite the pair but they always have been. She takes him back to her office and as his feet drag and his shoulder throbs he just sighs in relief. He may not understand the way Emily makes him feel but Garcia?

She’s his right hand.

“Easy,” she whispers and she’s so gentle as she helps him onto the couch.

He sighs, sinking into her couch. He can’t even argue when she lays a blanket over his waist.

“Oh,” they both jump as her phone goes off. “It’s just the team,” she tells him, answering the call. “Oracle of the all-knowing.”

His head is spinning and he feels his body betraying him. He is eerily cold and shaky. “Don’t--” he chokes on a breath. “Don’t tell them.”

Garcia turns her chair to him, eyes shocked as she tries to tear herself between him and Emily’s voice bleeding through the line-- “Is there someone in there with you, Garcia?” Placing her hand over the speaker on her headset she shakes her head, attention on him, and not them. “Don’t tell them that you’re hurt?” She looks bewildered. “Sir, I can’t lie to them.”

He grunts as he shifts, shoulder aching and stiff. An infection, more than likely. He should have gone to the hospital. “It will only worry them,” he tells her. Somehow, he’s found the strength to flatten his voice. To steady it. “They need to focus on the case.”

She seems to mull this over and with a shake of her head, that soft pity stripped to aggravation with him and his stupid ways, she turns back to her computer. Ready to work. She’ll worry about him in a moment. “Alright, I’m back,” Garcia greets again. “You have the oracle of the all-knowing and the brave Sir Hotchner, our very own knight in shining federal issued Kevlar. He’ll strip it off for--”

“Garcia,” he grumbles.

She sighs, right focus. The sooner she straightens this madness out, the sooner she can help him. “Right, sorry, sir.”

He surprises them both when he sits up and asks, “what can we help you with Emily?” Sitting up is a very bad idea and he ends up sinking into the back of the sofa, stomach tight with pain and eyes half-lidded as he listens to their voices. Emily’s softly stammering voice is taken over by JJ. He’s still sinking when Garcia starts talking. She’s doing her job. Focused.

He’s drifting… sinking into the darkness. Into the cold.

“Hotch! Sir--”

So fucking cold. He peels his eyes open, the wet sticky heat of his blood on his shirt. Oh yeah, that’s certainly an infection.

“He passed out,” Garcia tells someone he can’t see. “No, he’s bleeding,” Garcia’s voice trembles and he feels bad for burdening her with this. If he could just get to his office… everything would be okay. A palm is pressed to his cheek. “He told me not to tell you,” Garcia gasps and he frowns with understanding. She’s telling the team. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “He can just be so convincing.”

He thinks… maybe he can hear… “Emily,” he croaks, his eyes slivers. He can hear her voice.

Garcia feels a rush of relief. His eyes are open and his attention is there. Not hawk like or hauntingly focused like normal but he’s there. He’s looking at her and his fingers are slowly curling around her own where she’s holding onto him tightly. Afraid if she lets go… She smiles and nods, gripping his hand that lightly snags on her shirt. His hands are large and mostly limp but his fingertips ghost along her skin. Her’s are so small in his but she holds tight. Reminds herself he’s still here. She pulls his hand closer, tangling their fingers. “Emily’s on the line with me,” she promises. “She’s on her way Hotch. She’s coming back.”

He shakes his head, turning his head away as tears slip down his cheeks. “No,” he whispers. His voice breaks and he shivers, mind clouded with fever. Too cloudy to care that he’s crying on Garcia’s couch and bleeding everywhere. “No, she’ll… she-- she--” he moves his hand in her grip. Working himself up but for what Garcia can’t tell. “She has to solve the case,” he whispers. “She--She--”

Garcia lets out a little choked sound when his eyes flutter shut, a pained grunt leaving his parted lips. “Hotch,” she whispers, tears falling down her face. “He-He passed out again,” Garcia sobs. She presses her fingers to his wrist, watching his chest rise in jerky movements. “He’s breathing. He’s breathing and he’s okay but he passed out.”

There’s never a dull moment in the BAU. _____________________

It takes Emily six hours to get back to Virginia.

Logically, she knows it’s been years since Foyet. Her mind can still recall every detail of that day though. The heavy stench of blood and the stain on his carpet. Her feelings then weren’t clear. Murky. She knew she couldn’t stand the thought of losing him. That standing there in his apartment brought tears to her eyes as she thought of all the awful things that could have happened.

It still hurts, now, to think about.

Him dying alone in some alley. The sound of his labored breathless gasps fading out.

She’s burning with anger by the time she gets to the hospital. “Where is he?”

Garcia meets her in the waiting room. Two floors down from where the shit out of luck head of the department resides because when Emily sees him she’s going to kick his ass.

“Sleeping.” Garcia sees that anger. It’s reasonable. For a split second, she’d wanted to knock him senseless too. Then she’d been allowed back into the room and seen him attached to machines, pale, and sweaty and she'd lost her anger. She just… she loves him for some reason. “He already talked to the police,” Garcia starts but Emily interrupts her.

“The police?”

Garcia sighs, “he stopped a mugging last night.” That handsomely chivalrous man, God, Garcia shakes her head, always getting himself into trouble. “He got stabbed in the altercation and--”

“Came to work anyways,” Emily sighs.

Garcia nods, understanding the exasperation in Emily’s voice. “He didn’t go to the hospital last night either,” she adds, even though it’s the nail in Hotch’s metaphoric coffin. But, hey, he did this to himself. He’s fine now, though, and that’s what really matters (that’s such a fucking lie because Garcia knows when Emily sees him, it’s over for Hotch).

Emily is just tired. She’s not even mad. “Is he okay now?”

“Yes,” Garcia replies quickly. “He’d just fallen asleep when I got the text that you were here.”

“Can I see him?”

Garcia takes her to the room but it’s dark and he’s not in the bed.

“Aaron?” She hates just how irrationally upset that makes her. “Where--” the bathroom door opens and he’s standing right there.

He’s shirtless. Standing with his right hand guiding the IV port he’s attached to and his left arm securely bound to his chest by a series of intricate looking straps. Her eyes are drawn to the red of his eyes, the sleepy way that he’s standing here looking at her.

She kisses him.

He’s at least a head taller but slouched into himself, she manages to rock up onto her toes and pull him to her. The back of her forearm looping around his neck, while her hand cups his cheek. He fumbles to wrap an arm around her hips, tugging her closer as he kisses her back.

“Woah.”

They pull away from the kiss flushed and breathless. They shyly laugh, both blushing, and looking anywhere but at each other.

“Oh don’t stop on account of little ol’ me!” Garcia giggles holding her hands over her eyes, “trust me, the team has been waiting on that for years! I’m totally going to text the group chat about this!!”

Hotch groans, shaking his head. He’s not looking forward to that.

It puts Emily back on her track. “Hey,” she pushes at his chest. “Don’t ever do that, again, okay?” He avoids her eye contact, unable to even look at her. Just down at the floor. She grabs his hand, squeezing the fingers. “I mean it, Aaron.”

He nods his head. He’s still not looking at her. “Okay,” he manages. 

She squeezes his hand but doesn’t push anymore. “You’re such an ass,” she whispers, throat tight. As frustrated with him as she is, she hates how emotion she is now. He’s right here. She’s just made out with him and just ruined everything. 

“Emily,” he cups her cheek, raising her head back up. “I’m sorry.”

She rolls her eyes and sniffles. “You better be,” she hugs him, careful of his arm. “When you’re better though, I’m going to kick your ass for making me worry about you so much.”

He smirks, now that sounds like his Emily. “I’ll be ready,” he promises.

[percontaion-points]

Raven King chapter 7

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions.

Chapter 7

He hadn't said anything last night, maybe too tired to demand an explanation for last night's fiasco...

Look, I don't like any of these characters. But I'm also not going to sit here and let David drag Neil through the mud simply because Riko thinks that threatening to murder people is a personality trait.

"Tell me why someone who came here early to get away from his parents and who flinched away from me the first time he thought I was going to strike him goes so far out of his way to offend someone like Riko Moriyama. I would have thought you'd have better survival instincts."

He's not wrong. Considering that Neil keeps wanking off about how he has to keep his head down and survive, he sure is going out of his way to do the exact opposite. Signing to a college sportsball team, going out of his way to be around not only Kevin, but also Riko.

Neil is so fucking stupid, and I can't deal.

"You're a real piece of work, you know that?" Wymack asked, coming to rejoin him at the table. "Your parents must be something else."

Coach David: I'm going to have a team of nothing but children who are troubled. They deserve second chances.

The children: *act out because they've never had a positive influence in their lives, and don't know any better*

Coach David: *surprised pikachu face*

"I didn't know," Neil repeated. "Until Coach told me about the Moriyamas this May I knew nothing about Riko's family. After that I thought maybe that's why we met so long ago. I thought Riko's father and mine were discussing territories and borders. But last night Riko said my father belongs to the Moriyamas. What did he mean by that? Why did he say he bought me?"

"Don't lie to me," Kevin said. "We are in enough trouble as it is."

"My mother didn't tell me why we were running," Neil said. "I never asked her why she finally had enough. I was just glad to get away. We never talked about anything real after that. It was always about the weather or our current language or the local culture—the next time she had anything meaningful to say to me was when she was dying. Even then she didn't talk about my father. Not once did she mention the Moriyamas. If she had, I wouldn't be here right now, would I? So tell me the truth."

I get that Neil was a literal child when all of that happened. But after drilling into Neil's head about needing to be on the run, of needing to keep his head down... AND SHE COULDN'T EVEN BE BOTHERED TO EXPLAIN TO HIM WHY HE NEEDED TO DO THAT?!

Like Neil isn't smart, but I'm honestly blaming a lot of that about his mother failing to teach him fucking anything.

"You were a gift, another player for the master to train. You had two days to win him over: an initial scrimmage with us to show off your potential and a second scrimmage to prove you could adapt to and implement his instructions and criticisms. If afterward he decided you weren't worth his time you would be executed by your own father."

Neil swallowed hard. "How did I do?"

"Your mother wouldn't risk failure," Kevin said. "You never made it to the second practice. She disappeared with you overnight."

The heat in Neil's stomach could have been nausea or rage, but he didn't know who he was angry at. His mother had hated his fascination with Exy his entire life. She'd told him over and over he'd never touch a racquet again but she never told him why. He couldn't understand why she had never explained the totality of what they were running from.

ONE FIVE MINUTE CONVERSATION, AND THIS ENTIRE SHITTY SITUATION COULD HAVE BEEN 100% AVOIDED.

COMMUNICATION IS FOR FUCKING SQUARES.

By 'the girls' she meant her stage sisters. Dan, aka Hennessey, had gotten a fake ID back in high school so she could work as a stripper in a nearby city.

