#WHO FRICKEN KNEW

[martianbugsbunny]

New Achievement Unlocked: Baby's First Panic Attack

[marinerainbow]

Based on this video, because this absolutely would happen in the Griny household while Jewel was young.

Jewel: Mami, can I pet the titties?

Shiny: *chokes on coffee* WhAt?

Jewel: Can I pet the titties?

Shiny: The... What titties?

Jewel: *points to the front porch, where some of the neighborhood cats have gathered* Them! Can I pet them?

Shiny: Oh, the kitties! Yeah, sure, honey. Don't forget to give them treats... We're not gonna need the talk today.

[pierregazly]

always the prize, always the winner ꨄ logan sargeant smau

logan sargeant x pop star!reader

in which logan is actually pretty okay with being known as the biggest pop star in the world's arm candy. who would complain about that, really?

yourusername

liked by logansargeant, lilymhe, oscarpiastri, and 4,539,209 others

yourusername back doing what i do best!! (watching this handsome man get asked solely about me in interviews and then singing songs about it) (ps i love you) (pps yes that is a song)

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logansargeant why are you so obsessed with me?

logansargeant im not complaining btw cause like... never stop?

logansargeant but also pps cant wait to hear it 🤍

yourusername just for this attitude you're the LAST to hear it now (handsome)

username still never gonna understand how LOGAN SARGEANT bagged ms ma'am but okay! 🤭

username a couple mutually obsessed with each other? (gag) (obsessed)

oscarpiastri i get asked questions about you too?

yourusername yes and your one word answers are SO riveting.

username why is no one talking about the SONG??? PS I LOVE YOU???? im going to throw up

username it's going to be the most disgustingly loving obsessive song ever and it's all about this american MAN

username never seen a man luckier than logan sargeant

logansargeant has posted a story

tagged logansargeant

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, alex_albon, and 3,201,326 others

yourusername nothing makes me happier than running into you in the most random of places. always there when i need you most 🫶🏻

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logansargeant i would meet you in the middle of a croc swamp if i had to

logansargeant not a snake pit though, you're on your own for that one kid

yourusername you're on your own kid... what a song title 🤭

alex_albon we have a race next week??? in australia??? why are you in america

logansargeant 🤫

username god these two make me sick!!! (affectionate)

username if they ever break up... imagine the album ugh. i need it

username maybe let's not wish a breakup on anyone??? especially these two?? wtf

lilymhe begging u to release the songs even if they're about logan

yourusername they're actually about you?? 🫶🏻

tagged logansargeant and yourusername

liked by username, username, username, and others

ynupdates during an interview before the melbourne gp this weekend, logan gushed about finally getting to see yn after a few weeks apart, and when asked if she'd be attending any of the upcoming gp's all he did was smile and say 'she could be here right now, but i'm not going to be the one to expose her?' - so, if anyone is at the melbourne gp be sure to keep your eyes out!

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username oh he SO flew to san fran so she wouldn't have to fly to australia alone.. king energy??

username i know he always says he's the winner but that man would walk through hell for her so idk

username omg omg im gonna be at the gp this weekend!!! i'll keep an extra eye on everything and anything william's

username imagine going to a FORMULA 1 RACE and running into THEE pop star yn

username logan it's your weekend to get some points!!! impress your gf, be the prize and the winner for once!! (at least get points)

yourusername has posted a story

liked by logansargeant, username, username, and others

replies

logansargeant not you posting my garage but not even coming to see me??? hell is a place on earth and it's where i am right now

yourusername literally my words every time im away from you??? go win points love u my handsome lil eagle man <333

logansargeant gross <3

liked by yourusername, alex_albon, oscarpiastri, and others

logansargeant LFGGGGG!! first points of the year, and a 5th place finish at the melbourne gp!! let's go up from here!! honoured to have had my best friend here, always gonna be a winner when you're involved angel 💗

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yourusername literally wreck my plans, THAT'S my man

yourusername so fricken proud of you handsome!!! knew calling you my lil eagle man would win you some points

yourusername love you so much pls

logansargeant love you more pretty <3

williamsracing that's OUR shared comfort american man. it's all up from here!

username LFGGGG

username RAH RAH WTF IS A KM 🦅

username 🦅🦅🦅

tagged logansargeant

liked by logansargeant, lilymhe, oscarpiastri, and 12,320,433 others

yourusername in honour of my boyfriend, my new album 'lover' will be out 24.03.14 - an ode to the man who has shown me how you can be a prize and a winner all in one. logan, i love you more than anything. always.

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logansargeant and to think i always said it was a joke when i asked you to write an album for me.

logansargeant i love you to the moon and back, i know i've heard every song but i can't wait to hear it again. you're the best ever

yourusername god. i'm so lucky to be known as yours lo 💗

oscarpiastri if anyone asks me about this. one word answers only. riveting.

yourusername riveting?

oscarpiastri riveting.

username I KNEW IT

username THERE WAS WAY TOO MANY REFS TO NEW SONGS

username god this is gonna make me feel so single. i literally can't wait.

ynnation love songs for the ages, we know it. an icon, and congrats to logan for getting his first points of the year!!

username this is SO for all the logan haters, ain't none of y'all ever gonna make our girl feel the way he does!!!

authors notes

this was so self-indulgent bc i haven't written in forever but im going through a logan phase. i hope you all love it 💗 i also lost my tag list so pls enjoy regardless ily

[hoshigray]

random thought, but like Gojo getting a little handsy while the two of you are out together with your friends.

a/n: yeahhhhh I have no excuse, this literally just popped up in my head two days ago, just read lol

cw: Gojo x fem! reader - nothing too sexual, but very suggestive, so minors stay away!! - fingering (f! receiving) - sexual acts in a public area; in a café - other people present but they don't know what's going on - pet names (angel, baby, princess) - Gojo putting you through hell but you get your getback :3 - you may [or may not] feel second-hand embarrassment, we shall see.

wc: 1k

"...Then I turned to him and said, 'I know you don't think I'm going to have sex with you after you've done thrown up on my dress.'"

"Nooo, after the dress was how much—"

"Right!! So I nicely shoved him off me and called an Uber to..."

It was a pleasant sunny hour to spend with your friends at a local café not too far away, mingling and catching up with them from the last meetup. It was always a splendid time having moments like this with them.

But what made this time a lot more striking was you bringing your boyfriend over! After many weeks of your friends wanting to meet the guy — not to mention him bugging you about also wanting to see your close buds — you promised to have him tag along for the next in-person meetup. And, low and behold, your partner, Satoru Gojo, wasted no time having your mates attracted to his sociable charisma.

Not that you'd think he'd be out of place — if anything, you knew he'd be able to swoon into their sweet graces. With his dashing smile, alluring sky-blue eyes, and engaging conversations, it was only a matter of seconds before the white-haired man could take your spot and engage with your pals. Shit, it's practically happening right now as you sip on your iced tea while he's listening to one of them reminiscing about a terrible night they had last night.

Nevertheless, you're not complaining. A boyfriend who gets along with your friends is better than not, right? That's why you watch and listen to your friend's story with a smile, happy to know that combining two parts of your world results in new companionships.

That is, until, you feel someone's hand land on your thigh. At first, you paid no mind to the action since it's nothing you're not familiar with when it comes to Gojo. But then that exact hand ventures further down and slowly sneaks past your skirt. Your brows furrow with your inner thoughts. I know this man is not trying to start something right now...And when you feel his slender fingers brush your inner thigh, you get your answer.

Your lips release the straw to your iced beverage, and you slowly lean toward your boyfriend. "Gojo," your tone hushed only for him to hear as your companions seemed preoccupied with a talk of their own.

"Hmm?" The tall other leans a bit for his ears to properly hear your whispers, his face still facing front to your friends.

"Can I ask why your hand is up my skirt in public?" You knew by the playful snicker rumbling his chest that his answer would be far from appropriate for the situation.

"Whaaat~, can't touch the love of my life?" He whispers back to you.

"Can't if we're out in the open at a fricken' café," you hiss with a glare from your peripheral. "Especially with others within—Hmmm." Before you could finish that remark, two fingers brushed on your panties, rubbing gently between your clothed folds. He snickers — both at your stifled response and as a faux reaction to a part of your friend's storytelling.

"Sorry, but I can't help myself when I wanna touch my princess." You notice him peeking at you from behind his dark shades. His fingers form a curling motion, causing your body to slightly jerk and prompt your legs to a further spread. He brings his chin down to your ears, his chuckles easier to interpret their mischievous connotation. "Plus, when did I last see you wear that skirt? Had my eyes on it since you looked at the mirror before we left."

God, I hate his ass so fucking much. "Who said I was wearing it for you?" You retort, wanting nothing but to wipe that dumb smirk off his handsome face. "I wore it because of—Ohhh!!" To your surprise, he swiftly puts his digits inside your panties; the sudden warm contact on the folds of your chasm prompts a sneaky cry.

...A cry so sudden that, of course, your friends stop talking to look in your direction with perplexed expressions. Of course, they would look. Oh, for fuck's sake...

"Uhhh, you okay, Y/n?" One friend blinks while surveying your body language. The other chimes in. "Yeah, you don't look so good; ice tea went the wrong way?"

Quick with your feet, you cough up your answer. "Ahem—Y-Yeah, I'm fine, guys. I was just thinking, ya know," your hand snakes down to Gojo's to pinch the skin, the tall other jolting his hand away from you. And you know he looks to you with pain, yet serves him right. "Since you two are getting along with Gojo, why don't we take him to the mall and show him our favorite spots? He has a good eye on clothes, plus I'm sure he'd like to try the crepe stand in the food court."

The look on your buddies' faces expressed nothing but delight at the idea you pulled out your ass. "That's a great plan, I'm down!" One says while the other nods frantically. "You up for that, Gojo?"

Rubbing his pinched skin, Gojo sends the two a smile. "Sure! I'd love to spend more time with my baby and their friends." He then leans to kiss you, but with a kick to the shin, you turned his face from a lovestruck fool to that of a hurt puppy. Your friends watch as the snow-haired man quivers and puts his forehead on your shoulder for support.

"Hmm? What happened?"

"Don't mind him; he was rocking his chair and probably hit himself with one of the legs." You speak for him as you watch your boyfriend tremble in pain with a smirk on your lips, the two others giggling at your seemingly clumsy man. It's your turn now to whisper to his ear. "That's for that little stunt of yours."

Gojo's laughter seethes through gritted teeth. "Are you really my angel? You're such a meanie...Don't think I won't do it again, princess."

[laz-kay]

One of the greatest developments in Bob’s Burgers imo is that Rudy is just… there now. There’s this unspoken rule around Rudy that he’s practically an honorary Belcher, and he casually slots himself into their lives so effortlessly. His character has been so well developed over the years that he now fits into any circumstance the Belcher’s find themselves in.

He ditched two separate Thanksgiving meals with his Mom and Dad just to see how The Belcher’s Thanksgiving played out, ended up eating with them, and probably stayed the whole evening.

He’s made multiple appearances in the kid’s fantasies, especially Louise’s. Gene and Tina even included Rudy in their renditions of Louise’s future, because of course Rudy is going to be there. Why wouldn’t he be?

When his family’s dinner took a turn for the worst, his first port of call was the restaurant. He knew he’d be safe there and would automatically click into whatever situation the Belchers had going on. He’s such a natural fit.

Tina, Gene and Louise have always sat by themselves at lunch; it's their tradition to hang out over their breaktime. Rudy sliding his way into their conversation here feels so natural and unforced, like he was always a part of their family. They're so used to him being around, they don't even question when he turns up out of nowhere.

The only other character who comes close to what Rudy has with the Belchers is Teddy. Teddy has been a constant since season 1, but he is yet to have an episode based solely around him without the Belchers looming over the storyline. "Thanks-Hoarding" was about Teddy, sure, but the Belcher's still had a huge role to play within that episode and was from their POV as opposed to Teddy's.

"The Amazing Rudy" was from his POV throughout, and the Belchers were a secondary narrative. He's the first character outside of the main five to have an episode of their own, and I think that's a statement in itself.

Idk, man. I just really think he's neat and deserves the absolute world. I could talk about him all fricken day tbh.

[kiss-theggoat]

Can we have the after math of finding out it’s Billy? I’m fricken hooked on your writing.

A/N: You’re so sweet I’m flustered🥹 I’m in love with Billy Loomis so ask and you shall receive! This one’s a little short but I wasn’t too sure what direction to take it. Please leave more requests, I love them!

Familiar Pt. 2

Billy Loomis x F!Reader

Word Count: 800

Summary: Billy knows he has to kill you. He just can’t bring himself to do it.

TW: Thoughts of violence, suggestive, Billy is a murderer, Knives and Blood

Billy watched your face go from ecstasy to pure shock, horror, disbelief. You lay on your bed, vulnerable and spread for him, willingly giving your body to a serial killer, eyes wide and lips trembling as you whisper his name.

“…B-Billy?” You stuttered out, pretty cheeks turning a deeper shade of red, if that was even possible. A slap echoed throughout the room because of how hard you slapped your legs together, sitting up and covering your body completely, shaky hands searching for clothes or a blanket to cover yourself with. Billy was amused by this.

“You’re okay with fucking a faceless stranger but not a friend?” He teased, lips still flush and slick from your past activity. Your heart was beating a million miles an hour, stomach doing backflips. Billy was who you’d been sleeping with all this time? You felt betrayed, but at the same time you thought it was the hottest thing ever that he had been keeping it a secret. On the other hand…this meant that your best friend, your Billy, was a killer.

“I…I don’t…” words wouldn’t form. Your brain was moving way too fast for your mouth.

With a sneaky hand he reached down to his black boot, yanking the Bowie knife from its side. “Thought I told you to keep your eyes shut, pretty girl.”

Hearing his voice instead of the modulator made your heart flutter. You’d yearned for years for Billy to call you his, be able to kiss him, hang on his arm during lunch like Sydney did. You found it hard to be scared of the knife in a moment like this, your feelings for Billy blocking your fear.

“I’m sorry Billy, I…you sounded so familiar I-I…I just needed to see you.”

Billy froze. Usually, killing people was no big deal for him. Slice and dice, go home, maybe get a snack and watch a movie, go to bed. He stood still, knife pointed towards you threateningly, but as he stared into your puppy dog eyes and heard you say his name so sweetly, he was reminded of why he kept coming to see you.

You were his escape from everything. The plan. Pretending to be in love with Sydney was exhausting, he hated her. She looked just like her mother, and he couldn’t wait to kill her, but you. He liked spending time with you, and the fact that you willingly slept with Ghostface, not knowing it was him, could make him cum on the spot.

You were just as fucked up as he was.

He stepped forward, pressing the knife gently against your cheek and pushing a stray piece of hair behind your ear with it. “Such a shame.” He said softly, trying to hype himself up somehow. Convince himself to get rid of you, like he knew he had to.

You didn’t know where to look. You stayed still, frozen, scared that any move would cost you your life. Finally, you stared up at him. “Please. I’m not going to tell anyone.” You whispered, hand creeping up towards Billy’s.

He didn’t move. He let you touch his hand, gently grasping his wrist. You didn’t push the knife away from his face like he expected, instead, you held it still and pushed your cheek into it slightly. A bead of blood welled at the surface of your skin, trailing warmth down your face. Before the blood could reach your jawline, Billy lowered the knife in shock.

He could trust you. He knew he could. Stu would be pissed off. Should he tell you that Stu’s in on it too? Maybe not yet.

He dropped the knife onto the bed, watching it bounce off your plush comforter, making him think about everyone who’s died at its blade. “I believe you. But I’m gonna need some collateral.” He said, a mischievous smirk on his face.

You were confused, eyebrows furrowed and head shaking slightly. “What do you mean?” Your voice was still timid. Billy’s large hand moved past you, grabbing the knife again and with the other hand, he grabbed yours. The handle of his knife was cold, haunting in your innocent hand.

“Stu’s party on Friday.” He said, stroking the dull side of the blade as it sat heavy in your palm. “You…help me.”

Your stomach dropped in horror. He wanted you to kill someone. “Who?” You asked, wide eyes staring at the shining steel. He grinned his perfect grin at you, enticing you with his good looks that you’d admired for years.

“Tatum.”

[underground-secret]

The Hunter and The Witch~ Dean Winchester x F!reader

Description: After getting a call from John Winchester after no contact for months. The group gets led to a town in which a couple goes missing every year around the same time. But Sam doesn’t want to follow orders anymore, and the town still needs help.

Warnings: Cannon Violence, fight scene (tell me how i did, im still learning how to write it!), arguing, a little angst, talk of crimes, cursing (i think), talk about sacrifices and Pagan rituals (i fricken love learning about Paganism), Y/N gets a little snarky and cocky, use of magic and abilities

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld , @okayiamkassandra , @fablesrose , @ada--44, @bonkydarnes , @star-yawnznn

Word Count: …14,005

Scarecrow

(Master List, Prev. Chapter, Next Chapter)

“So you’re with the Winchesters?” Adeline says, her voice just as husky and amused as I remembered. It had been months since we talked, I'm surprised she wasn’t mad at me, though maybe she was and she was just hiding it well. “Yes.” I answer simply, waiting for the impending lecture.

“I should be surprised, but I'm not,” She remarks, and I can hear the smirk on her face.

“You know B/N said nearly the same thing!” I laughed lightly, but it soon died down when she didn't join in instead going completely quiet.

