#and I'm too anxious to ask the dude in case I don't like the answer

[fearlesshades]

God I wanna write soooooo bad I have so many scenes for PDTMSA planned out in my head but I have no energy rn and it sucks so much and I feel so bad for the people waiting for the next chapter but every time I sit down at a keyboard all of the words I just had run away no matter what I do

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Something Wicked | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, implications of verbal parental abuse

Word Count: 4885

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The two boys were bickering over coordinates Dean had received from an anonymous number. 

“Dude, I ran LexisNexis, local police reports, newspapers, I couldn't find a single red flag. Are you sure you got the coordinates right?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, I double checked. It's Fitchburg, Wisconsin. Dad wouldn't have sent us coordinates if it wasn't important, Sammy.”

“Well, I'm telling you, I looked, and all I could find was a big steamy pile of nothing. If Dad's sending us hunting for something, I don't know what.”

“Well, maybe he's going to meet us there.”

“Yeah. ‘Cause he's been so easy to find up to this point.”

You sighed. You weren’t about to get in the middle of this argument and tuned the rest of it out. Alas, Dean won the argument, as he often did. 

You stopped for some coffee along Fitchburg’s main street. The town itself was small, but it was quaint. A little too Middle America for your taste.

“Well… the waitress thinks the local freemasons are up to something sneaky, but other than that, no one's heard about anything freaky going on,” Dean sighed, handing you and Sam your respective coffee orders.

“Dean, you got the time?” you asked him.

“Ten after four. Why?”

You nodded in front of you at the playground you were looking at. “What's wrong with this picture?”

It was deserted aside from one child climbing on the jungle gym.

“School's out, isn't it?” Dean questioned.

“Yeah. So where is everybody?” Sam added. “This place should be crawling with kids right now.”

You and the Winchesters walked over to a woman on a park bench reading a magazine. Dean approached her, saying, “Sure is quiet out here.”

The woman sighed, “Yeah, it’s a shame.”

“Why's that?”

“You know, kids getting sick, it's a terrible thing.”

“How many?”

“Just five or six but serious, hospital serious. A lot of parents are getting pretty anxious. They think it's catching,” she explained.

All four of you watched the little girl playing by herself, and the wheels in your head began to turn. Why would John send you all the way to Fitchburg over a few sick kids?

The three of you made your way up to the pediatrics ward of the hospital to investigate the sick children. Dean and Sam donned suits, and you wore a pencil skirt and heels. You couldn’t lie to yourself, Dean looked amazing in his suit, but you much preferred his usual leather jacket and biker boots. 

“See something you like?” Dean smirked at you.

Your mouth opened and closed, unsure of what to say. He just snickered in response while your cheeks burned.

A doctor approached you and the boys before Dean could taunt you any further. You introduced yourselves and headed down the corridor with the man. “Well, thanks for seeing us, Dr. Hydecker,” Dean said.

“Well, I'm glad you guys are here. I was just about to call CDC myself. How'd you find out anyways?” the doctor asked.

“Oh, some GP— I forget his name— he called Atlanta, and, uh, he must've beat you to the punch,” Dean lied.

“So you say you got six cases so far?” you asked.

“Yeah, five weeks. At first we thought it was garden variety bacterial pneumonia. Not that newsworthy. But now…”

“What?”

“The kids aren't responding to antibiotics. Their white cell counts keep going down. Their immune systems just aren't doing their job. It's like their bodies are... wearing out.”

“Wait, but are there any signs of leukopenia?” you asked. “Any history in these kids of that?”

Dean looked over at you, confused by what you were saying. You continued to talk to the doctor.

“No, actually,” Hydecker answered. 

“What about neutropenia?”

He shook his head as a nurse handed him a clipboard full of papers.

“Then, whatever this is would have to be attacking the bone marrow as well as the respiratory system… Have you done biopsies?”

“No, we haven’t,” Hydecker answered. “I’ll give that a try.”

“You ever seen anything like this before?” Sam questioned.

“Never this severe,” the doctor said. “And the way it spreads… that's a new one for me.”

“What do you mean?” asked Sam.

“It works its way through families. But only the children, one sibling after another.”

“You mind if we interview a few of the kids?” Dean questioned.

“They’re not conscious,” the doctor replied.

You were shocked. “None of them?”

“No.”

“Can we, uh, can we talk to the parents?” tried Dean.

“Well, if you think it'll help.”

“Yeah. Who was your most recent admission?”

Hydecker directed you to a man sitting on a chair against the wall in the waiting room. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. He explained to you the oldest girl was first, and then his youngest. He told you that her window had been opened, but there was no one who could’ve done so except for his daughter because her room was on the second floor. 

You and the boys headed out of the pediatrics ward and back toward the car. 

“(Y/N), how’d you know all that stuff?” Sam asked you, referencing your conversation with the doctor.

“I like to read,” you shrugged. Sam smiled at your response and walked a little ahead of you. 

Dean came up next to you. “You were really serious about nursing, huh,” he said softly enough so Sam wouldn’t hear.

“I guess. I really do just like to read, though,” you smiled. “I think I just wanted to stick it to my dad. I always thought I’d be happier not hunting. But, uh, I just don’t think I could ever go back to being ‘normal’.”

“Yeah, I get that,” he responded. 

Sam turned back to you and his brother. “You know, this might not be anything supernatural. It might just be pneumonia.”

“No way,” you shook your head, “pneumonia wouldn’t be lowering white blood cell count. It’d have to be elevated for it to be true pneumonia. Infection and all that.”

Sam hummed. “Okay, so then what’s your theory?”

“Honestly? Not sure.”

“I'll tell you one thing,” said Sam. “That dad we just talked to? I'm betting it'll be a while before he goes home.”

***

“You got anything over there?” Sam asked Dean. The three of you had climbed through the home of the last two kids who had gotten sick looking for clues.

“Nah, nothing,” the older brother answered.

“Yeah, me neither,” you chimed in. You moved over to the window and paused. “Hey guys? I really don’t think it’s pneumonia.”

The boys came over and followed your line of sight to a rotted handprint with long, tendril-like fingers. 

“What the hell leaves a handprint like that?” Sam asked.

Dean seemed to get pulled away into his own mind for a moment before he began to look a little sick. “I know why Dad sent us here. He's faced this thing before. He wants us to finish the job.”

Dean raced down the stairs to the window on the back of the house you’d climbed through. You followed him close behind. You would ask him what had happened to him in the little girl’s bedroom later.

Dean explained to you on the ride to the motel what he thought you were hunting: a shtriga.

“So what the hell is a shtriga?” Sam asked as Dean pulled into a motel parking lot. This motel was a little cuter than the ones you’d visited previously; centered around a white cabin with green shingles. 

“It's kinda like a witch, I think. I don't know much about 'em,” explained Dean.

“Well, I've never heard of it. And it's not in Dad's journal.”

“Dad hunted one in Fort Douglas, Wisconsin, about sixteen, seventeen years ago. You were there. You don't remember?”

Sam shook his head.

“And I guess he caught wind of the things in Fitchburg now and kicked us the coordinates,” Dean went on.

“So wait, this…” Sam paused, waiting for Dean to remind him how to pronounce it.

“Shtriga.”

“Right. You think it's the same one Dad hunted before?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“But if Dad went after it, why is it still breathing air?” Sam’s brows furrowed together.

“ ‘Cause it got away.”

Sam scoffed. “Got away?”

Dean was beginning to get frustrated, and you knew it was a cover-up for whatever was going on inside his head. “Yeah, Sammy, it happens.”

“Not very often.”

“Well, I don't know what to tell ya, maybe Dad didn't have his wheaties that morning,” snarked the older brother.

“What else do you remember?”

“Nothin'. I was a kid, alright?” Dean said defensively. You followed him into the motel lobby only to see a little boy watching TV in one room and a boy around ten or eleven walking out of it.

“A king or two queens?” The boy asked, looking between you and Dean.

“Two queens,” you and Dean answered quickly. “And one king, actually,” you added, stepping aside to reveal Sam behind you.

A woman entered smiling at you both. “Checking in?”

You nodded to her.

“Do me a favor, go get your brother some dinner,” the woman instructed the boy. 

“I'm helping a guest!” he protested, but turned away under his mother’s hard stare. “Two queens. And a king.”

“Will that be cash or credit?” she asked you.

Dean took out his card. “You take MasterCard? Perfect. Here you go.”

You watched him look behind the woman at the boy pouring his younger brother a glass of milk. And there he went again; pulled into what you could only assume was memories of himself and Sam.

The woman before you held out his card to zoned-out Dean, and you took it from her instead. “Uh, thanks.” She handed you the keys, and you nudged Dean to bring him back to reality.

***

Dean explained to you and Sam what shtrigas fed off: children, most commonly. The only thing that could kill them were specially designed wrought-iron rounds while the thing was feeding. They often take the form of something unsuspecting; like an old woman.

“Hang on,” Dean said. “Check this out. I marked down all the addresses of the victims. Now these are the houses that have been hit so far and dead center?”

“The hospital,” you noted.

“Now, when we were there, I saw a patient; an old woman,” Dean continued.

“An old person huh?” questioned Sam. “In a hospital? Phew. Better call the Coast Guard.”

You giggled at Sam.

“Well, listen, smart-asses, she had an inverted cross hanging on her wall.”

You and Sam stopped snickering and looked up at Dean. He raised an eyebrow at you.

And so, you headed to the hospital. Fortunately for her— but unfortunately for your hunt— the old woman with the upside down cross on the wall was just cataract-ridden and crotchety. Upon your return to the motel after thoroughly freaking out the old woman, you pulled Dean to your motel room for a talk before bed.

“What’s up?” he asked, sitting on a chair in your room. 

You sat on the bed across from him. “Where do you keep going?” you asked.

“Huh?”

“Sorry, I just realized how stupid that sounded. You keep, like, disappearing into your own brain,” you responded. “Like in the motel lobby. You zoned out looking at that kid and his brother.”

“Oh, that,” he said quietly. “I, uh, it’s stupid.”

“Dean,” you leaned over your crossed legs and rested your hand on his knee. “I’m asking you. It’s not stupid. I just care.”

“Oh, come on—”

“Dean,” you said. “You made me a pinky promise at that scary asylum. You promised you’d tell me. Please?”

He huffed out a small laugh. “You know how I said my dad hunted this thing before?”

