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deniigi · 4 years

Note

my supervisor fucked me over with all my other coworkers present. can I request a one shot from you to cheer me up featuring Sammy?

Did I give y’all the fic about the hotpot?

Well if I didn’t, I’m giving it to you now.

Title: hotpot

Summary: Ganke checks the comments for the Blindspot comic daily and there’s this one asshole anon who keeps talking shit about BT.

The Blindspot comic went live in the fall and Ganke couldn’t stop checking the hit count every five seconds. All night there had only been ten hits.

He told himself not to be disappointed. The only person who really mattered had read and loved the comic.

Miles said that BT had even forced everyone on the team to read an abridged version of Journey to the West, and had gone as far as to make a quiz to determine everyone’s character.

Miles refused to disclose who he’d gotten.

BT had clearly rigged the game to make himself Sun Wukong and Ganke was proud of him.

That kind of enthusiasm was exactly what he’d been hoping for, anything else now was just icing on the cake.

Even though it would be cool if it wasn’t just BT reading his own comics.

That would be pretty cool, right? Like. If people online all started reading BT’s comic. That would be sort of amazing.

Kind of excellent.

Definitely worthy of an A+ and double pats on the back.

Right?

The hit counter didn’t think so. But hey, five more people had opened the page since last night. That was something, wasn’t it?

MM: dude why not just ask Sam to tweet out the link?

How dare you, Miles Morales.

How dare you waltz into this place with logical thought.

GL: I can’t do that. That’s like. Idk. Inflating the views.

MM: okay yeah explain to me how appealing to the person in control of the largest part of his own fandom is inflating the views

GL: I see your logic and I’m banishing it

MM: I’m messaging him

GL: DON’T

MM: too late

MM: he says ‘gimme link’

GL: asdksjsjdks

@blindspot: hi I know y’all can’t get enough of me to the point of asking shockingly invasive questions and for you I say good news! Some amazing folks have gone through the trouble of making a Blindspot comic. it’s good guys check it out [link]

It helped.

A lot.

It helped a lot.

People, on the whole, had great things to say. The panels were screenshotted and tagged and sent all over social media and even though Miles was pretending to be chill and aloof about the whole thing, Ganke could imagine him smiling big and bright and white at his phone non-stop.

Mom and Auntie saw a few of the bits on Twitter and tittered over them in the kitchen like pigeons.

The pride rose like a wave. Ganke kept waiting for the crash.

It came two days later in the form of a comment that read ‘Christ, look at all this fuss. BT is fine. I hate his brother.’

It felt like someone punching the wind out of Ganke’s lungs.

He took comfort in the handful of people who leapt in to shout down the commenter. They emphasized that if the anonymous commenter didn’t like the story or the characters, then they didn’t have to read it and they, especially, didn’t have to say anything about it.

Ganke appreciated those guys. He got the feeling that a lot of the people on there knew that the whole thing had been done but a couple of kids.

Not that Anon cared.

Anon replied to all these comments ‘No, I’m gonna keep reading, thanks. Anyways, the brother is lame. The smart part is cool, but why’s it always gotta be a guy?’

The part that haunted Ganke even after he’d shut his laptop and had gone to stick his head out the window for some big breaths of cleansing air was that Anon was kind of right.

GL: should we have made Guotin’s brother a sister?

MM: no

GL: why not?

MM: cause BT’s always wanted a brother

Oh.

Okay. Then it was fine?

MM: yeah man ignore them. it’s chill.

GL: k thanks my ego is huge and fragile

MM: trust me I know

Asshole. Fine, moving right along.

It didn’t stop. Anon commented on every page. Every. Single. Page.

Ganke didn’t know what to do or say. On the one hand, clearly this person was dedicated and deeply engaged with the comic, on the other hand, they needed a Rude Alert button. Ganke wondered if Ned could code one for them and them only.

The latest of their fury was directed at the big reveal in the second issue—BT’s face.

Having now met Sam, BT, Blindspot, Ganke’s whole image of him had changed.

He was not conventionally attractive as far as like, K-Pop idols and famous Chinese dudes went. His eyes were puffy and narrow and his face was round everywhere but the jaw. He leaned more towards ‘cute’ than ‘sexy,’ which Ganke sort of loved about him.

He was friendly. Stressed and grumpy and feisty as hell, yeah, but first and foremost friendly.

Miles claimed that he called it his ‘number one asset in employability.’ Which was wild because hello, Blindspot.

Obviously, BT couldn’t help his face. But Miles and Ganke could help Guotin’s.

Ganke had sent Miles about fifteen different images of Chinese celebrities and had told him to do his worst. They’d reviewed the final few drafts and had picked one that was most like a young Chen Kun. His face was more oval-shaped than BT’s. His chin and lips were slimmer but more defined. He was pretty, but not so pretty as to be called ‘feminine,’ which Ganke thought was a solid compromise between ‘handsome as sin’ and ‘looks like he’s got a quirky sense of humor.’

Anon hated him.

Anon thought that he looked like an idol, and they were not here for it.

They told ‘the artist’ to give him a mole or something, anything to make him look ‘less pristine. God, I can smell him from here and he smells like Dior and staph habitat.’

Ganke had to look up what a staph infection was. He regretted it. He asked Miles if they should censor Anon.

Miles said ‘mmmmm, idk it’s not like they aren’t saying anything that isn’t true.’

Ganke resented that. Clearly this was defamation of BT. This person hated him and was taking their feeling out on the comic.

MM: I mean yeah but it’s not like they’re talking about the comic, man. They’re talking about the style and like, thinking about it, a mole or smth to help you tell him apart from other folks would kind of be helpful. Like, especially if we ever put him in a crowd, you know?

HHHHHH.

Fine.

Anon could stay. But they were on thin ice.

It was hard not to be bitter about Anon’s comments, especially when they arrived daily, as though Anon knew exactly what they were doing and which page they’d left off at. They couldn’t possibly be reading the comic one page at a time, this was intentional.

Ganke’s jaw hurt from all the tooth grinding he’d endured as of late.

This latest one read ‘yo, has BT ever mentioned fighting with a sword? I don’t recall him mentioning. Someone should take that thing away from him before someone loses an eye—or maybe even two.’

That felt like a pointed jibe.

That turned the churning irritation in Ganke’s gut into something much, much colder.

Did Anon know about BT’s black and blue eyes? How could they know? Was it a coincidence? It seemed to be more than a coincidence.

The pile of critiques was growing bigger and bigger, and now that Ganke thought about it, they all seemed to take issue with things that didn’t match the real Blindspot’s personality.

It was as if they knew him.

GL: miles did you read the new comment from AnonTheAsshole?

MM: lol yeah

GL: tell me if I’m talking out my ass or whatever but like

GL: you don’t think they could be Muse, could they?

Silence.

MM: oh no

Yeah. Fuck.

MM: chances are low.

GL: they know so much tho??

MM: might be stalker? Maybe someone who’s over-invested in BT’s social media pages?

GL: maybe.

MM: hold on let me ask Spidey to screen it

GL: does he know Muse?

MM: no, but he’s paranoid and he’ll get Wade to be paranoid with him, and then they can decide whether its worth giving to DD for verification. He knows Muse.

Ganke’s head was spinning. His fingers shook with guilt and the thought of Muse’s pale body hunched over a secret, cracked cell phone in a high security prison who knew where.

In Ganke’s head, he smiled wider and wider, until the skin on his cheeks cracked. He dug out scraps of paper and redrew Blindspot—Sam—with gaping holes for eyes and a screaming mouth and he drew dismembered corpses in black lakes and he laughed.

He just kept laughing.

MM: hey ganke

MM: it’s going to be okay. It’s just a comic. I’m sure AnonTheAsshole is a stalker. They’re not threatening anyone.

MM: Sam can deal with a stalker. And we can too, okay?

There was a reason that Miles was a hero. Ganke wiped at his eyes and swallowed.

GL: okay. Thanks for doing that.

MM: 👍🏾

It took a few hours because Spidey and Deadpool had lives outside of being Spidey and Deadpool, but not so long that Ganke ran out of nails to chew.