Casually mentions child sex workers like it's not a big deal.

"Listen up. There's obsession and there's dysfunction. You can't make Exy your end-all be-all. This won't last forever, okay? You'll shine bright, then you'll retire, and then what? You gonna spend the rest of your life at home alone with all your trophies?"

Somebody had to fucking say it.

Neil thought of his mother's heavy fists on his skin and her fingers knotting in his hair. She'd told him time and time again girls were dangerous.

So his mother beat him until he didn't like girls, but couldn't be bothered to do the same thing about liking exy?

He dragged his attention back to the task at hand and vowed never to listen to Nicky again.

Chapter 7 summary: Neil wakes up on David's couch. He thinks about sneaking out to avoid the confrontation he knows is coming, but decides to get it over with. He tries the old “he started it” route, but David doesn't buy it. When Neil brings up how everybody is of the opinion that Seth was killed, David calls him out on his bullshit. That Seth was a junkie, and Andrew should keep his BS conspiracies to himself.

They go to the stadium, where Neil has his conversation with Kevin. Says that he gambled on Kevin not remembering since Kevin showed no sign of acknowledgment when Kevin went with David to recruit Neil. But he goes on and says that he didn't know about how his father “belonged” to the Moriyamas, and didn't know why he and his mother went on the run. Kevin explains to Neil about how nepotism topples empires, and the head of the Moriyama family wanted for Neil to earn his keep. Wanted Neil to become another little Kevin and Riko. But Neil's mom freaked out over the thought of them murdering a literal child and took off before the guy could decide if Neil would be worth living or not. As I keep saying, it sounds like all of Neil's current shit falls back on his mother's inability to inform him of important stuff.

Kevin tells Neil to run off and continue hiding. To survive. Neil says that he's tired of being on the run constantly. Says that Andrew seems to think that the foxes constant publicity will keep the Moriyama family from murdering him. Kevin says that Neil knows too much, and that even a TV appearance won't stop them. Tells him to go. Neil refuses, and insists he's going to stay. Kevin promises to keep up their nightly practices. They briefly talk about why it is that Andrew is so obsessed with Neil, without moving the plot along.

Some time passes, and Neil tries to bury himself in practice but ignores the news. Then, because this book is hurting for plot, we get a random conversation with Dan about casual sexism and sex work. The book tries and fails to breathe life into the other background characters. There's this really unholy passage about Nicky and Neil talking about Andrew necking on a cheerleader and it's upsetting Andrew. NOBODY FUCKING CARES.

Nicky then starts to talk about how the twin's mother gave both of them up, one ended with his aunt, and the other in foster care. But none of this is new info to the readers, so... move on already. He also mentions that their aunt died, and thinks that Andrew murdered her. Neil believes this. He also off-handedly mentions about how Andrew saved him from being beaten by some homophobic assholes, but got court-ordered drug therapy as thanks.

He then spends a long time talking about Christianity and homosexuality. And it's a heavy topic for sure, but I'm not sure if this is the right book for this. Especially since this is immediately bookended with Nicky telling Neil that playing sports isn't a personality.

[archivistsammy]

I really hope this is the last time I find myself wanting to make a post absolutely dragging Dean Winchester through the mud, because it’s hard to believe he could let me down any further. But then, I don’t doubt Supernatural will dig deep to find more ways to bury Dean and Sam alive, so we’ll have to wait and see. 

Anyway.

The first time Katharine and I watched this episode together, we were both a bit confused by what Sam meant here. We were naively, foolishly, caught up in Dean’s pity party, and mused in our text thread, “What is the problem, then, if not Dean’s tendency to hurt people by association?” This time around, after having a season and a half’s worth of experience wringing our hands and tearing out our hair at the consistent way Dean implodes his own life by treating everyone around him like trash, we understood immediately what Sam meant. And I want to talk about it.

The biggest theme of our complaints against Dean seems to be the way Dean is never held accountable for his actions, nor is he encouraged to authentically reflect on his trauma and experiences which inform his actions. So what you get is a ticking time bomb of a maladjusted PTSD survivor who leaks his pain and his anger over everyone else without even thinking about how he might heal that trauma, nor even thinking about how he might repair the harm he caused while he was struggling. I’ve already talked about how terrible this is for me to watch, but it seems yet again rather acute in this scene. 

The context for this scene is that Sam has just ejected Gadreel and learned the truth about how Dean saved him after the trials. He is understandably upset with his brother, and when he begins to express why, Dean steers the conversation towards his own self-hatred. He calls himself poison and emotionally asserts how awful he is and that he ruins everyone around him. I believe firmly that Dean believes this, and that makes me sad. However. This isn’t how you have a conversation, Dean Winchester. 

This is similar to his lecture to Kevin, in that I think this is a manipulation on Dean’s part. The difference is that I think this time it’s completely unintentional. I don’t think Dean realizes what he’s doing--redirecting the conversation away from Sam’s very valid anger and towards Dean’s own feelings about how awful he is--but it’s not an excuse all the same. Dean isn’t interested in hearing why Sam is mad, or he’d shut up and listen to it. Instead, he shuts it down by beginning to talk about why he’s the worst, and why he thinks he needs to leave Sam after this conflict. He essentially makes a shitty excuse to run away and avoid actually dealing with what Sam is upset about. And by making it about himself, he’s trying to manipulate Sam’s own feelings from anger to sympathy. Or, perhaps more likely, he fully expects Sam not to argue with him and simply agree, which still satisfies Dean’s low self-esteem and desire to be emotionally punished for mistakes he’s made in the past (versus actually being accountable and fixing those mistakes). Either way, the point is that we have--yet again!--a moment where Dean refuses legitimate accountability, nor does he give space for the person who was harmed by him to speak openly about why they’re upset. He effectively closes the conversational door and decides to leave. 

Sam’s response is neither of what Dean expects, because Sam doesn’t agree with Dean nor explicitly disagree. He tells Dean to leave, but quips that Dean’s problem isn’t that he’s terrible. And when Dean asks what that means, Sam dismisses him. This is kind of a childish response on Sam’s part, but I still kind of love him for it, because I get what he means now in a way that I didn’t the first time. This is Sam tacitly telling Dean the problem is that you don’t listen. You don’t respect my choices. You don’t hear me when I tell you want I want. And when you leave, you do so because you’re not willing to face the consequences of your disinterest in my choices. You’re not leaving because when you’re around people you poison them. You’re leaving because you refuse to work through the part of yourself that jumps to self-destruction when things get rough. Because you won’t work through the part of you that hurts. And that, in turn, leads you to hurt others. And honestly, I don’t fault Sam for not being really clear about that. Because he knows perfectly well that Dean will, once again, not really hear him.  

I’m so tired of being so upset with Dean. I’m so tired of watching the pain he causes for himself as well as the pain he causes for others. I wish the show--and Dean himself--held more compassion for the older Winchester. I wish there was a real effort made to get Dean past these Chuck-awful hurdles. But it just never really happens for him, and it’s a damn shame. 

[snarkwriteswrasslin]

17.12, you want to kiss me, mjf

Title: you want to kiss me

Theme: Holiday fair/Carnival

Fandom / Character(s):MJF, AEW

Warnings:Lots of banter. A mutual physical attraction. Sharp tongues and attitude galore.. Oh and a little kissing.

Word Count: uhhh... roughly 1k, give or take..

This is my entry to @champbucks 12 Days Of Christmas Challenge for the day. This one pretty much came to me as I wrote the other one I did for the day, with Sweetpea, on my multifandom blog. And at first, I started to go with Kevin Owens, but.. MJF is the perfect mouthy, egotistical idiot for this. So, I went with it.

BTW>. i made the banner thing. No stealing.

Tagging:

@kyleoreillysknee​​​

@rampagewriting​​​

@writertoo18​​​

@thatnerdwriter​​​

@wrestlingismyguiltypleasure​​​

@chasingeverybreakingwave​​​

@waywardwrestlewritingwaif​​​

@sassymox​​​

@champbucks​​​

@hungmanhorsecarriage​​​

@wardl0w​​​

@ryantaylorgirl​​​

@dilfmoxley​​​

@hotyeehawman​​​

@gabbynorth98​​​

@bec0m​​​

@irish-newzealand-idian-dutch​​​

@daddyslittlevillain​​​

[ about page | masterlist | tag list ]

“Did you hear yet, man? Rhodes volunteered us all for some carnival thing they’re putting on in town.” Wardlow’s words barely registered with MJF because at the moment, MJF was too busy staring.

Wardlow caught onto his friends distraction and he followed Maxwell’s intent gaze, nudging him in the side as he chuckled. “Her name is Jocelyn. She’s the mayor’s secretary. I think she’s the one who came over to negotiate things between the mayor and Rhodes.”

“A secretary, huh?” Maxwell answered in a bit of a daze, making Wardlow chuckle again and shake his head. “I just said that, dumbass.”

Maxwell was back to it again, staring a hole right through her. Wardlow rolled his eyes and cleared his throat, reminding Maxwell, “We have a match. Come on.”

“I’m coming.”

As they walked past where Jocelyn stood, Maxwell stopped, sizing her up and rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Ya know, you’re cute. For a secretary.”

Wardlow grimaced and he was just about to grab hold of his friend, the idiot, and guide him away and out of potential danger, but before he got the chance, Jocelyn responded. And what she said had Wardlow trying to resist the urge to double over laughing. Especially when Maxwell started to fume immediately and all she did was roll her eyes and walk out of the arena.

XXX

“You’re kind of cute for a secretary.”

I’d been just about to walk out of the arena that the little wrestling company was holding their show in after having talked to it’s owner about maybe lending a hand and letting some of his wrestlers make appearances at our annual carnival. It’s no secret the town is dying and we need the money.

I already wasn’t thrilled with having been the one relegated to the negotiation process, but honestly, I’d gotten kind of used to it in the four and a half years that I’d been working as the mayor’s secretary. It kind of went with the territory by this point.

Dealing with cocky entitled assholes, however… I did not have to do that. And I wasn’t exactly in the mood for it today.

I almost ignored the guy and just kept walking. But something about his tone. And the posturing. And that stupid cocky smirk on his stupid sexy face.. Well, it got right under my skin almost immediately. I turned and stared him down, a dismissive roll of my eyes as soon as mine settled on his. Only after lingering far too long on decently enough kissable lips.

I mean.. Not that I’d ever admit that in a thousand years, especially not to that fucking guy… 

“You’re kind of brave… For an idiot.” I stepped a little closer to him and a little further from the door. He walked over to me, staring down at me as he rubbed his chin.

“Do you even know who I am?”

“Uhh. My guess is nobody special. I mean you’re literally getting your ass beaten for a living. On live television, in your underwear. So..” I shrugged.