“You should have told me.” She says, venom on her tongue, but I know it’s out of worry. “No text, no call, not even a letter! I show up at your house. Not only are you not there I have to find out from your co-workers that you quit and haven’t been in contact with anyone. Did you quit because of those Winchesters? ‘Cause I swear to God I wil-“

“No!, quitting had nothing to do with them.” I cut her rant off, “Look Addie I'm sorry. I got so caught up in it all I didn’t think of telling anyone.” I sigh, leaving out the part I forgot I had people who cared about me—which is so stupid. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to hurt you or scare you. But that isn’t what I called for…”

Suddenly a sharp demanding knock sounds at my door. I don’t move for a second, watching it, “One sec, Addie” I place my phone down on the bed pulling back the heavy blankets. I tiptoe to the door, the rough carpet dragging on my feet. I take a deep breath preparing myself for the worst, I unlock the door, creaking it open just wide enough to see who is there.

Dean stands there, his eyes wide and his hair a little messy, still in his pajamas. A black shirt and some plaid pajama pants, though I figured he might have thrown those on before coming to my door- I knew he wasn’t foreign to sleeping with just a shirt and underwear on. I open the door further, “Are you okay? What happened?” I spew out.

“Get dressed. Dad called, ‘doesn't want us following him. He's going after the thing that killed Mom, says it’s a demon. He gave us a bunch of names and needs us to go investigate. Meet by the car.” He answers quickly. I stared at him, all of this was rushed, we barely got any sleep and we were already leaving rather quickly. He looks me over, nods, and then walks away back down the hall to his room, giving me no chance to ask if he was okay.

I closed the door a little shocked, making my way back to my phone and before it was even by my ear I heard the impatient click of her nails against some hard surface, “Now what” she huffed. Definitely mad at me. “I’ll have to call you back later” I sigh, “I need to go.”

“No you don’t get to just call me—“ She nearly yells but I cut her off again, “Addie I promise I’ll call you back.” The line goes silent for a beat and I wonder if she’s still there.

She sighs, “I’m worried about you.”

“I’m okay” I smiled sadly, yet even as the words passed my lips my stomach twisted itself, “I will call you.”

“Fine.” She huffs but she doesn't sound so convinced.

“I love you, Addie.” I say, and I mean it.

“I love you too. Stay safe, and call me!”

“Alright, just to double check all those names are couples?” I ask from the back seat of the Impala, copying notes down on a little notepad. “Three different couples. All went missing.” Dean confirms from the passenger seat. The darkness of the night cloaks us in its cold embrace.

“You said they were from all different states, Washington, New York, Colorado, and all went missing at the same time each year trying to travel across the country. But is it possible that it’s just a serial killer? Not to undermine your fathers findings.” I explain motioning my pen around as I speak, “I mean it is possible the suspect lives in Indiana, knows the roads well, and which way people go when road-tripping. Then being able to intercept them therefore fulfilling his or her urge. Then that kill can satisfy them till next year.”

“I guess, but they always disappeared in the second week of April. One year after another after another. That’s pretty weird.” Dean points out.

“Not necessarily, serial killers can have a certain connection to a date like an anniversary of something. Feeling only the need to do such an act during said time.” I ramble.

“Well, we’re still checking it out” Dean answers plainly, practically shutting down my theory. I guess it’s safer to check but it’s nighttime. I didn’t get any sleep, they barely got any sleep, and rushing over to Indiana in a 3-hour long car ride doesn't sound so fun if it turns out not to be a supernatural thing. “And this is the second week of April.” Sam remarks.

“Yep.” Dean nods.

“So, Dad is sending us to Indiana to go hunting for something before another couple vanishes?” Sam asks, though it’s clear he knows the answer.

“Yahtzee. Can you imagine putting together a pattern like this? All the different obituaries Dad had to go through? The man’s a master.” Dean beams, flipping through the papers he had on the missing couples. He very clearly looked up to his Dad in some manner, even though he wasn’t deserving of such praise. I know Sam feels this way too, he never had an issue calling out John and he certainly can see all that’s wrong with how they grew up. The thing is I know Dean knew too, he was just trained to be loyal.

I watch Sam in the rearview mirror, his nostrils flaring in anger, his hands gripping the steering wheel harder until the knuckles turn white. He pulled the car off to the side of the road, sharply, my body jerking at the motion. “What are you doing?” Dean asks confused, straightening the way he sat.

“We’re not going to Indiana.” Sam says firmly.

“We’re not?” Dean replies, shock and amusement written on his features.

“No. We’re going to California.” Sam answers, “Dad called from a payphone. Sacramento area code.”

“Sam.” Dean warns.

“Dean, if this demon killed Mom and Jess, and Dad’s closing in, we’ve gotta be there. We’ve gotta help.” Sam reasons, and I don’t disagree.

“Dad doesn’t want our help.” Dean argues, his voice getting louder.

“I don’t care.” Sam answers rather calmly.

“He’s given us an order.” Dean bites, using one of his favorite excuses.

“I don’t care.” He repeats himself, this time more firmly, “We don’t always have to do what he says.”

“Sam, Dad is asking us to work jobs, to save lives, it’s important.” Dean tries to explain.

“Please stop fighting, why don’t we work this job, put all our energy into it. Work it quickly. Then immediately head to California, both of you win” I offer, always the person trying to cool the fight down and offer some sort of solution. But even as the words leave my mouth I know I’m wrong, this argument is more than working a case or chasing demons. This is years of grief built up. Sam half turns to view me, his eyes are pained and I almost think he might be close to tears, “It won’t be enough. You said it yourself. My Dad moves fast, if we don’t head there right now we’ll miss him entirely.” He looks between both of us now as he adds, “But I’m talking one week here, to get answers. To get revenge.”

Dean sighs, “Alright, look, I know how you feel.”

“Do you?” Sam spits, nearly yelling. “How old were you when Mom died? Four? Jess died six months ago. How the hell would you know how I feel?”

Oh. This is old grief on top of new grief, he hasn’t coped with the loss of his girlfriend not that we could have expected him to. It’s too soon. These emotions are too raw, too new. Dean matches his brother yelling, “Dad said it wasn’t safe. For any of us. I mean, he knows something that we don’t, so if he says to stay away, we stay away.”

“I don’t understand the blind faith you have in the man. I mean, it’s like you don’t even question him.” Sam argues, looking at his brother strangely.

“Yeah, it’s called being a good son!” Dean yells. The tension has exploded, the car falling quiet in its aftermath. My dislike for their father seemed to grow ten folds, to make your own child feel like that—

“Dean, that’s no—“ But before I can say anything more about it Sam exits the car. Slamming the door behind him. Dean and I get out of the car following him to the trunk where he unloads his things from. “You’re a selfish bastard, you know that? You just do whatever you want. Don’t care what anybody thinks.” Dean yells.

“Dean!” I snap, “This has gone far enough, you don’t get to say things like that, he’s your brother! Both of you calm down, please.” I didn’t want Sam to be treated like this, not from his brother who I know cares about him. “No. It’s okay, Y/N” Sam says calmly, his movements slowing as he stares his brother down, “Is that what you really think?”

“Yes, it is.” Dean gives a single sharp nod.

“Well.” Sam shuts the trunk, “then this selfish bastard is going to California.” he puts his backpack on and starts to walk away.

No. This can’t be happening. “Dean,” I say desperately, he has to apologize or stop him so they can talk it out. This isn’t my place but I can’t watch this happen. He looks out at his brother, “Sam, come on. You’re not serious”

“I am serious.” Sam responds, still walking away.

“It’s the middle of the night!” Dean yells out, “Hey, we’re taking off, I will leave your ass, you hear me?”

Sam stops walking, turning around, “That’s what I want you to do.”

I let out a frustrated groan, “What the hell is wrong with you both?! Just talk it out, we can come to some sort of agreement or—or reason with each other.” I practically beg. Both their eyes fall to me but Dean just responds with, “He’s made up his mind” his eyes turn back towards his brother, “Goodbye Sam.”

I stand frozen, eyes wide, this is not happening.

Dean grabs hold of my wrist, his hand warm despite the cold night, practically dragging me to the passenger side of the car. He waits for me to sit and buckle myself before closing the door and making his way to the driver's side. He gets in, putting the car in drive.

I watch Sam turn back around and walk away in the car's side mirror. Dean must have been watching too because he slams his fist on the steering wheel, takes a deep breath, and then does it again and again. I place my hand over his just as it connects with the steering wheel again. “Dean…” I say softly, but it comes out more like a plea. His hand goes still under mine, and when I turn my face to look at him, his eyes are glossy.

He does not turn to look at me though, keeping his eyes straight ahead at the dark road. “Dean” I say weakly, letting out a shaky breath feeling my own eyes welling up, “please, stop the car.” He listens, slamming on the brakes, my body jolting at the sharp stop. He snaps his head towards me, “Why so you could leave too?!”

I lean away from him retracting my hand, placing it on my lap, “No” I say quietly. But his reaction made me want to leave, the tears in my eyes finally fell over, spilling down my cheeks, “Do not take your anger out on me.” He sighs, turning his face away from me, cursing.

“I know you don’t want to hear this…but you must” I begin to say, having to pause to clear my voice of its shakiness, “I care for you both a lot but I’m so sick of you guys constantly fighting over something stupid when all you have to do is talk.”

“That's easy for you to say.” Dean snaps back, still looking away from me.

I huff, annoyed, “See! You get all standoffish instead of dealing with your emotions and I know that's what you’re used to but you don't have to be that way around me of all people.” He goes quiet, with no snappy comeback or even a grunt of annoyance. His jaw clenches and I wonder if that's from anger, trying to hold back tears, or both. “What if were destined to always hate each other,” he says quietly, and I know he means him and Sam. “He doesn't hate you, and I know you don't feel that way either,” I answer softly, even when I know what he truly means. He turns his head towards me, a single tear rolling down his cheek, “Then why does he keep leaving?!” he says through gritted teeth the last word coming out as if he spit venom.

In truth, I can't possibly know what he feels. He raised Sam and was there every moment of every day. He saw him take his first step and say his first word, brought him to school, fed him, put him to bed, and kept him safe. I was more like Sam in that aspect, I was the youngest with an older brother who took care of me and looked out for me. Honestly more than our own Dad, maybe that’s why he and Dean got along together so well- a shared understanding.

So, no, I could not understand exactly what he felt, not even a fraction of it. But even despite that I reached my hand out carefully, my fingertips barely brushing his cheek before pausing giving him time to pull away and hide if he wanted to. He didn't. I cup his cheek, whipping away another tear that fell. His green eyes seemed softer then like his anger had diminished enough but still lay beneath the tears. I don't have all the answers, “I know it may not seem like it, but he isn't leaving you. He went off to college ‘cause he wanted a chance away from this life. Even now he is going in hopes of stopping what started this all, he’s going to come back…your brothers you can't escape each other even if you wanted to.”

It's not a solution, and I don't expect it to help. But all I can do is hope it eases something in him. He leans his face into my hand, his eyes fluttering shut as he takes a deep breath in.

In one quick motion, I unbuckle my seat belt with my free hand. He must have known what I was going to do because he removed his face from my hand only to put the car in park, release his seat belt, and turn his body so I could hug him properly. I close the distance between us so I can wrap my arms around his neck, his body immediately reacts to my movements. His head falls to the crook of my neck, his arms wrapping around my waist. He pulls my body impossibly closer and tighter.

His breathing gives him away, his warm breath coming out uneven against my neck a wetness forming against where he resides. I don't say anything about him crying, or anything at all, I just move my hand up and down his back in soothing motions, hoping to ease him.

I do not know how I managed it but after he finished crying I got him to switch seats with me so he could rest while I drove. I've never driven the Impala before, maybe this was him showing me he trusted me even though I already knew he did, or maybe it was tiredness overtaking him. But the drive was pretty straightforward and it was dark so there wasn’t a worry about other cars.

He managed to drift off, which I was envious of but I was more proud of being able to drive Baby to notice my exhaustion. I even got to play music that wasn’t the usual rock songs he liked to play, which I don’t have any problem with but a change is nice sometimes (even if I played it very quietly so he could rest).

Just as we pulled into the small town he woke up, grumbling a “good morning” before staying silent the rest of the time. He went on his phone at one point, pulling up the contacts but ultimately he did not call anyone. “Ok, ready?” I ask, shutting off the car after pulling into a spot.

“Yeah” He nods, his voice still a little gravely from sleep. I hand him back his keys before exiting the car, the pure feeling of accomplishment pulling over me. I drove Baby accident-free and made it to the destination! I’m so good!!

We walked up to the only person in sight, an older man sitting on a wooden rocking chair in front of a café. Maybe it was too early for anyone else to be out, it certainly felt too early to be up though I guess I never really went to sleep.

“Let me guess,” Dean points to the store's sign that reads Scotty’s Café, “Scotty.” He looked proud of his stupid joke if you could even call it that, a dumb grin on his face. Scotty looks up at the sign and then back at us looking unamused, “Yep,”

“Hi, my name’s John Bonham and this is Pat Phillips” Dean introduces us both, and I want to glare at him for using a member from a popular band's name but if Scotty doesn't know then the glaring would give it away.

But of course, our luck has long run out, “Isn’t that the drummer for Led Zeppelin?” He looks at Dean pointedly then at me, “And his wife?” Now I really do glare at him, I didn’t know Pat Phillips was Bonham's wife! I barely knew Bonham was the drummer for Led Zeppelin, only remembering because of Dean rambling about it. Dean looks at me, eyes raised as if to silently say he didn’t think he would know. He turns back to Scotty, shock clear on his face, “Wow. Good. Classic rock fan.” Alright, he wasn’t even trying to deny it, great.

“What can I do for you, John?” Scotty asks anyway and I’m surprised he didn’t completely write us off. Dean takes out two pieces of paper from his pocket, unfolding the missing person's flyers. “I was wondering if, uh, you’d seen these people by chance.”

Scotty takes the flyers, barely studying them before answering, “Nope. Who are they?” Huh, that was a little weird, I would think he would want to think harder about it. I study the older man but his face reveals nothing, no fear in his eyes.

“They’re really close friends of ours, honestly we’re worried,” I explained while trying to test him, if he is responsible and he knows friends are looking for them and hasn’t given up he might crack a little. “They’ve been missing for a year now, passed somewhere through here. And we already asked around Salem and Scottsburg—“ But he doesn't let me finish my list, “Sorry.” He hands back the flyers to Dean, “We don’t get many strangers around here.”

Once more his eyes and face reveal nothing but still something about him is coming off weird.

“Scotty, you’ve got a smile that lights up a room, ‘anybody ever tell you that?” Dean tells him, earning a glare from the man himself. Dean chuckles, amusing himself at this point, “Never mind. See you around.”

I wait until we’re back in the car to say something, Dean taking his rightful place in the driver's seat, “Is it me or was that guy acting weird about this all?”

“Nah, he just doesn't have expressions,” Dean responds. I laughed, “That is not what I meant!”, I turned in my seat to face him, “Okay if someone came to you and was all like ‘my friend went missing and she’s been gone a long time and I think she passed through here do you know anything.’ Wouldn’t you really study the photo and try and think back, especially cause it’s a year ago. Scotty barely looked at the photo!”

He seems to contemplate what I said, “ ‘Could also just be a jerk.” he responds. I let out a frustrated sigh, “Dean.”

“Alright, you could be onto something sweetheart. We’ll keep asking around.”

Our next stop is a sort of Gas Station, all road trip essentials lining the walls from maps to mixed nuts. Aka the perfect place someone would stop at on their trip. “You sure they didn’t stop for gas or something?” Dean asks the older couple working.

“Nope, don’t remember ‘em. You said they were friends of yours?” The man who introduced himself as Harley responded.

“Yes, dear friends,” I answered.

“Did the guy have a tattoo?” A sweet blonde girl probably around our age asks, coming down the nearby stairs with a large box in her hand, her face just barely visible. “Yes, he did,” Dean responds. She puts the boxes on the counter and looks at the picture of the dark haired Vince then back up at the couple, “You remember? They were just married.”

Harley’s eyes suddenly widened making a little ‘oh’ sound, “You’re right. They did stop for gas. Weren’t here’ more than ten minutes.” Dean and I shared a look, now this guy wanted to suddenly remember. “You remember anything else?” Dean pushes further.

“I told ‘em how to get back to the Interstate. They left town.” Harley answers, finally sharing some truth. These townspeople were strange. “Would you be able to point us the same way?” I ask him, eyeing him carefully.

“Sure.”

Dean drives down the long road, slower than usual, both of us looking for anything unusual or suspicious. There was undoubtedly something going on whether it was supernatural or not. But there wasn’t much near us, just trees and endless roads.

We pass by what looks to be an orchard, apples hanging from the lush trees.

If I was kidnapping and possibly killing people I would choose somewhere along this Interstate, it was practically dead and no one would suspect anyone driving here even late at night. My thoughts are cut off by a violent buzzing noise coming from just behind me, most likely in the back seat. I turn to Dean, giving him a confused look, he turns his head to the back of the car looking instead of the road. “Dean. Road” I remind him, his eyes going back where they belong.

I unbuckle my seatbelt, shifting myself so that I was kneeling on the seat. I lean over the back seat, having to drop down low to reach his duffle bag, the top of the seat digging into my gut. My ass is definitely sticking up in the air and most likely close to Dean, but I ignore the embarrassment of that idea as I shuffle through his bag. I move one of his shirts around, finding the cause of the loud noise, “It’s your EMF” I call out hoping he can hear me even with my head still buried in the little space between the floor of the car and the backseat. I grab the box, the medal heavy in my hand.

I lift myself up and back to my seat half turned and sitting on my legs, it continues to buzz violently, the meter blaring to the red. “‘Think it’s the orchard” he announces, pulling the car off to the side of the road. We venture into the trees.