Miles messaged him back and said that Spidey had read through everything and ‘escalated it.’ This meant that whatever he’d seen had caused him enough concern to take it to DP.

Miles said that he’d get back to Ganke with DP’s verdict as soon as he had it. In the meantime, he’d run the comments by the other Spideypeople and they thought that it most likely wasn’t malevolent but was maybe something to keep an eye on in the meantime. He tacked onto all, somewhat stiltedly, that he had a weird feeling all of the sudden. The pink Spidey’s tone had changed. She’d shut down and gone cagey, which allegedly wasn’t like her at all. Then she’d told the taller guy to DM her and they’d vanished from the chat. Miles wasn’t sure what was going on there or if maybe they knew something about stuff going on that he didn’t, but he wasn’t super comfortable with it.

GL: crossing my fingers its nothing?

MM: same man, same.

DP escalated it.

Ganke couldn’t stay still in his room. There was no comfortable place to sit or stand or lay. There was nothing to do that would make him stop thinking about everything.

MM: It’s gonna be fine, man, DD always knows what to do.

Miles kept saying that for every step of the way, and yet here they were. Double escalated. Ganke wasn’t so sure he even knew what was happening anymore.

That was scary. Miles was supposed to be part of the in-crowd.

MM: Wade doesn’t think it’s anything that can’t be nipped in the bud.

That was easy for a contract assassin to say, wasn’t it?

MM: he says that you and I are fine. Doesn’t see any links there. Waiting on DD for confirmation of tone.

Hurry up, Daredevil. Your apprentice’s life might be about to take a nosedive into a heap of trash.

Two hours. One text.

MM: >:/

Ganke couldn’t contain the bubble of laughter.

GL: good news?

MM: [image]

He opened it.

SC: HANNAH YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE. STOP BEING A BITCH ON MAIN

HC: You can’t tell me what to do

SC: I CAN

HC: Mom he’s being MEAN

SC: Mom she’s scaring children online

HC: I scare children everywhere I go why are these ones special???

SC: Because I said so

HC: that doesn’t fucking work Samuel you’re not her

SC: I am your older brother

SC: your ELDEST brother

HC: YOU AINT SHIT

SC: THEY DON’T COUNT

SC: HALFSIES COUNT

What.

MM: so.

MM: she’s not Muse.

MM: Red’s laughing his ass off at all of us for taking this to a level three

GL: wait I don’t understand

MM: Hannah is Sam’s little sister. She’s found a new hobby in our website.

Blindspot’s little sister was reading the comic??? Holy shit.

GL: she hates him?

MM: no I’ve been informed that they would literally commit murder for each other but this is how they express love.

No way. Siblings were wild.

GL: so we’re good?

MM: [image]

SC: apologize 🔪

HC: eat my ass

SC: apologize or else

HC: or else what? You gonna come in here and sit on me? Huh? Huh????

SC: I know your email password. All 3 you cycle through. What was his name? Uuuuuuuuuh Jing?

HC: you fucking bastard

SC: Hi Jing, it’s me, Hannah. I’ve been in mad crush with you since sophomore year. Please notice me senpai 😖

HC: Die

SC: kill me

HC: I will.

The giggles that came this time were a mix of relief and genuine intrigue. This lady read the comic every day. She took the time to scroll through pictures of her brother being an absolute lunatic and fighting with a huge monkey. Then she hopped into that comment box and took him—not Miles, not Ganke, specifically Blindspot--down a peg.

She must miss him a lot. Ganke wondered if this was her way of keeping him in her thoughts.

MM: I don’t think we’re getting a sorry, man. DD says Sam’s been at this all morning and has been tricked into apologizing himself twice

GL: so you’re saying that she’s an evil genius

MM: idk but she’s def Sam’s main nemesis. I always thought that older siblings got like, rights or something over younger ones, but idk anymore. Angel says this is normal.

GL: do you think she misses him?

Miles took a long time to respond.

MM: yeah

Yeah, Ganke thought so, too.

GL: should we change Guo tin’s brother’s name to ‘hamish?’

MM: ASDLDSDSFKdsjf

MM: one moment.

MM: sam says yes. Hannah says that she thinks our comic is shit and we need to draw everything uglier

GL: she’s kind of funny

MM: 👀perhaps she would like to be a consultant?

GL: 👀👀👀👀

MM: brb asking

MM: sam says no. Hannah says she’s got better things to do than proofread comics on the internet. She’s also not sorry. She wants that to be clear. DD says that the conversation has moved from English to Chinese and to maybe duck and cover for now. He says all is good tho. Thanks for checking in.

MM: Muse doesn’t use punctuation and talks in riddles, so if we get any of that, we’re supposed to send it to DP right away.

Oh, nice. That was a relief.

MM: oh

MM: sam wants to put us in a chat. Can I give him your number?

Uh, only if he wanted Ganke to hyperventilate.

GL: sure

[GL has been added to a Secure Chat]

It was a page of characters and emojis that were somehow more menacing than Ganke had ever seen them before. Miles popped a little waving hand into the fray, as though testing the waters, but the characters just carried on scrawling around it.

Ganke wasn’t quite sure what to do.

GL: hi? Are y’all okay?

There was finally a pause. Then a few shorter lines of characters. And then finally, Blindspot switched from Chinese to English.

SC: yes we’re FINE. We’re GREAT. Aren’t we, sibling from hell?

HC: who’re you? Why are you in our family chat? This is a family only zone, can’t you read?

SC: God Hannah he’s Korean don’t be a dick

HC: I can’t not be I learned it from you

SC: fair but pretend in the face of company

HC: okay fine. Hello losers.

MM: adksadfadsdfldfsldf

MM: hi

GL: hi?

SC: go on

HC: UGH

HC: fine

HC: I didn’t mean to shit talk your creation. Only my brother.

SC: also a sin, we’ll get to that later

HC: no one cares about you Samuel, stop spreading lies

SC: you first. We both know this is no lie, my white dad cares about me a whole lot

HC: well we can’t all have white dads now can we

SC: don’t be jealous

MM: lol you really call Matt your white dad??

HC: who is this person and how do they know our mutual parent’s name?

SC: this is not a mutual parent situation how many times have we been through this. He’s mine. Get your own.

MM: hi! 👋🏾I’m Bitsy! Spidey no. 4

GL: I’m his friend. He draws the comic. I write it.

HC: oh. nerd children x2

HC: anyways yeah Matt is our dad

SC: ffs

MM: he’s sort of dadly ig.

HC: ?? oho

SC: mind your face. Think about your face. Think about how much you like your face.

HC: little spider, did you not hear?

SC: kay everyone out. We’re done here

MM: hear what?

HC: lol Sammy you didn’t tell them about how Matthew Mcconaughey adopted you in all ways but paperwork?

Ganke held his phone away from his face as far as it would go.

MM: …wait are you for real?

SC: no. okay out.

HC: awwww Sammy so shy now. What are you embarrassed about? It’s cute.

SC: Hannah literally shut up I’m not playing

HC: damn okay sorry

MM: can I be honest?

SC: no

MM: I’m going to be anyways: I think we all sorta knew.

SC: …

HC: right?

SC: what does that even mean?

MM: idk, it just felt right, you know? You two are always fussing at each other and red lost his shit that time you got shot. He doesn’t treat you the way he treats the rest of us and we’re his teammates. He doesn’t even treat spidey like he treats you. So like, yeah. It fits.

MM: I’m really happy for you guys.

MM: is there a reason it’s a secret?

Ganke eased himself back down onto the mattress. This was real. This was like, actual, real information. Something that he and like, four other people in the world now knew.

He kind of wanted to forget it. It didn’t feel right to know.

SC: I dunno.

HC: if sam has an honest emotion towards anything he has to calculate its weight so he can make space for it in his collection of satellites.

MM: wh

SC: you’re so not funny.

HC: it’s called emotional repression, darling. It’s all the rage in this family.

MM: oh

MM: so that’s why you and Red get on so well

SC: HHHHHHH

HC: HA

SC: okay but listen his is different, I’ve only seen him cry at his wedding. I cry at least 4 times a week. Obviously under the bed, but that can’t be emotional repression. That’s expression. That’s clearly expression

HC: I can make the old man cry watch me

SC: please don’t I’ll die

MM: awwwww

SC: shut up it doesn’t even matter.