You nodded.

“Well, I’m the reason it got away.”

“How? Didn’t you say it was sixteen, seventeen years ago? You would’ve been ten, dude,” you responded.

“Yeah, but it’s complicated. My dad left us alone in motel rooms all the time. He made me repeat to him what I was and wasn’t supposed to do every time he would go out on a hunt. Sam and I would fight over the last bowl of Lucky Charms from the groceries Dad got us for the week; y'know, stupid kid stuff,” he chuckled. “But it’d been days. I was climbin’ the walls, (Y/N). I had to get some air. I went to an arcade to just… blow off some steam, I guess.

"When I came back, the thing was over Sammy’s bed. I was frozen. My dad came in and shot it a couple times, but it got away. Dad just... grabbed us and booked. Dropped us off at Pastor Jim's about three hours away, but by the time he got back to Fort Douglas, the shtriga had disappeared; it was just gone. It never surfaced until now. Y'know, Dad never spoke about it again, I didn't ask." He looked away from you attempting to swallow his emotions. "But he, ah, he looked at me different, you know? Which was worse. Not that I blame him. He gave me an order, and I didn't listen; I almost got Sammy killed.”

“Dee, you were a kid,” you said softly. He went to cut you off, but you stopped him. “No, let me talk. I know how that feels. My parents left me with Stevie all the time. I would've done the same thing you did. We were kids. We had to take on parental responsibilities. Anybody would be going stir crazy, especially at ten years old like you were.”

“(Y/N)—”

“No,” you told him, grabbing his hand. “You cannot blame yourself. I won’t let you. Would you let me?”

He shook his head.

“Exactly.”

He held your intense stare and rubbed a thumb over your hand. The two of you awkwardly pulled away from each other, and Dean cleared his throat. “Uh, thank you, for, y’know—”

“Yeah, any time,” you said, walking him to the door. 

***

The next morning, you and Sam were teasing Dean about the old woman from the hospital the night before. You were headed to the car to go get some breakfast.

“ ‘I was sleeping with my peepers open’?” Sam laughed heartily, remembering the old woman's strange way of talking.

“I almost smoked that old girl, I swear. It's not funny!” Dean grunted.

“Oh man, you shoulda seen your face,” you giggled.

“Yeah, laugh it up. Now we're back to square one.” He looked over to the ten-year-old blond boy sitting on the bench behind his mother’s office. “Hang on.” He led you over to the child. “Hey, what's wrong?”

“My brother's sick,” he replied.

“The little guy?”

He nodded. “Pneumonia. He's in the hospital. It's my fault.”

“Ah, c'mon, how?” You could tell Dean’s mind was racing just based on his tone.

“I should’ve made sure the window was latched. He wouldn't've got pneumonia if the window was latched,” the boy lamented.

You watched, frowningly thoughtfully, as Dean looked away from the boy. 

“Listen to me. I can promise you that this is not your fault. Okay?” Dean assured him.

“It's my job to look after him,” the boy frowned, tearing up.

His mother hurried out of the motel toward her minivan. “Michael, I want you to turn on the 'no vacancy' sign while I'm gone. I've got Denise covering room service, so don't bother with any of the rooms.”

“I'm going with you,” he protested.

“Not now, Michael.”

“But I gotta see Asher!”

Dean responded before his mother could. “Hey, Michael. Hey. I know how you feel— I'm a big brother, too— but you gotta go easy on your mom right now, ok?”

His mom dropped her handbag in haste, cursing under her breath. You rushed to pick it up for her.

“Listen, you're in no condition to drive. Why don't you let me give you a lift to the hospital,” Dean offered.

“No, I couldn't possibly—” she answered.

“No, it's no trouble. I insist.”

Michael’s mother handed Dean the keys and thanked him before addressing her son. “Be good.”

Dean turned to you before he went over to the car. “We're gonna kill this thing. I want it dead, you hear me?”

You and Sam watched Dean pull out of the motel parking lot, driving much more carefully than he ever did when you and Sam were in the car.

“C’mon,” you said. “You got the keys?”

“Yeah,” he threw them to you. “Where we goin’?”

“Wait, you’re letting me drive?” you asked Sam.

He shrugged. 

You squealed childishly and jumped into the driver’s seat. You couldn’t lie, you loved this car. You loved how the steering wheel felt in your hands and the way the engine rumbled. 

“Seriously, where we going?”

“The library,” you answered. “Town records, national records, internet, anything and everything. Dean wants this thing dead, and I intend to get it done tonight. And I gotta tell you, dude, something’s really bothering me about this whole thing. I mean, I never even formally went to nursing school, but I knew it couldn’t be pneumonia immediately. Why would pediatric doctors be unable to figure that out?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, but I get you. Something isn’t right.”

***

You and Sam poured through as many books you possibly could as quickly as you could. Sam was at his computer, scrolling with a furrowed brow when his phone rang. “ Hey. How's the kid?... We’re at the library. We've been trying to find out as much as we can about this shtriga… Well, bad news. I started with Fort Douglas around the time you said Dad was there?... Same deal.

"Before that, there was, uh, Ogdenville, before that, North Haverbrook, and Brockway. Every 15 to 20 years, it hits a new town. Dean, this thing is just getting started in Fitzburgh. In all these other places, it goes on for months. Dozens of kids before the shtriga finally moves on. The kids just languish in comas, and then they die… Ah, I don't know. The earliest mention I could find is this  place called ‘Black River Falls’ back in the 1890s. Talk about a horror show.”

Your brain began to make connections between all of those events. “Wait, Sam, put Dean on speaker.” 

He did so.

“Okay, you’re gonna have to stay with me on this one. This could just be me spitballin’, but—”

“Just say it, (Y/N),” Dean said through the phone.

“I’ve been thinking, why wouldn’t Hydecker immediately rule out pneumonia? If he’s such a spectacular and caring doctor, why wouldn’t he know that pneumonia ups your white blood cell count; not depletes it? And the chance of all six kids having a pre-existing condition that lowers your WBC is incredibly low. I mean, why else wouldn’t he biopsy the kids?”

“Okay, WebMD, what does that have to do with anything?” Dean asked.

“I told you to stay with me.” You began typing in your computer searching for articles on the earliest case Sam had found in Black River Falls. “The point is, I think Hydecker’s our guy. Think about it— the center of the kidnappings is the hospital. And any pediatric doctor would be familiar with what pneumonia actually does to a kid’s body.” You smiled sourly at a photo you pulled up of doctors surrounding a child’s bed in 1893. You turned the computer around to Sam. “Boom.”

“(Y/N), that is huge.” He leaned over and lightly punched your shoulder. “Good going.”

“Thanks!” you grinned. “Dean, meet us back at the motel. Don’t deck the guy in the face, please. Not yet, anyway.”

“No promises,” he grumbled.

“Dean—”

“Fine.” He hung up the phone.

“Alright, we gotta get back before Dean explodes,” you told Sam. “Can I drive again?”

“Sure, why not. Just don’t tell my brother.” He tossed you the keys and you giggled.

***

“We should have thought of this before. A doctor's a perfect disguise. You're trusted, you can control the whole thing,” Sam said. 

You and the brothers were back in the motel room. 

Dean threw off his jacket and paced agitatedly. “That son of a bitch.”

“I'm proud of you for not drawing on him right there,” you said.

“Yeah, well, first of all, I'm not going to open fire in a freakin' pediatrics ward.”

Sam nodded. “Good call.”

“Second, wouldn't have done any good, because the bastard's bullet proof unless he's chowing down on something. And third, I wasn't packing, which is probably a really good thing, ‘cause I probably would've just burned a clip in him on principle alone.”

Despite the situation, you found Dean aggressively grumbling about guns very attractive.

“You're getting wise in your old age, Dean,” Sam quipped.

“Damn right. 'Cause now I know how we're going to get it,” replied Dean.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Shtriga works through siblings, right?”

You knew what he was getting at. “No, Dean, I don’t like that.”

“What?” Sam asked, clearly not picking up where you and Dean were at.

“(Y/N)—”

“No, dude, we gotta get Michael out of here. I’m not letting you use him as bait.”

“Dean, what?! That’s out of the question!” Sam protested.

“It's not out of the question, Sam, it's the only way. If this thing disappears it could be years before we get another chance.”

“Michael's a kid. And I'm not going to dangle him in front of that thing like a worm on a hook,” Sam scoffed. 

“Dad did not send me here to walk away.” Dean turned away from you and Sam and gripped the edges of the dresser.

“Send you here? He didn't send you here; he sent us here,” Sam replied.

“This isn't about you, Sam. I'm the one who screwed up, all right. It's my fault. There's no telling how many kids have gotten hurt because of me.”

“What are you saying, Dean? How is it your fault?” Sam paused, taking a moment to calm down. “Dean. You've been hiding something from the get-go. Since when does Dad bail on a hunt? Since when does he let something get away? Now talk to me, man. Tell me what's going on.”

Dean proceeded to explain what he had to you last night. Sam gave him the same lecture about how it wasn’t his fault, but Dean began to protest again. “Don't. Don't. Dad knew this was unfinished business for me. He sent me here to finish it.”

You were surprised at the tough facade he gave his brother in contrast to the way he was vulnerable with you.

“But using Michael— I don't know Dean. I mean, how 'bout one of us hides under the covers, you know, we'll be the bait,” Sam tried.

“No, it won't work. It's gotta get close enough to feed— it'll see us. Believe me, I don't like it, but it's gotta be the kid.”

***

Michael was completely against the idea and even threatened to call the cops on you. You and the boys returned to their motel room dejectedly.

“Well, that went crappy. Now what?” Dean groaned.

“What did you expect? You can't ask an adult to do something like that, much less a kid,” the younger brother sighed.

There was a knock at the door, and you opened it to reveal Michael.

“Hey,” you said, surprised.

“If you kill it, will Asher get better?”

“Honestly? We don't know,” Dean told him.

“You said you were a big brother,” Michael started, “You'd take care of your little brother? You'd do anything for him?”

“Yeah, I would,” Dean replied quietly. Your heart swelled at how much Dean and Sam cared for each other.

The young boy nodded. “Me, too. I'll help.”

Dean had hooked up a security camera to the boy’s room, and you and he watched the monitor closely. You were beginning to feel cross-eyed from how tired you were. It was around three in the morning, and your body protested against your will to stay awake.