“Ouch.” the guy cringed a little, a hand over his heart. Teasing smirk in place and a look in his eyes that somehow made me both want to strangle him and climb the man like a tree all at once. I backed away when he stepped even closer.

“I mean all that may well be true but.. Who’s the one actually making money, huh? Because my guess is you barely survive on a secretary’s salary. I mean… Since you want to go there.” he smirked just a little more and I grit my teeth. He had a point. And given the fact that the town’s budget was a nightmare at the moment, my salary and paychecks were only getting smaller and smaller.

“Meathead.”

“Stick in the mud.”

With the last pleasantry exchanged, I spun and stormed out, making sure to let the door slam behind me as hard as I could possibly slam it.

XXX

The carnival was just starting to kick into gear and I rushed around, meeting with vendors and the people hired to run the petting zoo, the ice rink and the few actual rides that we were going to have on the midway. I was running on coffee and fumes at this point, and when my friend Georgia  walked up, tapping my shoulder, I turned and tensed a little, preparing for whatever bad news she was about to give me.

“Bob can’t do the kissing booth.” Georgia informed me.

“What do you mean Bob can’t do the kissing booth?” I asked, the words leaving my mouth in a whine. I didn’t have time for this.

“I mean that Bob got arrested last night. It was on the 6 o���clock news, Jocelyn. He robbed the Home Depot over in the next county? Tried to make off with 3 grand in tools and a giant tree…They had a chase and everything.” Georgia was barely hiding a laugh and I groaned, raising a hand to drag through the front of my hair.

“Okay, can we get Tom?”

“You know Tom’s girlfriend isn’t gonna loosen up the leash she has him on long enough to allow that.”

I grimaced. My eyes settled on a group of the wrestlers from that AEW show that was stranded in town for the time being and I rubbed my chin. “Actually, Georgia?”

“Yeah?” Georgia was raising a brow, but when she saw my smirk, she gave a soft laugh. “You have an idea, don’t you?”

“I do, actually.. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before...Go find everyone we had originally signed to do it. Tell them they might not have to man the kissing booth, but to be on standby, just in case...If I can make this happen.. This might just put some actual money back into the town's funds..”

Georgia’s eyes followed my intent gaze and she leaned in, mumbling against my ear, “I call dibs on the one with the lashes and Jesus hair.” 

“All I can tell you is that I’m going to try.”

And after finishing off the rest of my coffee, I took a few deep breaths to center myself. Then I marched over to the group. Surprisingly enough, after explaining exactly what was going on and just how bad our town’s financial situation was, there were more than a few willing participants who eagerly signed themselves into a slot at the kissing booth. Some of them were even asking if they could donate directly, which I gratefully thanked them for and gave them the link to the GoFundMe that Georgia and I had set up back in the fall as a last resort.

As I walked off, I heard my name being called. And I didn’t have to turn around to know exactly who was the man calling it.

I did wonder how the hell he knew my name, exactly, and for a second or two, I simply pretended to ignore him, focusing more on walking over to where the animals were being unloaded and herded into the indoor building where the petting zoo and arts/crafts booths and some of the 4H booths from our local high school were already setting up for the day.

But he was persistent.

He caught up to me, a thick fingertip jamming into my shoulder impatiently. After another second or two, I turned to look up at him, glaring.

“You again? What exactly do you want? Because I’m entirely too busy to have my time wasted.”

“You didn’t ask the obvious choice to be in a kissing booth?” he pointed to himself and I nearly snorted in laughter. I wanted to double over, but I kept myself together. He stepped closer. And before I could stop myself, so did I.

“It’s a kissing booth, sir. Not a pay me to shut the fuck up booth. Perhaps if it were a pay me to shut the fuck up booth, your services would’ve been needed.”

“You know a lot of women would pay good money to see me.. Not to mention kiss me… Right?”

“Maybe in your own deluded mind.” I argued, sensing that even as I did so, it was pointless. That for whatever reason, this was going to end with him, adding himself to the line up.

,, not that I’d ever admit it, but he does have a damn good point. If I liked cocky jackasses…” I thought to myself, quick to shove that little thought out. Because honestly?

The guy was exactly my type… Circa four years ago, that is. I’d have eaten that right up.

I shoved the list into his hands and smirked. “Let’s just see about that, shall we?”

The smirk that came told me that I’d hit the nail head about him being the type unable to turn down a challenge.

He took the clipboard and signed his name on the list.

“See you at 7?” he called out to me after I’d taken the clipboard back and I was walking away. I stopped to look back at him and shook my head. “You’ll see me in your dreams, Maxwell.. That is your name, right?”

“It is.” he beamed at me and took off, nearly colliding with his giant of a friend, a guy named Wardlow that I’d actually talked to around 15 minutes on the day that I went in to see if the roster would like to be the special guest stars of this years carnival.

It felt like yesterday and not nearly three days prior.

And the biggest part of those three days had been spent with me, replaying the whole meeting between Maxwell and I over and over in my head.

Yeah.. If I know what’s good for me, I will stay far,far away from that kissing booth tonight.

XXX

He’d been watching the line like a hawk since he manned it ten minutes before. He’d been managing to keep an eye on her all day, knowing that she hadn’t left the carnival yet. Maxwell just knew that if he could get her in the kissing booth’s line, she’d quickly realize just how much she was lying to herself.

Just the thought had him smirking to himself. He spotted a young woman that he’d seen Jocelyn talking to most of the day in the line for Kris Statlander and he cleared his throat, trying to get her attention. She eyed him and then waved when she recognized him.

“Think you can come by my line when you’re done in that one? There’s something I have to know...”

“Dude… you are so barking up the wrong tree right now, if you’re trying to hit on me...” the brunette explained, shrugging. “Was there something you wanted though? Because it’s almost my turn. If you make it quick..”

“Your friend.. Uhh.. Jocelyn… has she said anything about me at all? Like.. anything that would indicate that she wanted to kiss me?” Maxwell asked the question and waited impatiently, rolling his eyes when one of the women in the front of his line cleared her throat for the fifth time, demanding her kiss already.

Jocelyn’s friend shrugged. “That she wants to strangle you but she also wants to climb you like a tree. You know she’s got a temper, right?”

“Yes, I realize this.. She really said… That.”

“She did. Also said that she’s going to stay as far away from this booth as possible, because you’re in it and she’s not giving into temptation.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that. Thank you. This helped me a lot.” Maxwell thanked Jocelyn’s friend and turned away, rubbing his chin in thought as the plan began to piece itself together. And just when he thought he might not even get a chance to try out this plan of his, he happened to spot her wandering past, a steamy mug of cocoa in her hand as she talked to 3 other women.

Smirking to himself, he called out to her.

“Jocelyn.. Remember what you said earlier? About how nobody wanted to kiss me? Well,” he gestured to his little line and waited on her reaction. She looked up, grumbling as she shielded her eyes from the lights to see him better, all while tapping a Bearpaw clad foot against crunchy snow.

“What can I say? There’s not many eligible men in my town?” Jocelyn mused, shrugging. She bit her lip and took a deep breath.

“See… I think you’re fighting obvious feelings.”

Jocelyn’s sudden all over tension had him rubbing his chin thoughtfully. By now, everyone in the line and everyone around them or passing by was stopping, staring intently at the little confrontation.

“Right. I mean, if you’re talking about disdain then yeah.. You’re one hundred percent right.”

“If you really can’t stand me then you won’t have any problem at all coming over and kissing me… Right?” Maxwell challenged, chuckling when her mouth opened and closed and he heard her muttering a few obscenities under her breath.

Not even Wardlow’s warning headshake would stop him. No, he was determined. One way or another, this whole thing ended now. Tonight, he was getting her out from under his skin.

XXX

“Did he seriously just... “ I muttered, swearing as I dragged my fingers through my hair and glared angrily at the kissing booth that Maxwell currently stood behind.

“I ought shove snow down those fancy dress pants. Maybe that’d cool down the raging fire in his dick.”

“Or, you could call his bluff and go kiss him?” from my left, my friend Alexis spoke up. I bit my cheek and shook my head vehemently. “Oh no. No,no,no,no.. Not gonna…”

When Alexis and Chandler started to cluck at me, I gave them both my best and most firm go to hell look.

“She wants him.”

“All she’s done for 3 bloody days is fume about the man.” Chandler teased and finally, I stomped my foot, glaring at the booth. I swallowed hard and then shoved my hot cocoa at Alexis. “You’re going to wanna hold that.. Just so I focus more on kissing him to prove your asses wrong and less on how much I want to dump it over his damn head.”

“I knew she had the hots for him!”

“You go girl! Go get your man, boo.”

I wanted to turn and shush them both, but I was too focused. I shoved past all the others and slammed a 5 dollar bill down on the false wooden tabletop. Then I grabbed hold of that ridiculous Burberry knockoff and tugged his mouth right against mine greedily, very nearly pulling the man over the table between us in the process. “Does this prove you wrong?” I muttered, a whine closely following as he seemed to pick up and clue in, his hands going to my hips, pulling me in even more before drifting upward and tangling in a half fallen down fishtail braid that I had my hair tied out of the way in. At first, I’d been gripping that stupid scarf to keep him close or push him away at will. But as his tongue boldly darted right past my lips and clashed with mine hungrily, I wound up gripping hold of a handful just to stay upright as the feeling in my legs proceeded to vacate, making them feel as if they were jello from the knee down instead. He chuckled as the kiss broke and we pulled apart.

I wiped my hand across kiss swollen lips and glared at him. “Well?”

“Oh, you proved something alright, princess. And if I didn’t have twenty five more minutes left in this booth..” Maxwell trailed off, his eyes roaming over me before settling on mine. The cocky smirk was gone, replaced by a more gentle one.

I was just about to walk away, go somewhere and take a few minutes to pull myself back together, but he caught up to me, tapping my shoulder. I turned and he grabbed my hand, pressing a slip of paper into it.

“If you want to get to know the real me, Jocelyn.. I have a 9pm reservation for us. Ask for Maxwell Friedman’s table.”

I eyed him as he shoved back through the crowd, taking a bow at the catcalls and cheering awaiting him as he took his place at his kissing booth again.

“Ooh… are you going?”

“Maybe.” I answered my friend Chandler’s question as I tried and failed at not staring at Maxwell intently…

Maybe I’d been wrong about the guy.

Maybe going tonight would at least be a fun distraction. One I’d been wanting for a while now….