The ground was soft beneath my shoes, a light morning dew still clinging to the grass. If this was any other day or occasion I’d say it’s a rather nice orchard but the EMF has not stopped, and I think if it could go any further red it certainly would be there.

The trees were all lined up, apples scattered about the ground and a potent scent of rotten fruit following it. From where we pulled over it wasn’t hard to find the middle of the orchard, the trees cut down in almost a circle, except some paths that broke away in various directions.

A tall post stood in the middle, a creepy scarecrow on it. It looked rather human and full rather than stuffed with straw. Its face looked like a mask with stitches adorning it and hollow eyes, greasy long hair flowing from beneath his fedora. The only scarecrow-like thing about him was the fact he was tied to a wooden post and had a sort of jumper with patches on it, though the added black trench coat contradicted this. And in his hand was a sickle, what was meant to be used for agriculture only made him that much creepy.

Its head was leaned down, and looking up at it made it only seem like he was staring down at us with those empty eyes. “Dude, you're fugly.” Dean says out loud and I almost expect the thing to move or respond, but it doesn't. “Maybe you should say sorry to him.” I practically mumble to Dean. If it came to life I didn’t want a target on his back for insulting it, or mine if it thought I was guilty by association.

“Why would I say sorry?” he counters.

“So that he doesn't kill you if it comes to life!”

“I think it’d kill us either way”

Rationally I knew he was right, but the thought of something like a doll or in this case a scarecrow coming to life creeped me out a little too much, “Good point, but he is horrifying.”

“Yeah, horrifyingly ugly” He chuckles at his own joke, a stupid smile on his face. I try to hide my own laughing, not wanting to encourage him.

“I think I see something,” He murmurs. He moves back, turning to the closest tree with a ladder against it. He picks it up as if it weighs nothing, placing it right next to the scarecrow. He climbs it until he’s at eye level with the thing. I watch his eyes fall to the hand that held the sickle, his gaze at its wrist. Its sleeve ripped a bit revealing leathered “skin” and a sort of design.

I wrack my brain for any customs or cultures that decorate scarecrows beyond just its clothing and face, but I couldn’t come up with anything. Why would anyone put a design on a scarecrow's wrist?

Dean pulls out a paper from the inside of his jacket, unfolding it swiftly before placing it near the thing, comparing the two. “Look who has a nice tat.” he says, turning the paper down so I could see. He held Vince’s missing poster, the young man holding a mug in his hand the perfect pose to see his tattoo. Detailed ink with all sorts of shapes I could even begin to describe, I look back up at the scarecrows tattoo. The two are the exact same, far too alike to be any sort of coincidence.

“Nice tat indeed.”

We immediately got in the car and turned around back to the town. Something was going on and someone was causing it. Now Dean pulls the car into the local gas station. Turning it off and exiting, I nearly stay put in the passenger seat until I see the same blonde girl from before walking up to the car. We needed answers and she seemed to be the only one willing to help.

I exit the car, keeping the door open as I lean my arms on the roof of the car. “You’re back” she greeted, smiling. “Never left.” He replies smoothly.

“Still looking for your friends?” She asks, acknowledging us both. “Yup, call it stubbornness or what have you but we aren’t given up.” I respond, still pushing the same agenda as before. “I’d call that a good friend,” she smiles.

I don’t think she’s involved in all this, she’s willing to answer our questions when no one else was and she seemed to genuinely care. If she was involved then she was quite the actor. “You mind fillin’ her up there, Emily?” Dean asks her, nodding his head towards the car. The nameplate necklace she wore came into view as she grabbed the pump and began to fill the tank. That’s how he knew her name.

“Did you grow up here?” I ask, starting back up conversation.

“I came here when I was thirteen. I lost my parents. Car accident. My aunt and uncle took me in.” She explains shortly.

“They’re nice people.” Dean replies plainly. She nods as she speaks, “Everybody’s nice here.”

“So, what, it’s the, uh, perfect little town?” Dean shrugs, nonchalantly.

“Well, you know, it’s the boonies. But I love it.” she pauses for a moment, “I mean, the towns around us, people are losing their homes, their farms. But here, it’s almost like we’re blessed.”

Dean turns his head towards me, giving me a look. This definitely was weird, I mean how could every town around them be failing but not here?Were they making sacrifices to the scarecrow? It would make sense considering its tattoo. Dean turns back around to Emily, “Hey, you been out to the orchard? ‘You seen that scarecrow?” We were thinking the same thing.

“Yeah, it creeps me out.” She answers her nose scrunching. “You can say that again” I laugh, “Do you know who owns it?”

“I don’t know. It’s just always been there.” She shrugs.

He nods to something behind her, I turn my gaze to it, my eyes landing on a red van parked by a garage, “That your aunt and uncle’s?” he asks.

She shakes her head, “Customer. Had some car troubles.” That’s a little too convenient, “Is it a couple by any chance? A guy and a girl?” I ask, worried that they might be the town's next victims.

She nods even as her face twists with confusion, “Mmhmm.”

As soon as the Impala's tank was filled, and Emily gestured toward the couple's location, we wasted no time heading straight there. Dean opens the glass door for me, the little welcome bell ringing above us. I walk in first, immediately being hit with the sweet smell of baked goods, the culprit of it being a thick piece of apple pie that Scotty delivered to a couple sitting by the window.

“Oh, hey, Scotty. Can I get a coffee, black?” Dean greets, walking in behind me, adding “And a green tea…actually while you’re at it some of that pie too.” I have to hold back the smile that wants to escape onto my face, he was being slightly annoying on purpose which is proved further when Scotty gives him a nasty look before walking away. But beyond that I’m surprised Dean knew what I wanted, yes I drank tea quite often but how did he know I was feeling that flavor in particular?

He moves to sit at a table right next to the couple, I sit in the chair next to him trying to come up with a conversation starter for the people only a table away. I mean how do you say ‘hey you’re in danger! haha, please leave town’ to someone without them thinking you're actually insane? I am pulled out of my thoughts at the feeling of my chair moving, a soft scratching noise below it. Immediately I see Deans hand at the side of my chair, pulling me closer to him without saying or looking at me.

I try to ignore his strange antics and the butterflies that flutter in the depths of my stomach at his movement as he talks to the dark haired couple, “How ya doin’?” God for someone whose usually so smooth he was being so awkward. They share a weird look clearly looking uncomfortable before waving and smiling. But their uninterest in starting a conversation with strangers is very obvious as the girl leans closer to her boyfriend placing her arm up to lean her head on as if to block us out.

“Just passing through?” Dean continues, ignoring their reactions. “Road trip.” The girl answers plainly, clearly trying to shut down the conversation.

“Hm.” Dean hums his hand suddenly finding my thigh. My heart lurches, my leg twitching slightly at the sudden movement but he just gives me a little squeeze before readjusting his hold. Splaying his warm hand against my thigh, his fingers hooking onto the inside of my leg as he pulls them apart slightly, the gap just big enough to hold my thigh comfortably. He gives me another squeeze as if he was testing the feel of me again…oh god.

My brain seemed to short circuit, any logical thoughts I had turning into a mass space of blankness and static. I swallowed roughly, my heart beating out of my chest and the butterflies in my stomach flying frantically in warmth. This was just for a cover, if we acted as a couple too then they might feel more comfortable and inclined to talk with us, I try to reason with myself. But god when did my face get all warm? Stay focused Y/N, stay focused, I repeat to myself in my head. This wasn’t the time. Can’t be thinking of my feelings for him or the fact that this was only making me feel more desperate for him. Stay focused.

“Us too” He adds, and I have to think for a second what he’s talking about…Oh yes, we are also on a road trip, yeah.

Scotty walks over with a pitcher of something brownish orange, maybe it was apple cider considering this town clearly has a large supply of it. He moves right past us, refilling the couples cups, “I’m sure these people want to eat in peace.” he scolds us.

“Just a little friendly conversation.” Dean smiles up at the grumpy man who begins to walk away, “Oh, and that coffee and tea, too, man. Thanks.” Scotty just stares at him, the scowl on his face deepening, but he doesn't say anything as he walks away fully. “So, what brings you to town?” I ask softly, a sweet smile on my face in hopes of erasing the awkwardness in the air.

The girl answers, “We just stopped for gas. And, uh, the guy at the gas station saved our lives.”

“Aw, really!” I respond trying to sound amused.

The guy answers this time, “Yeah, one of our brake lines was leaking. We had no idea. He was fixing it for us.”

“That’s really sweet” I nod with a smile even as concern eats at me. They were definitely going to be the next victims. But I’m also terribly confused, I have no idea what he was talking about. I'm guessing a broken brake line means you won’t be able to stop the car but I didn’t know it could leak…

“Yeah.” The man nods trying to go back to his food.

All at once it hits me, I nearly want to kick myself for not thinking about it right away. I want to blame it on Dean's hand placement but it was most likely my lack of sleep because I was in fact enjoying his hand on my thigh…

This small town in Indiana was practicing Pagan rituals, and as much as I hate to admit it learning about Pagans was one of my favorite things to do.

“So, how long till you’re up and runnin’?” Dean asks them.

“Sundown.”

It was common in Paganism to sacrifice something or someone to the gods. It was a time where they didn’t understand why certain things happened like crops dying, so they blamed this on not respecting the Gods enough. When the real cause could have been for a number of reasons from lack of water to not crop rotating…

“Really.” Dean pauses for a minute, “To fix a brake line?” He receives a nod. “I mean, you know, I know a thing or two about cars. I could probably have you up and running in about an hour. I wouldn’t charge you anything.” He offers.

…However in terms of supernatural beings when these sacrifices were made it did work, whether or not it was the Gods “cursing” them or just not understanding agriculture. Either way it did work, the gods answered, and the bigger the sacrifice the bigger the payout which is why they typically did human sacrifices, sometimes even on a mass scale.

“You know, thanks a lot, but I think we’d rather have a mechanic do it.” The girl replies, looking nervously at her boyfriend.

“Are you sure?” I chime in, “He really is good, I mean you should see the level of care he puts into his own car. ‘Keeping it all good even though it’s decades older than him, he even keeps my old car in check.” I knew with every word I was stroking his ego, but it was true. Beyond his own car I can count on two hands the amount of times he helped with my old Volkswagen Beetle, he’s probably the reason why it still works.

In the corner of my eye I can see his cocky sexy grin, he squeezes my thigh once more and my thoughts fizzle out again as a kaleidoscope of butterflies flutters in my gut. Jesus Christ, Dean Winchester will be the death of me without knowing.

“Yeah we’re sure” The girl insists.

“Sure.” Dean pauses, his smile dropping, “You know, it’s just that these roads. They’re not real safe at night.” I guess he figures they won’t listen any other way. The couple exchanged a look, “I’m sorry?”

Dean leans in closer, “I know it sounds strange, but, uh—you might be in danger.”

The man finally snaps, looking annoyed, “Look, we’re trying to eat. Okay?”

“Yeah.” Dean says disappointingly, "You know, my brother could give you this puppy dog look, and you’d just buy right into it.” The couple looks at him strangely.

The bell above the door rings and I figure we don’t have much time left, “Look we aren’t trying to bother you and ruin your day, okay, I’m sorry.” I start, looking back at the Sheriff who had walked in. I lean in, speaking just low enough for them to hear, “But you really are in danger, for the last couple of years couples have gone missing this time of year repeatedly withou—“

“I’d like a word with you both.” The sheriff practically booms. I go quiet giving the couple a warning look both to say to listen to what I said and to not bring anything up now, they look scared and hesitant.

“Come on. I’m having a bad day already, ‘m just tryna make it better with my girlfriend” Dean reasons, I know it’s a lie but the way the word slipped so easily from his lips made my heart flutter.

“You know what would make it worse?” The sheriff replies. Dean releases his hold on my thigh, a tingling feeling taking its place. We got up and followed the man outside then following his orders, he was going to follow us out of town and we weren’t allowed back.

We drive down the interstate, both knowing we would turn back once it was clear. But for now we trudge toward passing by a sign that says ‘Thanks for visiting Burkittsville.’ I check the side mirror, the sheriff making a U-turn, heading back to town. Great.

“Should we find a motel nearby and return at night?” I ask, knowing the couple wouldn’t have a car to leave with ‘till sundown.

“Yeah, you need sleep” He hums. I wonder if he’s saying that because he knows I haven't slept at all. “Unfortunately I will not be sleeping ‘cause I have a very good idea on what’s going on and I wanna research further” I answer, opening up the glovebox to pull out the map that resided there.

I unfold it, tracking down Indiana and then the small town we just left, following the colored lines. “I think if we stay straight we’ll be at a rest stop in about 15 mins” I mumble, hopefully reading it right.

“Anyways!” I place the map down in my lap, “I’m very sure this town is sacrificing the couples to a Pagan God.”

“‘Thinking the same,” He answers.

“Okay, good. Now I'm not 100% sure i’m right on which one it is ‘cause there’s a lot of agricultural Gods as well as Gods of the woods, but the second I can search it up I’ll confirm it.” I ramble, talking with my hands.

“To be honest, sweetheart, ‘don’t know much about Norse Gods except the basics.”

“Oh don’t you worry, I got this” I beam.

I grumble for the fifth time typing different wording into the search bar. I want to scream as the page turns blank, the only words on the screen being ‘No Results.’

“What is it?” Dean asks from where he lays in his bed his fathers journal open, looking for anything on Norse Gods.

“Somehow there is nothing on Vanir Gods and when I mean nothing I mean nothing!” I get up from my bed walking the short distance to his, I climb on it putting my legs beneath me. I turned my laptop towards him, showing him the screen, “See!”

His eyebrows scrunch up looking just as confused as I feel, “I know we aren’t in the town anymore but do you think it’s somehow related?” I ask.

“Maybe. We aren’t that far from Burkittsville” He answers, taking my laptop and searching up ‘Books about Vanir Gods’ but again the same message pops up ‘No Results.’

He types in ‘Books about Norse Gods’ a couple searches pop up the main one being a thick book only available in a college in Burkittsville. “That’s so strange.” I mumble, I mean how could they be interfering with the internet.

“If they can make sacrifices to a god I’m guessing they could mess with google of all things. We’ll go there later” Dean responds and I’m sure he means after making sure the couple is safe. He closes my laptop, “You should sleep, I’ll wake you”

I studied him for a moment, and he was right. I should sleep, it sounds wonderful actually. I nod getting up, I don’t even bother changing into comfortable clothes or even taking off my bra I just crawl underneath the covers of my bed. “Good night, Dean.” But it was hardly close to night time.

He smiles, “ ‘Night baby.”

Dean sped down the interstate, the sun was nearly down and we would have been there on time if not for all the semi trucks in the truck stop not knowing how to exit. You really think it wouldn’t be so hard.

Continuing by the vast orchard, we scanned for a red van parked on the side, hoping to beat them there.

After some more driving, we eventually stumbled upon the deserted car, devoid of anyone. He stopped the car short even as we still had multiple feet between us and the vacant van.

He turns the car off and I meet him by the trunk, he hands me a shotgun, “Go through here, cut ‘em off--get in front” he rattles off the plan as he cocks his own gun. I nod, cocking my gun before shutting the trunk as he takes the lead.

I catch up to him, running at his side, passing through each tree as my shoes crush the fallen apples with a satisfying crunch.

I squint my eyes, the dark haired couple too far away to get there before the dark figure of the scarecrow does. It was a clear distance away, I could bring us there in a moment's time. I’ve practiced this sort of distance before, it was doable, and nothing like the asylum. “Get ready to shoot 45 degrees to your left” I shouted, reaching a hand out to grasp Dean's shoulder. He meets my eyes with a look of determination hard in his irises. I focus back ahead on the target, forcing my energy there.

The air ripples around us even as we continue to run, in a blink of an eye we’re in front of the couple. A loud shot rings out, Dean shoots the thing square in the chest. But all it does is stumble back before it continues to walk forward.

Its head was tilted slightly, that greasy hair dangling on his shoulders, the sickle gripped tightly in its leathery hand. “Get back to your car!” I yell behind me, “Go!” I looked behind me for a split second, they were running and we weren’t too far from the orchards clearing.

Almost at the same time Dean and I start walking backward away from the horrifying thing. I raise my shotgun up, shooting it right in its chest as Dean cocks his gun again. But these salt bullets were doing nothing and was hardly buying us time, “Get ready to run!” Dean orders as he shoots the thing again.

Not needing to tell me twice I shift my footing, running towards the clearing right after the couple. Beyond Dean's own shoes hitting the ground hard next to me I could hear the subtle click of its boots walking the ground. Now I know how every character in Halloween felt as Myers went after them.

I do the thing that you should never do in a horror movie and turn my head to see how close the scarecrow was. It couldn’t be more than 10 feet away, “Screw this” I mumble, twisting my footing again so I could walk backwards as it came towards us. I uncomfortably hold the gun in the crook of my arm as I extend my hands forward, effortlessly calling upon my abilities as I shoot out pure energy from my hands.

The scarecrow goes flying what seems like 100 or more feet, landing harshly on its back. I want to celebrate and get all cocky but this was dealing with Norse Gods and I didn’t particularly feel like getting on their nerves at the moment.

I make it to the clearing, my chest heaving from the running and use of powers. Man, water would be good right now.

A familiar arm wraps around my shoulder, the crook of his arm touching my neck as he brings me into his side. His chest heaves too, “Good job.” The praise makes my heart swell but the sweet moment is cut off by the man in the couple panting, “What—what the hell was that?” He points between the orchard and me. Double yikes.

“Don’t ask.” Dean responds.

We sit in the Impala just outside of town so we wouldn’t technically get in trouble.