MM: AWWWWWW

SC: LEAVE ALREADY

MM: no I like it here. I want to hear you talk about how much you love your white dad

SC: I don’t. He loves me. I’m fine with this because it results in food, shelter, and continued employment.

HC: uh huh

SC: I’m using him

HC: yeah because you’re like the most manipulative person I know.

SC: thank you

HC: /sarcasm

SC: I know I ignored it.

MM: so wait why do you actually pretend like you hate him tho?

SC: wh

SC: what the fuck am I supposed to do? Just go on up for a cuddle? Have you met Matt? The second someone starts crying, he finds trash to take out to the bins. Hell no. Life is easier for everyone if I stab him with a stick and he kicks my ass in training. It’s fine.

HC: Sam is learning how to be a Manly Man. This is step one.

SC: I’m plenty manly

HC: you’re what mom imagined as manly

SC: which is perfect. That’s all I need.

HC: mama’s boy

SC: must suck to suck, no one’s kid.

Wow. Ganke had never been more glad that he didn’t have a sister.

GL: That’s kind of cool, though.

GL: that you and DD are close like that I mean.

GL: Its different from all the other mentor/mentee superheroes we see who like, sort of hate each other.

SC: wh

SC: OH. you mean Peter and Kate. Peter doesn’t actually hate Stark, fyi. And Kate calls Hawkeye the Old bi-weekly to make sure he’s still breathing. It’s actually pretty normal.

MM: he doesn’t mean like that Sam. I mean, like those guys don’t associate with their Olds now that they’re grown up and stuff, but you and DD stick together. It’s like you’re family.

MM: and that’s super cool. Idk if Spidey would ever consider me family. I don’t think he wants that for us.

SC: I?

SC: oh shit

HC: CLARITY ON THIS FINE DAY. What was your name again, tiny spider?

MM: miles

HC: PRAISE BE TO MILES

HC: AN EMOTION WAS HAD

SC: get fucked

HC: An epiphany was obtained!

SC: would you shut up

HC: Something has finally permeated that non-porous, two-inch thick skull of my esteemed eldest brother

SC: I’m your only brother

HC: you’re not

SC: they don’t fucking count

HC: now will you FINALLY invite our mutual dad to hotpot?

SC: Hannah he doesn’t want to come to hot pot we’ve talked about this. it’s too spicy for him.

HC: I’ll make it 1/3 less spicy

SC: that’s still too spicy

HC: I’ll make it 2/5 less spicy

SC: 3/5

HC: listen

HC: I have all this fucking equipment that SOMEONE left here callously

MM: what’s hotpot?

SC: 👀

HC: 👀

GL: 👀

SC: well fuck

HC: EYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

GL: have we never taken you with us for hotpot???

MM: no?? is this the sticks?

HC: can be. Where do you live?

SC: Hannah no

HC: Hannah yes. We’ll make one here. You’ll make one there.

SC: do you know how much shit I’ll have to buy? Where are we gonna put it?

HC: this wouldn’t be a problem if you’d taken your goddamn inheritance with you to SF

SC: HHHHHH

MM: you guys are actually being serious?

HC: I am. I am here all on my lonesome. Abandoned by my only kin. I require enrichment.

SC: try doing your fucking homework

HC: did anyone hear something?

MM: lololololol I like you

HC: 😊

SC: wh

SC: oh no. No no no.

SC: you two don’t get to be friends

HC: come here bb pspspspspspsps

MM: I’m here

HC: got ‘im. Let’s have hotpot. Sammy send me resippy. We’ll do it together over video so I don’t fuck it up.

SC: I’ve got to go. This has been traumatizing.

HC: byeeeeeeeeeeee

HC: is he gone? Hell yeah, he’s gone.

HC: hey thanks for making that comic thing. It’s hella rad. He loves it. Mom used to call him Monkey when he was little.

GL: omg aw

HC: ikr? P cute. He misses her a lot so I think it brought back good memories. Anyways, I’m actually going to make hotpot. Come over and have some with me, it’s more fun with more people.

MM: you’re not joking

HC: nope, it’s been ages since your whole team has gotten together, right? Ask them to do it. I’m a shit cook, but Sam’ll show us how not to screw it up. And he’s playin’, he’s totally down to hang out with us. We never had more than three people. It’ll be new. Exciting. Enriching even.

MM: are you secretly a nice person, Hannah?

HC: the fuck do you mean ‘secret’??? I’m a delight.

MM: Okay I’ll ask the team and my mom

MM: ganke?

HC: 👀

That—

Sounded kind of nice?

GL: I’ll ask my mom.

HC: nice. You can tell them that it’s a friends dinner or whatever. Idc. I promise I’m not going to kidnap and murder you. I’ve got like, class and work and shit. I don’t have time for that.

MM: 👍🏾

GL: 👍🏼

HC: great here I’ll message you my number. This is legit our sibs chat so Sam’ll freak if you’re still here when he gets back.

MM: thank you! And sorry for thinking you were muse!!

GL: yeah that too

HC: lol np ttyl

That…had really just happened, hadn’t it?

Ganke needed to sit down even though he was already sitting down.

GL: they’re so nice???

MM: ikr?

GL: are you actually going to ask your mom?

MM: Im gonna ask BT if its cool first. Then yeah. Why not? Our team really hasn’t gotten together in a minute. Everyone’s been super busy. It would be a nice change of pace, and if everyone brings smth then Hannah doesn’t have to pay for anything.

MM: ah, Sam says it’s okay. He says sorry his sister is weird and that he’ll make sure she doesn’t poison us.

GL: I kind of love her

MM: same

MM: okay will check in with the others. Talk to you later.

GL: yeah see you later

Damn, at this rate, Ganke’s family was going to triple in size, and all thanks to a comic.

Before he left for downstairs, he made a note to make Guo tin’s brother snarkier.

#fic #inimitable verse #blindspot #samuel chung #miles morales #ganke lee

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incarnateirony · 4 years

Photo

So here we are, The Great Supernatural Rewatch, 01.01 Pilot. If unfamiliar with this rewatch, please check my Objectives and Bracketing post [x], and then my Methodology Notes [x]; Also, reminder that I’m not the only person doing this, though each in their own ways. My Objectives and Methodology are my own.

I’m trying to get a little ahead of the official Jan 3 start date, since I know I will... inevitably fall behind, and this episode was ripe for the initial pick-through for the inevitability of a thousand call backs.

That said, with level 1. SYNCHRONIC: As it reads, unto itself, as best divorced from future knowledge of the story, it’s difficult to do much actual “meta” as much as review and commentary since literally it’s all character and story introductions. There’s some to be had, but beyond things like lighting, the Level 1 viewing tier is not going to lend towards much beyond basic archetypes, and a lot of mythology breakdown. This post will be heaving Level 2 weighted as a result. Most tier-1 posting is going to be an early build of key words, phrases and signs to assemble throughout the season watching (and tap back on later for tier 2 by tagging.)

Also a few unannounced side projects; I’m about to start a “Combat Counter” and “Marksmanship Counter”, to see how Sam and Dean handle both in physical battles/scraps over time compared to each other, and who has the better overall aim in the long term.

Some things saved in this post will seem random and arbitrary, but are potential flags I intend to keep, mostly for later level 2, DIACHRONIC study.

Now to get to the meat:

STUDY: REWATCH/REVIEW STAGE

Allow me to lead with: this episode even unto itself is a fine spectacle of just how much the genre shifted over time. I am a huge fan of David Nutter’s directing; many would know him from, say, Game of Thrones. He didn’t stay long--just Pilot and Wendigo--before moving on. But some of his touches stayed with the show for a few years. The entire ambiance is a giant testiment to survival-horror, a grimness to it, even if the CW itself could never truly capitalize on it. The mood and ambiance was successfully played on. The entire episode is rife with cloudy lighting beaming between bars and through windows, bold silhouette shots, and more that gives an air of mystery even after some characters are established. Dynamic shots are plenty.