[whatmack]

do u have any thoughts abt kandreil & rain?? do u think they like it, hate it, feel meah abt it??

for a moment anon I was like who the fuck is rain have I missed an entire character this is what I get for opening tumblr before my brain comes online

ANDREW grew up mostly in California. He can appreciate the emo aesthetic of the rain but he does NOT like this endless fucking deluge. This state is already as damp and humid as the armpit of a garbage can why the fuck must it also rain all the time. only thing worse than arm bands is sweaty armbands but the air is too full of water for the sweat to evaporate and then it’s raining on top of that and Andrew is in Hell (In the summer he will lie in the middle of the floor with slightly fewer clothes on than normal and Neil and Kevin are like ! we are looking! respectfully and andrew is like. i hate you both i hate this this is NOT because of you this is because this state is the WORST. ugh. fine. come down here) NEIL mainly thinks of rain in practical terms: good for washing away scent if you’re being chased with dogs, makes mud which makes movement difficult, miserable if you get wet with no way to dry, good if you’re low on water and have a way to collect the rainwater, etc. etc. etc. Nicky convinces him to go outside and dance in the rain once and Neil is like ??? what? but then he finds out it’s actually kinda....fun, when you have safety waiting for you, to get all muddy and rained on. he comes back inside with his hair streaming water down his face and absolutely covered in grass and mud and bits of whatever else gets brought up to the surface from the rains and andrew and kevin conspire to bundle him into the shower and wrap him in towels and scrub his hair dry. he’s trapped in wondrous glowing happiness the whole time. andrew is too pissed off (overwhelmed) to kiss him properly at first, so kevin does it for him KEVIN spent most of their life underground, in a climate-controlled indoors environment. Rain makes them a mix of “happy they’re out,” “is-this-allowed,” and general practical annoyance (ew. mud). When they’re inside and it’s raining outside, they tend to get wistful. Rain reminds them of their mother. On those days, Andrew and Neil know to leave Kevin alone for a while, and then bring them back out of their head with coffee and petty concerns and dragging them down to the couch  

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

* * * *

Democrats have the opportunity of a lifetime when they open hearings of the House Select Committee on the Capitol insurrection on Tuesday morning, but they can miss that opportunity by making three mistakes: If they fail to prominently show videos of the violence at the Capitol on Jan. 6, if they fail to announce that hearings of the committee will resume immediately following the August recess and continue until the committee has completed its work, and if they turn Republican Liz Cheney into a rock star. Let’s put the Cheney matter away first. Sure, she was one of 10 Republicans to vote to impeach Trump the second time around for his role in provoking the assault on the Capitol, and her statements about Trump’s culpability are helpful. But every time she starts running her mouth about the Constitution, I take a moment to consider her abject opposition to constitutional rights like abortion and marriage equality. This is a woman who picks and chooses the battles she wants to fight, and her late-blooming anti-Trumpism may have less to do with preserving our democracy and the Constitution than it does with her ambition. Democrats aren’t fooling anyone with Cheney and the recent appointment of Illinois Republican Adam Kinzinger. They aren’t the loyal opposition. Among Republicans, their opposition to Trump is as convenient as it is rare, but that doesn’t deserve excessive “thank yous” from Democrats. 

The Select Committee is about as nonpartisan as Trey Gowdy’s Benghazi committee. You remember that wonderfully principled inquiry, don’t you? Formed in May of 2014, the Benghazi committee managed to string out hearings over two years and did not shut down until December of 2016, after spending more than $4 million on its spurious “investigation” of the attack on the U.S. consulate in Benghazi and the Obama administration’s response. The Benghazi committee wasn’t intended to be nonpartisan. No less a figure than Kevin McCarthy went on Sean Hannity’s show halfway through the committee’s lifespan and said, "Everybody thought Hillary Clinton was unbeatable, right? But we put together a Benghazi special committee, a select committee. What are her numbers today? Her numbers are dropping. Why? Because she's untrustable.”

Along with coining brand-new words like “untrustable,” McCarthy and the Benghazi committee accomplished every one of the Republicans’ goals. They kept it going right through the entire 2016 presidential election cycle, through the primaries, through both the Republican and Democratic national conventions, right through the November election itself. They held hearings. They leaked. They exaggerated. They lied. They put Hillary Clinton at the witness table for eight hours on October 22, 2015, almost exactly a week after the first Democratic primary debate in Nevada, and three weeks before the second and much more important debate in Iowa. They did everything they possibly could to drag her through the political mud. They didn’t try to hide it. They just did it.If 

Democrats don’t do the same thing with their Jan. 6 select committee, they will be missing the chance to tar and feather not only Donald Trump but the entire Republican Party. Everybody knows what happened on Jan. 6. Everybody knows who assaulted the Capitol. It was a violent mob of Trump supporters. They didn’t try to conceal who they were. They waved Trump flags. They wore MAGA hats. They chanted Trump slogans. They filmed themselves with their cell phones and immediately posted the clips on social media. They tweeted. They Facebooked. They Instagrammed. They gave interviews to whoever from the  mainstream media was present. And then they went home and bragged about it.Everybody knows that some 550 of the Trump supporters present at the Capitol on Jan. 6 have been arrested and charged with federal crimes. Several have already pled guilty and at least one has been sentenced to jail. Everybody knows that 165 of them have been charged with assaulting or impeding law enforcement officers. And everyone knows that the man who incited the riot at the Capitol, Donald Trump, has been on a tour of rallies bent on lying his way out of culpability for the insurrection. Trump and his Republican acolytes have been going around characterizing the assault on the Capitol as just another day of “tourist visits” by a “loving crowd.” Everybody knows they’re attempting to pull off the old, “who you gonna believe, me or your lying eyes” scam. Trump is the past master of that one. Nobody in American politics has told so many lies or repeated them as often as Donald Trump. He’s good at wielding the Big Lie, but he is the master blaster of the Blizzard of Lies. He knows he can’t insult the intelligence of his base. Hell, they’re out there believing every lie that gets thrown at them about how vaccines are responsible for more deaths than COVID and masks don’t prevent the disease, they spread it. They’ll believe his lies that pipe-wielding Proud Boys were just showing the Capitol police some love.The problem faced by the House Select Committee is this: What do you do in the face of such blissful ignorance? 

Well, so far Democrats have been winning the insurrection commission wars because they have Nancy Pelosi leading them. She has outmaneuvered McCarthy every time he’s tried to throw up a Trump-licking roadblock. He thought he could beat her by getting together with Mitch McConnell to cancel the truly nonpartisan 9/11 style commission Pelosi proposed to investigate the attack on the Capitol. Pelosi fired back with the Select Committee. Then he thought he could turn her committee into a clown car by appointing the two Jims, Ohio Republican Jordan and Indiana Republican Banks, to the committee. Pelosi rejected both of them. Then McCarthy announced Republicans would boycott the committee entirely, apparently thinking Pelosi would wilt under charges that her committee was too partisan. Pelosi shot back by appointing Cheney and Kinzinger. What the Lickspittle Caucus is now looking at is a committee entirely controlled by the toughest Democratic speaker of the House to come along since … who? Sam Rayburn? Tip O’Neill? Neither of those glad-handers could carry Nancy Pelosi’s purse. If McCarthy and the Republicans had gone along with the nonpartisan commission that was originally worked out between the parties in the House, they would have had veto power over subpoenas and at least some role in which witnesses to call and how long the commission would last.

Gone. Republicans won’t be able to stop Democrats on the committee from subpoenaing key witnesses to Trump’s behavior during the insurrection, including  Ivanka Trump and even McCarthy, who spoke with the Instigator in Chief on the phone that day. If Pelosi wants to call Trump himself to testify before the committee, she can do it. If Republicans contest the subpoenas, Pelosi can order House lawyers into court to fight, and if the court cases drag out, so will the term of the committee. Pelosi will be free to have the committee hold hearings through the fall and winter, right into the middle of the 2022 campaign season if she so chooses. And why shouldn’t she? Trump is going to stay out there on the rally circuit spreading his lies, but Democrats will have the Select Committee to counter them. If Pelosi wants to schedule a hearing for the day after every one of Trump’s rallies, she can. If she wants to call witnesses to rebut specific lies he blathers, she can. Best of all, there are enough hours of videos from the assault on the Capitol that the Select Committee will be able to play a couple hours of video every time they hold a hearing and hardly make a dent in the supply. The video of the murder of George Floyd is what convicted Derek Chauvin. Videos of the Capitol insurrection present the same sort of damning evidence.I lost track years ago of the number of times I’ve wished Democrats would learn to fight as hard as Republicans. Nancy Pelosi is, thankfully, as principled as she is tough, and she’s exactly what we need right now. As for Kevin McCarthy, he can make all the pilgrimages he wants to Bedminster and Mar-a-Lago or wherever else Trump is holed up with his golf clubs and his Diet Cokes and his burgers. He can huff and puff all he wants, but he won’t be able to blow Nancy’s House down.

[sgtrolandhills]

Dream On || Dot, Roland, & Guest

TIMING: Mid July PARTIES: @dotdotdottie @sgtrolandhills @malum-somnium SUMMARY: Sweet dreams are most certainly not made of these. Dot and a special guest visit Roland’s nightmare.  CONTENT: Some gun usage, vomit tw

Every night since Roland and Marley found themselves trapped in that abandoned house, his dreams always went back to the same place. Dusty wallpaper in a dark hallway that vanished under his touch. Long limbs that seemed endless and always creeping along the ceiling to get closer. The sensation of murky sludge in his boots as they trudged their way through the halls. Skeletons left behind in musty smelling, dimly lit rooms. Marley’s own body slowly decomposing into one of those skeletons as he was forced to watch, trapped in the gunk that coated the floorboards. It kept him tossing and turning with a sheen of cold sweat. The same series of images played over and over in his head every night. Every time it felt too real. As he walked through the hallway, something was different this time. He could hear a familiar voice that wasn’t supposed to be there. “Who’s there,” he croaked. 

This house hadn’t been any place that Dot had ever been in before, but she felt the presence it had. It made her skin crawl. She didn’t like that something as simple as an abandoned house could make her feel so displaced. As she stumbled over something on the floor, she cursed. Her head snapped up as she heard a voice down the hall. Stumbling to them, her eyebrows furrowed. Why was the cop dude here? “Your worst nightmare,” She responded in her spookiest voice. Putting her hand on her hip,“For real though, why are you here?”

His heart thudded in his chest as Roland realized the young woman who had been play fighting with her friends in the street had been here. Why was she here? Was this part of her route? Was she meant to be yet another missing person? No. He shook his head. Marley was already gone and he was sure he was fading quickly, too. She was too young and full of life to suffer the same fate. “You shouldn’t be here,” he grumbled as he desperately pushed each tired limb to move forward. “You need to get out of here.” Obvious statement, but he had no idea which way was out otherwise he’d have saved Stryder. To answer her question, he gestured toward the more decomposed skeletons. “Was looking into missing persons. There’s an animal in here. It’s not-- it’s mutated or something. It’s not safe.”