After helping the couple officially leave, thank god, we went back to the motel. It would be hours until the college opened so we really just had to wait. We ate at some all night diner before showering and sleeping for a couple more hours. We woke early, I threw on some low rise black jeans and a fitted black & gray long sleeve baseball tee, heading out to grab some coffee before heading back close to town to wait.

Dean had called Sam, placing his phone on speaker and positioning it in the middle of the dashboard so we could both hear and speak. He called his brother on his own accord to talk about the “hunt” and I didn’t dare say anything about it knowing he would just brush it off. The call was certainly more than just letting him know how the hunt was going. “The scarecrow climbed off its cross?” Sam asks.

“Yeah, I’m tellin’ ya. Burkittsville, Indiana. Fun Town.” Dean muses, taking a sip of coffee from his cup.

“It didn’t kill the couple, did it?” Sam responded concerned.

“God no” I scuff.

“We can cope without you, you know.” Dean adds.

“So, something must be animating it. A spirit.” Sam theorizes.

“No, it’s more than a spirit. It’s a god. A Pagan god, anyway.” Dean answers.

“What makes you say that?”

I answer this time, “There’s a lot that points to it, from annual cycle killings to the choice of victims. And I’m sure you know human sacrifices were common in Paganism especially when it comes to fertility. There were even mass sacrifices to even protect them and or help them with wars.”

I begin to speak with my hands again, getting more animated as I get excited, “And according to a local all the towns around them are failing in multiple degrees especially in agriculture, while Burkittsville remains flourishing largely in their apple department. As seen not only through their extensive orchard but their numerous apple products, they practically gloat upon it.”

“And you should see the locals. The way they treated this couple. Fattenin’ ‘em up like a Christmas turkey.” Dean adds in.

“The last meal. Given to sacrificial victims.” Sam acknowledges.

Dean answers, “Yeah, we’re thinking a ritual sacrifice to appease some Pagan god.”

“So, a god possesses the scarecrow…” Sam starts, Dean adding in with their usual weird finishing each other's sentences, “And the scarecrow takes its sacrifice. And for another year, the crops won’t wilt, and disease won’t spread.”

“Do you know which god you’re dealing with?” Sam asks.

“Well, there’s hundreds of Gods.” I answer, “But it will most likely align with Norse Paganism which are broken up into two sections one of them being Vanir Gods. From what I remember they’re Gods of fertility, wealth, wisdom and two other things. I don’t remember too much and unfortunately there’s an issue with the internet so I can’t even confirm my theory.”

Sam laughs, “What do you mean issue?”

“Long story,” Dean responds, “But we’re on our way to a local community college, they have a book on Norse Gods there. You know, since we don’t have our geek boy to figure out the issue with the internet crap.”

Sam laughs again, “You know, if you’re hinting you need my help, just ask.”

“I’m not hinting anything.” Dean replies quickly with a fake annoyance to his voice, “Actually, uh—“ He looks at me as if he isn’t sure what to say, I nod my head encouragingly, “I want you to know….I mean, don’t think….”

“Yeah. I’m sorry, too.” Sam says seriously, seemingly knowing what his brother was struggling to say.

Dean looks to his hands cradling his coffee cup to straight ahead through the windshield, “Sam. You were right. You gotta do your own thing. You gotta live your own life.” I don’t try to bite back my smile, he wasn’t looking to begin with, either way I was proud of him.

“Are you serious?” Sam asks, probably never expecting to hear that.

“You’ve always known what you want. And you go after it. You stand up to Dad. And you always have. Hell, I wish I—“ He cuts himself off, sighing, “anyway….I admire that about you. I’m proud of you, Sammy.”

“I don’t even know what to say.” Sam says quietly.

“Say you’ll take care of yourself.”

“I will.”

“Call me when you find Dad.”

“Ok.” Sam responds, though he sounds upset, "Bye, Dean.”

He collects his phone from the dashboard, hanging up. He catches me staring, “What?” I don’t answer, just smile at him, “No. Don’t give me that happy go lucky sweet look.”

“Oh come on!” I laugh, “That was really sweet of you Dean! So can’t a girl be proud of her boy.”

He rolls his eyes, placing his coffee in the cupholder before crossing his arms across his chest, but his face gives him away a light pink gracing his cheeks. “You are a sweetie pie” I declare, placing a hand on his shoulder. He removes one of his arms from their own hold, placing a warm hand on top of mine, grasping it gently to remove it, “I’m not.” he bites. His tough boy act was so cute.

“If you say so” I shrug, the smile on my face giving away the fact that this wasn’t me giving up on the fact he was a total softy. He turns his head away, facing his window, mumbling something incoherent.

I want to start skipping into the library, who knew a community college would have such a nice one. Though to be fair I would say any library was nice as long as it was in good shape. I make my way to the librarian's desk, “Hello!” I greet, my excitement getting the best of me, “Could you point us to the books on Paganism? Or even just Norse mythology?”

The old woman at the desk looks at me a little strangely, maybe I came off too strong. But her expression contorts into a small smile, “One of our dear old professors would have those sorts of books, lucky for you sweetie I think he’s free right now. I can just give him a little call.”

I look back at Dean, who stands a little bit behind me, he shrugs, I guess it wouldn’t hurt talking to a professor about this. Especially if it meant looking at that book.

I turn back to the old librarian, “Yes please.” But she already placed the phone back in its holder, “He’ll be right down.” Oh. Okay, this woman works fast. “You can take a seat there, it’ll be a moment” she points to just behind us at a mostly empty table. “Thank you!” I smile.

“It’s not every day I get a research question on Pagan ideology.” Professor Williams says, as he leads us to his classroom.

“Yeah, well, call it a hobby.” Dean responds, not sounding all that amused.

“Well what are you looking for in particular?” The older man asks.

“Uh, local lore, maybe” Dean answers, looking at me to jump in at any time but I don’t know if I want to put all my eggs in one basket. We had to choose who we could trust here, and maybe I shouldn’t have been so forward with the nice librarian but doing so made getting to the book easier. I hope. “I’m afraid Indiana isn’t really known for its Pagan worship.” He answers.

I can already feel this being a painfully slow lead to the answer, “You know, actually,” I began, “I was interested in the Vanir Gods. It struck me the other day and when I can’t get an easy answer for something I go digging.” The professor stops in his tracts, turning to face me, “Very well. I was not expecting to hear such a clear topic.”

I laugh a little uncomfortably, “I just like to learn.”

We follow him down the rest of the long hallway into his classroom. A small room with desks and chairs lined in order while a large whiteboard rested on the long wall. He beckons us over to his desk, a thick and long brown leather bound book lying there, “Well, let’s see.” He leafs through a couple of pages seeking what seems to be the chapter he’s looking for, “Ah ha, there we are” he declares, turning the book towards us.

I read the first page quickly, breezing through information I already knew. I turn to the next page only to be met with a picture of a scarecrow-like thing on a post in a field with farmers surrounding it. I read out loud the text just below the image, “The Vanir were Norse gods of protection and prosperity, keeping the local settlements safe from harm. Some villages built effigies of the Vanir in their fields. Other villages practiced human sacrifice. One male, and one female.”

I looked up from the book catching Dean's eyes, this was definitely it. “This particular Vanir that’s energy sprung from the sacred tree?” Dean asks, gaze flipping to the man in question.

“Well, Pagans believed all sorts of things were infused with magic.” He answers not all that helpfully.

“So what would happen if the sacred tree was torched? You think it’d kill the god?” Dean questions further. He’s really just putting it all out there. The professor laughs, “Son, these are just legends we’re discussing.”

“Yes of course” I fake laugh along with him, “My, uh, friend here just loves the hypotheticals, you know?”

“I do,” Dean nods seriously. The professor just looks at us strangely. God I really hope he just thinks we’re weird people. “Listen, thank you very much.” Dean says, holding out his hand. The professor takes it, giving what seems like a firm handshake before offering one to me, “Yes, thank you so much,” I say sincerely, taking his hand for a single awkward handshake.

I follow Dean to the door, an odd feeling settling itself in my gut as if something was about to happen. He opens the door and the feeling spikes, my heart jumping at the simple action. What the hell. I want to ignore it, push it to the back of mind and chalk it up to just random anxiety. But I can’t, genuine fear twists itself around within me, clawing at the walls of my stomach as if to warn me. Just as my foot breeches the hallway everything in me screams to turn around.

I listen to my body, turning around as I take a half step back, a large book only inches from my face. A small breathy squeak leaves my lips as I duck, a loud bang and tumble coming from beside me. This was a trap.

Using my bent knees as leverage as well as the attackers stumbling at missing me, I latch on to their forearms pushing up and out still holding on tightly as I lift my leg and kick. My foot connects with the soft expanse of the person's stomach, letting go of his arms at the same time. It was no doubt the professor as he was the only one in the room with us. I watch him stumble backwards, knocking into his desk roughly.

My brain works quickly, adrenaline rushing through my veins. The bang and tumble I heard must have been someone attacking Dea—I twisted my upper body to the right, catching the sheriff's wrist before the blunt of his gun could hit me too. I didn’t need to look to know he already got Dean. God this town was crooked.

I bring his arm down closer to my level, twisting it in an attempt to put it behind him, but he uses his free hand to left hook me, his fist connecting with my cheekbone. I let go of his arm at the action, my hand instinctively going to my cheek that stinged until something cold clinked onto my wrist. I knew it was handcuffs but my eyes went to my wrist anyways just as he clicked into place the other half of the cuff.

He looked smug, as if he had won. He must have been stupid. Not that it changed much but my hands were cuffed in front of me, magic aside it couldn’t have stopped me. I tilt my head slightly, giving him a ‘seriously?’ look before kicking him where the sun doesn't shine, immediately he doubles over holding onto his crotch with teary eyes. I guess you could add assaulting a police officer to my list of crimes, he may have been a sheriff but it probably still counted.

He would be down at least for a minute or more so I turned back to the professor who seemed to be stalking closer with the same book raised as if he was trying to kill a bug. The second my eyes landed on him he stopped moving, I foiled his plan. “Could you stop with the book?!” I exclaim. He seems to contemplate what I said, his eyes slipping from me to something behind me. He was not good at this fighting thing.

Thin but strong arms wrap around me, forcing my arms to my chest. I flailed around trying to shake the guy off, I didn’t want to use my magic yet. The less they knew the better. “Watch, she’s a kicker” the professor warns. “I know” the somewhat familiar voice of the sheriff huffed from behind me, his chest rumbling with each word. His chest was rising and falling fast, I wonder if he fully recovered from my crotch attack or if he was pushing through.

All at once I stop flailing, a smirk making its way on my face, and before anyone can do or say anything more I bite down hard on the sheriff's hand, my neck bending at a weird angle to reach him. He yells letting me go to hold his wounded limb.

I take a couple steps away from both of them, “I’m also a biter,” I muse. I look between both men, neither of them seeming to know what to do. They hadn’t expected this. “Which one of you wants to go next?” I point between either of them, the handcuffs rattling with my movement, “ ‘cause I can go all day, baby.”

They look at each other, worried in their eyes. The sheriff's throat bobbed with a hard auditable gulp. “Aw, don’t tell me you’re scared” I tease, smirking viciously, I was having too much fun with this.

The sheriff reaches slowly for his gun, the one he must have put back after I kicked him. I watch him do it, he’d pull it but wouldn’t shoot and ask me to stand down or come with him. He expects me to be afraid of the gun, at the prospect of being shot which is why he assumes it would work. He pulls it out, holding it firmly out in front of him aiming for my chest, “Get on your knees. Hands behind your head!” he yells. How predictable.

The smirk on my face only deepens, I lift an eyebrow at him, “If you wanted me on my knees so badly you could’ve just asked.” I was never usually so flirty or straightforward, but this was just so fun. I knew I was getting cocky. Maybe I was hanging around Dean too much. “Knees now!” He yells again. At this point he was just feeding me these easy openings. A laugh escapes my lips, I must look like a psychopath.

He readjusts the gun in his hand, his finger scooting back towards the trigger, but he couldn’t shoot, not when they wanted to use Dean and I as sacrifices. “Last chance!” He warns. Last chance indeed.

I catch my eyes flaring purple in his shiny revolver, a look of horror and confusion apparent on his face. A look I was used to, and as much as it normally would upset me I could use it now. The air fizzled around me, maybe I was getting better at this, in a blink of an eye I was right behind him. I kick the back of his knee, the man buckling under his own weight, his gun going off. The bullet hits the ceiling light right above where I stood only moments before.

Shards of glass fall, the light flickering for dominance before eventually going dark. I easily grasp the gun from his hand, turning the safety back on before sliding it across the floor out of the room. Without a plan to actually hurt the man, I used what he gave me, pressing the linked chains of the handcuffs to his neck as I brought the back of his head to my stomach.

He grunts against my hold his hands trying to pry the chain off as his eyes search the professors for help, but his partner backs away hands up in defense. I loosen up my hold, I wasn’t trying to severely hurt the guy or kill him for that matter. “‘Had enough?” I ask, mostly teasing.

Suddenly a soft plush material is pressed to my face, I move to fight or teleport away but my limbs suddenly feel too heavy and my eyes begin to droop. My body feels like it’s falling even as I stand in place, I think. My eyes begin to flutter close, my legs giving out on me. The world turns black.

My head feels fuzzy. My eyes are too heavy to open just yet. It smelt bad, a musty smell combined with a farm-like smell. The ground was comfortable.

I try to open my eyes but they flutter shut again. Someones calling my name, they’re too far away…need to come closer. My head was pounding.

Something suddenly brushes into my hair repeatedly. Even still half gone, fear spikes in me. My eyes shoot open, my upper body jolting up into a seated position. Familiar hands hold my shoulders as I sway, the room seeming to move back and forth, “It's okay, you’re okay” Dean says soothingly. I stare at him, his features becoming less and less blurry as I blink.

He cups my face gently, his fingers barely brushing against my skin. He seems to study me, most likely noting the bruise that is undoubtedly forming where I was hit. His thumb brushes over my wounded cheekbone gently, yet even so I wince sucking in a breath between my teeth. “Sorry” he mumbles, meeting my eyes. I hum, my tongue feeling too heavy to utter a word. “What happened to you?” he asks softly.

I swallow, trying to force my tongue to work enough to answer but my words still come out too quietly, “You went down first. I fought, but I think someone else came. They covered my mouth with a thingy, maybe they used, um, what is it called?” My thoughts felt all jumbled still, fog covering the expanse of my brain. My head was killing me too much to think straight. He practically scowls, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips turned down in a frown, “Chloroform” he answers. I smile weakly, “yeah that.”

I want to lay down. The room was still spinning, my head hurt. This was embarrassing, I had gotten all confident before– feeling invincible only to be drugged. I remove Dean's hands from my face, holding them instead as I place them on his lap. I looked around us, the room might be moving but it was obvious enough it was some sort of basement. No, a cellar. It was dark and empty, except for the straws of hay lying around. And just across from us was a small staircase up to what seemed like cellar doors. “It's locked,” Dean says, noticing my stare. Of course it is.

But if I could just right my mind, clear the fog, I could get us out easy peasy. Almost as if I willed it, the cellar doors creek open. The sunlight floods through, I try to block it with my hand, the sudden light worsening my headache if that was even possible. I need Advil. Dean lets go of my hand getting up quickly, just watching the quick movement makes me want to vomit. I blink slowly, following suit, with a lot of stumbling I make it to my feet even as it feels like the room is pulling me down.

Four jerks stand just outside the cellar, Harley and Stacy, Scotty, and the Sheriff. Harley moves close to the stairs as if he's about to descend them before getting abruptly stopped by the Sheriff, “I wouldn’t, she's feisty.” Dean laughs at that, my assault on the man very apparent by the various bruises he displayed. I would smirk or laugh too if it didn't feel like I was using all my energy to keep me standing. Harley knocks the Sheriff's hand off but makes no move to get closer, “She’s also still drugged” he bites. “Wrong,” I pointed a finger up, feeling more like a drunk as I spoke, “This would be the side effects or aftermath of Chloroform.” All four of them looked at me blankly, maybe I was wrong. I don't know.

“I hope you both know this is for the common good,” Stacy nods. I furrow my eyebrows, “Thanks for the preaching, lady. It really eases the brain into all this sacrificial nonsense.”

“That's enough” she replies rather calmly before nodding to the others. They begin to close the cellar doors, darkness enveloping us. I sat down rather quickly, landing on my butt harshly, “I'm surprised you didn't say anything snarky to them.”

“You were more entertaining” He answers with a half shrug. He tries the cellar door again but of course it's locked, he huffs moving to sit next to me.

I lean my head on his shoulder. He speaks softly now so as not to disturb my throbbing head, “Where do you think this important tree would be?” He was referring to the tree we would have to destroy in order to kill the scarecrow, and it was a good question. “Hm” I hum, “It would be the oldest tree here, probably the most protected. Maybe the first immigrants brought it over here, so it’s wherever they would plant it. I would say in the middle.” He nods and I swear I could hear the gears in his head turning.

The cellar doors open again, Stacy coming into view “It’s time.” I want to ask why they didn't just take us the first time they opened the doors but I guess waiting to die a little later was better than sooner. I remove my head from Dean's shoulder, do we fight? It would be 4 against 2 except I wasn't completely okay. But we could fight, right? I mean we always make it out, we always wind up fine.

Harley and the Sheriff come down the stairs, the Sheriff watches me carefully as he lifts Dean forcefully up. Harley doesn't show any remorse as he grips my forearm tightly, lifting me to my feet before grabbing my other arm roughly holding them behind my back. I struggle against him attempting to step hard on his foot as he forces me up the stairs behind Dean.

Real fear twirled itself around me, were we not going to fight?