Your early reading here isn’t going to tell you much you don’t already know, but is for filing, review, and even reminder/refresher purposes. As the season unfolds, there’s going to be more to interconnect, obviously. If you would like to read more observations on actual parallels, scroll to the DIACHRONIC STUDY header. If I’ve taken a screenshot, even in Synchronic, it’s because it’s a flag I do expect to come back up in diachronic study later and need to catalogue for future parallels and address.

So, imagining it’s 2005, we’re watching Supernatural for the first time. We’re in a very different world, Both in the show, and in the real world. A standard, haunting discord rattles the minds of the audience as a tree moves like a hand towards the window of a suburban home.

We see a classic, nuclear family in this standard home, saying their charming goodnights to an infant. But within moments, we’re told in every classic way that everything is wrong. The infant’s mobile turns on its own accord; the clock stops.

It’s 8:12pm when the world goes haywire. The decorative moon in the room flickers, growing dim. The mother wakes to the sound of a distressed infant on the baby monitor. She rises from bed in her gown.

This is a point I’m left to negotiate cursed knowledge: to all visual cues, the mother’s attire appears to be white. The audience perceived it as white. But we know it, and Jess’ gown later, was actually pink; the film stock failed to capture it. Both short term and much louder in the long term, these two colors can deliver two very different meanings. But for us, a viewer consuming a digital medium with no knowledge beyond what they published, I’m left to decide that the text seems to determine her in a white gown.

The wife sees a stark silhouette, asking if the child was hungry, assuming it was her husband that quieted her. She turns away, tapping on a flickering light over an old marriage portrait that one can only assume was a previous family generation. She descends the stairs.

Here she finds her husband is sleeping. Panic takes her, bringing her to the room. Quickly, chaos erupts. As does she, once seen bleeding down onto the hand of the father from above the crib. We see her, sunken eyes, already dying, screaming without a sound. Silent. Unable to make a noise.

The camera details the desperation of the father rushing his infant to his older child. “Take your brother outside as fast as you can, don’t look back. Now Dean, GO.”

I’m unclear what John thinks he’s going to achieve running back in for Mary as fire takes the home. But soon, he finds young Dean, 4, outside, holding an infant, “I've got you Sammy.” John erupts out of the house as the windows begin to blow, sweeping in to carry Dean, who carries Sam.

As the fire department arrives, the first cords of a song we would later come to recognize as Americana haunt through otherwise chilling music that climbs actively to punch out through our first cold open.

The Winchesters are our first cold open.

We find ourselves in modern day with the rick of a rock cord, and a young woman in a white nurse outfit adjusting her earings while framed by an image of John and Mary--the mother and father--in a picture frame. Though she calls for Sam, we see nothing of Dean--not even a picture. The image on the counter tells of a life Sam(my) was too young to even know, but perhaps is in his blonde-haired woman who teases him about halloween while standing in front of a mirror.

Sam is clearly in his young prime, celebrating his LSAT with a 174 score much to his chagrin with friends dressed up in all styles of wardrobe. Behind Sam a neon black cat sign may just jinx his future in warm but dull lighting; ghostly drapes hide behind Jess in a blue, sharper light.

Sam’s friends perceive he must be the Golden Boy of the family. Jess is proud of him. “What would I do without you?” “Crash and burn.”

Night onsets. Dim lighting feels dusty despite the otherwise hopeful environment. Heavy creaking, groaning, footsteps; Sam rises on instinct, spying an open door and catching haunting noises--sounds. An intruder. And one fateful fight. The choreography spares little.

In actual combat, the intruder--quickly identified as Dean--comes out on top. (Combat ticker: Sam vs Dean: Dean 1) Easy there, tiger. As Dean haunts, revealing his roguish personality quickly, he’s then gotten the better of (this is not going to be considered a combat ticker, it’s not actual combat, but aftermath).

Sam challenges why Dean broke in, but Dean knew Sam would have never picked up without him. They’re interrupted from their silhouetting by the light flicking on, and Dean further displays his roguish charm, enjoying her smurfs, not dreaming of her getting dressed; but soon, it’s down to business--Dean says it’s private family matters. Sam, a unit in the doorframe with Jess, says it can be said in front of her. Until the fateful line: “Dad’s on a hunting trip, and he hasn’t been home in a few days.” The camera zooms on Sam’s set jaw to tell the audience how much weight is in that line as the audio itself drags a raw cord of suspense.

The dizzying stairs are a descent into a world Sam seems to have left behind, with the audience viewing from below. Quickly, we’re introduced to ideas: the Poltergeist in Amherst, the Devil’s Gate in Clifton, “always missing and always fine.” Sam’s bitterness is thick: rather than telling him not to be afraid of the dark, “dad gave me a .45″, though Dean challenges what he should have done. They soon stand in a cage of sharply lit bars, arguing if this was what their mother would have wanted--to be raised like warriors.

Dean challenges if Sam would want a normal apple pie life; Sam slaps back: not normal, safe. “And that’s why you ran away.”--But John told him to stay gone. Regardless, Dean doesn’t want to do it alone. Sam asks what he was hunting, and why Dean wasn’t there; Dean was working a voodoo thing in New Orleans.

Dean reveals Jericho, California--10 men over to years on the same 5 mile stretch of road.

The “Ran it through A Goldwave” is a funny side comment but I’m not gonna get into why beyond LOL “through a goldwave”, that’s-- whatever. But we hear, in EVP, “I can never go home.”

The average viewer, at this point, isn’t going to be deeply instructing the story parallels--and in the scheme of it, Sam’s fear of going home barely scratches the meta surface. We do know John has been missing for three weeks. And find out Sam has a Monday deadline for his entry to lawschool, “whole future on a plate.” Jess worries over disappearing with his family, reminding of the deadline, but he promises to be back in time.

A sharp cut to JERICHO, CALIFORNIA. The driver shares similar concerns to Sam, “if I miss it, dad’s gonna have my ass,” he tells his girlfriend on the phone. A woman in white appears down the road as the car clock fries at 10:17, asking to be taken home. “Take me home?” “She lives at the end of breckenridge road.” “A girl like you shouldn’t really be alone out here.” She hikes her skirt. “I’m with you. Do you think I’m pretty? Will you come home with me?” hell yeah.

They arrive at a dillapidated home. “I can never go home.” No one even lives here. He steps out, turns around, and she’s gone. An eerie handprint appears on the window.

He decides to leave, clearly feeling the offsettling vibes, but isn’t alone. She steams with animosity in the backseat.

He looks into his mirror.

And wipes out.

After a violent death, we cut back to our boys and another exposition: credit card scams (jesus, could sam have yelled it any louder?), breakfast in a gas station bag, you gotta update your casette tape collection--why? because for one, they’re casette tapes. Black Sabbath, Motorhead, Metallica--it’s the greatest hits of mullet rock. “House rules Sammy, Driver picks the music, rider shuts his cakehole.” “Sammy is a chubby 12 year old.” “What, can’t hear you.”

ENTER, JERICHO

Internal impala shots galore will end up being a major vibe of our next few years. A spunky guitar theme plays that we will eventually come to know. Dean pulls out a cigar box full of fake badges ranging from FBI to Bureau of Tobacco from the glove box, quickly showing us how deep this path goes for them already.

The cops review the mystery: no fingerprints, spotless; we find out that the victim was dating the cop’s daughter, who was posting missing flyers downtown. The boys introduce themselves as federal agents, are challenged for being too young, and Dean sasses his way through, “that’s very kind of you.” -- while gathering basic intel, we quickly find Dean’s tongue getting ahead of him, calling their lack of ability to find a connection beyond them all being male victims, calling it crack police work. The brothers’ dual personas exit the crime scene with a cuff upside the head from Sam to Dean, a bickering match, and Dean leaving a Mulder and Scully crack on the cops.

They quickly find Amy, the girlfriend, and lie to claim that were Troy’s relatives and had heard about her, and move to a diner to talk about events.

No major unusual things to warrant events; Sam compliments her necklace. She jokes that Troy got it for her to freak out her parents for “devil stuff”, but Sam quickly educates her on the pentagram meaning the opposite, a symbol of protection.