“You sure these iron rounds are gonna work?” Sam asked his brother.

“Consecrated iron rounds, and yeah, it's what Dad used last time.”

“Hey, Dean? I’m sorry,” the younger brother said softly. “You know, I've really given you a lot of crap, for always following Dad's orders. But I know why you do it.”

“Oh, god, kill me now,” Dean groaned.

You giggled to yourself, eyes returning to the screen. “Dean, look.”

There was a bit of movement off to the right of the screen outside of the window. You and the boys picked up your guns, holding them tightly and waiting for the right moment. 

“Now?” you asked.

“Not yet.”

The shtriga moved closer and leaned over the bed. You could see Michael tense under the covers and draw them closer to himself. The creature leaned over the bed, pushing the covers down. 

“Now?!”

“Now.”

You and the boys burst through the door and began to shoot the creature after Michael rolled away. It flew off Michael’s bed and fell to the side you couldn’t see.

“Mike, you alright?” Dean asked the kid.

“Yeah,” came his muffled reply from under the bed.

“Just sit tight.” Dean approached the shtriga, his gun at the ready. There was no movement for just a moment, before the shtriga shot up and grabbed Dean by his throat, throwing him across the room.

“Dean!” you cried, trying to run to him. The shtriga threw you to the side against Michael’s bed. Your back protested as you tried to roll and grab your gun that had fallen out of your hand in the chaos. You noticed the shtriga leaning over the top of the younger Winchester. Sam’s body went limp and began to go gray as the shtriga began to suck out his life force.

“Hey!” Dean gruffly spat. The shtriga turned to the older brother just to get shot straight between the eyes.

“Nice!” you said. You rushed to Sam’s side and smoothed a hand over his messy hair while he tried to catch his breath. “Are you okay?”

He nodded. “Thanks.”

“You okay, little brother?” Dean called from behind you. You thought it was adorable how much he cared.

You and Sam stood and you tried to help hold the tall man up on his unsteady legs. You guided him over to the shtriga, and Dean shot it three times at point-blank range. The shtriga’s body fell in on itself, disintegrating.

You looked up at Dean, whose face was still set in hard lines.

“It's okay, Michael, you can come on out,” Dean told the boy peeking out from under his bed. He rose to stand beside you, smiling tentatively. Dean put a hand on the boy’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. You looked on, feeling your heart swell at what you knew was a full-circle moment for Dean. You knew these moments were few and far-between in a profession like yours, and you had learned to savor them in your memory.

***

You and the brothers returned to your rooms to pack now that the monster was dead. As usual, you were finished packing before the boys were and leaned against the Impala waiting for them.

You watched Michael’s mom’s car pull up in the motel parking lot. At that moment, the boys came out to join you.

“Hey, Joanna. How's Asher doing?” Dean asked the mother of the two boys.

“Have you seen Michael?” she asked him.

“Mom! Mom!” the child in question ran up and hugged him. “How's Ash?”

“Got some good news. Your brother's gonna be fine,” she smiled down at the boy.

“Really?” Michael grinned.

“Yeah. Really. No one can explain it; it's a miracle. They're going to keep him overnight for observation, and then, he's coming home.”

You smiled as Sam asked, “How are all the other kids doing?”

“Good. Real good. A bunch of them should be checking out in a few days. Dr. Travis says the ward's going to be like a ghost town,” she explained.

“Dr. Travis? What about Dr. Hydecker?” you asked.

“Oh, he wasn't in today. Must have been sick or something.”

You shot a knowing look to the boys.

“So, did anything happen while I was gone?” Joanna asked her son.

The boy looked to Dean before responding, “Nah, same old stuff.”

“Okay.” Joanna smoothed a hand over Michael’s blonde hair. “You can go see Ash.”

A wide grin spread across the boy’s face. “Now?!”

She nodded at her son, who ran into the car. “I, ah, I'd better get going before he hotwires the car and drives himself,” she told you and the boys. The three of you watched as Joanna’s car pulled out of the parking lot. Sam and Dean turned to you and placed their bags in the trunk next to yours. 

“It's too bad,” said Sam.

“Oh, they’ll be fine,” you assured him.

“That's not what I meant,” he shook his head. “I meant Michael. He'll always know there are things out there in the dark— he'll never be the same, you know?” He paused. “Sometimes I wish that....”

“What?” Dean questioned.

“I wish I could have that kinda innocence.”

Dean walked to the driver’s side door. He leaned on the roof of the car and said, “If it means anything, sometimes I wish you could too.”

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[bcbdrums]

for the otp asks 9, 18 and 30 for soma? and spiritstein if you want

oooh... heheh, i'll answer for both, yes.

9. If they got engaged… who proposed? 

For Soul and Maka, Soul proposed. Only cuz he beat Maka to it. She was nervous, going back and forth on whether or not she should, worried he'd say no for a variety of reasons, and while she was busy warring against nerves he banished his own and took her hands over the first place they spilled blood together, their first battleground... Told her he wanted to protect her forever as more than her weapon... Aaaaaaahhhhh FEELS!!! Meanwhile for Stein and Spirit... Uh... I think I answered this in a prior ask answer already but I'll answer again. Spirit, 100% because Stein is indifferent regarding conventions. Spirit meanwhile is just as anxious and back and forth as Maka (lol) but would finally blurt it out probably under pressure and then absolutely lose it bawling because Stein would just be like, whatever. But in a 'whatever you want' way, not a rejection. Stein just doesn't think about those sorts of conventions. It's Sherlock Holmes and the solar system, for him.

18. Evening rituals?

I probably don't understand this question, but here we go. My mind is jumping straight to anime canon for Soul and Maka. Maka sticks to strict bedtime routines. Goes to bed at the same time each night, brushes her teeth exactly two minutes (she and Kid vibe hard at times), fixes her hair, and then reads herself to sleep or has a timer in case she isn't sleepy. Gotta get those eight hours in before school! Soul meanwhile....has no routine. He remembers to brush his teeth only because Maka's routine is so annoying to him. The dude falls into bed annoyed that she's so strict cuz he'd like to hang out with her a bit outside of school. So gradually, gradually... He convinces her to loosen up, and then they have weekly movie nights on the sofa. And afterward (and every night) her sweet little "good night, Soul" absolutely sends him. Poor boy can't sleep cuz he's pining so much. But these movie nights also lead to book nights. Which he complains all the way through cuz he's genuinely not interested in most of her books. And then when he is interested in some, he has to keep up the act that he isn't... Heheh. These two just spending nights in bickering like an old married couple. That's the routine. And if they ever happen to fall asleep during the movie and her head falls on his shoulder, he ain't waking her. She'd wake up tho when his drool hits her cheek, loool. For Stein and Spirit my brain is jumping all over the place... Academy days I have too many thoughts, so I don't think I should go there in this post (it'll be WAY too long). So, future them... A future where they're together. They're both so used to being alone that they would initially continue their typical routines, some of which look like the academy days. They do their own thing, follow their own interests. Spirit has a drink perhaps, goes to bed when he feels like it, reads himself to sleep (like Maka haha). Stein stays up studying something with no conception of time, falls asleep over the book or not at all. But eventually something, some triggering incident of which I'm not presently conceiving would lead them to end up sleeping on the sofa together. The personal routines wouldn't change, but then on nights when either decided they didn't want to be alone, they'd just linger in the other's presence as a sort of nonverbal cue, and sofa time would become a thing. And then I think Spirit...now at this point with the understanding that they're together, that this is real and isn't going to be lost again, would be the one to say either if he wants it or if he sees Stein in a place of needing it....would say, "hey, uhh why don't you come sleep in my room tonight?" Poor nervous sop. And then after that, that would just be a thing. One night Stein would announce amid the usual nighttime quiet, "I'm going to bed. You coming?" So it would vary between nights. And eventually reach a place of...it doesn't need to be spoken. They can exist in their quiet personal routines of study and reading and if one decides it's sleep time, they know the other will eventually follow.

30. When did they realize they loved each other?

(manga mentions/spoilers coming for those who don't want spoilers) Soul... He was definitely deeply attracted to her by the time they were in Spartoi, but I think he was attracted to her all along. Just by then it was deeper and then it was just sort of an... "oh" moment for him somewhere before the end... I wanna say he knew before Russia, but was able to focus on his feelings more after Russia. He had other stuff he was dealing with too that had priority. But yeah, like "oh, these feelings are love, but, of course I love her." So yeah just...like that. And then with Maka, I think she was also attracted to him from the very beginning and was interested in romance before he was. And I think...after he became a death scythe is when it really hit her like....everything in the world has reached a new level of seriousness, and my feelings are serious too. However, being a teenager, she didn't know what yet to do with those feelings. And here now we have the contrasting pair who didn't figure themselves out in their youth.... This bit is gonna be longer now, haha. Spirit has always loved Stein but the way he loves him has changed over time. Just like Soul and Maka, they started as partners which means a trust in the other for their lives. But, realizing he loves loves him... I don't think it was until long after he lost him. Probably in those years when he was most alone, absent wife, young daughter to raise...he suddenly realized how much he missed his real partner. But then thinking he's long past any hope of fixing that he doesn't engage his heart toward him. So a two-fold realizing... This, and then post-canon. If he can be brave enough to allow himself to open his heart up again to the possibility... He already knows how he feels. The issue is he doesn't think he has a chance at happiness anymore. Aaaaand Stein. Unhealthy obsession and confusion which I won't detail here because it will really take too long (ask me if you want me to elaborate on his feelings and how they changed over time), but he felt it when they were still teenagers, somewhere in the midst of fearing losing Spirit and actually losing him he'd start to be understanding that this is one of his feelings, but then he...accepts the loss. He doesn't think he has any other choice. The sad thing is with him it's a bit different... He accepts the loss, but his feelings only grow stronger over time. His heart is never closed in fear once he understands, like Spirit's is. His heart remains open despite thinking there's no chance of coming together. Stein would do anything...anything to show Spirit he loves him, even though he's certain there's no chance of coming together again. Post-canon I think it's he with his open heart...after the experiences of beating madness (both canons) who would be the brave one and make the move. Aaaaaahhhh I'm getting into SO much of my headcanons and giving away hints at future fics here, so I must cease.

These were VERY fun questions to answer, thank you for the ask!