They drag us forward deeper into the orchard, I dig my heels into the dirt trying to slow it down as much as I can. I’m scared. I don't want to die. I don't want to be sacrificed to some god. Please. Please. My headache needs to go away, let me use my powers without pain. I struggle against him more, trying to let my magic seep into anything around me but immediately my headache worsens by ten folds. I grunt in frustration, trying to shake the older man off further but he only tightens his grip. I hope bruises won't come from it, not that it would matter if I died today. I close my eyes tightly, digging my heels in further, please. Please. Anything, please.

Harley pushes me forward effortlessly. I don't want to die. Please. Please.

The ground begins to rumble, shaking violently. Apples tumble from the trees hitting the ground with a bunch of thumps. My heart beats wildly in my chest as if it's trying to jump out and run away. His grip loosens on me as he freezes in place, “It's angry at us!” Stacy yells covering her head. I wiggle out of Harleys hold, taking a couple steps away as my legs wobble like the ground. A familiar click locks into place, I come face to face with a gun, “It’s not causing this. It's her” the Sheriff accuses.

“Dont touch her” Dean yells, struggling against Scotty's hold. The Sheriff must have passed him on to hold me at gunpoint for the second time today. “I'm not doing anything” I spit, the shaking ground growing more intense.

“Your eyes are glowing again” he states. “What are you talking about?” I nearly yell, I think I would know if I was using my own abilities. Plus I've never done anything like this before so how would I be able to do so now?

Before I can react he has my hair wrapped in his fist, pulling my head back forcefully a hiss of pain escaping my lips. It felt like it was going to rip itself right from the roots. “Dont you fucking hurt her!” Dean roars. The ground seems to become more violent, the large trees themselves shaking where they stood while everyone nearly stumbles over. He pulls my hair hard, my neck snapping back as he moves his shiny gun in front of me, showing me its side.

My only slightly blurred reflection stares back at me. My cheekbone had a dark bruise painted there and my eyes were–

My irises were purple. No. It doesn't make sense, I wasn't controlling this. I wasn't making it happen, I've never done this before. The Sheriff pushes me forward letting go of my hair at the last minute, I fall to my knees only a foot away from him. The barrel of the gun is pressed into the back of my skull, “Make it stop or I'll make you stop” he threatens. I can hear Dean struggle against Scotty again, and in the corner of my eyes I see him finally pull away before turning around and punching the man right in the face. Scotty doubles over, but before Dean could do any more damage to anyone else Harvey grabs him.

“You can't kill her, we have to leave them both for it” Stacy argues. The ground seems to roar, the earth shaking so siverley I nearly fall to my hands. “I would stop if I could!” I admit, “I don't kno–” I cut myself off, a sudden deep memory making its way to the surface of my brain. A memory of a deceased corn field, a disaster I caused.

“Make it stop!” the sheriff spits. “I told you I don't know h–” Suddenly the gun is raised up and before I could do anything to stop it, the gun hits the side of my skull. My head feels like it explodes as I hit the ground, my eyes struggle to stay open. The last thing I see before it all goes dark again is Dean trying to lunge forward and the ground halting in its shaking.

My eyes flutter open, my horrible headache accompanied with an even worse head-ache. Both in my head and outside. At this point my brain should be a scrambled mess.

My wrists were zip tied to a thinner part of the tree trunk my back rested on. It was just beginning to be dark out. I move my gaze from above me to across me, Dean sitting against a different tree in the same position I was in. His eyes widen and he attempts to move closer before grunting in frustration at the restrictions of his wrists, “You're awake. Are you okay?” He licks his lips, “I swear to fuckin’ god I’ll kill ‘em.”

I don't say anything, my head is too heavy. He's staring at me with wide eyes, fear clear in his irises. “‘You okay?” he asks again. I nod, my head hurts and I’m confused and upset, but I’m alive so I’m okay. He shakes his head, “No.” I look at him confused, I don't understand. He continues to shake his head, wetting his lips again, “Say it. I need to hear you say it,” he sounded breathless, “I need to hear you say you're okay.”

“Im okay” I say weakly. He sighs, relief clear in the way his shoulders drop. But I had a feeling he knew I wasn't being totally truthful.

He swallows roughly, “Can you see the scarecrow?” Despite my heavy head I look in each direction for the thing, until I can slightly see the post. “Dean” I start and I can hear my own voice wobble with fear, “It's not there.” He fights against his restraints, and I would join him in that effort if my head hasn't already given up on me. “I hope their apple pie is frickin’ worth it” he grumbles.

A shadow catches just behind Dean, I squint hoping I'm just seeing things from potential brain damage then the actual scarecrow. “Dean, I think it's behind you.” Forget everything I said and thought, I begin fighting against my own restraints, the zip ties digging into my wrists harshly. “Dean?” a familiar voice called out.

Sam’s tall figure comes into view as he rounds the tree Dean is tied to. Dean twists his neck oddly to see his brother, “Oh!” he sighs in relief, “Oh, I take everything back I said. I'm so happy to see you. Come on.” Sam takes that as his chance to assess his brother's binding before pulling out his pocket knife, “‘You okay, Y/N?” he asks as he works on sawing the bindings. “Dandy” I respond, truly done with this all.

“How’d you get here?” Dean asks his brother.

“I, uh–I stole a car.”

Dean laughs at that, “That's my boy!” His bindings finally break with a snap. Sam doesn't wait for his brother to get up as he walks the short distance to me, beginning to remove my own restraints. His eyes gaze down at me every now and then, most likely assessing the damage.

Deans at my side a breath later, squatting down to be at my level. He brings his hand carefully to my face, gently moving a piece of my hair behind my ear. Something feels dried and stiff there and I wonder if it's blood from being hit or just dirt. I tilt and roll my head away from him, the pain overwhelming even with the delicate touch.

My restraints snap above me, bits of the plastic tangling itself into my hair. My wrists are raw and red, just one more thing to add to the list. I place my hands on the cold dirt, trying to pick myself up but my ears begin to ring and my vision spins. I sit back down again, huffing. Strong arms grab my arm and waist all but lifting me off the ground and onto my feet, “‘You got eyes on the scarecrow?” Dean asks, looking at his brother who shakes his head. “Alright, I can carry you, the clearing isn’t far off” Dean says looking down at me.

“That's ridiculous,” I shake my head, “I’ll slow you down. I’ll just push through, and we don't have time to argue this.” He grumbles, he doesn't like the idea. But again we don't know where the scarecrow is and we can't waste time bickering over stupid logistics.

I immediately regret not taking the offer. My brain feels like it's jumping around in my skull and swishing side to side as if on a boat. I feel like the orchard is spinning around me, tumbling over itself like one of those tunnels in a fun house.

“Alright, now, this sacred tree you’re talking about–” Sam pants lightly as we run, Dean having filled him in on the information we gathered. “It's the source of its power” I finish, my voice feeling far away even in my own ears. “So let’s find it and burn it.” Sam annonces.

“Nah, in the morning.” Dean counters, “Let’s just shag ass before Leather face catches up.”

We come to a skidding stop, just at a clearing of trees the four jerks from before as well as a couple others stand guard. Sam nudged us in a different direction just to be met with a wall of people, we were surrounded. “Did the whole fricking town come to watch us die?!” I exclaim, “Just let us leave!” I was so tired of this, I just want to go to a motel or something and shower off today's fears before falling into a deep sleep. “It’ll be over quickly” Harley says, and if it was meant to be comforting it was not working. “It's for the greater go–” suddenly a sickle is pushed through his stomach. His mouth opens in shock, blood dripping down the sides. Screams come from all around us, and I hardly know if I was screaming too.

He’s raised off the ground before the sickle is quickly pulled out. Stacy still stands there screaming, watching her dying husband on the floor. But soon her screams are cut off too, the sickle going through her throat. Her eyes are wide, her mouth hanging open too as blood not only spurts out of her neck but spills down like a waterfall onto her shirt. The air fills quickly with all the blood's metallic scent. The scarecrow does not retract its weapon, keeping the curved blade in her neck as it grabs onto Harley's collar dragging them both behind it.

Shock had frozen us in place, but apparently not the townspeople. “Come on let’s go,” Dean insists, leading us away.

Morning came by far too slowly but at least we passed the time by using the stolen car to drive back to the college to get the Impala before returning to the orchard. It all went by so weirdly, I knew I was moving but it felt like I never left that road outside the expanse of apple trees. I hardly remember the drive there or the drive back, everything still spun and the ringing only got louder. I think I might have lost my mind.

We stand in front of the sacred tree though I don't remember how we found it. The tree had Vince’s tattoo printed onto it, that was a tell tale sign it was the right one. Sam pours gasoline all over it, Dean picks up a long branch lighting it on fire before throwing it onto the tree. “‘Think the towns ‘gonna be okay?” Sam asks as the flaming tree roars with the crackling flames. “Don’t know” Dean shrugs, but I think the answer was apparent to all of us.

“And the rest of the townspeople, they’ll just get away with it?” Sam adds.

“Well, what’ll happen to the town will have to be punishment enough.” Dean answers.

We walk back to the car leaving the burning tree behind us, though I hope it won’t spread and cause a whole forest fire, “So, can I drop you off somewhere?” Dean asks.

“No, I think you’re stuck with me.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“I didn’t. I still wanna find Dad. And you’re still a pain in the ass.” Sam explains, “But, Jess and Mom—they’re both gone. Dad is God knows where. You, me, Y/N. We’re all that’s left. So, if we’re gonna see this through, we’re gonna do it together.”

I give Sam's arm a little squeeze, it was a really sweet speech.

“Hold me, Sam. That was beautiful.” Dean smiles, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder who hits it away. They fall into a fit of laughter, “You should be kissing my ass, you were dead meat, dude.” Sam says between laughs.

“Yeah, right. I had a plan, I’d have gotten us out.” Dean scuffs.

“Right.”

[multifan2022]

*kinda scared to post this.. Defiantly not my normal territory. Love the damn show though, dont care. Hope its decent. Picturing Cassius as Jacob Elordi. Maybe part 2? if it goes over well, if so ideas? idk if i can even write anymore for real 😶 this took me so fricken long.*

Masterlist

Tiktok that inspired this 1st tiktok and 2nd tiktok

Sighing you looked up at.. What did that say? “Hazbin Hotel”.. “Oookay.” You said drawn out sarcastically as you looked down and closed your eyes. You knew you had to go in, you owed this to your Dark Lady. You swore to her that you would look after her daughter, she had given you everything you ever wanted. Knocking you brace yourself with a smile for your niece Charlie who you could already hear squealing. 

You do smile though that she throws herself at you and hugs you while bouncing on her toes. Vaggie smiles softly while telling her girlfriend that she should bring you inside. Soon your sitting in front of Husk who's making you a drink, Charlie, Vaggie, Alastor and finally Angel and Sir Pentious. The last two had seemed in almost aw when you had finally stepped inside fully and reached up to drop your hood and remove your cloak. Honestly you were use to it, even if it was always flattering. 

As a devout follower of The Dark Lady, Lilith, in your human life you were granted a doll like version of the look you always wanted in life. BUT your time was highly coveted, you had many things to do, even more so in her ladys absence. The seat at her table was something you worked hard for, and something you would never be giving up. You would be here when she returned. “This whole idea is beautiful sweetie. You know if you ever need something, Ill do everything I can to help.” From beside you, you swear you feel Pentious’ tongue touch you when he speaks. He's so close. “I bet your powerful!” 

You smile while looking down, it was a play at shyness but Alastor and Husk could see right through it. “How did such a beaut end up here anyways!” Angel said, laughing and throwing himself on the couch. “Here as in??” You circled your finger in the air “Hell.. or the Hotel?” Ending with pointing at the floor. Hearing a static “Both” you looked at the Radio Demon, under different circumstances you would be creeped out by his never falling smile. But for some reason you werent, you hadnt been scared of anyone in a long time so it wasnt that. But moving on you took a deep breath and said nonchalantly “I'm a follower of Lady Lilith, so of course I ended up here.” 

Husk half chuckled, half scoffed and your head snapped with unnatural speed to him. Chills shot down his neck as the smile on your lips and the look in your eye. He could almost feel you skinning him, when you crossed one leg over your knee and leaned onto the counter and smiled at him he wanted to run. “Ok pussycat.. You wanna know why I'm here.. Let me show you.” Waving your hand a deep deep red smoke encompassing the room as everyone felt the floor fall from under them next thing they knew, they were all standing somewhere none of them knew. Ancient Greece. “Never speak to me again, Cassius!” They heard before turning and falling into your memory. 

Storming down the hall you had never felt such pain, such anger and betrayal. You felt broken. Your favorite colored shorter toga dress whipped around your thighs as you ran. You didn't even know where you were too, running until your toes hit the water. Then your knees as you start screaming until your throat is raw before sobbing. “Why??”  You cried softly trying to understand how one person could feel so much pain and still be alive. You were thinking that you wish you could just die. That there would never be someone who would understand this pain before feeling warmth wrap around you. Opening your eyes to the most beautiful woman standing before you. Well, she kinda stood before you, she was fuzzy, almost ghost-like. “Don't cry daughter of Lilith, let us take care of this.” As she spoke she tilted her head, the smile on her face taking over a savage edge. As she faded your anger grew, any other feeling gone, any thought besides revenge then death gone. 

Behind you, you heard your name being shouted. By him.. By the man who had betrayed you. The man you had been seeing, giving yourself too. Who you were supposed to marry tomorrow. You had found him out for a stroll with his son.. His son and his wife.. A son and a wife you clearly didn't know about. His face had dropped when his eyes connected with yours, both of your worlds freezing. Because the problem was, he truly did love you. He didn't come from a very wealthy family, so this marriage, he couldn't mess it up. His father would kill him, and probably you. He didnt know what he was going to do or tell you tomorrow. But now he didnt need too, but he had broken your heart in the worst way. He just wanted a moment to try to explain. 

Unfortunately for him, the moment your heart broke, someone powerful stepped in. She had been waiting for you, Lilith. She could feel the impending heart break from hell and knew she had to step in. She didnt feel connected to living women often so when she did, she paid attention. She had grasped and pulled forward the woman she wanted you to be. Allowed you to embrace your rage and take an inhuman amount of power, one you knew without words would kill you. You felt a weird calm, an almost buzzing hot but calm numbness spread across your skin as you stood. Your voice was low, but somehow Cassius heard it. “Get in the water.” 

You heard him stop , could somehow feel him just at the edge as the waves barley lapped the tips of his sandals. “Get in the water”  you repeated your voice deeper than he had ever heard, raspy from crying but carried something.. Something that gave him goosebumps. All the hairs on his hairs and neck standing on end, his guts screaming at him to run. He watched the fingers on your left  run slowly through the water, the setting sun sparklingly off your now useless engagement ring. He audibly gulped as you slowly turned to him, black veins around your eyes and spreading from your finger tips and throat. “Or Ill raise the tide so high..” You looked down at his feet as a slightly larger wave splashed his toes “All of Delos will die..” Looking him in the eyes he jumped, there was a slight glow to your eyes, almost gold mixed with red. He was terrified. 

“Get in the water.” 

Taking a panicked breath he feels water.. Hitting.. His calves? Looking down his panic increases “Wait..” His mind is speeding down any and every possible avenue but its coming up with nothing but fear. Fear so encompassing as he hears you tell him again, and he swears he sees you take a step forward. “Stop” he says in a desperate shout, the waves now up to his knees.  “Stop this.. Please.” he begs as you tilt your head and take another slow step toward him. He sounds so pathetic you think as you ball your hands into fists, his wife stumbling onto the sand as well, pulling their son behind her. She calls out to him, but Cassius cant look away from the woman in front of him. 

Are the veins glowing now? Is your hair? Is it moving, whipping back and forth wildly? You could feel the anger rising, it was an all encompassing avalanche of emotions. Seeing her made all that pain real again, pulled it past the surface, shoved you over your breaking point. A tiny, very small part of you felt bad for the child as you refocused on his father. Turning to look back at him, you have a small evil smirk on your face. Unclenching your hands and raising them slowly to inspect your palms you spoke again. “Ill make tidal waves so profound..” Cocking your head to the other side your eyes flick to the woman who screams Cassius again. The smirk spreads into a full grin “Both your wife and your son will drown.”  

“NO!” He screams anguish, panic, fear its all right there. Suddenly your in his face. The wind harshly blowing around both of you now, your hair flying this way and that in soft caresses across your cheeks and forehead. Your breathing the same air, his anguished puff of air as he tries to find the words, the feelings, the anything to give you to calm you down. To fix this. But he jumps when you next speak, the volume and the venom in your voice scare any half thoughts he had away. “GET IN THE WATER!” Now the waves, they arent small calm waves crashing gently on his legs. 

They are slamming into them, the water up to his hips,  now reaching his wife and sons feet as others gather and panic starts to ensue. People are screaming behind him, but no one will come any closer. The fear and uncertainty was pabable. The smile on your face kept growing, the glow in your eyes now bright and eerie. “GET IN THE WATER!!” You screamed again, taking a step back and turning before spinning back and grabbing his neck with both hands. You were tall for a woman, but Cassius was taller. It was one of things you always loved about him. In your rage  you pulled him to you by his throat. He has no idea how your so steady on your feet. He is rocking back and forth, his sandals being sucked into the sand by retreating water.

Squeezing as you started to pull him with you, stepping backwards. Keeping eye contact, it was controlling, you didnt know how you were doing it. But as you kept talking it was like you were compelling him. Letting go as you spun the two of you around and point out towards the open sea. You were so close your noses were touching, he could feel your lips brush against his as you whispered. “ Dont mistake my threats for bluff. You have lived more than enough..” Cassius knew he was dead, he could feel his body moving against his will. Somehow your whisper shook him to the bone, deeper than anything else had. 