But there are weird rumors in town--people talk. In-sync, “what do they talk about”; a local legend. She tells them of a girl murdered on centennial where anyone who picks her up disapears forever. The brothers quickly move on to a library with a clunky monitor, fully dating us; not just the lack of good cell phones and wifi, but the equipment and the appearance of the search engine alone. Right, we’re watching this in 2005.

The brothers slapfight again, but Sam shows that even away from the life he never lost his prowess. He asks, “Angry spirits are born out of violent death, right?” and searches for suicide. 1981, 24 years prior. “Our babies were gone and Constance couldn’t bear it.”

So they go to see where Constance took the swan dive.

The brothers begin to fight.

SAM Dean, I told you, I've gotta get back by Monday—

DEAN turns around.

DEAN Monday. Right. The interview.

SAM Yeah.

DEAN Yeah, I forgot. You're really serious about this, aren't you? You think you're just going to become some lawyer? Marry your girl?

SAM Maybe. Why not?

DEAN Does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know about the things you've done?

SAM steps closer.

SAM No, and she's not ever going to know.

DEAN Well, that's healthy. You can pretend all you want, Sammy. But sooner or later you're going to have to face up to who you really are.

DEAN turns around and keeps walking. SAM follows.

SAM And who's that?

DEAN You're one of us.

SAM hurries to get in front of DEAN.

SAM No. I'm not like you. This is not going to be my life.

DEAN You have a responsibility to—

SAM To Dad? And his crusade? If it weren't for pictures I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like. And what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her, Mom's gone. And she isn't coming back.

DEAN grabs SAM by the collar and shoves him up against the railing of the bridge. A long pause.

DEAN Don't talk about her like that.

They’re interrupted as Constance appears, diving off the cliff, and immediately taking control of the Impala.

“Dude, who’s driving your car?” Dean holds up his keys.

They flee, over the bridge, and share another movement. One more fake card later, they find themselves in John’s room, room 10, in a motel. Sam remarks that the place is covered in Salt, and Cat’s Eye Shells. The entire room is covered in case work and lore.

I’ll break down the lore of these in a later mythos reblog, though the Asmodeus one really catches my eye for reasons outside of this episode.

Sam finds a photo-- a distinctly different family than the one on his college dresser. There, it’s John and Mary as an ideal image that framed Jessica. Here, it’s the life he walked away from. But while Dean heads out, he’s spotted by police, and their old coded dialect pops out, “Five Oh, take off.” Federal marshalls confront him: They’re looking for his partner (cue Wincest fans trying to make meta that’s about to be shot down one scene later, in the distance), fake US Marshalls, fake credit cards, is there anything about you that’s Real. My boobs.

Just putting a flag in the name Sheriff Pierce, we’ll figure out if that’s ever valid to anything later. But he tells Dean of the trouble he’s in with a room full of missing people and devil worship, for Dean to snap back he was 3 when they went missing. But they knew he had more than one partner. An older man. John’s journal is thrown out (Wincest meta dies a terrible death beyond previous scene)

Again, I’ll translate the FUTHARK in a follow up post, this is already taking a lot of time as it is.

Meanwhile, Sam is investigating the leads they and John both found. Previously spoken intents to burn her has him ask about her being buried at an old plot by Breckenridge at their old place.

SAM And why did you move?

JOSEPH I'm not gonna live in the house where my children died.

SAM stops walking. JOSEPH stops too.

SAM Mr. Welch, did you ever marry again?

JOSEPH No way. Constance, she was the love of my life. Prettiest woman I ever known.

SAM So you had a happy marriage?

JOSEPH hesitates.

Putting a flag in this for later.

But Sam decides to call the man out.

SAM A woman in white. Or sometimes weeping woman?

JOSEPH just looks.

SAM It's a ghost story. Well, it's more of a phenomenon, really.

SAM starts back toward JOSEPH.

SAM Um, they're spirits. They've been sighted for hundreds of years, dozens of places, in Hawaii, Mexico, lately in Arizona, Indiana. All these are different women.

SAM stops in front of JOSEPH.

SAM You understand. But all share the same story.

JOSEPH Boy, I don't care much for nonsense.

JOSEPH walks away. SAM follows.

SAM See, when they were alive, their husbands were unfaithful to them.

JOSEPH stops.

SAM And these women, basically suffering from temporary insanity, murdered their children.

JOSEPH turns around.

SAM Then once they realized what they had done, they took their own lives. So now their spirits are cursed, walking back roads, waterways. And if they find an unfaithful man, they kill him. And that man is never seen again.

JOSEPH You think...you think that has something to do with...Constance? You smartass!

SAM You tell me.

JOSEPH I mean, maybe...maybe I made some mistakes. But no matter what I did, Constance, she never would have killed her own children. Now, you get the hell out of here! And you don't come back!

Sam is flushed out, and makes a fake 911 call to break Dean out, pointing out that the husband had been unfaithful. More dramatic silhouette shots really capture the early spirit of the piece, with Dean using a phone booth in lieu of other options. Hell, Dean was able to find a phone booth, let that take you back. They determine that John left Jericho, and establish his ex-marine habits with the coordinates, 35-111 that Dean had lied through to the cop. But while on the phone, the woman in white appears in front of Sam on the road, non-crashing.

She controls the car again, and forces him to drive to a broken home, repeating, “I can never go home.” Sam recognizes: “You’re scared to go home.” And that’s when the creepy ghost rapey vibes start, mounting him, demanding he hold her, she’s cold. “You can’t kill me, I’m not unfaithful.” He argues. You will be. Just hold me.

As she goes to rip out his heart, she flickers with the beat of his.

Dean breaks into the scene, unloading 12 shots into the ghost with iron bullets to disrupt her manifestation, giving Sam time to sit up and say, “I’m taking you home.”, where he drives through the house. Dean helps Sam out of the car, only to be telekinetically pinned by a dresser to be disabled.

The lights flicker again. Children manifest, water runs down the stairs, looking eerily like the light could be the Winchester’s old home

Here, she falls when reunited with her children. Sam clarifies--she could never go home, she was too afraid to face her kids (while not viable for the synchronic study, for my own sanity I’m going to note this season, Home will be all but mandatory to touch back here.) Dean says Sam found her weak spot.

They drive down the road with a blown headlight, Sam using an old map and ruler to locate the coordinates. But it’s realized Sam isn’t going with Dean to blackwater ridge, colorado 600 miles away. His interview was in ten hours. Dean declares, “I’ll take you home.”

There’s banter over meeting up later, and being a good team, but Sam goes inside and calls for Jess. “You home?” He finds a plate full of cookies with a note “missed you, love you” and relaxes in bed with the distant sound of a running shower.

And of course.

And so it began.

SYNCHRONIC STUDY: IN-EPISODE PARALLELS

In a first episode, there’s only so much to address. While we may question how much the Woman in White being in White may have been intentional with Jess and Mary, who wore pink (a diachronic full text body note later), in the initial review, it’s worth mentioning for the reasons in part 1 I’ve decided to air towards white in the final text product. Resultingly, the tie between Constance->Mary->Jess seems tangible. But it isn’t really so simple.

“Home.” Home is a huge keyword.

"I can never go home." within the episode unto itself, Sam is struggling to well, get back home. And frankly, returning home is the key of it. (hears distant uppity Wincest stans) The difference here is, this isn't a direct parallel, of course, as much as a general ambient mood that will haunt is forward through the show, even if current viewers just watching episode 1 don't recognize it yet. Sam going home kills Jess, essentially; or at least witnesses her death. At the same time, Sam fears returning to the hunter life, or more doesn't think he can because John told him not to come back. But now that Jess is dead, well, Sam can never go home to the life he was building. He has no choice but TO go back to the other home--the hunter life. Even if he’s certain it’s not what Mary would have wanted for them.

DIACHRONIC STUDY: IN-SEASON PARALLELS, LOOKING FORWARD

There’s no way I’ll have them all in mind, these are just what are flagging me along the way.