[escapetothelake]

Samuel and Ida for the ship asks :3

hi anteater!! hope you enjoy :)

tw: albert mention lol (but its not too angsty dw)

who made the first move: when samuel saw the poster of ida announcing her arrival at rusty lake, he was almost immediately infatuated. he went down to visit her and help set up, and then he brought her lunch after, which they ate in the grass in front of her newly-built tent.

who kissed who first: samuel was taught to be a gentleman by his mother, so he always thought to ask before a kiss. ida made him flustered though. she caught on immediately, and kissed him first. when he came home dumbstruck with red lipstick smeared on his lips, mary smiled and emma just laughed.

who started the relationship: there was a point when they both realized that they were pretty much spending every day together. emma teased samuel about it a lot, and told him to work up the courage to ask to officially court her. mary told him that it was improper to continue the way they were, and samuel's a huge mama's boy, so he listened. the next time he went to visit ida, he went with a bouquet of wildflowers in hand. emma is samuel's best friend, so she was the first one to know about it.

who remembers things: i'd say both of them, but mostly ida.

nicknames for each other: ida - "darling", "my love", and variants of the name "samuel" ("sam", etc); samuel - "doll", "my treasure", and "i" or "da". he also sometimes teasingly calls her "reiziger". on occasion, he calls her "my rose" for her beautiful red hair, and she always gives him a knowing look.

who is more likely to pay for dinner: samuel. ida gets the princess treatment, always.

who normally cooks: kind of a cop-out answer, but mary does most of the family's cooking. she taught samuel how to cook, and he enjoys it too. every once in a while, however, ida will cook a new romani dish for the family. they are always greatly enjoyed.

who remembers anniversaries: ida has an impeccable memory, so she obviously remembers something as important to the relationship as an anniversary. samuel remembers too, and he gets ida an anniversary present without fail. he tells her that her existence in his life is enough of a gift to him.

what would they get each other for gifts: samuel always buys ida jewelry when they go out. otherwise, it's usually flowers he's picked or a little trinket he carved. ida often does readings for him

most trivial thing they fight over: they honestly don't fight much??? the only thing i can think of though is that sometimes ida can be very cryptic and nonchalant, leading to samuel stressing because he thinks she knows something he doesn't, especially about the future. being around ida has 100% turned him into a believer, and sometimes he gets anxious looking at her crystal ball.

how often do they fight: like i said, not often.

who uses all the hot water: samuel. definitely.

who calls up the super/landlord when the heat’s not working: nobody! samuel can fix it himself ����

who leaves their stuff around: samuel has a habit of bringing his carpentry tools into the house. it drives mary and emma crazy, if anything, but ida doesn't mind.

who remembers to buy the milk: this one's difficult because it's hard to know how the vanderbooms get groceries from the outside world. it's possible they have a cow??—in which case samuel would milk it—or they even get it delivered. i'd love to see them have a little old neighbor who's like "hmm they never go out so i'll just bring them groceries" and he becomes a family friend whom they have over for dinner often until one day he hasn't heard from the vanderbooms in a while and he rows over and albert's standing on the dock wearing a mask and he's like "your services are no longer required here, old man" and the dude rows away apprehensively, staring at albert who doesn't move an inch until the little boat is out of sight and AHH i'm getting carried away. the answer is probably samuel.

who controls the netflix queue: samuel loves his netflix specials.

who steals the covers at night: samuel. ida will pettily yank them sometimes, prompting samuel to wake up, and they'll both laugh.

who cusses more: samuel, but he has mary, emma, and leonard policing his behavior. the second he swears, leonard is holding a little hand out, waiting for money to add to the swear jar ida mde him.

who does most of the cleaning: kinda both of them? it's a huge house, so domestic labor is split pretty evenly.

what’s their favorite non-sexual activity: hard to say because they do so much together. they like playing games, picnics, traveling and exploring the area around the lake, cooking, and just relaxing together. sometimes they'll stay up late just talking and enjoying each other's company. ida lights samuel's pipe, and they chat until it's time for bed.

who’s the cuddler: samuel. sometimes he'll just pull ida onto the couch with him and fall asleep in her arms after a long day.

who’s the big spoon/little spoon: depends. it used to be samuel mostly, but he finds he really likes it when ida holds him. it makes him feel safe and appreciated.

who’s more dominant: we know it's ida bfr

who is the dirty talker: both. samuel also really likes it when ida speaks romani to him. this isn't dirty talking, but on a related note, he likes it when she holds him, runs her fingers through his hair, and softly says random things in romani.

what do they do when they’re away from each other: samuel does a lot of carpentry and woodworking on a daily basis, so he would just carry on as usual, especially because ida doesn't like to stick around. as for ida, if she were the one out, she'd just enjoy her travels. if it were samuel, she'd turn to her crystal ball and tarot cards.

what would they do if the other one was hurt: it would make samuel anxious to see ida sick or hurt. he would devote much of his time to caring for her and visiting her bedside. eventually, he got used to it when she was bedridden during her pregnancy with leonard, and he became much more relaxed about it. ida, on the other hand, is a very relaxed woman by nature, and she knows a thing or two about injuries since she's spent so much time on the road. she would take it on the chin, and deal with it in an appropriate manner.

a headcanon: leaving the lake was pretty normal before albert became the man of the house. however, samuel was still pretty sheltered as a boy because he didn't leave much after his father passed. ida loves traveling, and she takes him often. the first time they went together, samuel was a little dumbstruck, and in awe of the architecture especially. he spent twenty minutes staring through the window of a furniture shop, and then he finally went inside and bought like fifteen bottles of wood polish. they continued the tradition weekly, and eventually, they saw amsterdam together, and even brussels and paris.

[tbh-entp]

Hello. I am female ENTP 5w4, 21 y.o. I see your post about INFJ guy and I want to ask something (maybe we have similar cases).

I have weird-relationship with INFJ guy (maybe his enneagram is 4w3 or 3w4, i dunno accurately bcs i never ask him about his ennea type). I said this relationship is weird because we has been fall to each other since 2019 (but we don't make any commitments and don't make our relationship clear, we run some project together and we join same club in our uni), but in latest 2020 I have struggle for BPD and ADHD that make me ruin his life and maybe he hate me so much for that. I ask him "are you hate me?" But he always said he never hate me despite I make confrontation with him, I act really mean with him someday then become chill in other day. I am really unstable in that phase.

Now, he got a sickness (sometimes he seems health to talk to everyone in chatgroup, but his sickness will relapse in one month--he will vanished every one month since november 2020 and that's pattern really bother me).

I don't know what kind of sick he has been suffer. I ask him and he answer "this is just a fever. Don't worry I will be okay."

We have a lot of project (some start up project that we built together), and His ambiguos condition make me feel overwhelmed to pursue him become more energetic or ambitious as I am for make progress in our project. Since I know he is really anxious person, I never pursue him to do anything, never make a debate like before, never give criticism and make confrontation. That is because I won't make him more anxious.

In your opinion, is this a healthy relationship? Today, he has been 2x24 hours vanished from any circumtances (i hope no more than 2 days pls), he doesn't replying my message, doesn't occure in any gruop chat, then I can't focused to my college exam because I think about his condition too much. What you would to do if you faced this case? I think this is really cringe but yeah, this is fucking frustated because i'm too deep to care (or love??) this INFJ guy. Lol.

Hi! In my opinion it doesn't sound healthy. Do you feel like you are yourself around him? It sounds like you can't be, or are modifying for him while he is MIA. I hope he's ok but it strikes me as a bit off.

It reminds me of a friend who loved a guy who was very sick (a nice dude). This friend of mine however really didn't act like herself around him as she didn't feel as if she could express her sadness for fear of making him more depressed. And in the end he was relying on her for care and she was running on empty.

I say only pursue it if he puts effort towards you as well! We all deserve effort... like true effort, not love kernels.

[laladellakang]

Wait can u post it again I’m here 24/7 the second I leave you post sth I’m gonna cry 😭 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

y'know what? i'll post it here and delete this once the full fic is out 😌

"Fuck! Dumb bitch," I face-palmed when I idiotically replied to Jay.

"Why? What's wrong?" "You good?" two of my friends asked while the other one just raised his eyebrow.

We're currently chilling in the school's empty library. One of them is my classmate who is also on her period and the other two just wanted to bail.

"I said something in the group chat," I groaned, covering my eyes with my arms. Why am I so stupid?

"And..?"

"Jake used to go here, remember? He knows that I'm supposed to be in class right now," I turned to my side on the bean bag. This somehow makes my ovaries hurt more.

"Oh shit- well.. Maybe he'll think that you're just opening your phone in class," one of the guys said.

"Orr worst case scenario, just tell them the truth. You skipped math cause your vagina walls are shedding and it hurts like shit so you can't get yourself to deal with more torture," the other guy said.

"But I just got into a fight with Heeseung and Jungwon yesterday so I really don't wanna get scolded again," getting scolded is nothing new to me, but when it comes from any of my boyfriends (or parents)... It just hits more.

And my currently sensitive, thick, hard-as-hell-to-achieve ass won't be able to take it. Just like what happened yesterday with Heewon.

"It's not like they've never ditched before, no?" the same guy raised his eyebrow.

"Dude, we rarely go to school and hardly ever stay for the whole day. Last time any of them ditched was probably in their trainee days," I ran a hand through my bangs."I just hope that Jake doesn't- shit! I was just about to say that I hope he won't snitch!"

"He said 'shouldn't you be in class right now?' oh my God," I groaned again.

Jake fucking Sim. I swear to- I mean, it's not his fault, it's mine but I'm feeling real petty so, JAKE FUCKING SIM.

"Well, Delle," my girl-friend snorted at the unintentional rhyme she made. "Good fucking luck."

❅◦❆◦❅◦❆◦❅◦❆◦❅◦❆

I took a deep breath before tapping in the combination to enter the dorm and entering carefully. I didn't even announce my arrival like I always do.

"Della? Is that you?" Sunghoon called out.

Woo! My eyes are already glossing over! Hold them back, Lala. You're good at this. You've been doing this for years.

"Yes?" I tried to not sound nervous. Trust, Delle, trust. It's okay. They shouldn't be too mad.

"Come here," oh my God, now I'm even more anxious. The one who called wasn't Heeseung. The others have never told me to 'come over' with that tone.

"Yes?" I said in a small voice, barely entering the kitchen. There were only two boys there- Jayhoon.