He looked toward his son one last time, mouthed ‘i love you’ as his feet drug him deeper. Without ever looking at his wife, he turned his gaze back to you. He looked at you with such despair, but also understanding. He KNEW he hurt you, he KNEW that you were an outsider. You had come here from one of the tribes on the main land. He knew your gods and his were different. It had never bothered him, but now hes thinking he shouldve listened harder. Shouldve known better. Shouldve loved you correctly.  

Tears streaming down your cheeks, you could feel yourself dying. Whatever that woman had given you was fading. You were running out of time. You wanted to see him die. When he smiled sadly at you and mouthed that he loved you to a violent heat pulsed over you. You felt like you were on fire as you stormed in anger towards him, grabbing his throat again and shoving him down. “GET IN THE WATER!” You scream one last time, before following him with the pull of the waves into the ocean. 

The last thing you remember besides happiness and warmth, was seeing him sinking deeper into the darkness. 

Snapping your fingers you released everyone from your hold. Sir Pentious started to gag, his little egg buddies having passed out or thrown up. Everyone looks shocked, even Alastor is momentarily without his sinister grin. Not even a full breath later, Angel and Husk are badgering you with questions. How did you get the power? Where you a follower in life or was this chance? Is your ex here in hell? That doesnt tell us how powerful you are down here! Charlie at some point rewrapped herself around you and is crying for your broken heart. Your patting her head and smiling while answering all of the questions and showing off little tricks. 

Never noticing the tall dark demon behind you, still slightly stunned.. In what he thinks is.. Awe?

“Hm.. This wont due.”

[avatar-anna]

So FRICKEN annoyed at whoever threw that skittle at Harry and hit him in the eye!! 🤬 I wanna know how FRICKEN annoyed the professor is!! 😭😭 can we get a blurb of her looking after him? 🥺💕

I would say professor doesn't know anything until Harry comes backstage squinting. She normally waits in his dressing room during shows because the noise from the crowd is really overwhelming for her. But when she finds out what happened...

“Stop touching your eye!”

“I can’t help it!”

Y/n glared at Harry as she washed her hands in the little sink in the corner of the dressing room. “I still think you should see a doctor.”

Harry wanted to joke that he was seeing a doctor, but he knew better than to make a joke like that right now. Y/n tended to get worked up about injuries of any kind. He was fine, had told her as much when he came back to the dressing room, but she was already sitting him down on the couch to take a look.

“You don't know where that thing came from, or what it touched before making contact with your eye,” she muttered, walking over to him and pulling the sensitive skin below his eye down gently.

“I’m pretty sure it went from the Skittle package to the girl’s hand to my face, love.”

“It could’ve been sharp. It could’ve scratched your cornea,” she continued as if she hadn't even heard Harry.

“But it wasn’t, and it didn’t. I’m perfectly fine, Y/n,” Harry said softly, but also a little sternly. She could get so worked up by hypotheticals sometimes, and Harry often had to bring her back down to earth.

“You could’ve—”

“Y/n, my love. Stop, I’m fine. I promise. My eye’s just a little red.”

She wanted to say more, he could see it on her face. But she didn’t, the tense set of her shoulders finally relaxing. Resting her head against his chest, she mumbled, “Sorry.”

Harry smiled and kissed the top of her head. “Thank you for worrying about me.”

“You’re welcome. Though I have to admit that it was partially self-indulgent. I don't know if I could date someone with an eye patch.”

The professor’s sense of humor was very dry, almost impossible to detect. But Harry had known her long enough to be able to tell when she was joking and when she wasn't.

“My girlfriend is vain now, I see,” Harry said, gasping playfully. “Just know that I would still love you if you were missing an eye.”

“I didn’t say I'd stop loving you—”

“No, no. I've been wounded. Cut deep. Irreparable damage,” he said, purposely avoiding looking her in the eye.

When he finally did look her way, Y/n was pouting at him, a very rare sight to behold.

“Who am I kidding, I can't stay mad at you,” he said, surging forward to kiss her.

Y/n reciprocated happily, her arms snaking around his neck to hold him close. They kissed for a while, talk of scratched corneas and eye infections long forgotten. It seemed Y/n had calmed down enough to realize that he really was fine.

“You’re wearing glasses tomorrow,” she mumbled against him, kissing him again before he could protest.

[sp0o0kylights]

The Occult Summoner Starter Kit was a failed competitive toy to Hasbro's Ouija Board (a game that was doing numbers in 1986 for reasons the government would later pretend they noticed a lot sooner than they actually did.) 

Unfortunately for the toy company, The Occult Summoner Starter Kit (complete with two real, black candles!) was a total flop.

In fact it barely sold at all, stubbornly hanging on to sale racks to the point where you could offer a store owner a dollar and they'd be delighted just to have the shelf space. 

No one really bought them, outside of confused grandmothers and a handful of children who used the candles for arson.

Eddie Munson bought seven.

Initially it had just been three kits, because it was cheap and making a proper set up for D&D boss battle was an art form. 

The rest was something of a joke. Some asshole a year above him decided Eddie ran a cult and made sure the entire school knew, earning Eddie endless amounts of stupid, mocking questions.

In return, he had found it absolutely hilarious to offer Occult Summoner Starter Kits to anyone being a jackass.

You gotta make your own fun, sometimes. 

At least it came in handy now that they were attempting to summon some actual occult bullshit. Eddie had no idea if the sets were going to work, but it was better than the two cans and a fricken string Henderson and Sinclair had presented him with. 

"You use those as a telephone, not to talk to the dead." He'd chastised, which lead to Sinclair sputtering and Henderson going on a rant that included words like "psychic-soundwaves" and "electromagnetic fields."" 

IE way above Eddie's own head, even if he was loath to admit it. 

At least Harrington hadn't bothered to pretend he knew what the kid was on about, looking at Dustin with exasperation so fond it gave Eddie the worst urge to bite something.

Preferably Harrington. 

Which, in retrospect, should have been the first sign something had gone horribly wrong because Eddie's bite reflex only came out this strong for cute shit. 

"Explain to me again what exactly we are trying to contact?" 

"Not a what, who." Henderson corrected, setting up the kits he'd snatched from Eddie's arms. 

Eddie rolled his eyes. "Okay fine. Who exactly are you trying to connect to? And why the hell did we have to do it specifically in King Steve's backyard?"

Shock of shockers that his majesty even let Eddie in the house, let alone Eddie armed with a literal stack of a game that would have sent most of his neighbors fleeing in terror. 

"Would you stop interrupting?" Dustin snapped, looking up from his work with an annoyed frown. "You're just as bad as Steve! Go talk to him so I can concentrate." 

The tone alone would have made Eddie gape, but the sheer audacity of it all threw him so hard he just stood there wide eyed. 

Unsure if it had actually happened, or if he had just hallucinated. 

Hell, maybe this whole thing was one giant weed induced coma dream, and he'd wake up all snug in the trailer. Warm, childless, and not anywhere near Steve Harrington's stupid, perfectly shaped ass. 

(The very same ass that was currently wearing shorts that hugged them so tightly it made Eddie want to scream and pull at his hair. 

Shorts shouldn't fit like that, dammit!) 

"I keep telling him he needs to work on his tone." Harrington said, startling Eddie out of his thoughts and making him blush scarlet. 

A fact he quirky hid by running his hands over his face. 

"No kidding." Eddie muttered. Louder, he asked; "Why is this even happening?"

Steve blinked. 

"Huh?" 

"This kinda thing isn't exactly your scene, man. In fact, I recall several remarks about how you wouldn't be caught dead playing with," Eddie removed his hands so he could make air quotes, "--fake nerd bullshit."

Steve flinched, looking away while rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. 

"I used to be an asshole, yeah." He said. 

Eddie made a loud, ugly noise. 

"Used to?" He challenged, crossing his arms. 

"Still am sometimes." Steve admitted, a soft, apologetic look on his face. "The kids made me wanna change, though, and after I did I realized that I never really liked who I was." 

He smiled absently at the trio crouched down on the pool deck as he talked, voice startling honest. 

Not that Eddie was about to let it slide. He didn't have any proof that Harrington had changed. 

Not really. 

The fact he'd noticed Steve had stopped hanging out with his douchebag friends his last year, or that Eddie had walked face-first into a pillar upon seeing him working at Scoops before the mall burnt down didn't count. 

Not that Eddie kept an eye out for the guy or anything. 

"Still." He snipped, shaking the thoughts away with a toss of his head. "I wouldn't have guessed you'd let them try to summon a dead guy in your backyard." 

The very idea of it was the kind of absurd that even Eddie couldn't believe. 

Except the look Steve was giving him now wasn't embarrassed or even annoyed.

It was puzzled. 

Surprised, even.

"Oh they didn't tell you?" Steve said, raising an eyebrow. "They're not trying to summon a dead guy."

A pit of dread bloomed in Eddie's stomach, an internal warning that things were about to go sideways, fast. 

"What are they trying to do then?" Eddie asked, the words crawling out of his mouth without his permission.

"They're trying to call El--Mike's girlfriend, in California." Steve said, which was interesting because it confirmed that Mike wasn't lying when he insisted his little girlfriend was a) real and b) did in fact like being called Eleven instead of Jane sometimes. 

"Apparently they rang up a nasty phone bill trying to include her on a party line call last week." Steve waved a hand. " So Occult Summoner kit it is." 

"They woke me up, at eight in the morning, on a Saturday," Eddie began, horrified, "so the three of them could call Mike's long distance girlfriend?" 

"Mmhmm." 

"I'm going to kill them." Eddie said faintly. He swayed backwards dramatically, though part of him really did go lightheaded with the knowledge that the freshmen had walked all over him for once instead of their self-proclaimed babysitter. 

Alarmingly, Harrington reached out, as if he was going to catch Eddie like the fucking Disney prince the entire town thought he was. 

Eddie ended the dramatics immediately, before he made a fool of himself by actually falling (or worse, said something stupid the second Steve's arms came around him, the very thought of which made him want to throw up and die.) 

Satisfied Eddie wasn't going to go down like a Victorian maiden, Harrington slowly lowered his arms back to his  sides

"Want a beer?"  He offered, as Eddie silently choked on his own anger. 

"God yes." 

                                                           xXx

Conceptually, Eddie understood how ended up hungover in Steve's bedroom. 

The kids had taken so long that they'd run through an entire case of beers, which hadn't seemed to phase Harrington one bit, but had, rather unfairly, put Eddie right on his ass.

Since he was unable to drive the kids home, Steve had ended up dropping them off instead, and then picked up pizza on the way back for Eddie to sober up over like the good civilian he was. 

In return, Eddie had offered some of his weed as both an apology and a thank you--and then made the mistake of taking up Steve's offer of smoking it with him. 

"Had a bad trip a while back." The younger man had said, almost shyly. "I don't really get high much anymore, and never by myself.” 

How could Eddie say no to that?

Which of course meant he'd then smoked and ate and ended up getting into Harrington's father's expensive scotch--

("You cannot sit here and tell me there's not a difference between five dollar and one hundred dollar scotch Steve. I don't believe it."

"Dude give me two minutes and I will prove to you they taste exactly the same.") 

--which meant no driving home. 

The bedroom had come into play when Eddie found himself in a discussion on rich people's horrible taste in décor. 

Sure, using Steve's own house as an example wasn't the brightest of ideas, except Steve had simply raised an eyebrow and told him that the bare ass, gray living room they sat in was nothing. 

Led him up to his room, upon which Eddie had become so dizzy staring at all the plaid that he’d laid down dramatically on Steve’s bed and loudly declared he’d died from horrible décor. 

Considering the plaid everything in Steve's own room was currently making Eddie's hangover worse, he thought he'd rather proved his point.

What Eddie didn’t understand is why Steve hadn’t kicked him out of the house already. It wasn’t like they were friends. Hell, he and Steve had barely spoken before today, and even then they’d only had a few stilted conversations that had been the result of Henderson trying to force them to become buddies. 

Okay, Steve ended up being fun to hang out with. Yes he had in fact, changed from the King persona he wore so easily in high school. No Eddie and he had never had any kind of direct confrontation with each other, but it was a damn small town. 

You couldn’t walk three feet without repeatedly running into other people’s business. 

It was still weird. 

The sun beaming into the room declared it was at least past 9 am, and the smell of coffee and breakfast foods wafting up the stairs hinted that Steve had been up before him for at least thirty minutes, minimum. 

Footsteps interrupted his thoughts, and Eddie looked up to watch as Steve, fully dressed, came trotting through the door, a glass of water in hand. 

"Morning.” Steve said with a grin. “You doin’ ok man? Remember everything you did last night?"

"This isn't my first hangover, Harrington."  Eddie scoffed, scooting to the edge of the bed. He gratefully accepted the glass of water Steve gave him, chugging it empty before carefully setting it aside on the nightstand. “A few beers and some weed isn’t enough to give me amnesia.” 

Which of course, wasn’t true at all--his memories were a blurry mess after he landed in Steve’s bed, but he knew they’d had at least one more discussion before dropping off because he definitely recalled Steve laughing about Eddie insisting he sleep on the right side of the bed. 

Not that he was going to admit that to King Steve, whose clearly high level of tolerance probably stemmed from stupid jock genes.

(Or a family history of alcoholism, but Eddie had found out the hard way one tended to get punched for stating that little fact.)

"Good." Steve said with a smirk. 

Then he walked over to the bed, placed a hand on either side of Eddie's hips, bent and kissed him.

It was a good kiss--a great kiss even!-- except Eddie’s entire brain ground to an abrupt halt, bodily functions and ability to kiss back freezing right with it. 

"Whaaa-".Eddie said intelligently once Steve departed, the only thought that came through the cloud of singing angels and buzzing static of confusion. 

Considered, maybe, that the room had actually killed him because Steve? And Eddie?

Kissing!?

Harrington moved back, "There. Proof.” He teased, looking up through his eyelashes with a downright sinful grin and oh god, could a man die twice? 

Eddie was certain he was about to find out if Steve kept looking at him like that. 

When Eddie didn’t answer (couldn’t!) Steve added coyly, “I thought you said you remembered everything?"

Except of course, his own lack of reaction had to ruin it because he saw the moment Steve realized Eddie was frozen in place. 

“You lied.” He decided, and the sweet, adorably smug look dropped off his face so fast that Eddie whined aloud. 

Steve removed his hands from the bed, pushing to stand up and put some room between them. He ran his hands through his hair and oh, oh shit, he was starting to panic. 

‘Say something. Say something right the fuck now you idiot-!’ 

“What am I not remembering?” Eddie asked, forcing the words out and not caring that they weren’t clear. He could make them clear in a moment if he had too, he just needed to know what the fuck just happened. “Because I know for a fact we didn’t kiss last night, there is no way in hell I would ever forget that.” 

Steve’s distressed look depend and okay, maybe he should have considered the words and tone better but you had to forgive a guy when his very straight crush decided to up and kiss him out of nowhere. 

Giving up any desire to look cool or casual about this in anyway (because he couldn’t, there was no way he was going to keep his composure through this and he might as well admit that to himself now, before he went and fucked up further) he reached out and made grabby hands at Steve.

“Come over while you explain it please, I need to touch you to make sure you’re real.” 

He got a squinted look in return, as if Steve was assessing to see if he was joking or not. 

Eddie just made the grabby gesture again, arms still outstretched. 

“Last night. We uh--talked. About um, gay stuff.”

Thankfully Steve did come closer as he spoke, though the movement was cautious. 

Eddie couldn’t blame him--this shit got you hate crimed after all--but made sure to grab at Steve anyway, obnoxiously patting him like he might disappear. 

Steve smiled slightly, before taking a breath and speaking. “I asked how you knew you were gay. You explained it to me, and I explained back that I thought I was bisexual.” 

Wow, there is a word Eddie had never thought he’d hear out of Harrington’s mouth. 

Fuck maybe Buckley was rubbing off on him!

“You told me that it sounded like I was but that sometimes you just didn’t know until you kissed someone. I asked if--if I could…” Steve blushed crimson, the red crawling across his cheeks and down his neck and holy shit, Harrington had come out to him.

Which of course just made him furious that he didn’t remember it, but hell, at least he was getting a repeat! 

“Ah, kiss you. To. Figure it out.” Steve plowed on bravely.  Eddie’s hands found their way to his wrists and squeezed them lightly, encouraging. 

“You said you didn’t take advantage of impaired men, even if they were pretty.”

And yeah, that did indeed sound like something he would say. 

“I told you it wasn’t like that but you insisted and said if I still wanted to know, I could kiss you in the morning.” Steve finished. He kept looking at Eddie and then away, like he was hopeful despite his embarrassment. 

Eddie took a chance, sliding his fingers down to the palms of Steve’s hands. Tapped and wiggled until he got what he wanted, which was to lace their fingers together. 

“So did you figure it out?” Eddie asked, and sue him if his voice sounded a bit breathy. This was the kind of shit porn and women's erotica was made out of. 

“Figure out…”

“If you like men.”

“Oh.” Steve paused. Then; “I’m not sure honestly, I kinda panicked when I realized you weren’t reacting.” 

Eddie grinned up at him, the look almost feral. “Want to kiss me again to find out?” 

A relieved sigh blasted out of Steve as Eddie tugged him down, a stupid grin breaking across his face. 

“Yeah.” He agreed. 

Then he once again boxed Eddie in, keeping Eddie’s hands in his as he ducked down and pressed their lips together. 

This time Eddie pressed back hungrily, deepening the kiss and letting the electricity of the moment cascade over him. 