1.09 Home As the “Home” rewatch is not that far away, I’m going to save this as a placeholder with general notes about “Mary apologizing to Sam,” even if frankly, she should have to Dean too. But even if, at the time, the exact details of the deal may or may not have been established or hashed out by the authors--we’re not picking at arguing if the authors intended it or not here. Here, Mary apologizes for her deal. Here, Mary apologizes--for drowning her children. For magnetizing this poltergeist to this place that she demands let her sons go, where she forces the spook to let go of Sam. She couldn’t really go home in the truest sense until that passed. (I’ll have deeper chain-link connections on this looking-forward once actually at the episode.

DIACHRONIC STUDY: IN-ERA PARALLELS, LOOKING FORWARD

They’re here, but not pinging me at 1 AM beyond vagueblogging about Lucifer showing up as Jess to haunt Sam and the inevitable time travel episodes about Mary, so placeholder for later updates.

DIACHRONIC STUDY: BEYOND-ERA PARALLELS, LOOKING FORWARD

Obviously compare to above-dropped screenshots.

11.04: Mistakes were made.

Listen, Dean’s grimace seat has been in discussion lately, don’t blame me for thinking of Joseph’s mistakes right after the season as Dean-mirror Pastor Joseph. Funny how Sam’s get shown and Dean’s don’t.

11.23/12.01: Mary’s return in the (white or pink, I’m rolling with white as-above) gown, and all extending details.

12.22: Mary's dreamspace.

12.23: Dean, Castiel's death, Sam removing Dean

15.01: Woman In White, We've got work to do

I feel like the Woman in White is the most interesting of these that hasn’t been as talked to death as, say, the 12.23 elements with the Destiel parallel. After all, the Woman in White largely focused on Sam. It was his fear of home. It was him being faithful to Jess (and being unfaithful can be more than sex, really; after all, he made a promise to come back.) But in season 15, it’s Dean that the ghost of the jilted lover approaches, shortly after Dean nearly killed Jack in his pain. Was Dean the weeping woman? Or was Castiel? Who held the animosity in the back seat?

Or is this a shared path? As Dean puts the Equalizer away under the Cigar Box, he has his own haunting issues in the mirror.

Those will be addressed more deeply when we get to that episode in like half a year. But for now, I’m just putting a pin in it. With a side scribble of “Cas got his Secrets/Mary, Sam got his serial killer and clowns and Dean got... the woman in white with Belphegor.”

15.02: Road Closed

15.03: If one insists Mary and Jess’ dress are pink, Rowena’s dress upon wedding and unbirthing to death (and queendom)

15.04: I still think about Jess (shortly before Eileen’s return.)

15.13: If one insists Mary and Jess’ dress are pink, atop the eventually-addressed meaning of lighting (death and transformation) vs the Empress symbolism (fertility, rebirth), Castiel in pink light.

15.15: If one insists Mary and Jess’ dress are pink. Amara’s trenchcoat.

15.20: Beyond the obvious quotes, and the (IMO failed) attempt at nostalgia, there’s honestly very little callback to the original episode.

That’s it on first glance, I’m sure more will rattle out as we go forward. Well, mostly. Keys to the Legacy from Mint Condition is flagging me alongside control mechanisms like Castiel losing control of his vessel. But those are thoughts to put pins in for now and develop later.

COMBAT COUNTER:

DEAN VICTORIES: 1 (sam vs Dean)

MARKSMANSHIP COUNTER:

DEAN SHOTS: 12 shots, 12 hits.

(hits for any individual will be considered accurate even if targets teleport/flicker out as long as it should have hit the body)

The mythology pasted all around John’s Room is worth a second trip, but off the top of my head I see the Bell Witch and Asmodeus from the Lesser Key of Solomon (near the motel door).

I’ll reblog later to add commentary on that.

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twiceblackvelvet · 4 years

Text

Whose Voice Is It Anyway?

A/N; this idea randomly sprung into my head at 2 am one night and has haunted me since. so i had to try and bring it to life. enjoy.

The white walls surrounding the closet area have become a well-known back-drop as of late. The majority of the videos created within this space usually include ridiculous dancing or lip-syncing to silly voice-overs, but today is more of a laid-back style of simply speaking to fans or anyone who happens to drop by the live stream. She gives herself a once over in the mirror and then on the screen before finally hitting the live option on her phone.

A few people immediately join and begin spamming the comment section with emojis, a few say hello whilst others flat out say “I love you,” which earns an internal chuckle for a response.

“Hello!” Jessica’s voice goes up a pitch with excitement seeing all of the people merrily interacting among themselves until random questions begin to pour in. “I’m at home right now, I just wanted to speak to you all, how are you guys?”

Light slow-tempo music fills up the silence around her, not wishing for the atmosphere to be awkward as she reads the many things flying up the screen too fast for her to be able to comprehend what most of them are saying.

“A new video? It’ll be out on Wednesday! Are you looking forward to it?” She asks after multiple people spammed about a new JessicaLand upload. A tonne of reassurances that people are indeed enjoying her content flows afterward. “I was so worried no one would watch but you all seem to like it a lot, it makes me so happy, in fact, we should probably change this!”

She shuffles around briefly with the camera not showing her arm stretching out for the device that is playing the background music until she pulls it into view.

“This music is too sad if we’re all in a good mood, let’s change it,” She readjusts herself upon seeing her reflection on the screen isn’t showing her face properly before speaking again. “Alexa, play happy music.”

The Echo flashes a blue ring around the top to show it has registered her request and immediately switches to a more upbeat pop song. The lyrics evade Jessica’s mind briefly but eventually, she catches onto which song it is and sings along to some of the words whilst reading the various comments.

“How are you guys?” She asks curiously. “Are you all taking care of yourselves?”

A stream of responses floats up the screen at a rapid speed, some positive, a few negative, and the rest not even answering the question and instead, hurling their own back toward her. A steady conversation ensues discussing the possibility of a new album, Blanc & Eclare’s latest collection as well as what Soojung has been up to recently.

The music playing in the background soon changes to a more doo-wop, R&B sounding melody with what Jessica thinks is a beautiful voice singing along to it. She begins to hum along with it herself mindlessly.

“Wow, isn’t this song pretty everyone? The voice is so beautiful, I could fall asleep listening to it.”

Her words are aimed towards no one, in particular, however, the startling response of people seemingly losing their minds after her compliment is rather confusing. Many people spam expletives, some simply repeat the word “omg” a bunch of times. Just as she’s about to ask what has caused this sudden uproar, it finally clicks when she sees her name repeated in some of the comments and her heart drops to the pit of her stomach.

Taeyeon.

Without even realizing it, she had not only managed to sit and listen along to Taeyeon’s voice singing beautifully without noticing who it was nor did her brain recognize the signature voice of her former group-mate, but she had complimented her in front of thousands of people. The first time she’s acknowledged her existence in years and it’s by far the most embarrassing way to do so humanly possible, Jessica thinks.

She quickly scrambles to change the song to something, anything other than what is playing, however, the damage if you wish to call it that has already been done.

As yet another airy pop song replaces the sweet tone of Taeyeon, Jessica is frozen in place and unable to figure out what to do or say next to everyone still collectively losing their minds over this brief interaction and nod to her former life.

Despite it being probably the worst way to move on from this blip, she decides to simply ignore it and pretend that it didn’t just happen with many witnesses who will no doubt rush to discuss it elsewhere and hopes that continuing the live will distract them from it altogether.

It doesn’t.

The conversation between herself and fans continues for another ten minutes, though, it’s a lot more difficult to find talking points now among the sea of people simply plastering Taeyeon’s name but she manages until it all becomes a little too much.

“I have to go now guys, but I hope you all remain well. I’ll see you all next time,” she waves goodbye to the screen and brings the live to an end with a deep sigh.

It doesn’t take long for both Jessica and Taeyeon’s names to trend on various social platforms, in fact, it’s rather impressive how quickly the news of it spread. Some fans initially couldn’t believe that such a thing would happen and put it down to people making something up to fit their narrative. However, when someone eventually revealed they had managed to screen record most of the live including what Jessica had said about Taeyeon, any and all doubts were put to rest.

In turn, it didn’t take much longer for news to reach Taeyeon either.

Sitting inside the back of a small coffee shop, hidden away enough that people won’t bother her with a manager flanked on the opposite side of the table. The steam from the warm drinks is Taeyeon’s only focus, watching it swirl out of the small cup forcing her to zone out a little.