He was concerned, Dot realized as she watched him. She hadn’t expected that. She had been in much more dangerous situations than an abandoned house. God, she hung out in abandoned houses for fun. “It’s just a house. It’s not going to hurt me,” She replied, a childish tilt coming to her voice. He reminded her of those dads in the colony that got nervous for the first hunt. It would have been endearing if family wasn’t a bitter point in her life. “Why are you here if it’s not safe? You’re probably in way more danger than I am.” She looked over her shoulder then, staring down the hall. “An animal? What’s it look like?”

He shook his head quickly. It wasn’t just an abandoned house. It was a nest. Roland hardly knew how he’d make it out of here alive or why Dot was here to begin with, but it all felt real even if it didn’t make any sense. “No, it’s not a house.” How could he possibly explain it to her? Nothing here was as it should be. They had to get out. “It has all these arms and legs. Crawls across the ceiling. I don’t know what it is.” The panic was evident in his face as he heard the familiar creaking and scurrying sounds of that creature. Instinctively, he jumped in front of Dot though it pained his aching body. “Stay back,” he advised, looking out into the dark, trying to make out the mutated animal while his gun practically shook in his hands. 

Growing up in the Colony had made Dot uneducated when it came to supernatural monsters. They had people within the colony that could take care of issues as they came up and Dot hadn’t been assigned that role. She was raised to be a teacher and teachers didn’t have to worry about the monsters that hid outside of the colony. Of course, being in White Crest had been a very educational experience for this, but she had never heard of a monster with a bunch of arms and legs. As Roland’s hand shook, she scowled a bit, figuring she’d probably have to step in. Her hand went to the back of her pants, searching for the gun she kept there. Holy fuck had she forgotten it? “Does shooting it actually help or should we run?”

Why he was holding his gun up, he didn’t know. It hadn’t done Roland much good so far. At least it would maybe aim any retaliation at him instead of Dot. It’d give her a chance to get the hell out of here before she became this things next snack. The creaking sounds were getting closer and it still felt like his boots sunk further into mud with every step. He shook his head, “Not really, but I’d rather it go after me than you.” He took another step back, trying to squint towards this thing. “We can give it a shot, but this place is like a maze and there’s no light anywhere. 

Some sirens could fight easily with their talons, but Dot had only ever used them when it came to desperate situations. She had learned to know and love human weapons. She liked her trusty gun and knife, they didn’t draw unnecessary attention to her either. Marley would like that. She began to back up a bit as the sounds crept closer and closer. “I think I’d rather try to run to find the exit than fight it.” She didn’t feel like trying to fight a monster that wouldn’t even be affected by a gun.

Normally, Roland would have agreed on the exit strategy, but after searching for an exit for days, it seemed hopeless. Maybe fresh eyes could help. His hopes weren’t high, though. He nodded and gruffly agreed, “We’ll take our chances then.” He swallowed back the lump in his throat. He couldn’t let another person down, especially not a civilian. Letting Stryder down was bad enough and his head was still spinning. He looked over at her lifeless form one last time. Her family deserved the closure, but he’d have to worry about that later. There was no outrunning that animal while hoisting around a dead body. He did grab Stryder’s flashlight and handed it to Dot. “That should help,” he offered grimly before he felt something scratching into his leg. He grunted and shook his leg free. “Run,” he demanded.

For the first time, Dot followed Roland’s eyes to the body next to him. She had thought it would be some random and found herself doing a double take as she recognized who it was. Marley. The one person in this town who knew what she was and wanted to help her. It was like a gut punch. She wasn’t like family, but this was the first person in White Crest who had seemed to get it. “That’s Marley.” She said dumbly as she took the flashlight from Roland. Wasn’t Marley meant to teach Dot how to live this life? His grunt shook her and she looked up to vaguely see the monster coming at them. Letting out a screech, the siren scrambled back,“Yo, what the fuck!” Dot ran, fumbling with the flashlight as she tried to turn it on. “That thing is so ugly!”

How Dot knew Marley, he couldn’t be sure, but it only furthered the guilt Roland was feeling. It weighed down on him and had made it hard to find motivation to escape this hell house. Someone else needing to get out safely was all the push he needed. “I know. We came here together,” he answered solemnly as he choked back a sob. Not that he was particularly close with anyone as of late, but Stryder had been one of his favorite people to work with. He had a soft spot for her. It’s why he had gotten somewhat into the pranking spirit. He respected Marley and found something akin to friendship in her. He may have failed her, but he wasn’t about to fail a civilian, too. He let her run ahead of him, quickly shuffling backwards with his firearm directed at the creature. “It is ugly. Keep running, I’ll be close behind to make sure this thing doesn’t get to you.” 

Shared dreams were always so lovely. The places where they overlapped, where they became more as a whole than the sum of their parts. Kevin let her hand--not a hand--drag over the seams as she drew further in. Her sweet dreamers were there. They burned so bright and lovely. As she found them, she stepped from the darkness, her form fuzzy around the edges, but that was alright. They were running. Scared. “Dreaming darlings,” she called to the pair of them as they came into focus. “Whatever is the matter? Are you in trouble? Let me help.” She cast her attention around. Ah, there it was, the nightmare chasing them. What a curious creature. Kevin followed after Roland and Dot, stepping between them and the creature. “You needn’t run. Take my hands, dreamers.”

Heart pounding, Dot tried to cast out the thought of Marley on the ground behind her. There was nothing to do now and she wasn’t going to die because of someone else. Even if she wished that the mara was still alive. Her head whipped towards the woman. How could she be so calm right now? Whoever this was, she seemed to know more about whatever the hell this was than Dot did and the siren was willing to take the gamble. She grasped the woman’s hand looking at her wildly,“You better not get me fucking killed by that thing for trusting you.”

An unfamiliar yet soothing voice drew his attention away from the creature he tried to tell himself was just a mutated bear. Roland slowly lowered his gun and looked at her curiously. Who was she? He’d never seen her before though Dot being here didn’t exactly fit either. Cautiously, Roland extended his hand and gave it to this mysterious woman. Nothing here seemed right. “Who are you,” he croaked as if he wasn’t desperate enough to follow where she led. He couldn’t help but look back at the animal with too many arms and legs as he hoped it wouldn’t catch up. 

“Why would I do that, my dear?” Kevin’s hand curled around Dot’s and then Roland’s. She hadn’t touched in so long. There was still a fog, a distance between them. Her hands looked like theirs, how lovely. “You may call me Kevin,” she said as she tugged them along. The dream was fraying at the seams, drifting and falling away. The beast was still there, growling in the distance. “Think, my loves, what is real? Find the strings and pull. The creature is of your own making, it will only hurt you if you let it.”

Dot licked at her dry lips, attempting her best to keep up with Kevin. “I like your name,” She told the strange woman, just to drown out the sounds the monsters were making behind them. She looked at the other woman sharply. Find the strings and pull. The siren took a deep breath in, forcing herself to use those focusing exercises her mother made her do as a kid. As she calmed herself, the noise behind her began to dull, the walls began to peel at the corners. She paused, hand reaching forward,“Pull?” She asked the two others with her.

Somehow, this kept getting stranger and stranger. It left a lump in Roland’s throat as he nodded along. “Kevin,” he said slowly. Normally he would have told someone it was good to meet them, but right now, he wasn’t so sure. It seemed she was saving them, but Roland couldn’t be too sure. He listened though and joined Dot in trying to pull the strings of this creature. Much to his dismay, it was working. If only he had known sooner, then maybe Marley would still be with them. Limb by limb, the mutated animal slowly seemed to fade away. “Pull,” he said more confidently this time. “But now what?” 

“Just so. You’re doing so well,” Kevin said, wide smile spreading across her face. What sweet dreamers. They were naturals. So much potential. She gave both of their hands another tug. “You’ve pulled it apart. Now come with me. There’s much to see, much to learn. Things of dreams are changeable, you must simply know how to mold them to your desires. I can teach you.” Pulling them both along, the edges of the dream melted, shifting, the floorboards fading away, turning to dirt, wet sand. Dark water lapped at the shore, Dark Score Lake flooding in. “The water reveals. Go on, have a drink.”

“We’re doing well,” Roland repeated with confusion evident in his voice. This all felt unreal still. Did this house have another strange space within it? He couldn’t quite tell. There was no logical explanation for this. Then Kevin mentioned dreams. “Wait, this is a dream,” he asked with furrowed brows. If it was, all he wanted to do was wake up. Yet he followed Kevin and lapped up the water that was flooding in. It tasted murky, not quite fresh, but somehow still refreshing. The purpose of this was unknown, but he hoped the answer would become more clear. For so long now, he’d been dying to find answers. Maybe Kevin could reveal them. 

Dot had done a lot of weird stuff in her past, but this might be taking the cake. “A dream?” The siren hadn’t ever dreamed like this, her dreams usually far more bloody. The hunter’s kid she had killed haunting them when she didn’t expect him. She followed Roland’s lead, pouring the water down her throat. As she drank she thought over Kevin’s words, it was like lucid dreaming. Focusing on the sand, she dug her fingers into it, picturing it turning the same color as the beaches of home. Looking up to Kevin,“Teach me. I can learn how to do whatever you want.”

Gasping in delight, Kevin brought her hands together. She could clap properly like this, with the hands that weren’t hers. “Wonderful, wonderful, my dear!” The sand shifted, changing beneath Dot’s grasp. What a beautiful dream. “You’ve begun to see.” As Kevin moved forward, reaching to cup Dot’s face, more of it fell away, her fingers changing, bluring into one single mound of flesh. “I’ve so much to teach you, darling,” she said fondly. She looked to Roland, head tilting slightly to the side. “And you, tell me what you see.”

Watching Kevin’s hands shift and change Dot tried to reason that this was just part of the dream, nothing to be afraid of. She looked away from Kevin, back to the water, attempting to visualize the pretty blue of the water she loved and for a moment she thought she could see it changing. Something was floating in the water, a shape in that pretty blue color. As the shape floated closer and closer, Dot’s fingers curled through the sand into fists. Honey blonde hair floated in the water, framing her Aunt’s pretty face. “Wren?” Dot choked out, knowing that the color of her skin wasn’t meant to look like that. The air seemed to drag Dot down as she tried to crawl forward to her Aunt. She was stuck. More bodies were floating up; her cousins, students, parents, friends were all floating to the top of the water to join her aunt. She turned to look at Kevin,“Why are they here?! I didn’t want this!”

 This was all way too weird, but Roland tried what Kevin said. He sipped the water and tried to picture his favorite memory. It was a warm summer day in Fenway park. He had a baseball glove in one hand and a hot dog in the other. The Sox were up by two and his dad was cheering beside him. They’d end up winning that game and his dad would take him out for ice cream after. The murky lake water turned a bright green and he could hear the roar of fans around him. He felt younger and more alive than he’d felt in so long. The energy of the crowd was always contagious in its way. He looked to Kevin and tried to ignore the change in her hands, “I see the Sox playing the Yankees. My dad’s here.” The uneasy feeling that none of this was real and somehow too real lingered, but this was better than being trapped in that house beside Stryder as she withered away.