"Did you skip class?" Jay asked calmly. I couldn't bring myself to verbally answer so all I could do was nod. "Is this the first time?" he asked next, to which I also shook my head to. "As of debut, I mean?"

Does purposefully joining a class late count..?

"I've only joined a class late. This is the first time," thank God my voice didn't shake.

"Often?" Jay went again. Shit- I know being cool is his thing and all but it's making him seem even more intimidating.

Once again, I couldn't bring myself to answer so I just nodded.

"Della, you know that we rarely go to school, right?" Sunghoon stated. "-and we almost never stay for the whole day, right? Not to mention that this is your last year," well here comes the stupid waterworks.

Please don't cry. I don't want them to think that I'm trying to manipulate them.

"Look- I know that you're struggling and trying your best but you can't ditch like that, babe. It's only for a couple of hours," Jay said. "Coming in class late? Well.. fine- at least you weren't called to the headmaster's office, right?"

"I don't give a shit about you coming in late but Della, you really shouldn't skip classes. You need to make up for your lack of attendance and you shouldn't... add more to that," Sunghoon's voice softened drastically when (I'm guessing) he saw my unpreventable glossy eyes.

"Yah! Park Sunghoon!" Jay immediately went into protective mode and got up to pull me to his chest.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! She doesn't normally cry if we argue," I felt a hand (that wasn't Jay's) brushing through my hair. "Della, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry."

Guess what this hormonal bitch did upon hearing that? I cried harder, of course.

"Della! Oh my God- I'm so sorry I was really harsh and didn't even ask-" Sunghoon suddenly cut himself off. "Wait... You're on your period, right?"

"Oh my god! Is that why you bailed?! You were in pain, weren't you?!" Jay grabbed my face so I would look at him. His eyes were filled with worry.

"Della, I am so sorry!" is Sunghoon crouching down so he can hug my waist? "Ahh, Heeseung-hyung!"

Two days in and my period had already caused so much dumb drama. What else is going to happen down the line?

[irish-urn]

My favorite thing is when Derek calls Casey ‘baby’ 🥹

OKAY. SO. SO.

This is one of those things that I've thought and over-thought and over-thought about, because, like... Casey! Why are you so complicated??? So, uh. Here's a rambling essay regarding the "baby" issue in my kick at the darkness 'till it bleeds daylight series:

So, Derek calling Casey "baby" is the most instinctual, Derek thing I can imagine him doing. Especially when Casey's in the middle of a panic attack. Derek being okay (and actually melting) when he's called baby is also something I feel very strongly about because LOOK AT HIM. He wouldn't like it all the time, or in public, but I think he would really see it as... proof? that Casey loves him like he loves her... I don't know if I'm wording this right, but basically, them using the same language puts them and their feelings on equal footing... or something like that (Derek's brain is kinda a mess too).

Casey, though... The whole thing for me boils down to this being another incident of Casey choosing her brain over her heart. Because every time I write Derek calling Casey "baby", the Casey in my head immediately has two reactions almost simultaneously: that basic oh I like this, this sounds right countered with I shouldn't like this; I'm stronger than this.

And then we get into the messy, over-complicatedness that is Casey's brain. Because, kind of like I answered in a comment on "fraction of a second", Casey doesn't want to be known as "Derek's baby/girl/woman". She wants to be known as Casey McDonald first and foremost, and ever since her mom married George, her life has revolved around Derek Venturi. I honestly believe that's one of the reasons the prospect of going to New York would be so tempting BECAUSE NO ONE KNOWS HER OR DEREK IN NY. She would always be just Casey McDonald; Derek Venturi would basically not exist. And can you imagine how freeing that would be? Can you imagine how much freedom and agency she would suddenly feel like she had? A world without Derek Venturi — ignore the parts of her that miss him, ignore that hollow feeling in her stomach when someone mentions hockey or home videos or the Toronto Maple Leafs — she is finally free to be herself, whatever that might mean.

Taking all that into account, she's also aware that Derek has more experience dating and such than she does (at least in my stories; some people have stories where this is not the case, and that's also amazing). Casey likes to be special, she's kind of a princess, and she can be fairly jealous and possessive (but so can Derek, and as long as they communicate and understand each other, I don't consider this a red flag). So, there's a part of her that wonders how many other girls has Derek called 'baby'? Is there enough that maybe he's not thinking about her, Casey McDonald, when he says it (that's never going to be the case (haha), but you get what she's thinking) but of someone else?

ALSO: "baby" is infantilizing (is that the right word?) and as a strong, capable feminist, she shouldn't want to be called that. She needs to overcome the parts of her that like it, needs to be stronger than her basic instincts. She has a brain and a personality and worth, and she's going to exercise them.

...which brings us back to Casey having all of these contradictory reactions to being called 'baby', which kind of makes her anxious; so to avoid all of that, she asks to not be called it. Derek respects this, and makes a genuine, sincere effort not to call her that; but he slips up sometimes, usually when she's panicking or crying and he's trying to comfort her, because it's so instinctive because she is his baby, his princess, his Casey.

...and as time goes on, and Casey matures and settles into who she is and their relationship (because she is far more comfortable with Derek&Casey in private and at Queen's than with their family or in London or around hockey dudes) ...she starts to accept that her pleasure in that name doesn't take away her worth at all, and that it doesn't make her weak either. She doesn't call Derek "baby" because she thinks he's weak; she calls him that because she loves him, but sometimes "I love you" isn't enough for that incredibly intense, desperate ache in your heart. And I think they would talk about it, and figure stuff out, and... yeah.

Give Casey a few years to figure out herself and this relationship, and Derek's efforts will be rewarded. <3

[icarus-suraki]

Invading your personal life with: 9, 50, 74

Invade my personal life! Or let me invade yours...

9. Do you have any cool talents? Well, despite being 40, I can put my feet behind my head. How's that?

No, for real: I've got some kind of EDS connective tissue thing. My brother has it to a greater degree (I'm envious) but we've both got the thing where your skin feels a bit odd and your scars look strange and you're just a little too flexible for your own good.

It's cool except that when I go for walks, sometimes my knees decide to be like "Hey, I have an idea. How about fuck this?" and start slipping (for lack of a better term) side to side and it hurts, so I always have to be ready to limp back home if that happens. My hips will do the same thing, but it seems less frequent than my knees.

But, yeah, I can cram all 5 feet, 10 lanky inches of myself into a standard-size moving box, which was a trick I did a few times during move-in at college. It's kind of fun to be able to wriggle into small spaces like that. It's come in handy a few times at work, interestingly enough.

50. How are you doing today? Not super-great, actually. Not to be TMI, but I've been feeling sick for the last couple of days. It's like my entire GI tract is swollen and sore, from my throat on down. I was bloated as hell Friday night and all day Saturday--even my head hurt, wtf? I'm better today but I'm still all sore. I'm not even hungry and I don't even want to eat but I can tell my blood sugar is getting low… I was supposed to have supper with my folks but that's not happening, which is frustrating…

I'm also feeling a bit anxious about my therapy appointment tomorrow because those are rough and I wish I could just be better already.

The weather is nice, though, if a bit chilly. But it's dry now, which is a relief after yesterday's humidity, and it's perfectly clear. And I'm working on some cosplay plans, though I'm feeling a bit uneasy about those because cosplay can be expensive as hell. But I want to. I don't want to say I need to but I kind of need to. It keeps me going. I can't sacrifice everything. So I'm pricing out fabric and working out how I want to do this. (The hat, a major element of the costume, is sitting nearby and motivating me immensely.)

74. When was the last time you travelled somewhere new? You're asking me this in a post-Covid world? This? Me? In a post-Covid world?

Okay technically in August 2022 I had to drive out to the city water department main offices for a job interview. I ended up getting hired but the fact that I had to leave for work at about 5am and drive for an hour made it tough. That and the fact that my job responsibilities got changed on me unexpectedly and I wasn't getting any training… Yeah, not a great match. I think that's the last time I travelled somewhere new. I'm genuinely trying to remember…

Unless this question is really asking about travelling travelling. Like internationally or something not-quite-locally, in which case that would be something like 2010? I think? Summer 2010 was when I went to Otakon, which was definitely a new place for me. (That was the year of dudes walking around yelling "Backscratcher? Mmbackscratcher!" from Family Guy, I think? It was also the summer of Pokemon HeartGold and SoulSilver and the related Pokewalker and there were literally Pokemon walkers wearing dozens of the things and offering to walk your Pokemon for a fee. And the staff at the H.Naoto booth said my ouji-style outfit looked great and got me to hang around for a handshake event with the designer(!!!!). And I met a ton of people I only knew online to that point, which was awesome. Yeah, that was a fun time--to think I almost didn't go.)

I don't travel much--can you tell? Maybe I'll have a different answer to this when I have spending money again. I mean, I fully intend to go to Japan before too much longer.

[stayarmytinyzenmoa-l]

OH NVM i was just about to tell you about this guy from my calc class and it's not a good story so like :/

but this guy came up to one of my friends and i at the beginning of the semester and got our numbers technically he kind of forced us to give our numbers to him but since my friend gave him a fake number and i was too anxious about a stranger talking to me i didn't think to give him a fake one

he's been texting us a lot asking for the quiz answers and whatnot and even though i haven't been responding he keeps texting and it's like dude,, take the hint and stop texting me :/

but as of recently i keep seeing him around campus and at first i thought "oh it's at popular places on campus it's just a coincidence" but then yesterday i saw him in the fine arts section of campus after i was walking back from one of my classes which makes no sense because if he's a stem major there's no reason for him to be there-

and after he saw me walking he stopped, walked over to the side and got his phone out and then started doing something to which i thought he was just texting a friend or something but then after i got to the library i saw a notification from ig saying that he requested to follow me at that same time that he saw me walking back

anyways i passed by him while walking to calc today and i he tried talking to me but i had my headphones in and even though they weren't on noise cancellation mode i just pretended like they were because i didn't want to talk to him :/ i feel bad for ignoring him but at the same time i feel really weird around him so i'm following my gut feeling about this

the only good thing that came from this was when i showed that friend that i mentioned before of what happened i got distracted and found an ig of a family friend that i haven't seen from since graduation :D

OHHH No, Rose, don't be feel bad. But, if anything, try to be more straight with him. Worse case scenario is that he's a crazy stalker, and with guys you need to be straightforward. Tell him that you're busy and that you're not on your phone often, or straight up tell him to stop texting.