“Taeyeon, look at this.”

The words alone cause a rush of anxiety to build up in the pit of her stomach, even more so once he places his phone in front of her showing the trending topics page. A headline reading ‘Jessica forgets Taeyeon’s voice’ sitting atop the page. She decides to read through the article, though she mentally refuses to acknowledge it’s because she’s intrigued. Instead trying and failing to convince herself it’s just because she has no idea what it could possibly be about, and yet, it makes her sad regardless.

It’s not that Taeyeon expected Jessica to remember what her voice sounded like after so long apart, but to have her forget it completely feels painful somewhere deep down inside in a place buried long ago and forgotten. The only saving grace being that Jessica complimented her before she realized who it was she was praising. Taeyeon chuckles to herself at just how air-headed Jessica clearly can still be at times.

The phone is quickly handed back to her manager as she scoops her own out of her jacket pocket. Her thumbs instinctively begin to type out a text message.

“How could you possibly forget?”

“Has it really been so long you don’t know what I sound like now?”

“Don’t you listen to my music nowadays?”

All of the possible things she could say to Jessica end up deleted. Her thoughts all begin to muddle into one until eventually, she closes the messages app after growing unsure of whether to bother sending her a text message after all of this time. She may not even have the same number. Instead, she hesitantly opens up Instagram, heads toward the story option, and snaps a picture of her coffee sitting atop the table. The pattern the barista managed to form being of a small heart.

She begins to type out a small message to go along with the picture and publishes it without thinking twice.

A few moments pass before the manager once again startles her out of her reverie.

“Do you know that you posted this?” He turns his screen to face her with the Instagram story of her coffee pulled up on it this time, pointing towards her words clear as day below the image of the cup.

“Yes.” is all she offers as a response and returns back to staring anywhere but at him or the phone.

“Don’t you think it will make matters worse?”

“It’ll be fine, it’s about time.”

The two names continue to trend with more and more people discussing the two former group-mates except now, more specifically, what Taeyeon’s words in response to Jessica could mean for them both.

“Your voice is still beautiful too.”

Jessica doesn’t see the story herself, not wishing to fall down the rabbit hole that is Taeyeon if she happens to look at the many pictures depicting her life now. However, she does see the many screenshots people tag her in for days afterward.

She would be lying if she said it didn’t make her feel all the things and more that Taeyeon now sings about.

Happiness.

#snsd #kpop #girl group scenarios #kpop scenarios #girls generation #kim taeyeon #jessica jung #snsd scenarios #snsd imagines #girl group imagines #taeyeon #jessica #taengsic #taeyeon x jessica #girls generation scenarios #girls generation imagines #snsd taeyeon #snsd jessica #jung sooyeon

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itspixelberrychoicestime · 6 years

Text

A Date with a Ghost part 6

Book(s): The Freshmore Series & Haunting of Braidwood Manor

Summary: After My Classmate’s (Ghostly) Girlfriend, Hannah (HOBM MC) and Eleanor decided to have a double date with Kaitlyn and Emily (TF MC). And things get weird.| It’s time to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

Pairing(s): Kaitlyn x TF MC, Eleanor x HOBM MC

Tags: @kennaxval @almogchoices @jbzxls @mfackenthal @helentwombly

Note: PLEASE COMMENT/ REBLOG/ DM ME IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED IN FUTURE STORIES!!

Warning: THIS CHAPTER WILL GO INTO THE THEMES OF FAMILICIDE, ALCOHOLISM AND THE MENTIONS OF SUICIDE.

Parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 (You are here!), 7

Eleanor sighed as she sent out the text of when to meet up with the girls. “I told them tomorrow afternoon.”

“I know asking this is going to annoy you, but are you sure about this?” Hannah asked her.

“Don’t be. I can reassure you that I am.” Eleanor got up to face the window. She hugged herself with her phone still in her hand.

Hannah got up to hug her girlfriend from behind. She kissed Eleanor’s cheek, and in comfort she said, “Don’t worry.”

Eleanor’s phone dinged! She took a look at the text and let out a shaky breath once she got the “Okay!” from Kaitlyn. She softly cursed under her breath.

“What happened...?” Hannah took a glance at the text. “Oh!” She exclaimed.

“I guess there’s no turning back.” Eleanor frowned.

“Nope,” Hannah muttered. “Do you want to go out? It’ll get your mind off of this.”

“I’ll be fine.” Eleanor said. “I’m too tired.”

“There’s still light out, but whatever is fine.” Hannah grabbed Eleanor’s hand and led her to the bed. Once in bed, Hannah had thoughts running through her head, worrying about the next day.

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

The next day Kaitlyn and Emily stepped out of the subway train in Downtown Northbridge’s stop.

“So how long til we get there?” Emily asked.

Kaitlyn pulled out her phone and searched for directions. She read the estimated time, “It’s going to take us 30 minutes if we take the fastest route. We just have to take the number 5 bus and Braidwood Manor is a couple blocks away.”

“We should catch the bus asap then.”

“Right.” The girls rushed to catch the bus.

Nearly an hour later, the girls finally arrived to the front of Braidwood Manor. Kaitlyn and Emily sat on the steps and waited for Hannah and Eleanor to come.

Emily pulled out her phone from her jacket pocket, and went on group chat.

Emily: We’re here, but the other girls are nowhere to be found.

Zack: WHAT 😨

Becca: Are you out of your freaking minds???

Kaitlyn: Chill, we’re just going to hang out, Eleanor texted me this:

*Pulls up a screenshot of the text conversation between her and Eleanor*

Becca: WHAT THE FUCK YOU’RE GOING TO GET KILLED OVER THERE

Chris: You could’ve have us come with you! @ Becca, wth?

Zack: BECCA NOT HELPING

Emily: We’ll be fine. Hannah and Eleanor wanted to talk to us about something, don’t know what.

Zack: Can you two at least promise you’ll come back in one piece?

Emily: Promise!

Kaitlyn: 🤞🏼

Emily sighed at her friend’s responses and tucked her phone away back to her pocket. “Well, this is going to take forever.” Emily rested her face on her hand. Kaitlyn played with the dead leaves with her boots. She hummed her new song’s tune.

“So how’s the song going?” Emily asked.

Kaitlyn sighed, “Not that great. It’s still missing that dumb chorus.”

“You’ll figure it out.”

“Let’s hope it’s soon. Any new update about the house?”

Emily looked up to see the trees. “Eh. It’s still a long way coming. Stupid Delacroix...”

“I could punch him, y’know.”

“Sebastian or his dad?”

Kaitlyn smirked, “Both?”

Emily playfully rolled her eyes and laughed. “I don’t want you to go to jail for assault.”

“You and your morals.” Kaitlyn kissed her cheek. Emily giggled.

The girlfriends sat at the porch until they spotted Hannah and Eleanor. Emily and Kaitlyn noticed how disheveled Eleanor appeared to be. Her short hair was barely brushed and her face pale with dark circles forming around her eyes. Hannah wasn’t any better as she looked tired as before.

“Sorry we ran so late-- we overslept!” Hannah explained.

“Nah, it’s nothing.” Kaitlyn said. “Are we even allowed to go inside?”

“Yeah, let’s hope the doors are unlocked.” Hannah walked to the door and pulled the doors open. “After you.” She signaled the girls.

The house was restored to what it use to be. No broken chandelier on the floor, no tattered wallpaper and no dusty furniture.

“Guess they changed it once they did the documentary.” Emily whispered to Kaitlyn. Kaitlyn nodded.

Eleanor touched a wall. She frowned, “You’re right Emily. It looks like home, but it doesn’t feel like it.”

“Huh?” Kaitlyn cocked her eyebrow.

Eleanor turned to the girls. “There’s something I need to tell you.” She guided them to the upstairs hallway where the individual portraits of the Waverly family were located at. Kaitlyn raised an eyebrow in confusion. “What’s up?”

Eleanor took a shaky breath in and out and asked. “Do you see that portrait of her?” She signaled a portrait of a young woman, somewhere in her early twenties with a braid passing to her breast. She was wearing a a red and black gown with laces stitched and a black collar covering up her neck.