Steve, as it would turn out, ended up needing to kiss Eddie several more times, in order to find out if he in fact liked men, or “if I just like you, Munson.”

Eddie, who had never in his life been happier to be a guinea pig, told him to take his time. 

(“Oh shit the pancakes!” Steve said suddenly, ripping his mouth away from where it had been licking a line down Eddie’s neck. 

“Not hungry.” Eddie responded, hands tangled up under Steve’s shirt, one leg hooked around Steve’s.��

“No I had the stove on, shit--” Steve yelped, trying to get up. Found himself laughing even in his panic as Eddie clung onto him stubbornly, like an octopus. “You can kiss me downstairs Munson, I have to make sure the house doesn’t catch fire!” 

“Fine.” Eddie pouted, releasing Steve and standing up after him. “But I want at least one more makeout session before we have any kind of serious conversation about this whole thing!” 

The grin Steve shot him made his knees weak. “Deal.” He agreed, before taking Eddie’s hand and rushing them both down the stairs.) 

[unforth]

In 1999, when I was a senior in high school, my buddy G (now my oldest friend, we've known each other almost 30 years) was trying to get me into J-Pop, having recently succeeded in dragging me into watching anime. To do this, he sent me a song he thought I'd like that he had an mp3 of, a Masami Okui song titled Rinbu Revolution.

I really really really loved this song.

So I went to try to find more things like it, turning to the early internet search engines of the time.

I searched for "Masami Okui." There were zero results. Okay, I figured, there must be a typo in the singer's name. I'll try the song title.

I searched for "Rinbu Revolution." There were still zero results.

Clearly, the song existed. I could fricken listen to it! But whoever labeled the mp3 did *such a bad job* that both the singer AND the song title were wrong. Which meant I had no idea what song it was. I couldn't find it if I lost the file, couldn't listen to it elsewhere, could only access it with one horribly misidentified mp3.

I've taken that mp3, and a number of other irreplaceable J-Pop mp3s from c. 2000, from computer to computer with me ever since. I couldn't risk losing them. If my copy of Kiroro doing an off-track version of Nagori Yuki is lost I will literally never be able to hear it again in my life, and so I carefully cherish them.

But sometimes life surprises you.

A few days ago, a friend on Mastodon posted a video to the opening of Utena (which I never got around to watching more than a couple episodes of), and the title of the video was "Rondo - Revolution."

And without even opening it, having not heard a note, I knew: that was my unknown song. It HAD to be. So of course I looked it up, and yes. Masami Okui was the lyricist - information far to obscure to search up with the amount of internet their was in 1999. The song title was just. Wrong. But I'd found my song, after 25 years of not looking because I just assumed it was impossible.

Anyway, Rondo - Revolution, sung by Mikuni Shimokawa, just played on my Pandora. For the first time in well over a decade, since I last regularly used an iPod to listen to my mp3s, I heard this song that I thought I'd never hear again except in my own computer files.

And idk. I'm not going anywhere with this really. I'm just feeling Some Kinda Way about finding lost things we aren't even looking for, and sometimes the internet isn't the worst actually, and I'm so glad I have weird quirky friends who like the same 30 year old weird quirky stuff that I do.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Inkubus x AFAB!Reader x Norman Nordstrom || Headcanons [Part 1?]

Topic: Imagine living next door to Norman, who's slowly falling in obsession love with you (Sweet, young, fertile, trusting you), when suddenly you're dating cocky, suspicious, asshole- 'Klaus'.

Basically you're naïve and too trusting and so you're being targeted by a creepy old man with a breeding kink and also now a spooky old sex demon. And they're both territorial. Goodluck-

Warnings: Mentions of obsession, breeding kink, boners, reacting badly to the friendzone- and that's all just Norman 😅XD Inkubus' warnings include being two-faced as hell between you and Norman, and a little bit of non consensual exhibitionism... General smutty themes, possessiveness and age difference for both throughout.

🥀 Norman started to notice you as soon as you moved in next door. You came over with M&M cookies and introduced yourself as Y/N, and didn't once act weird about his blindness. You were effortlessly kind, and the sound of your cheerful voice was honestly enough to make him a little hard. It always would.

🥀 He wishes now that when he invited you in for tea that first day, and his front door closed behind your all-too-willing back, that he had locked it. That he hadn't let you leave. That he had made a move.

🥀 ... alas, he didn't. And for a while that was okay, because he would get up early in the morning to sit on the front porch with Shadow so you would see him and come over on your way out to work- just to say hey, and ask him how he's doing, and pet Shadow. You would also see him on your way home again, because he learnt your schedule.

🥀This turned into having dinners together almost every day of the week because he said he was cooking and invited you to come in and eat with a lonely old man. Pretty soon you were eating at his place two- three- sometimes four nights a week.

🥀 Then he started to say that if you wanted- you could stay over on the couch after dinner. He would act all grumpy and like he doesn't really care, but you thought he was just the sweetest, grouchiest old man so, you did. Which turned into breakfasts together, too.

🥀 And he was so damn pleased. You were playing directly into his hands.

🥀 He was living his best life, actually 😅 He had you in his home with him, chatting to him in that ever-cheery way and touching him and eating with him- it was like having his wife around again. Norman's life was bright again ^^

🥀 Sure- he knew that as far as you were concerned, this was only friendship. The touches you shared were purely friendly and honestly a little bit delicate on your end (Like you're afraid to break him, like he's an old man. A fragile old man. Like that's how you saw him- which was admittedly less then ideal), and he never dared to go too far with you- but what he had with you was enough. For now, he thought. Eventually yes, he would want to have a baby with you (He had decided), but that could wait.

🥀 Norman did not see anything happening to jeopardise that. He had plans for the two of you and those were going to come true- they had to. He was sure of it. He needed this.

🥀 He needed you.

🥀 ... But then the absolute worst thing happened. The thing that made Norman's inner soundtrack warp from Justin Timberlake's 'Cant Stop The Feeling!' to the first bars in 'Highway to Hell' real fricken quick. And what was that thing? The worst thing that could possibly happen to Norman? The thing you did- that you brought home one night without even telling him- that wrecked his world???

🥀 A dark, mysterious, handsome stranger called 'Klaus'. Yeah... Klaus. Look you know who we're talking about here, okay? But he's going by Klaus right now so just go with it.

🥀 You were dating. Y/N, Norman's Y/N- his sweetheart, his future spouse, his light- was dating.

🥀 And it wasn't like you were dating a kid your own age (20's) who you had no chemistry with apart from liking the same music and 'Tik Tok's. No no no.

🥀 That would be one thing. That he could forgive. Soon enough the mess would be behind the two of you and you would realise how much better Norman is then some immature boy. You would laugh about it.

🥀 ... But no. You were dating an older man (That part really kicked Norman in the gut. He was worried all this time that you weren't being with him because he was so much older, and that he would have to acclimatise you- but that wasn't the case at all! Clearly, you liked older men. Just not him- ) who made you laugh on your front doorstep and who had you in a better mood all the damn time now- Even when he wasn't around. You would be sitting with Norman at his dinner table and you would just think of this, this 'Klaus', and you would go quiet, and sometimes giggle. And Norman was sure that if he touched you (Like he so wanted to!!)- your cheeks would be red hot, too.

🥀 Norman was so frustrated, and if you were a more suspicious person then you would have noticed how quiet and gruff he would get when you mentioned Klaus. But you weren't, you just thought your friend Norman was going through something. Or he was uncomfortable talking about your romantic life- which was just fine ^^

🥀And that wasn't the only thing you weren't noticing, either.

🥀Klaus had enough red flags to equip an army. He was more subtle about it then Norman could ever be, sure, but that wasn't saying much.

🥀 Klaus looked at you like a meal, so much so that waiters worried about you going home with him. Every second sentence out of his mouth was a double innuendo that you didn't quite get but brushed off as an odd sense of humour. He always seemed to have a smooth excuse for acting oddly. And somehow he knew your name before you ever said it???? This is not all but its enough for any normal person to say nope and get out- but not you. Unfortunately, no, not you.

🥀 ... Norman definitely noticed, though. He and Klaus met pretty early on in your new relationship, as Norman would hang out with his gun on the front porch for you to come home late at night after a date. He was always itching to shoot Klaus. Klaus new damn well, too, and loved it.

🥀 You introduced your lovely, grouchy best friend and Klaus all-sweetly, having them shake hands like gentlemen as you kneeled down to pet Shadow.

🥀 While you were looking away they entered the GORIEST of eye-contact battles. Norman was saying through his eyes that he doesn't trust the other man for one damn second and he better back off you, as he subtly tapped the shotgun resting in his lap. Any norman man would've feared Norman, would've left you in the dust- but unfortunately, for Norman, he wasnt even dealing with a man.

🥀Klaus' laughing eyes pretty much just thought back... this should be fun.

🥀 He wasn't about to let an old blind soldier threaten him- but he also wasn't going to take it too seriously. Why would he? Clearly, your friend was in love with you... or at least wanted to fuck you. He could use that. Of course, you were his target. You were what mattered... Any enjoyment Klaus would get out of rubbing it into the Norman's tired old face that you were with him (inviting him to your bedroom at night, batting your pretty eyelashes at him, laughing at his jokes) instead- would just have to simply be a glorious bonus.

🥀 And ohhhhhhhhh did he rub it in. He really did. Klaus took every oppertunity that he got to show off, using Norman's evidently advanced hearing against him in the worst way.

🥀 ... so yes. 'Klaus'... being a literal demon... took to leaving the windows open when you would sleep together. And he would try to do it on the lower level of your house, just to make it that little bit easier for the old blind man next door to hear. To be tortured. To hopefully fall asleep to your sounds that intoxicate- when they aren't for him.

🥀 IN FACT- Klaus snuck into Norman's house one time, hid a speaker, and.... yeahhhhhhh you get it.

🥀 Norman would tear his own home apart looking for the source of your sounds, but would never find it. He would just have to white-knuckle his own damn mattress until Inkubus- *cough* 'Klaus', would finally, mercifully, allow you to fall asleep.

🥀 Norman would retaliate by keeping you so busy on nights that he knows you're supposed to go out with Klaus, that either you forget about it until Klaus actually turns up and finds you in Norman's house, or you're too tired to really be any fun for Inkubus.

🥀 He does this by asking you if you would be so kind as to help him out with his gardening, or cleaning out a cupboard, or cataloguing his books.

🥀 Klaus ends up knocking at your door... getting no response (which irks him in the first place)... and slowly turning to Norman's dwellings and glares. Of course, the blind man is at it again. When will he learn?

🥀 (And oh, the look on his face when he finds you on your knees in Norman's bedroom. A bemused grin at you as you apologise and say oh no I forgot!! norman needed help with something and- before you look away, still explaining your adorable self, and it turns into more of a grimace- at Norman. Like are you serious?)

🥀 ... predictably, it quickly became world war iii between them, with Norman still holding out the darkest hope that he can somehow have you as his one day, you blissfully unaware, and unknowingly to the both of you- Inkubus trying to do much worse to you and probably Norman as well now but getting caught up in a gross, petty little territory war instead. Eh, he's got time to kill. Why not?

[aralezinspace]

Playground

Combining two slightly tweaked requests, from Anonymous and @fangirlmary: Morpheus with single mother who is worried about introducing him to her daughter, kid gets lost and ends up gravitating toward Dream

A/N: This was so fricken fun to write- I work with tiny humans so I drew inspiration from some of the things they've said to me xD God I love Dream and kids, enjoy!

~~Requests are open!~~

“Come on, mom!” your six year old daughter called, trying to tug her coat on, not realizing the sleeve was inside out. You chuckled and fixed the sleeve, helping her slip her arm in.

“Hold your horses Bridget,” you scolded with a chuckle. Once her coat was on and zipped, you grabbed your own jacket, Bridget’s bag of tricks, and went out to the car. The two of you sang along to the radio for the entire ten minutes it took to get to the park. When you got there, Bridget could hardly contain her excitement, short auburn waves bouncing as she squirmed and wriggled in her car seat.

You took a deep breath of the crisp spring air as the two of you walked over to the playground. Raising Bridget on your own hadn’t been easy, and you couldn’t remember the last time you hadn’t been bone tired. At least, the last time before a few weeks ago: you had been visited by a terrible nightmare, one worse than any you could remember, but it had been waved away by a man too ethereal and ancient to be a human, or a figment of your imagination.

He had introduced himself as Morpheus, the Lord of Dreams, and a whole other world you hadn’t believed existed opened up to you. He came to you every few nights in your dreams, and the two of you would just sit and talk, casual, about nothing important. Or, he would read to you in that soothingly hypnotic voice of his that no mortal could hope to replicate. He had asked several times why you were always so exhausted, and you had a feeling he knew the answer, but was waiting for you to tell him of your own volition. Whatever was between you was growing into something more than a casual acquaintance, and while Bridget was wonderful and amazing, you knew how easily a relationship could sour once a child was brought into the mix.

You would tell Morpheus about Bridget, in time. Just… not right now. Not while you were still enjoying his company, not when you didn’t feel ready to risk losing it.

You were so wrapped up in your thoughts that you hadn’t noticed your daughter leave the playground and head for the large expanse of open grass dotted with the occasional bench.  

Bridget had always been too curious for her own good; her teachers often commenting on report cards that she almost never stopped asking questions, both to their amusement and annoyance. Most of them began with “how” or “why”, and she was rarely satisfied with the answer. Bridget had the intuition that most children had, the little feeling in the back of their heads that tingled to life when an adult wasn’t being completely honest with them. Unlike most of her peers, she was not at all afraid to act on that intuition, and continue questioning until she was satisfied with the answer.

That insatiable curiosity was what had led her to abandon the playground and her favorite monkey bars in favor of walking over to a bench in front of the park’s lake. It looked like a shadow was sitting on it, but shadows couldn’t sit… could they? Was it a shadow? If it wasn’t a shadow, what was it? Why was it on the bench? She just had to know.

With that conviction in mind, she walked purposefully to the bench, hands stuffed into the pockets of her purple coat. Her palms were sweaty, curious but apprehensive. Mom had always told her not to talk to strangers, but the closer she drew to her sitting shadow, the less he felt like a stranger. Odd, for a shadow to feel warm and safe.

Slowly, carefully, she approached the shadow on the bench. Upon closer inspection, she learned that it wasn’t a shadow, but a man. A man with black hair, black clothes, pale skin, and half a loaf of bread in his hands. He seemed sad, which to Bridget, made him look more out of place in the park on a gorgeous spring day than his dark clothes. How could anyone be sad when the sky was bright blue and the sun was shining? Bridget frowned. She had to know what was making this warm shadow so sad.

“Excuse me?” she asked in a small voice, stepping closer and remembering her manners. “I’m sorry if I’m bothering you, but can I ask you a question?”

Morpheus had heard the small footsteps approaching him, but had been too absorbed in his thoughts to pay them any mind. But then the footsteps changed to a voice, one that clearly belonged to a child. He turned, bright blue eyes focusing on the girl in front of him. She couldn’t have been more than six or seven, if his understanding of human aging was still correct. Her auburn hair shone in the sun, earthy eyes sparkled with curiosity and wonder. His fingers clenched slightly into the bread- while he would much prefer to be left alone, it would take more than Dream had in him to refuse a child.

“What is it, little one?” he murmured back, turning his body to face her, show her that she had his full attention. There was something about her eyes and the way she fiddled with her fingers that was strangely familiar.

“Um…” Bridget bit her bottom lip, trying to piece her words together. That gesture too seemed familiar, but Dream couldn’t place it. The girl decided to clamber up onto the bench and sit next to him, her feet in their light up sneakers dangling in the air. Dream settled back into his original position, arms resting on his legs, fingers pulling at the bread, eyes turned to the girl next to him. Bridget asked, “Are you sad?”

Morpheus’ eyes flickered to the ground between his feet. Slowly, he replied, “Yes, I suppose you could say that I am… troubled.”

“Why?” Bridget’s hands were folded in her lap, almost as if she were a counselor and Morpheus her patient. Dream sighed; how to explain to a child the woes of the anthropomorphic personification of dreams in a way she could understand, but that also wasn’t insulting to her intelligence? A small voice in the back of his mind taunted that he was out of practice talking to children, and this thought made him even sadder.

“There is a lot on my mind, little one,” he finally settled for, throwing a piece of bread to the impatient ducks in the lake. “More than I wish to trouble you with.”

Bridget nodded sagely, watching the ducks gobble up the bread. “My mom says that too when I ask why she’s sad. And why she looks sleepy all the time. How much stuff fits in a grown up’s head?” Morpheus let out a little breath through his nose that just may have been his attempt at a laugh. How much stuff indeed.

“But guess what,” she continued, “I know what to do when people are sad, mom does it for me when I’m sad. She combs my hair and tells me stories. She said I have to ask first if I want to touch someone’s hair, so can I comb your hair and tell you stories?”

Dream blinked, his mind went blank. Whatever he had been expecting this girl to ask, the question that had come out of her mouth wasn’t it. When was the last time anyone had offered him comfort? When was the last time had had allowed himself to accept it? His grip tightened on the bread, fingertips digging into the crust. The ducks quacked angrily at him as his mind whirred. He could feel Bridget’s eyes on him, waiting for consent.

“Yes,” he choked, “Alright.”

Bridget let out a little squeal of glee and shifted to stand on the bench, using Dream’s shoulder as a support. Now she stood over him, leaning against the back of the bench as tiny fingers threaded themselves into the strands of Dream’s hair. He flinched slightly, but forced himself to release the tension in his shoulders so the child didn’t feel rejected.