Or you could do what I did. Block him, and say you changed numbers. Then give him a fake one AHAHA but fr that's so scary be careful, Rose!

[downwiththemutantnjnjaturtles]

We Met Within This Screen

[Donatello x fem reader]

Bayverse, sfw.

Was this stupid?

Was this risky?

Would Splinter find out and send him to the Hashi?

These questions ran through Donatello's mind as he booted up the game. An online multiplayer, one that he didn't play often but had recently got more invested in. The most video games he played were usually with Mikey, in the family room, with only him and his brother. Not alone in his lab with his personal computer where he was hidden, doing something Splinter would most likely not approve of. But some part of him that he always kept shoved aside longed for any kind of normalcy among the outsiders, humans—so he booted up the game, and waited to play.

As he customized his character, every so often he would throw a glance over his shoulder toward the entrance to his lab, and every time he heard a noise nearby was on the ready to close out the game in case someone tried to come in. Perhaps not scandalous among anyone else, but he had the feeling that he really should not be interacting with anyone online. The other part of him, though, told him that logistically, it would be fine; he'd never tell anyone anything. No one could get information out of him. What harm would it be to chat once in a while?

Within his first week of playing the game on-and-off, he'd found himself a small group in which he partied up with sometimes. They never talked outside of the in-game chat, whether it were text or voice chat (no one could tell him from a human anyway), but he was fine with that. He had fun talking and playing together all the same, and eventually, that game became one of his new hobbies that he indulged in regularly. Which his brothers noticed.

"I'm down," said Donnie through the mic as his character was struck one too many times. "Anyone available to revive me?"

There was a knock at his lab door. He nearly jumped out of his skin and quickly shut his mic off, exiting out the game before getting out of his chair. He made himself look busy over by his lab equipment as Leo leaned in.

His brother gave him an odd look. "Were you talking to someone?" he asked, eyes narrowed.

On the inside, Donnie's stomach churned. He almost knocked over one of his beakers. "No? No, of course not. Only to myself, if that counts," he answered, steadying his voice. He looked around his work station and grabbed the nearest object. "Stupid titrator. Always trying to break. Guess that's why it was with the junk I found."

He felt exposed under Leo's scrutiny, because his brother in blue had a knack for sensing a lie, just like their master. He gave occasional eye contact as he continued fiddling with the stuff on his desk.

But Leo seemed to believe this lie. Donnie did mutter to himself sometimes; he wouldn't put it past him. "Okay, then," Leo responded on his way out. "Oh, and we got pizza."

"Cool, I'll be right there," Donnie said, turning back to his monitors. He waited until he heard the door shut before he hopped back on the game, telling his party goodbye in the chat before he logged out.

His cursor had been hovering over the exit button when he heard a feminine voice. "When will you be on again?" she asked. "I'd be down to partner up!"

He stared at the screen momentarily. The person speaking had not used the voice chat before, only the text. What he knew so far was that she was about his age, but not much else. But he was a little excited, more than usual, actually, to have caught the eye of someone in particular. He wouldn't admit to feeling like a kind of outsider among his small group of online acquaintances, but he was finally starting to feel like he belonged, with this.

Slightly nervous, he hurried to type in the chat: I might be online tomorrow.

He couldn't give her a definite answer. His life was a spontaneous one, and sometimes he disliked the unpredictability of it. He typed again: I'm usually on late afternoon. When his brothers were asleep.

"Alright, cool. See you later, Bo."

"Bo", he repeated inwardly, snorting. A dumb username and reference to his weapon of choice, but he wasn't about to reveal his actual name. He exited out of the game. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was beginning to push it with this. What if he got caught? Mikey could bust in any second. His master could catch on to his absences and start questioning what was really going on. Any number of things, but when he heard that girl's voice, he knew he'd be coming back at some point.

"Bro, what are you doing in there? Mikey's going to eat all of this if you don't get in here quick!" called Raphael from the living room.

Donnie left and joined his brothers, Leo commenting with a chuckle, "So he finally leaves his hole."

Mikey held up a slice of his pizza, pepperoni. "The party's in here, dude!"

Grabbing the last two slices of pizza, Donnie sat down. "I was just working on something," he lied through his teeth, "a personal project."

"A personal project?" Leo asked curiously.

"Don't get him started on that, he'll never shut up about it and forget to eat," Raph interjected, then took a huge bite of his food.

Donnie's brows furrowed and he put down his pizza, ready to bicker with Raph about it, but he stopped himself. He feigned casualness, "Doesn't matter anyway, it's busted. Just some useless stuff I found a while back." He picked on his pizza while the rest finished up their dinner. His mind was elsewhere, too distracted to eat much and made a bit anxious by his recent escapades in the online world. He knew what he was doing, took every precaution possible, but the inherent nature of keeping secrets from his family made him downright uncomfortable. It was just too weird to keep things from his brothers.

Once everyone was done, they all geared up for patrol. They quickly went topside and freestyled their route, this night. The city was quiet in the sense that there were no glaringly obvious criminal activities. But cars still honked, people still played music, and the other clamor of the city was still going strong. He loosened up and forgot about the girl once he was out there, running and climbing with his brothers. This was the "normal" he could always come back to.

Chapter 2

[msmarvelouswinchester]

The One Where Everything Goes Wrong - 1

Summary - Dean Winchester is the most charming man you have ever met so when he asks you out on a date, you say yes because what can be better than going on a date with Dean but sometimes somethings don't go the way you have planned them.

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Reader; Sam Winchester

Warning - Fluff, Angst-ish, mentions of hydrophobia, and fear of sharks, panic attack

Word Count - 2550

A/N - This is a collaboration with @miss-nerd95/. @bucky--barnes . It has been planned and written by both of us. This will be a two parter! Hope you like it.

Spn dividers by @talesmaniac89

You threw your head back, groaning in frustration. There wasn't a single piece of clothing that you felt was appropriate for your date. Skimming through the closet for the third time, you glared at all the different pieces of flannels, flip side of being a hunter, before you finally noticed the long floral dress at the back of your closet.

“This will work,” you muttered to yourself as you picked the dress, happy that you found something worthy.

Dean Winchester, a name that was enough to make the demons of hell and the angels of heaven tremble with fear but for you he was just Dean, the man who had successfully stolen your heart at the very first ‘hello’, so you needed the date to be perfect. Even though you were head over heels for him, you never uttered a single word about how you felt and neither did he. The fear of being rejected by him, hearing him say that he didn't feel the same kept your mouth sealed shut for a long time.

So it all came as a surprise when you were lying on the bed in a motel room with aching muscles because of a rough hunt and mind filled with the vicious words exchanged between you and Dean and the door to your room slightly opened, revealing the said man standing in the doorway with an unreadable look on his face. It all happened so quickly as Dean crossed the room in long strides to stand at the foot of your bed and confess his feelings for you, no longer wanting to hide it in case something bad happened.

After putting on your dress, as you touched up on your makeup, you smiled softly remembering the fond memory of his lips on yours for the first time that night before he asked you out on date. You looked at yourself in the mirror feeling content with how you looked.

Yet unbeknownst to you, Dean was running around in the bunker like a headless chicken trying to plan the perfect date.

“Will you sit down for a minute?” Sam rolled his eyes at his brother who was pacing across the war room, eyes focused on the floor, lost in thought.

“She loves junk food right?” Dean asked, at which all Sam wanted to do was punch him.

“You know her better than me, but to answer your question, yes, she loves all those greasy food items which increase your body cholesterol. No wonder you're made for each other, but I really feel sorry for when you'll have kids,” the younger Winchester smirked.

“Stop teasing, you don't get it! I love her, Sammy-”

“I don't get it? Dude, I was the one who was sick of both of you dancing around each other,” Sam grumbled, “if it wasn't for me pushing you out of that door back after that hunt, you wouldn't have asked her out. Now stop freaking out like a fifteen year old going on his first date!”

“I'm not freaking out. I'm just nervous,” Dean said.

“Wow, would you look at that? Dean Winchester, the ladies’ man, is nervous about a date,” Sam chuckled.

“Shut up.” Sam rolled his eyes at the green eyed hunter for the second time that morning, “She makes me nervous. What if I fuck up?”

“Don't worry. Everything will be fine. I just can't believe I'm the one giving you dating advice right now.”

“Shut. Up. And I know it's going to be fine. I have it all planned out. A visit to the aquarium and then a little picnic underneath the stars, she's going to fall in love with me,” Dean made a sound which resembled a giggling teenage boy.

Sam was grinning until he processed the words. “Wait. An aquarium?”

“Yeah, why are you saying it like that-”

“Dean,” you stepped into the war room, interrupting the brothers. Out of habit, you were about to bite your lip but you remembered the lipstick you had put on, so you just settled for playing with the ring on your finger, waiting for their reaction.

Both the Winchesters just stared at you, mouth opened which made you more anxious. Was there something on your face? Shit, you looked around the War Room where Dean had asked you to meet once you were ready, why didn't they have any mirrors in here?

Clearing your throat, you shifted your gaze on the man standing beside his brother, the latter sitting on one of the chairs of the table. He looked dapper in the dark jean jacket which he traded for his usual plaid and contrasted it with a plain white tee he wore underneath Although you loved seeing him wrapped in flannel,this new look of his made you go weak in the knees and you sure would have melted into a puddle on the spot had Sam not interrupted your thoughts.

"You look beautiful, Y/N." He harshly nudged Dean, at which the latter glared at him before looking back at you. Nodding, he almost sounded like he was in a daze. "Yeah, you look great, sweetheart."

You blushed, tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, "Thank you, you don't look too bad yourself. Shall we go? You still haven't told me where we're going Dean."

Sam got up from his seat and spoke hurriedly, "Yeah about that, Dean, I don't think-"

Dean narrowed his eyes, "I'm telling you for the third time, shut up. Don't ruin the surprise."

"But-"

"Nope, we're going now. Sweetheart, are you comfortable in those heels? We may have to walk a bit."

You waved goodbye at Sam, who dejectedly sat back down, pinching the bridge of his nose once you were out of the door. This was going to end in a disaster.

“Milady.” Dean held Baby's door open for you, one hand on the handle and another on the window of the black impala. The tips of his ears turned red when your hand touched his as you slid into the passenger's seat.