“It’s alright my dears. Everything drifts. Everything changes. Don’t fight it.” Kevin lifted her arms and the bodies moved. More and more drifted to the surface. For a moment, that was where they remained, still, lifeless. Then, in an instant, each and everyone rose. Their eyes were hollow, empty as they stretched out their arms and grabbed at Dot and Roland. As soon as they found purchase, they pulled. Hard. Kevin took a step back, watching with a serene smile as her dreamers were tugged into the lake. 

Her aunt moved suddenly and Dot let out a screech. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t break free from the hands pulling her. The lake water filled her mouth and the siren finally woke. Dot scrambled in her bed, water streaming from her nose as she spit more out onto her sheets. Shivering, Dot ran to her bathroom, disturbed to see that she looked normal still. She had expected to see something that showed what just happened. What the absolute fuck was that dream?

In a moment, so much of what Roland was seeing seemed to shift and it alarmed him. His dad was no longer full of life and cheering, but he was floating in the lake, lifeless yet again. So many more forms were floating behind him and then they rose. His face paled and he let out a loud gasp as he slowly backed away from the lake. The bodies were coming toward him now and he let out a scream. It awoke him, but he was alarmed to find he was spitting up lake water as he sat up in bed. He choked and sputtered all the dirty water all over his white comforter. He’d have to bleach that later. The bigger question was how the hell his dreams seemed to be carrying over into his waking time. He pinched himself. He was most certainly awake and had no idea what to do. There was no way he was falling back asleep though. He supposed it would have to be an early morning at the station where he could pretend everything was normal.

Kevin awoke slowly, water dribbling from the corner of her mouth. She wiped it away idly as she sat up, looking at the town stretching out before her. Though the connection was fainter now, the spell fading, she could still feel them. Her dreamers. Awake. Her limbs felt heavy, aching with the weight of the spell. She wouldn’t be able to hold it for much longer. But the connections would linger, she would still feel them, know them. A piece of her had been left behind in each bond, and one day, sooner or later, she would find them again. And with her dreamers, she would once again be whole.

[dianaraven]

jacob/benedict for fairy tale au!!! Kevin/Juniper for friends to lovers!!!! Hope and Grey having a lil smooch good morning maybe? Then Roshan dancing with someone of your choice in the rain!!! Di I love all your ocs they all seem delightful

Thank you vivi <3 <3 <3 sorry this is so late

edit: VIVSS I LOOOOVE YOUUU AND THIS TOOK SO LONG CUZ IT WAS ORIGINALLY PROCRASTINATION FOR FINISHING MY BOOK THEN I PROCRASTINATED FINISHING THIS TO FINISH MY BOOK (you know, as you do) SOOOOOOOOO ANYWAY THANK YOU FOR SENDING THIS AND BEING PATIENT I LOVE YOUUUU 

Benedict/Jacob Fairy Tale au (i decided to do a tangled au because it reminds me of the same chaotic energy that these boys have)

"This is all your fault!" Ben grumbled as he pulled himself up and out of the river. Jacob glared at him, wringing out his long hair.

Ben shook his head, spraying Jacob with water, and pulled off his shirt in one swift motion.

"All my fault? You're the one who said we'd be safe!" Jacob snapped.

Ben ignored him. He dragged his hand across his pants to wipe the mud off and winced. He must have cut it on one of the rocks in that cave. When the water had poured in... Ben had told Jacob who he really was and Jacob had-

Benedict raised his eyes to Jacob who was carding his fingers through his long chocolate hair. The magic hair. The hair that had glowed.

"If you hadn't demanded we come on this stupid trip-"

"You brought me to that tavern to scare me!" Jacob snapped. "Don't think I didn't realize that."

Yeah, well that hadn't worked, had it? Benedict thought grumpily. The sun was going down, they'd have to make camp. And tomorrow...

Tomorrow they'd reach Aeon, and the castle. And Benedict would be out of time to convince Jacob to give him back the lost prince's crown.

They found a nice spot to make camp, and Benedict went to find wood for a fire, cooling off as he stomped around the forest. This entire situation was insane. He might have been better off at the hands of his ex-partners. At least they would have killed him straight out instead of him drowning after sword-fighting a horse with his only weapon a frying pan. Absolutely insane. 

Ow. Benedict hissed when his hand scraped across the bundle of sticks he’d collected. Benedict squinted at it in the moonlight but couldn’t see well enough. Once they’d made the fire he would check it again, maybe wash it out. The last thing he needed was to catch a rot. Or maybe, Jacob’s hair will glow again and you can see that way. Benedict shuddered as he thought it. He put it as far out of his mind as he could.

When Benedict returned, Jacob’s hair was spread out across the dark grass and dirt. Good thing your hair’s brown, he thought but didn’t say. He wasn’t in the mood to fight with Jacob again. 

Benedict started the fire, wincing from the stinging pain in his hand. 

“What’s wrong?” Jacob asked curtly. Clearly he was still mad. He had one leg slung over the other, and his arms were crossed over his chest. 

“Nothing,” Benedict mumbled. He frowned, and put his hand to the low fire, squinting at it. 

“Clearly its something. What?”

Benedict tried to shrug him off, but Jacob was nothing if not persistant. “Let me see-” Jacob crawled over.

“You’ve done enough-”

“Oh shut up already.” 

Jacob pulled the hand into his lap. “Oh!” He said, surprised. “You’re hurt.”

“I’ve had worse,” Ben said. 

Jacob rolled his eyes. He reached for a lock of his hair before freezing. He gave Benedict a sheepish look. 

“Promise not to freak out.”

Benedict was frozen in fear. Those words never preceded something good. "What?”

“Promise me.”

“Why do I need to promise?”

“Please?”

“Fine, I-uh, I promise I won’t freak out.”

Jacob gave him a frown that said he didn’t believe him, which was fair because Benedict was a) a liar, and b) pretty sure whatever new magic trick that Jacob pulled out of his ass (or magic hair) was going to freak the fuck out of Ben, and Ben would, in fact, freak out despite any promise to the contrary. 

“My hair doesn’t just glow.”

Benedict’s belly went cold. Jacob’s fingers were soft and warm. He was sure his hands weren’t nearly as nice to touch--too rough, the skin cracked and calloused. But Jacob didn’t act as if he minded. 

Jacob took a lock of his long hair, and wrapped it ominously around Benedict’s hand. 

“W-what are you doing?”

“Just trust me.”

Benedict closed his mouth, as much as he wanted to scream and run as far away as he possibly could. 

Jacob closed his eyes. He had thick but short lashes. They barely brushed his cheeks, but lined his eyes nicely, Benedict supposed. 

Then Jacob started to sing. 

Benedict watched. Every impulse in his body told him to run. Told him to get away from the rushing glow that trickled first from the part of his hair and then followed the hair all the way down. Circling around Benedict’s hand, swirling down the long winding tresses that splayed across the ground. 

Jacob stopped singing, and slowly he unwrapped Benedict’s hand. 

Benedict looked down, and opened his mouth to scream. 

“YOU PROMISED!” Jacob shouted, covering Benedict’s mouth with his hands. 

Benedict’s hand was completely and utterly healed. As good as new. As if it had never been cut in the first place. Benedict hadn’t felt anything! The entire thing happened unbeknownst to him, but now he didn’t feel any pain either. 

It wasn’t actually that scary, Benedict told himself. No, just a little weird. Startling. But not scary. Not scary at all. 

“I’m not going to scream,” Benedict said eventually, muffled by Jacob’s hand. He was surprised to realize that he believed himself. 

Jacob removed his hand, and winced. “Are you sure?”

“I’m not going to scream.”

“Oh, good.”

“Does your-does your hair do anything else? Just, you know, as a fair warning.”

Inside, Benedict’s heart shrieked. GREAT FRICKING GOD HOLY SHIT HOLY FUCK HOLY-

“Not that I know of,” Jacob said, giving Benedict a small smile. Oblivious to the chaos in Benedict’s mind. “Just the glowing and the healing.”

“Oh.” Benedict heard himself say. His voice sounded much farther away than it should have been. “Okay. I think I need to sit down.”

“You are sitting down.”

“Oh. Good.”

Jacob gave him a nervous glance. “Are-are you sure that you’re okay?”

“All good. Yeah.” Benedict’s mind calmed a little when he looked back at Jacob. Watched Jacob anxiously fiddle with a lock of hair. “Yeah.”

Kevin/Jun friends to lovers

Jun groans and eases the shoes off of her feet. She’s been dancing for so long she thinks they might fall off. The sigh that falls from her lips might border on pleasured, which she is with the way she feels now that her toes are free. She sighs again and wiggles them, cracking them and rolling her ankles. 

“Thought I might find you here,” Kevin says. Jun leans back on her wrists and looks up to him. 

His dress is a sparkling blue, and it swishes wonderfully when he walks. He sits down beside Jun and takes her feet into his lap, rubbing them. Jun lets out a little yelp and would complain if it didn’t feel so good. 

“Alec would not let me sit down!” Jun explains. 

Kevin chuckles. “I’m aware. I tried to peel you away to dance three times. Every time, she managed to distract me.”

“You were dancing too,” Jun accuses. 

Kevin gives her a little grin. Charming and bashful at once. It made something in Jun’s chest flip-flop. But... she shouldn’t be thinking about that. Kevin was her friend. Just her friend. That was all. 

“Like I said, I was distracted.”

Jun lets out a moan as his fingers work out the kinks in the arch of her foot and is immediately embarrassed because woah that’s not a sound you make near one of your friends. It was throaty and raspy and Kevin just smiles pleased with himself. Jun is too annoyed at his smugness to be embarrassed. She does flush though.

“Is every year like this?” she asks, to change the subject. 

“The ball? Yeah, pretty much. Last year Alec and Gray were almost kidnapped, so... that was different.”

Not... what Jun was expecting. “Huh.”

“Yep. I like this better though.”

“The not-having-a-kidnapping? Yeah, I’d like that too.”

Kevin snorted. He put Jun’s right foot down and picked up her left foot. 

“Sure. That and you.” For the first time since she’s known him, he actually looks a little flustered. “You know.”

Jun’s heart leaps. “Oh. Well, I suppose a new person to your... group is-”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh.” So he... he felt it too?

Kevin’s hands stop. He glances up at her through his lashes, his orange eyes glittering in the pretty lamplight set up for the outdoor areas of the Hall. 

“Is that... I mean-” Kevin asks, quietly. 

“No! I mean... no. I-I, um...” Jun doesn’t know really what to say. She presses her legs over Kevin’s where he propped them up to rub them. They’re leaning closer now. Kevin’s maybe a few inches away from her. Too far for them to be comfortable.