“Your hair is really soft,” she commented as she continued to run her fingers through his hair, trying not to pull on it. “How do you get it so soft?” Bridget didn’t wait for him to answer, she just continued jabbering away. Her meandering train of thought almost reminded him of Delirium, back when he knew her as Delight.

Soon enough, he found himself chuckling softly at some of the things she said. It was always amusing to see where a child’s thought process took them. It was hard, not to let her joy suffuse within him and take root, even if its light was just a tiny flicker. Dream was almost surprised to find that he felt better after almost ten minutes of her talking and playing with his hair.

“Child,” he interrupted gently when Bridget paused for breath, “Should we not find your mother? I’m sure she will have noticed you missing by now and be worried.” Bridget huffed with a smile and continued combing his hair with her fingers.

“I have a name.” She would have sounded positively indignant if she hadn’t been smiling. “My name’s Bridget.” Morpheus chuckled low in his throat, almost too soft to hear.

“My apologies, Bridget. We should probably find your mother.”

“What’s your name?” she asked, completely ignoring the second half of what he said. Morpheus sighed; he knew he’d have to answer her question before she’d listen to anything else he had to say.

“My name is Dream.” He turned his head so his eyes met hers, effectively pulling her fingers from his hair. “And we should find your mother. I’m sure she is worried.” Bridget frowned, but jumped down from the bench with a “Fiiiiine.”

Morpheus stood as well and let her take his free hand, grubby fingers firmly wrapped around the meat of his hand. Bridget continued her chattering as they walked back to the playground, and Morpheus couldn’t help the tiny smile that refused to leave his face. As they approached the playground, he could see a woman frantically walking about the play structure; he could only assume she was looking for Bridget.

“Mama!” Bridget yelled, letting go of Dream’s hand to sprint over to you. Your heart still racing with frantic worry, you got on your knees and let your daughter barrel into you, almost knocking you down with the force of her enthusiastic embrace.

“Bridget Marie!” you scolded, trying to hide your worried tears, “Where on earth have you been? You need to tell me if you want to go somewhere else, I was so worried!”

“I’m okay mom,” she assured you with a smiling eye roll. “I made a friend! He was sad so I did the thing you do for me, and I made sure to ask first this time.” You frowned, not noticing Dream approaching you with his hands in his pockets.

“Bridget, what did I say about talking to strangers?”

“But he’s not a stranger!” she protested, “I knew I knew him I just couldn’t remember, but now I know his name so he’s not a stranger.”

At this you finally looked up at the figure behind your daughter, and jolted to your feet. Your eyes were wide in disbelief- of all the people for your daughter to run into, and he wasn’t even technically a person!

“Morpheus?” you gasped, your heart frantically beating somewhere between your stomach and your throat. You felt the blood rush out of your face. This was not how you had anticipated introducing him to your daughter, and definitely not so soon.

“That’s not his name,” Bridget corrected you, smiling at the Endless. “He said his name was Dream.”

“I think he goes by both,” you replied, somewhat breathless. That tiny smirk was still tugging at Dream’s lips when he greeted you with a slight nod of his head.

“Wha- what the hell are you doing here, in my world?” you asked, incredulous. So confused were you that you didn’t notice how Bridget’s eyes darted between you and the Dream Lord, confused, but then joyous.

“I had intended to sit with my thoughts, but then this young lady decided to join me.” He quickly glanced down at Bridget.

“Oh.” Your thoughts toppled on top of each other as you processed everything: Bridget had wandered off. Bridget had somehow bumped into Morpheus. Morpheus, the ancient being you were kinda sorta seeing and interested in. Morpheus, who had surely figured out by now that Bridget was your daughter. Fuck.

You swallowed hard, fiddling with your fingers and gnawing on your bottom lip. It finally dawned on Morpheus: Bridget doing those things seemed so familiar because she had learned them from you.

“I-“ you swallowed again, your tongue feeling like wool in your mouth. “I was going to tell you, in time. Whenever we figured out whatever this is.” You gestured vaguely at the space between yourself and Dream. “Um- Morpheus, this is my daughter Bridget. Bridget, this is Morpheus.”

Bridget frowned again. She knew now, rather she remembered, that she knew Morpheus from her dreams, watching over her as she slept. But if he was from her dreams, how did her mom know him?

“Wait, how does he know you if he watches me sleep?”

The subject of the question shouldn’t have surprised you, but her delivery stole any response from your mind. You gaped at your daughter like a fish while she stared expectantly at you, waiting for an answer. You looked at Dream, begging him to rescue you. Dream chuckled, easily slipping back into the roll of a father standing united with his partner.

“I watch over everyone who dreams, little one,” he replied softly to Bridget, his eyes only returning to you when he said, “Including your mother. I happen to enjoy her company very much.”

While Bridget seemed satisfied with this answer, you were absolutely mortified, wishing the ground would swallow you whole. “Bridget,” you choked, “Can Morpheus and I talk alone for a moment? I’ll come get you when it’s time to go.” Bridget rolled her eyes, knowing you were going to talk about grown up stuff, but headed over to the playground anyway.

You sighed heavily, fiddling with your fingers again. “I did mean to tell you,” you murmured bashfully again, “I was just worried, I know how a kid can complicate a relationship, or whatever it is with us.”

Dream took your hands in his, gently untangling the web your fingers had woven themselves into. “I understand your hesitance,” he replied softly. He looked down at your hands, gathering his thoughts, and (it seemed) his courage. “I had a son once. A long time ago. It seems… I have recently learned that I have very much missed being a father.”

Your breath caught in your chest, but Dream easily stole it as he took a step closer to you. God he was gorgeous, his eyes sparkling and swimming and a shade of blue that artists would kill to have at their disposal. He seemed lighter, somehow, less burdened than you had ever seen. “I would like to know your daughter, with your permission.”

Your response was cut off by Bridget yelling to Morpheus from the monkey bars to look at what she could do, which was hang upside down from the metal bar with her knees, her hands and hair swinging gently in midair as she laughed. You chuckled as well, squeezing Dream’s hands.

“I think she’d like that.” You gave his hands another squeeze and amended your answer: “I would like that.”  

[fairygeek777]

Brief summary of the different versions of Mamoru Chiba:

Because I have brainrot

Mamoru: Crystal/Manga

16-18 year old high school student. Later enters college.

Often reading a book with like 3 more in his other hand or next to him.

Searching for Silver Crystal to remember who he is

Kinda a loner

Takes the bus to and from school.

Loves kids especially Chibiusa

SOS whenever he encountered Usagi he would comment on her studying.

Very studious himself

Little confidence in his abilities especially when it comes to protecting Usagi

Gets kidnapped and brainwashed a lot.

Started falling for Usagi before he knew she was Sailor Moon

Very quick to initiate physical affection with Usagi

Killed by Kunzite and later revived

Legendary Golden Crystal

Psychometry powers

Tuxedo Mask: Crystal/manga

Basically Mamoru in a Tuxedo, mask and cape.

Dissapears like Batman sometimes

Actually doesn't wear his hat or mask too often

Often forced to fight Sailor Moon against his will.

Tuxedo La Smoking Bomber

Fell for Sailor Moon real quick

"My life means nothing if I can't use it to help you Usako"

Endo/Brainwashed Mamoru: Crystal/manga

Revived by Metalia because he was fricken dead

Only focused on getting the Legendary Silver Crystal

Was also tasked with killing Sailor Moon

Doesn't recognize or care about Usagi or the senshi

Throws Luna across the room

Commits identity fraud and takes the place of Motoki's friend

Has evil dark kingdom powers

Very very manipulative

Cold Red eyes

Ugly clothes

Mamoru: 90s anime

18 or something college student

Basically the hot and dreamy guy

Motoki's best friend

Insults Usagi and gets into fights with her but actually enjoys talking to her

Not aware he's Tuxedo Mask at SOS

When he does become conscious of it he's actually pretty cool and badass especially when he challenges Zoisite

Motorcycle, car and eternal green jacket

Interesting sense of fashion

Briefly dates Rei

Loves kids

Roses

Flare for dramatics

Prefers privacy when with Usagi

Gets flustered easily

Body shield go brrrr

Dies at the end of season 1 and is reborn in season 2 along with everyone else

Tuxedo Mask: 90s anime

Eloquent speeches about beauty

Dramatically flowing cape

Roses as darts

Never takes off mask and top hat

Honestly kinda ridiculous

Like a totally different person from Mamoru

Fights with a cane

Enters with signature theme song

Different entrance each time

Always saves Sailor Moon at the right time

Usually the one who tells Sailor Moon when to finish off the enemy

Walking meme

Dark Prince Endymion: 90's anime

A total douche

Brainwashed by Queen Beryl but just does things however the hell he wants

Flirts with Sailor Moon

Doesn't recognize Usagi

The only thing he knows is being Prince Endymion

Going after the rainbow crystals

Black turtle neck and sunglasses

Black roses

No powers. Just uses his palms and a sword.

Also transforms into Tuxedo Mask

Prince Endymion:

Pretty much the same in all versions.

90s throws roses and wears the Tuxedo Mask attire

Protective of Serenity

Ally to the Silver Millenium when the Earth's people attack

Very affectionate to Serenity

Sacrifices himself to save Serenity's life

I did this because I wanted to give appreciation to all sides of Mamoru Chiba. For as much as I may criticize the 90s anime, that Mamoru is equally as likeable and charming as manga/crystal. Plus manga Mamo isn't perfect either. Cuz where 90s Mamo is a little cold to Usa sometimes and doesn't always make the best decisions, Manga Mamo has incredibly low self esteem and keeps things from Usa so she isn't worried. They've both got their strengths and weaknesses!

TLDR: I love Mamoru Chiba a totally normal amount.

[sleeplesssmoll]

Theory time!

Narrator guy and the one who is causing the storm are vertin's parents.

Now this theory was already circulating for a while but I have some extra things to say.

Now let's get the easy one out of the way, vertin mother being the one who causes the storm, this theory does hold some degree of sense, as we know vertin's mother was a strong arcanist (she might not be but for my theory we will assume so) as she was pretty famous among foundation's higher ups and you won't get that kind of fame without some heavy power.

There is also the fact of vertin's immunity to the storm, we know vertin's immunity comes naturally to her as even the foundation didn't know about it, we also know that arcane skills can be passed down through family lineage, so that would explain vertin's immunity.

Now if we move onto the narrator, why do we think he is vertin's father?...idk he sounds like a 50 year old alcoholic dad I guess? At least that's where most people came from, but I can provide some evidence for it

Firstly why does a random ass guy (we know he isn't vertin's imagination as he said "we will meet") goes to vertin's head and talk and lore expo to her? There must be some connection between the two that vertin doesn't know, and the way he talks to her is just like a old dad who absolutely doesn't wanna deal with their children, at least that's the impression he give to me

Then who is vertin's father/narrator? I think he was...an old foundation member. Might even be a higher up, ok your confused but let me cook.

I don't think the guy is omniscient yet he knows so much especially about the foundation, he knows how the foundation handles things and knows many of the higher ups, he knows about the family who works with the foundation

So I think vertin's father was a foundation member (might even be a higher up) who got swept by the storm when it first hit, when the foundation lost many of its staff and higher ups.

Now unto my biggest evidence why I think this is true...vertin is special (no shit Sherlock) she is special with the way she was taken to the SPDM, from what we saw SPDM takes children around the age of 4-* as too young and they wouldn't able raise them quickly, too old and they can't brainwash them

But vertin was different, by headmaster himself, vertin was taken when she was only a month old so she must have a special condition that forced SPDM to take her in, like maybe idk being the daughter of one of the higher ups of the foundation, or being the daughter of the person who is causing the storm.

(I had some other things in my mind but I kinda forgot, but yeah there is much evidence that could support this theory.)

Narrator guy is one of the games biggest mysteries for real. If he really was Vertin's dad, that would be fricken hilarious honestly. I agree with the 50year alcoholic description but he always struck me as a drunk uncle type lmao. Although, like you mentioned he knows way too much to be sidelined as an offbeat character.

I also agree that Vertin's parents had something to do with the Foundation considering Constantine knew her mother. The fact she was taken in at just a month old also implies the Foundation already knew she existed and didn't have to hunt her down like the others. She has a connection to the Foundation through her mother or to the person who enrolled her to SPDM.

Sometimes, I wonder if it's possible for Vertin to have other family like aunts, cousins, etc. Hell, she could have a secret older sibling we don't know about who came before her. This is all wild stuff that would change the trajectory of the game, but it's not impossible. It's just food for thought for now but next update is story update! Can't wait to make more theories again!

[itsscromp]

hellloooo so i wanted to request something I've been thinking of for a while <3 you can just call me 🦇bat anon :D sooo i was thinking rocket raccoon x reader who is also a genetically modified raccoon by the hands of high evolutionary with the same amount of trauma and torture as rocket experienced, but they're more brain modified, so they look like a sorta normal raccoon but they're really REALLY overly intelligent and are agile and smart and all that, but they use a human body hologram, and when rocket met them he saw them as a human, but reader later revealed their secret and they connected with their trauma or something i dunno X( i just want someone to let rocket know he's not alone <3 if you're gonna do this, thank you :D if not, have a nice day anyway and i love your writing!!!

We're not so different

Hello there 🦇bat anon :D, Apologies for the delay in this, Now for this request, I had read over it and ultimately my brain has gone splat in the moment. BUT !!! I cooked another idea relating to what you asked. So I hope you like it. Warnings: Mentions of abuse. Word count:985

How you were brought into this world will continue to baffle you until the day you die. How many children have happy families, Yours was utterly broken, Your mom abandoned you before your first birthday, leaving you with your dad who turned to alcohol to cope with the stress. You would always have to bring him his bottle... unless you would cop something in the head. You still had the scar across your eyebrow from the shard cutting through, you were thankful that it didn't get your eye.

By 10 years old when you were on the way home from school as quickly as you could. Your teacher stopped you before you could rush home to talk about the results of your test. Heading home... Guess who was there.

"Where the fuck have you been ??!! I told you to get back as soon school finished."

"I... I know... The teacher just wanted to talk to me..."

"You got into trouble !!" He grabbed your arm and twisted it.

You yelped in pain and started to cry, You yanked your hand away and ran away, Having enough of his endless hurting. Running as fast as you could, You rushed down into the nearby park and fell over, started to cry. As you cried, you felt yourself getting dragged up by something in the sky, Soon being sent away thousands of light-years away in the galaxy.

The cycle continued just with your kidnappers, Whatever your dad did, they did ten times worse when you didn't do what they said. You didn't escape for another 5 years. Being placed into hiding on Knowhere and stayed there for the time being. At least you were free.

You took up some mercenary work with the ravagers, coming across Peter quill from time to time. And it just so happened that that day when the guardians of the galaxy were formed. The day you met Rocket Raccoon.

You knew straight from the start that the attitude that he pulled off when you worked together in prison was nothing more than a cover-up for a deeper trauma that he had witnessed. But it became more evident when you saw his drunken out burst in the bar.

"He thinks I'm some stupid thing he does !! Well, I didn't ask to get made !! I didn't ask to be torn apart and put back together over and over, turned into some... Some little monster !!"

"Rocket, no one is calling you a monster" Peter told him

"He called me vermin !! She called me Rodent !!! His bottom lip wobbled a bit before he grew angry. "Let's see if you can last after five or six good shots in your fricken face !!" He aimed his gun at Drax.

"No no no no !! 4 billion units, Rocket come on suck it up for one more lousy night and you're rich !!" Quill begged him to think rationally.

Rocket thought for a bit before disarming his weapon. "Fine... But I can't promise when this is over I'm not gonna kill every last one of you jerks."

He then bolted out of the bar, Your heart absolutely shattered hearing all of this. At this, you wanted to hold him and tell him that everything was ok... But you knew this wouldn't work knowing Rocket for the short time.

But regardless he needed someone right now, So you headed outside to find him. Looking around nearby until you found him in an alleyway crying softly to himself. You grew sad as you saw him... You walked over as you gently sat down across the other side, remaining silent.

He looked up and saw you, quickly regaining his composure. "Get lost y/n..."

"I didn't say anything" You softly said.

He opened his mouth before shutting it, His ears fully drooped. Crossing his arms as he looked away from you. "Why are you here ?? Wanna call me monster too ??"

You shook your head gently, Trying to figure out how to properly say it. "Rocket... Whatever it is... that you have gone through." You could feel his eyes glaring on you, almost to say choose your next few words very carefully.

"Whatever it is... I get it... I know what it feels like."

His eyes slowly softened a little, but still glaring at you.

"The scar... On my eyebrow... This was by the man who was meant to protect me..." You pointed to your eyebrow.

He inspected your eyebrow a bit before he looked down at the ground. "I... I'm sorry you had to suffer that"

"My whole life... And not even that... When I was 10 I was kidnapped from Earth, The people who kidnapped me... They endured so much pain on me... For 5 flarking years..." You moved your shirt a bit, showing scared underneath your ribs... this one hurt you the most, you couldn't even stomach to talk about it.

Rocket's eyes went soft, And soon, you could see a different side to him. "I'm sorry... I really am..." He hesitantly started to move, moving next to you. Wanting to be in your company and feel safe.

"Rocket, Whatever this galaxy throws at you... I want to let you know... I'll be there for you ok ??" You looked at him.

He gave it a bit of thought for a little bit before nodding. "Yeah... Same to you y/n" He looked up at you, saying it sincerely.

You smiled and gently raised a fist to him, he tilted his head a little bit in confusion. "What are you doing humie ??"

"You never heard about fist bumps ??"

He shook his head, wanting an explanation.

"It's kind of like a symbol of friendship on earth, so here" You gently helped him achieve his first fist bump, "There you go" You smiled,

You would always have his back, And he with yours. Always.

Taglist: @callofdudes