You gave him a nervous smile, as he walked to the other side and got into the driver's side, pulling the Impala out of the Bunker’s garage

You looked out of the window as Baby’s engine purred, the scenery familiar as you drove out. Glancing at him, you prodded, "Can you please tell me where we're going? You know I don't like surprises."

Dean's tongue peeked out to sweep across his bottom lip, as he stole a glance your way. He chuckled before focusing back on the road.

"You'll find out when we get there." You huffed in annoyance, crossing your arms indignantly as you looked away.

"Aw, sweetheart don't be like that." Rolling your eyes, you held in a smile as you shook your head. "Not until you tell me where we're going."

Dean laughed at your pout, "I can just tell you that you're gonna love it.

You uncrossed your hands, your left tracing the outline of the almost rolled down window, the other on the seat beside you. A blush crept up your cheek when you felt his hand clasp yours, fingers entangling.

"I guess I'll let you off the hook just this once. But at least tell me how much time we need to get there."

He squeezed your hands in his as he beamed at you, eyes shining. "We're almost there. We ain't leaving Kansas City."

And so you relaxed as you moved closer to him, your head resting on his shoulder until a huge building with 'Sea Life' written on it with pictures of the habitats of the same appeared in front of you.You visibly paled as you realized that the Aquarium was where you were heading, thankful that Dean couldn't see your face.

"We're going in there?"

You felt him nod lightly. "Yup!"

Why he didn't notice the quiver in your voice you didn't know, but you surely heard the excitement in his as he parked the car. And that's when you decided, you were going to tough it out, everything else be damned.

After all, it wasn't everyday that you went on dates with Dean; if you could face the vampires that killed your parents, you could certainly walk through those rooms which had glass separating you from water and the creatures-

Nope, you weren't going to think about it.

But as he got out of the car and walked towards your side, offering his hand to you with a shy smile, you returned it. You climbed out of Baby, taking his hand into yours.

Well, this could work if you put all of your attention on Dean instead of, uh… your surroundings.

You could feel your heart beating loudly against your chest as you walked through the doors, Dean showing them the tickets and the hopeful look he sent your way made you swallow your apprehension and the request him to move your date someplace else. You nodded at him, somehow conjuring up a small smile for his sake.

Showing you the small catalogue, he started listing the types of the creatures that were in the aquarium, telling you that there was a special exhibit they had just built and couldn't wait to see it. You could tell that he had planned this out and you just couldn't mess it up. You knew he was loving the aquarium tour since you had seen him spending time in the Dean Cave - watching Shark week.

His hand was still in yours as he pulled you towards the first tank and you immediately closed your eyes when you saw that you were nearing the big blue filled with small blobs of other colors, not realizing that you had stopped until you felt a tug, opening them to see beautiful green orbs narrowed in concern.

"You okay, Y/N?"

You bit your bottom lip, a small "Yeah," coming out of your mouth, hoping he was convinced.

Well, as it turned out, he did. You shoved your face in his shoulder, thankful for the double layers on his skin because he couldn't feel your breaths becoming rapid as the room became colder the further you walked in, but at least you had Dean, a literal human furnace to distract you, his hand warm in yours.

"You're excited right?" His voice was giddy as he asked. "Of course," you answered, cringing at the high pitch of yours.

When you finally reached it, you left his side to go to the small metal plate at one end of the exhibit bearing the information as he looked at the fishes, "Hey Y/N, you gotta see this one, it's called an Angel fish. It looks awesome with streaks of brown and black. Don't you think it kinda looks like Cas?" You laughed at that, but you weren't going to look at the fish, not even if your life depended on it.

"Yeah! Click a picture to show Sam later. This is really interesting," you pointed at the small panel without turning your gaze.

Well that trick of yours worked for the rest of the tanks. At least for some time it worked.

Dean slipped his hand back into yours, squeezing it, "Now it's time for the special thing I told you about." You didn't know if you were feeling offended or worried that Dean didn't notice the way you were behaving.

A wry smile tugged at your lips as you saw what he was referring to. It was a dome, a tunnel you had to walk through while the water surrounded you from three sides, and you shook your head, pulling him away from the entrance of the tunnel.

"Hey, you know what Dean, we haven't kissed once during our date. It feels wrong, let's go make out in the washrooms or something." He was taken aback by your sudden brashness but he licked his lips, a smirk etching on his face, "I did think of it, but I wanna make this as cheesy as possible. I wanna kiss you on the second part of the date."

All colour drained from your skin as your eyes widened, "What second part?"

And for the first time that day, Dean frowned which made you feel bad. "I thought that this was going good. I had just planned a picnic after this. Don't worry, if you're not having fun, we can directly go home. The exit is at the end of the tunnel."

You groaned in frustration. "No, no! I'm having fun. Trust me, I am enjoying this! Now let's go." You had survived without any mishap till now and you could do this. All you had to do was walk. Or so you thought.

The moment you stepped in, Dean hurried to the glass, you decidedly not looking anywhere else but the light at the end of the tunnel.

"Y/N look, a shark!" He grabbed your face moving your head towards it and your breath caught in your throat and not in a good way.

You trembled, pushing Dean away to sit down, your head cradled in your hands as you pulled your knees closer, trying to think about something else but even with your eyes closed, the blue glow given off in the silent environment still seeped in through your eyelids and all you could think of was the big fish on the other side of the glass.

You didn't know what happened next, all you could feel was the rapid pounding of your heart, your sweaty hands and not being able to breathe.

Dean kneeled next to you, dumbstruck at how the date went sideways, unable to know what was happening or do anything, fear creeping in as he froze. Normally he was quick at thinking on gun point, but seeing you on the floor like that puzzled him. “Sweetheart, what is it?Please say something.”

You tried to talk but you couldn't. You were shaking and it was impossible for you to form any sort of coherent words. “I-out.” You choked out .And that was all it took for Dean to get into action, putting one arm under your knees and another on your back as he picked you up in bridal style, making sure that your dress was positioned properly before running out of the exit towards the Impala. He could feel you shiver in his arms, cursing under his breath as he quickly unlocked the car and sat you on the back seat.

He held your hands, rubbing your palms, blowing on them as he whispered, "Hey, look at me. You're okay. We're out of there. We're never going in again. Breathe. I'm here with you." Over and over again in your ears.

You tried matching your breath with his as you eventually calmed down. You took a few minutes as your breath evened out before you opened your eyes, only to see the worry in those beautiful green ones again.

The ride back to the Bunker was short and silent. You didn't say anything, you didn't know what to say, feeling that it was your fault as you looked at Dean's scrunched up eyebrows through your peripheral vision.

What you didn't know was that Dean felt the exact same.

Let us know if you want to be tagged in the next part (Part 2)

Feedback is highly appreciated!

[escape-rock-bottom]

Hey There (Discomfort Challenge)

One day, a harsh reality hit me like a crowbar slamming me square in the face: I don't have many friends. I literally only had three very close ones, and two of them were high school friends I haven't spoken to for years. As you know, humans are social creatures and rarely is someone truly content with little to no social interaction and friends.

I personally fall into the category of people who are highly social but prefer a handful of really good friends over a large amount of acquaintances. I'm also in the category of socially anxious shy dudes who are secretly extroverts and love a good conversation. I just find it insanely hard to approach people for a variety of reasons I discussed in more detail in a previous blog. To summarize, I overthink things regarding socializing.

Apparently, the answer is painfully straightforward: People tend to ignore you unless you approach them. It seems like 90% of your relationships exist because you approached first, and 10% are from them approaching you.

Also, people generally keep to themselves and assume that others do the same. In my case, my resistance to making eye contact and approaching people makes it seem a whole lot like I'm not interested in chatting regardless of my actual intentions and desires.

People can't read minds, but they're great at reading body language. The difference between me and most other people is that my body language rarely betrays my intentions, emotions, or thoughts. That in itself creates complications with communication.

In order to take the guesswork and misinterpretation out of social interactions, I have to verbally express my intentions. If I want to talk, I need to make it clear with a greeting. If I want to be left alone, I'd need to ask for space. In reverse, I'd need to ask the other person what they need and learn to understand general social cues.

Yeah I can argue its unfair that I have to put in so much work into socializing but I have to be honest with myself: Who doesn't? Most people struggle with relationships in a variety of different ways.

Alright, I know my problems, but what good is that without a potential solution to them? How do I extinguish my anxiety regarding approaching people without freaking myself out? I came up with one idea after trying a previous method and realizing that was a little too scary at that time:

Just say hi to people I am familiar with.

That's a full on entry level baby step to conquering my fear right there. About two weeks ago I set out to greet people with a short and simple "hi". As of writing this post, I have still been doing so. It's getting a bit easier, but I still struggle with it. However, I've met quite a few cool people and was able to have more conversations than before.

It's nice to feel like I'm connecting to people where before I just sat there being pathetically lonely even though people were reaching out and engaging with me. It's even nicer to know that most of my relationships grew distant because of my lack of reaching out to them. Yes, I previously lacked that awareness and I will admit it's knowledge I only recognized after 24 years of my life.

Once again, with most types of anxiety, the way to deal with and overcome it is to take small steps to face it. Ignoring it or shifting blame to some other circumstance doesn't help you conquer that anxiety. Since I know my anxieties mainly surround social interactions, I set discomfort challenges to put me in a position to face my fears, but I know plenty of people who suffer the same or similar anxieties in their life.

Of course, it's up to you to test methods and choose the best fit. What will work for me may not for you, but the concepts themselves are universal: To overcome fear of socializing and building relationships, you need to practice putting yourself out there.

[tinker-jae-spam]

Dialogue

"Jackie"

"yeah?"

"why am I so anxious all the time?"

"what do you mean?"

"well, I'm always anxious. If I'm thinking about like what i wanna do and stuff, what i want, i get anxious, even saying the words, 'what do i want' give me anxiety"

"well it could be that just thinking about that stuff gives you anxiety"

"i think it might be a little more than that, also if i can't answer that question, then how will I improve myself, my life, all that jazz."

" well there you go, do you frame the question?"

" what do you mean Jackie?"

" you just framed it, you can't do X which means that you won't get Y. If you know you want to improve yourself then that question is already answered. Not only that, the fact that you know that there is something you want is already a pretty good indicator that you can answer the question so that's not the problem. Hold on a sec, let me pull up a chair this is gonna be a long one."

Jackie grabs a chair and sits next to ****** by the kitchens bar.