Kevin raises his hands (they’re shaking, Jun notices, and it gives her a thrill) hovering above the bodice of her dress. As if he wants to pull her closer. 

“I... uh, I mean, I was just touching your feet... I don’t want to-”

Jun almost laughs because, well, “they’re my feet, I think I’ll live.”

Kevin does laugh. He smiles at her, that cheeky, smug one that gives him dimples. Jun’s heart flutters again. He holds her gently, pulling her closer, arms around her waist. 

“Good,” he murmurs, and then he kisses her. 

So... maybe he wasn’t just a friend after all.

Hope/Gray morning kisses

“Good morning~” Hope hums in Gray’s ear. Gray groans in his sleep and turns over beneath her arm, burying his face further into the pillow. 

“Hnnnn.” 

Hope moves around Gray to slide out of bed and he grabs her arm, pulling her back in. 

“Gray....”

Gray shifts so she’s pinned under him and he rests his head in the crook of her neck, pressing a light kiss there. 

Hope runs her fingers through his hair and snorts. “Gray, darling, I do have to get up at some point today.”

“Hnnnnnn,” Gray groans again, pulling her closer. “No....”

“In fact, you have to get up too. Possibly in an unpleasant way if Alec gets the chance.”

Gray grumbles again. His breath tickles the short stubble the dots the bottom of her chin. He nestles himself further against her. He kisses her neck again. 

“You’re not going to distract me.”

Gray harrumphs into her neck. 

“Yes, I know. But think of it this way, if you get up now Alec won’t come barging in to dump a bucket of water on you. You do know how much she loves to.”

Gray groans and leans back on his elbows. He blinks his eyes open groggily and rubs the sleep from his lashes. He has morning stubble too, and his hair hasn’t been set so its curls stick up. 

“Do we have to?”

“Yes, unfortunately. Princely duties can’t wait.”

Gray pouts so Hope raises herself up and kisses him. If her breath tastes bad, Gray doesn't give any hint. Hope slowly draws herself back to her feet, and Gray follows her. When Hope finally breaks away, Gray pouts again and falls to the sheets with a fwump! 

Hope sighs. “If you get up, I’ll kiss you more,” she teases. 

But it works, just like it works every time. Gray bounces up, feet firmly on the floor and wraps Hope in his long arms. He dips her slightly, and Hope’s heart hammers way too loudly in her chest considering that since they’ve been together it’s been a common occurrence. 

When he finally gives her a reprieve he smiles cheekily. 

“Promise?” he asks. 

Hope ignores the flush she knows it probably darkening her cheeks and blows a puff of air into his face. “You’re a menace. I don’t know how you ever get things done.”

Gray grins and Hope’s heart melts a little. “Why, with kisses as a reward, of course.”

“Menace,” Hope repeats, but she gives him one more reward anyway. 

Roshan & Alec dancing in the rain

The rain sizzles on Roshan’s skin when it hits, but she doesn’t mind. In fact, she revels in it. In the the music still in her veins from the tavern and in the booze that’s warming her blood nicely. Her head is a little tingly and though it was hot earlier, it’s cool now with the rain. The door of the bar is still open, and she can see the orange haze of the warm hearth inside. The musicians inside can still be heard from where she stands. The rain soothes the fire from the evening. 

It’s not dark out, not yet. Just barely evening, but the storm-clouds make the sky a light purple. 

Roshan spins. Her hair whips around her in it’s braid, slapping against her head and smelling deliciously of rain. 

It’s been so long since she’s been like this. Since she’s felt safe enough to do this. In fact, she can’t remember the last time she just stood in the rain. Nor the last time she just felt free. 

Well, she knows the answer to that one. She’s never felt free before. Not like this. 

She doesn’t realize that someone has been watching her--so overjoyed by no longer having to hide. Maybe she should be holding onto those prey instincts. Maybe she hasn’t lost them, maybe it’s just the smell of the dirt, the cool of the rain, and the fire in her veins. 

Roshan puts her hands on her hips. Alec stands under the lip of the roof, just barely out of the rain. Roshan almost laughs, she’s never seen it before but because of the dark of the sky and the shadow the roof offers, she can see it now. Alec’s eyes (the color of ice chips, of frostbitten lips, of the poison a queen gives her husband) really do glow. If ever so slightly. 

When Roshan’s dark eyes meet Alec’s light ones, Alec smiles. An ever so slight quirk of her lips. 

“What?” Roshan demands. 

“I’ve never seen you so happy before,” she says, voice raised over the roar of the downpour. 

“I’ve never been happy before,” Roshan replies, a little more harshly than Alec deserves. But Roshan knows Alec, and knows that she can take it. She can take anything Roshan throws at her, as she’s proven again and again and again. 

Alec pushes herself off of the wall and walks into the oncoming rain, not even flinching. 

It’s something Roshan admires about her, not that she’d ever tell Alec. No. Maybe others might--Hope or Gray--but Roshan and Alec know one another. They don’t need such silliness between them. 

“You know,” Alec says, lowering her voice as she comes closer. Her short black hair sticks to her pale face. Thunder rumbles overhead. Lightning flashes. “I don’t remember you dancing much at the ball.”

“I didn’t dance at all,” Roshan says. She’s not ashamed or embarrassed. Back then she couldn’t even let anyone touch her, much less dance. 

Well, anyone except Alec. Alec always seemed to think that the rules didn’t apply to her. 

Alec holds out a hand, giving a mocking bow to go with it. “Then, may I?”  

Roshan rolls her eyes, but she takes the hand. Despite her eyes and demeanor, Alec is warm to the touch. Alec pulls her in close as the faint music of the tavern switches to a soulful ballad and rests her other hand on the small of Roshan’s back. And together, they dance in the rain. 

[httphopewrld]

the gentlemen fratboy | (f/m)

You weren’t one for parties, but your friends convinced you to ‘take a break’ from your school work. At first, you were hesitant about attending a party, but soon you found yourself a bit intoxicated and dancing with your friends. As you swayed your hips to the music, you felt someone join in behind you. And you couldn’t believe who it was.

Pairing: fratboy!hoseok x reader

Genre: Fluff and smut

Rating: 15+? There’s drinking, partying, swearing, some grinding, kissing, dirty talk, foreplay

Warnings: some making out and swearing, dirty talk, and foreplay (I guess fingering, but there’s no penetration at all, so I guess it’s not fingering—but there’s touching down in that region-?)

Word Count: 2k+

A/N: I was planning on writing something for Namjoon this week, because it was his birthday, but I’m running late on that...so here’s a Hobi fic for you guys! Sorry for the late upload. School’s kinda dragging me through the mud 😅😪

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

 He was hot. Fuck, he was scolding hot.

You watched as he shook people’s hands and directed them to the bar in the far-left corner. Girls were practically drooling as he walked by in his loose button-down shirt and black jeans. He was the perfect party host: he greeted guests, offered them drinks, and checked up on people. The only thing that made you less enthralled to introduce yourself was, he was the most popular fratboy on campus.

He had the reputation for charming girls and being able to chug beers at an abnormally fast rate. Not only did he have a great track record of having sex with girls and rumored to have a few steamy make-out sessions with some guys; he was said to be ‘great in bed’. However, he was also seen as a perfect guy: holding doors open for people, helping out in the community, and getting good grades.

And you would be lying if you said you weren’t curious about how he was behind closed doors.

On the other hand, you were the classic academic goody-two-shoes, with a perfect track record of good grades and study sessions with friends. Sometimes you would engage in parties, but not the frat ones filled with girls and booze, but ones with wine tasting and various famous cheeses.

However, you found yourself in a flurry of school work and stress; which caused your friends to plan an ‘interjection’.

You were working on a project in the peace and quiet of your dorm when the door burst open. Your friends began cheering while holding up shot glasses and a bottle of tequila.

You close friend, Belinda, was holding a shot glass and the bottle of tequila. “Y/N! Drop whatever you’re doing and take this,” she poured the golden liquid into the glass and held it out to you.

Beside her, stood your three other friends: Kevin, Jacob, and Maria. They too were holding some shot glasses.

“What the fuck are you guys doing?” You chuckled, gesturing to their hands.

“Pregaming, what else?” Maria said as if she was stating the obvious.

You looked between Kevin and Jacob, who were usually the most mature out of the whole group. “What do you mean ‘pregaming’?

“We’re taking you partying, Y/N!” Belinda took your hands and made you take the filled shot glass.

You put the glass down, “No, no, no. It’s a weekday.”

“Bro,” Jacob took the tequila bottle from Belinda and poured everyone a shot glass, “you’ve been working your ass off all week, and are due for a break.”

“And drinks are going to help how-?” You scoffed as Jacob gave the rest a glass of liquor.

Kevin sighed, “Does he have to spell it out, Y/N?” He smelled the drink in his hands, causing him to dry heave, “We’re pregaming for a party so we don’t have to drink lots there. We’re going to take you to this party because we want you to take a break from school work.”

He took a measly sip of the liquor before smacking his lips in disgust, “Now, if you don’t want to take a shot with us, no biggy. Don’t give in to peer pressure.” He held up the glass in a sign of cheers, which caused the other two to raise their glasses too, “But at least come to the party with us for twenty minutes before saying ‘I told you I’d hate this’.”

You laughed at Kevin’s last statement because it would totally be something you’d say.

Maybe I do deserve a break? You weighed in your brain. I can’t remember the last time I actually let myself go.

You bit your lip and continued to overthink the options.

“Well?” Belinda interrupted. “Are you coming or not?”

You sighed before picking up the shot glass and holding it up with the others, “Alright fine.”

“Yay!” Maria cheered as everyone’s glass clinked together.

You all shared a disgusted cringe after you all swallowed the liquor.

.

.

When the five of you arrived at the Sigma Nu building, you could tell it was the biggest party on campus. Club music created rhymical thumps in the ground and people wandering around outside the building held red solo cups. There were a few hundred students here, at least.

Before you could enter the building, a boy greeted you at the entrance.

He wore a loose button-up shirt tucked into his back jeans. His smile resembled a heart as he welcomed you all. “Hey! Welcome to Sigma Nu, also known as Knights. Drinks are served on your left,” He gestured to your left before dashing off to talk to other people.

As you guys walked into the party, you couldn’t help but hear Belinda and Maria gush over the boy who just greeted you guys as the entrance.

“Was that Jung Hoseok?” Belinda whispered.

Maria smirked, “The infamous fratboy who sleeps with literally every girl on campus?”

“Well, not every girl,” Belinda giggled, pointing out that she was one of the ‘girls’ who hasn’t slept with Hoseok.

“Apparently he’s really good in bed and great at aftercare,” Maria gasped, causing Jacob and Kevin to roll their eyes.

“Do y’all want drinks or what?” Jacob said, annoyed at the girls thirsting over Hoseok.

“Two beers, please,” Maria chimed.

“Y/N?” Jacob turned to you.

“The same thing, please,” you awkwardly smiled.

He nodded before walking further into the party, in search of drinks.

“I’ll get a beer too, thanks!” Kevin shouted after Jacob before making a ‘tsk’ noise.

You both tried to familiarize yourselves with your surroundings, by staying where you were and looking around. Both of you did that for a few minutes until you realized that Belinda and Maria had already left you two stranded in the foyer area.

“Where the fuck-?” Kevin began, as he was about to walk off to look for the missing two.

“Hey!” You grabbed his arm, “We’re looking together, man. Do you know what happens when the last two go different ways in horror movies?”

“They die…?” He guessed, not really getting your message.

“Exactly! And I don’t wanna die in a place full of drunk students.”

He shook your hand off his arm, “You’re not going to die here,” he started leading the way, “stop overreacting.”

You both walked further into the party. Thankfully, Kevin was about six foot, which meant a small path was easily made before him. You held onto his jacket gently, like a small toddler not wanting to lose their parent.

After reaching halfway, you heard the familiar exciting squeals of your two friends.

“Kevin! Y/N!” Maria held both of you red solo cups. “Where have you guys been? Drink up! Don’t bring us to shame.”

You and Kevin exchanged concerned looks before taking a sip of the mystery liquid in the cups. The drink tasted bitter and smelled like rubbing alcohol.

Kevin was the first to spit it back into the cup.

“What…is this Mars?” He feigned a smile.

“Oh! Something Belinda and I made.” They both took gleeful chugs from their cups before letting out a satisfied sigh. “Great, huh?”

“Delicious,” was all you could muster.

“Y/N!”

You turned to see Jacob holding three drinks in his hands and trying his best to bite down on the edge of a cup with his mouth.

Once he reached the four of you, he handed out the overdue beers. You and Kevin took desperate gulps of the alcohol in a way to wash down the previous sip from Maria and Belinda’s unidentified concoction.

“Wow, you guys were in need of a beer.” Kevin laughed.

“Try this,” You and Kevin said in unison while holding up both of your first cups.

Jacob did as he was told and as you all watched him take a hefty drink from the cup, his eyes open with absolute surprise and terror. He swallowed it, of course, but immediately covered his mouth afterward.

“Never again,” was all he could say.

You and Kevin laughed, but Maria and Belinda didn’t look entirely thrilled with his reaction.

“Let’s just get this party going,” Belinda muttered, pulling away from you guys with an equally irritated Maria.  

Jacob whistled before giggling, “Ooops.”

He turned to you and Kevin, “Well, I guess it’s just us.” He shrugged before exclaiming, “let’s drink!”

.

.

Maybe you had too many drinks. Well, enough to think irrationally and act on a whim.

You had Jacob and Kevin, which was good. They looked after you and made sure no weird people would take advantage of you in your slightly intoxicated state.

All of you leaned against the wall with beer bottles in hand. It was your fourth beer? You all had lost track. Kevin has definitely had some shots, from his dozier state.

Before you guys were just talking rubbish, but now you’ve moved on to deeper thoughts. Ones that were mostly reserved for angsty late-night talks.

“Why can’t I find a decent person?” You questioned.

“Like, there’s plenty of fish in the sea,” you gestured to the crowd around your guys, “girls, guys, I’m not picky.”

“Bro,” Jacob put a reassuring hand on your shoulder, “you’ll find someone.”

You grasped his hand, “You too, bro.”

“Yeah, Jacob,” Kevin chimed in, “you’re fucking smart, good looking, and super nice!”

“Thank dude,” Jacob smiled.

You all took a sip of your drinks.

“Hey, isn’t that fratboy, Hoseok, free?” Jacob wondered, pointing to the guy across the room.

Kevin's eyes lit up as he turned to Jacob, “Yeah! A total package, right?”

“Yeah! Great in bed, totally polite,” Jacob added sarcastically, reciting Belinda’s words form before.

“Woah, you guys speaking from experience?” You teased as you took an amused sip of your drink.

Both of them blush as Kevin made an embarrassed ‘psshh’ noise, “Nah, just rumors.”

“Hmmm.” You hummed, not entirely convinced.

You looked over at Hoseok, who was standing with some friends across the room. A crowd of people dancing stood between you two, causing you to only see his shoulders up.

He was good looking, to say the least. His chestnut hair was slightly wavy, which framed his face nicely. He had a good sense of style, which was always appreciated. His smile was adorable and made your heart melt instantly.

He seemed nice, from the way he greeted you guys before.

But the way he was a fratboy made you less excited to approach him.

“Checking out the package, I see,” Kevin hummed, “I don’t blame you.”

You slapped his shoulder playfully, “Kevin! Jesus!”

“What?” He smirked. “Better go get him before I do.”

You chug the last bits of your beer, then took Kevin and Jacob’s bottles and finished them too. They only watched you with shock as you set the empty bottles on the counter and began walking over to Hoseok.

But you stopped in mid-step, turning around and jogging back to your disappointed friends. However, you had a confident smile on your face.

“You know what?” You grabbed both of their hands, “I don’t need to walk over to him. Tonight isn’t about getting a dude and sleeping with him.”

Jacob and Kevin looked between each other as you continued preaching, “I don’t need no man! For all I know, he needs me,” you tugged your two friends towards the dance floor, “and tonight was my break, not a time to stress over fratboys.”

“She does have a point,” Kevin agreed.

Jacob sighed, “I guess we’re dancing?”

“Fuck yeah we are!” You cheered once you three found a spot on the crowded dancefloor.

The vibrations from the music numbed your legs, but you didn’t mind. You friends danced with your ridiculously and sang all the lyrics with you; even if you were just mumbling because you didn’t know the words.

You shouted to the lyrics from ‘Truth Hurts’ by Lizzo and cried ‘Slow Dancing in The Dark’ by Joji. You didn’t care who was watching. Your friends were there, and that was all that mattered.

Something slow came through the speakers. It wasn’t a slow dancing song, but one that enticed body rolls and swaying hips.

You did so, moving your hips back and forth to the music, feeling a slight burn in your core for an unknown reason.

At this point, you weren’t totally sure if your friends were around, or if you were the only one dancing; but you felt someone behind you.

They moved with you, grazing your bottom with, what you assumed to be, their pelvis. You turned your head slightly to see who it was, and you almost choked on your breath.

You quickly looked forward, eyes bulging out of your head. Is that Jung Hoseok?

Despite the panic creeping into your stomach, you continued to sway against him.

His thigh slid between yours, allowing you to move deeper into him. You brushed closer to his crotch, causing him to grip your sides and let out a gasp loud enough for you to hear.

The air feels hot as the certain angle of his torso, and your lower hips, causes you to grind against his thigh; making you moan quietly and lean your head back against his chest. You could hear his low chuckle as his arm came to wrap around your waist.

When the music gradually stopped, he turned you around with a simple push against your sides.

You could see the lust in Hoseok’s eyes, as they practically ate up your image.

“Wanna come back to my room?” He asked; a bit too eagerly than intended.

You nodded as he grasped your hand and guided you to his room on the second floor.

Hoseok’s bedroom door burst open as you two stumbled in. Your lips were connected to his, ravishing on his taste of alcohol and lip balm.

His hands hungrily gripped your clothes as he gently nudged you onto the bed, allowing you to adjust to the bounciness and lie on your back.

You wanted him so bad. You could feel your underwear clinging to your core as he quickly stripped off his t-shirt and crawled over you.

“Fuck,” he mumbled between kisses, “you’re so fucking hot.”

You moaned against his lips. “P-please—”

“Please what sweetheart?” He left wet kisses down the column of your neck. “Use your words.”

You hated how needy you were. “T-touch me—”

You felt him smirk against your neck, then his hand slowly traveling down your stomach.

His hand found the heat between your thighs, his fingers ushering the slick fabric aside.

“Like this?”

Hoseok grazed your slit with his fingertips before circling your clit.

“So fucking wet, just for me.” His pace picked up. “I don’t even have to fill you up for you to come undone.”

You moan at his words, feeling the familiar burning in your core.

“I-I’m gonna—”

But then his movements abruptly stopped. His hand moved away from your wetness, and his body completely away from you.

“Shit,” was all he could seem to say.

“What?” You were concerned because his face appeared to have drained all color.

“Are you drunk?”

You were puzzled from his question. “I’ve had a few drinks.”

“Fuck,” he ran a hand through his matted hair before saying, “We can't do this.”

“Why?” You were annoyed now. “Is it me?”

“No!” Hoseok quickly sat down beside you.

“It’s just—” He fiddled with his hands. “You’re intoxicated. And that means decisions you make right now might be regretted in the morning.”

He had a point, but you were still annoyed that he stopped.

Hoseok seemed to tell, “Look, I would love to make you cum right here and now,” he chuckled. “But I don’t want you to do to something that you could possibly not remember in the morning; or if you were to remember but regret it.”

You smiled, “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” he got off the bed and held his hand out, a heart-shaped smile on his face.

“May I take you home?”

“Yes, please,” you replied, grasping his outstretched hand, and allowing him to hoist you off the bed.

 You ended up getting a piggyback from Hoseok on the way back to your dorm. He insisted, because he was afraid of you stumbling over, and he felt like he owed you one.

When you got back, Jacob and Kevin were waiting in front of your room’s door. They looked relieved at first, but that quickly turned into ‘big brother protect’ mode.

“Why are you carrying her like that?” Jacob questioned, almost fuming.

“Did you fuck her?” Kevin snarled, taking you off of Hoseok’s back. “She’s drunk, did you know that? You’re sick.”

“Guys,” you put two firm hands on Jacob and Kevin’s chest, “he actually stopped while we were doing shit, and insisted I went back home.”

Your two friends were in an embarrassing shock as you continued, “Because he didn’t want to have sex with me because I was drunk.”

Kevin was the first to apologize, “Sorry, man. Thanks for bringing her back.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Jacob added,

“No worries,” Hoseok smiled.

You all stood in an awkward silence before Hoseok gestured towards the entrance of the dorm. “I’ll head back to the party.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jacob and Kevin agreed.

“Make sure she has some water and Advil,” Hoseok assured, pointing at you.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow…?” His higher tone at the end of his sentence suggested you fill in the blank.

“Y/N,” you giggled.

“Hoseok,” he grinned, as he promptly stumbled back into a wall.

“Have a good night!” He chimed before running out of the dorm.

“You too,” you replied, even though Hoseok wouldn’t be able to hear you.

Your two friends looked back at you.

“Had fun?” Kevin asked smugly, obviously knowing the answer.

“Shut up,” you chuckled, unlocking your door with your key card.