"alright, let's do this" says Jackie with a sigh

"alrighty, that's good. okay so Jack, idk maybe i don't even need to ask the question. Interesting note, I've noticed that whenever i ignore or try to work around my anxiety, it always bites me in the ass later on, so we could try working with it."

"okay, so let's talk for real now, what is it that you want?"

"well that's just the thing, it's a bad question, there's no context, just like those shitty depression and anxiety exams or personality tests. You can't give someone part of a question and expect a good answer."

"in that case," said Jackie, "what context would help?"

"Maybe something like 'what do you want with your life' 'how can you mitigate your anxiety' 'how do you want to hone yourself' 'what skills do you want to build' etc."

"Well you know that's better, but still this anxiety thing, my guess is If we can find the source(s) of it, you might actually be able to better articulate and parse your thoughts, that and do more stuff."

"some sources could possibly be, physical, emotional, mental, stuff like that. Childhood trauma maybe, i had a mostly pretty good childhood tho and that's something for a therapist. There's gotta be some link, some pulsating mass of flesh or something that's eating at me. Even now i can feel it."

"Links sound good, let's try following a trail, see where we end up." Said Jackie

"a trail huh?" said ****** "okay, maybe we could like follow it and stuff"

"So it starts in my chest and is painful, it also feels like I can't breathe. Breathing can help but not fully. It's like a bandaid. Social stuff but not as much anymore, if i just do the thing it gets better, at least socially. Kinda like shocking my system, the rush of doing the thing generally fucks off the anxiety. You know, that actually happens too if I have anxiety about doing something and then I break the anxiety by doing it, one issue, however, is that it also affects my thoughts, being a bit of a hothead helps mitigate that. Hmm..."

****** paused to ponder.

"That's it! Okay I've gotten a better idea. If I try finding what I want via specific questions, i can then break/overcome the anxiety. Progress, however small is a big one that helps. There's probably more and better solutions, but this is good for now. Besides, anxiety is really good at wriggling it's way into thoughts so it's best to act now before it takes over. Oh by god it's like one of those game sections with timers, you have to go like a certain speed or you'll fail."

"well shit man I'm glad i could help!" said Jackie.

"there's one more thing, doing long term tasks, but that is a separate yet connected issue. I've gotta get to work, I'll be back in a jiffy, biya!"

" Bye dude, cya!"

A/N: this is cool innit? I think it is.

[auroral-melody]

I can't wait to see Crowley's eyes, either! Part of me, though, really hopes we DON'T see them until his glasses are knocked off in the burning bookstore. I think this was when they were revealed for the first time in the book, and it's super dramatic and badass. (I'm sending this as an ask bc the post you mentioned his eyes in was already pretty long)

I agree!! That scene is incredibly important and quite a bit of a reveal. I’ve actually been meaning to talk about this. Here’s a sketch to help visualize:

Poor kiddo.

I wouldn’t say he’s exactly badass here; actually I rather feel the exact opposite, but it’s an incredibly powerful scene. I have a lot of Thoughts on this, so more under the cut.

Throughout the entirety of the book, Crowley is hyped up to be ~super cool~ and suave, anxious at times but usually under control. Similarly, Aziraphale is shown to never swear. The points when these characters break that trend means heightened emotions - for Aziraphale, it’s a bit of comedy; for Crowley, it shows how truly scared he is, because the buildup is slight things throughout the book (Aziraphale’s “oh dear,” not swearing with the practiced ease of someone who has spent six millennia not swearing, and wasn’t going to start now).

Crowley is doing okay - stressed, scared, yes, but he’s getting somewhere when he runs out of his flat. After that, he doesn’t know what to do, so he goes straight to Aziraphale’s place and runs inside, shouting for his friend like never before. Let’s look at this scene.

“Then he pushed open the door, and stepped into an inferno.

The whole bookshop was ablaze. Aziraphale!’ he called. ‘Aziraphale, you - you stupid - Aziraphale? Are you here?’

No answer. Just the crackle of burning paper, the splintering of glass as fire reached the upstairs rooms, the crash of lapsing timbers.”

The imagery here is intense and sets up the drama. His repetition of the angel’s name goes through several emotions. First, it’s just calling. After that, he’s frightened. He sort of half-insults Aziraphale, not knowing what to do, and asks if he’s here. At this point, he’s just trying to hear the angel’s voice in response, and he would immediately rush to help if he heard it. [I’m definitely writing that, heck.]

He scanned the shop urgently, desperately, looking for the angel, looking for help.

In the far corner a bookshelf toppled over, cascading flaming books across the floor. The fire was all around him, and Crowley ignored it. His left trouser leg began to smolder; he stopped it with a glance.

“Hello? Aziraphale! For Go - for Sa - for somebody’s sake! Aziraphale!”

Repetition in sentences, I’ve found, helps heighten the emotions, because it’s all the character can think of. In the first bit, he’s equating Aziraphale to help. After all, he did rush here to see if they could stop the Apocalypse; he did call him immediately post-delivering Adam. Crowley is very clever. He’s killed Ligur and evaded Hastur, and he can get to Tadfield on his own with ease. He invented many things. It’s a rare time when he’s out of ideas. Even when he’s confronted by Hastur, he’s thinking fast and manages to get out of it. But now, he’s hunted and scared and has way more problems than he started with.

He’s basically here because he’s scared out of his mind, and having Aziraphale around is comforting to him. He thinks Aziraphale will know what to do, because he sure doesn’t.

He’s not particularly afraid of fire - he’s afraid of facing all of this alone.

So he calls out a few more times, nearly swearing to two deities/lords he doesn’t generally go for, as has been done a few times (blessi - windfall / that time when Hastur and Ligur called “hail satan” and Crowley started talking about traffic). He’s still trying to get Aziraphale, just desperately aware of how useless he is at this point.

The shop window was smashed from outside. Crowley turned, startled, and an unexpected jet of water struck him full in the chest, knocking him to the ground.

His shades flew to the far corner of the room, and became a puddle of burning plastic. Yellow eyes with slitted vertical pupils were revealed. Wet and steaming, face ash-blackened, as far from cool as it was possible for him to be, on all fours in the blazing bookshop, Crowley cursed Aziraphale, and the ineffable plan, and Above, and Below.”

This is his breaking point. Physically, he’s shocked. Mentally, he’s terrified. The glasses are somewhat symbolic of his cool dude façade, and now they’re on fire. He’s probably landed on broken glass and it’s hard to see or breathe.

Seeing his eyes means vulnerability.

It’s like writing his name. He doesn’t like to do it - it associates him with what he tries to hide. He’s somewhat ashamed of it. He’s somewhat ashamed of being who he’s supposed to be - a demon, without freedom or any spark of decency. He’s vulnerable now and to a demon that’s fatal. He’s on the floor, afraid, probably looks like a wet rat, is also probably on fire. It’s his lowest point.

Back to how his being cool has been played up the whole book, the line “as far as cool as it was possible for him to be” is important. Five minutes after he loses Aziraphale, he’s lost everything he feels is him. Aziraphale grounds him. Aziraphale is important because he can perform, he can think faster when he can bounce his ideas off someone else and build them with support (think of how he and Aziraphale go back and forth against the Metatron and Beelzebub; think of how he leads Aziraphale to his point of view while also convincing himself).

The angel is someone he holds very close, and losing him feels like losing himself. Think of how you feel when a friendship ends: it’s heartbreaking and so scary. While he figures Aziraphale is probably okay, it still feels like he’s been abandoned, intentionally or not. He’s sort of felt this before, when Aziraphale leaves with the book (”Right,” mumbled Crowley, suddenly feeling very alone), but this time it’s more impactful because he needs Aziraphale for other reasons besides just being lonely.

Kinda interestingly, Crowley seems to just lose it here and curse everyone he can think of. He doesn’t want it to be his fault, and arguably it’s not. He feels thrown into this.

This sort of theme continues for his next few scenes:

“He reached into the glove compartment for his spare pair of sunglasses, and found only cassettes. Irritably he grabbed one at random and pushed it into the slot.He wanted Bach, but would settle for The Traveling Wilburys.All we need is, Radio Gaga, sang Freddie Mercury.All I need is out, thought Crowley.”

He keeps spare sunglasses in the car, haha, but finds only music. Oh, well - he associates music with him being cool too.

He buys a lot of classical cassettes, which evidently Aziraphale enjoys a lot. The angel knows he keeps his cassettes in the glove compartment, so they’ve probably listened to things before. I kind of wonder if he’s subconsciously wanting classical because it reminds him of Aziraphale, and maybe that gives him comfort.

Again, Crowley doesn’t want to be in this situation at all. He’s just really scared.

“Whee. Whizz. Pop. Static drowned out the rest of the program.

Crowley turned off the radio and bit his lower lip. Beneath the ash and soot that flaked his face, he looked very tired, and very pale, and very scared.”

The gardening bit is interrupted by the demons. Back and forth throughout these, when Crowley is stressed, his conflict is his identity. Who is he really - a demon who’s just incompetent and useless and frightened, or a Cool Dude who knows what he’s doing and can casually listen to gardening tips at the end of the world? Is he truly evil, or does he have a spark of goodness? Does Aziraphale only care for him because of that spark? Does being vulnerable and scared and lashing out - does being a demon with yellow eyes mean he’s less to the angel? Does being vulnerable mean he’s kinder, or is his aloof and cool sunglasses persona the better one?

Not to mention, all the stress around him. How is he going to die?

When he gets his sunglasses back, he recovers. He decides he’s going to do his best, and he’s going to stay optimistic. That’s who he’s going to be - he’s going to be him right until the end. Anthony Crowley. After all - and this is a sentence that’s repeated a couple times - what the hell? What else does he have to lose?

In the end, here, Crowley manages to gather himself up. I’m proud of him. These scenes are a height in his arc: deciding to do what’s right and keep going no matter what, and hoping against hope. He’s powerfully optimistic (perhaps an undemonic feature) and it gives him strength to carry on. That’s admirable.

I feel like seeing Crowley’s eyes means seeing him unveiled. I think, acceptably, if he were to get other scenes without the glasses on, they could be around Aziraphale. Trusting Aziraphale with that could be monumental. You know how often in fic, wings are intimate? I think that’s a great headcanon, but maybe for Crowley, seeing his eyes means he’s letting his guard down too (or, in this case, it’s been thrown off him and stamped into the ground like a steamroller).