Emily responded. “Yeah...?”

“Her name was Eleanor Waverly. She had just turned twenty when she had her portrait taken.”

Kaitlyn looked at Hannah, who grabbed her girlfriend’s hand and whispered in her ear. “I got you.”

Eleanor confessed, “I am that girl. I am Eleanor Waverly.”

Emily and Kaitlyn looked at each other and back to the other girls. Frowning, Hannah spoke up, “You don’t believe it, do you?”

Kaitlyn looked back and forth of her and the portrait many times. All she could say was, “Uhmm...” Emily stepped in. “What she meant to say is, is that we just thought it was a coincidence that you look like her.”

“Allow me to explain.” Eleanor stated, “But we need to find a place to talk in private. Hope to God there’s nobody here besides us.” She took them downstairs to the parlor where she signaled Kaitlyn and Emily to sit down. “It’s better to hear about this sitting down.”

Eleanor took over the conversation. “Well, here it goes... My family and I moved here when I was fifteen from England once my father found employment. This was about a few year before he was sent to the war. As you may know, my mother was... not well. I don’t know what happened, but she forbade my siblings and I from ever going outside. She sent people to do errands. She was small, but somehow had us under her power. Often times she even gives us a smacking if we’re caught outside.”

Emily’s eyes opened in shock. Kaitlyn covered her mouth in shock and disgust.

“One day something happened. My siblings were sick and I knew I had to leave to find medicine, but my mother was persistent in me drinking some hot cocoa. I don’t know why she was pushing me, but... I heard my brother Thomas falling in the hall. He got up from his bed to tell me that my sister Clarissa had passed.”

“Oh my god, I am so sorry.” Emily said.

Eleanor continued. “It was a long time ago. Literally. My mother told me it was the only way to protect us. I knew something about that damned drink. It was too obvious for me to figure it out. I tried to get away from her. I could still hear Simon crying for mother and Thomas having little time to live.”

She lifted her shaken hand to her hand and took a sharp breath. Exhaling she finished, “Mother grabbed my hair from behind. She had a broken piece of vase that Thomas broke earlier... I plead to her to not hurt me, but...” Eleanor choked up into a sob. She clenched the necklace she had once she came back to life. A painful reminder about what had happened. She then placed her hand onto her neck, indicating the result.

Emily wiped her tears away while Kaitlyn sat down on the couch. She covered her face and muttered “Damn” under her shaky breath.

Hannah and Eleanor sat on the couch where Hannah hugged her girlfriend and stroke her hair in comfort. Eleanor was still holding on to her necklace.

The four girls sat in the parlor in silence. Minutes that seem like hours rolled by with silence, except the wind hitting the leaves outside. Eleanor spoke up. “I want to show you two something.”

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

The family cemetery was located outside of the manor. The girls looked at Eleanor and her sibling’s tombstones.

“You mentioned your dad earlier, what happened to him?” Emily asked.

Eleanor sighed. “My father found out about what happened to us.” She frowned, “It broke him to the point where he developed a drinking problem. He died within the next five years.”

“Oh shit.” Kaitlyn muttered. “I’m so sorry.”

Eleanor said nothing and knelt to her late father’s tombstone. She placed a hand on it, running her fingers through her dad’s name.

William C. Waverly.

She got up and noticed that the sun will be setting. “We should go. It’s getting late.”

Emily meekly asked, “Hey Eleanor?”

“Yes?”

“I don’t want to sound rude, but why did you bring us here?”

Eleanor’s lips trembled, “I started getting these horrible nightmares. About what my mother did to us. Something tells me that I need to do something about this.”

“When I died, I remembered everything that my mother did to us. My siblings fortunately, to say the least, didn’t remember a single thing about that day.

Hannah confessed. “My brother Jonathan actually...” She exhaled with dread, “He, um took his own life.”

Emily gasped with her hand covering her mouth.

Hannah hold herself together. “I found his note and the only thing I did was hiding it away from our parents. I didn’t want them to find out like this, so they thought he was in an accident.”

She tensed up and took a deep breath. “Oh god.” She muttered. “And I, uh, I started to get those nightmares too. He kept telling me how much I was a liar for doing this. I couldn’t tell anyone about this because, becau-” Hannah sobbed.

Hannah slumped on the ground and covered her eyes. Eleanor crouched near her girlfriend and put a comforting arm around her.

“Hey, hey, hey...” Emily helped Eleanor picking up Hannah. “It’s okay to feel hurt, but it doesn’t mean you have to go through it alone.”

Kaitlyn nodded, tears streaming down. She wiped them with her jacket sleeve, not caring if her makeup had already dirty it.

“Hannah decided to come here to fix whatever was happening. Her friend Victor dropped her off to spend the night here.” Eleanor replied. She rubbed her girlfriend’s back, “Just take a few deep breaths.” She said to her softly.

Hannah composed herself. “I can’t explain it, but I had a gut feeling that this house could fix my problem. Ironic now that it’s El’s turn.”

“So, that’s how you two actually met?” Kaitlyn asked.

Eleanor nodded. “She spent such a short time, but with her... I wasn’t so afraid. of my hellish mother. That’s what I love about her.”

Hannah chuckled. “Yeah, just witnessing her world wasn’t exactly in the agenda, but it was worth it. I still miss those kids.”

“Who? Your brothers and sister?” Asked Emily.

“Yes, it took Thomas some time to ease on Hannah, but we welcomed her as if she’s family.” Eleanor answered.

Hannah gave a small smile. “I could imagine this now, ‘Hey kids, you wanna hear the story of how I met your mom?’“

Eleanor rolled her eyes, but laughed. “I guess you can say that your mother made me feel so... alive.”

The girls laughed at this future scenario. They then left the Manor once it was nighttime. Each pair left hand in hand.

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

Once they reached the train stop to Hartfeld, the two pairs stepped out to the platform.

“You must never tell anyone about this.” Eleanor warned them. “I don’t think the world is ready to hear that the dead are alive.”

Emily crossed her heart. “Swear, cross my heart and hope to die!”

Eleanor’s eyes went wide. “Emily, you mustn’t say that-!”

“El, she swore it.” Hannah placed her hand on Eleanor’s shoulder. Eleanor blushed hard of embarrassment.

“Don’t worry, we gotcha back,” Kaitlyn smiled. “See you girls later!” She put her arm around Emily.

“Bye! Take care!” Emily waved goodbye.

“Bye!” Hannah said.

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

“It’s crazy to know that ghosts exist?” Kaitlyn flopped onto Emily’s bed. Emily finished changing to new pair pajamas.

“Yeah, I guess you could say I was kinda skeptical about the paranormal.” Emily sat down beside her.

“Just imagine; there might be witches and werewolfs!” Kaitlyn’s face lit up. “Or vampires!”

“I think we have to take one creature at a time,” Emily laughed, but yawned as she had to go to bed soon. “I don’t know about you, but I’m beat.”

Kaitlyn got up from Emily’s bed. “You sure you don’t want me here?” She cocked her eyebrow and bit her lip.

Emily replied, “As much as I want to, I can’t. Gotta meet up with James and Reyna first thing in the morning.”

“You’re lucky I like that cute butt of yours.” Kaitlyn stuck her tongue out and winked. Kaitlyn began to close the door behind her. “Alright, g’night.”

“Night.” Emily gave a soft smile just before sleeping.

Kaitlyn held her head high to complete the new song. Once she got into her room, she grabbed her guitar and notes to finish this once and for all.

About an hour and a half later and

“See you in my dreams,

Feel you in the dark-”

As she hummed the tune, she sang “Take me anywhere, figuring who you are, the ghost of you has now become a part of me- OH MY GOD!” She screamed. Kaitlyn jumped from the bed, and ran out to Emily’s room.

“Em! Emily! I got it! I fucking got it!” Kaitlyn yelled.

Emily opened her door. Her eyes were slightly opened and her hair was messy from turning too often. “Yeah...?”

“I got the chorus! I got it!” She embraced Emily.

“That’s awesome,” Emily yawned. “I’m really tired...”

Kaitlyn blushed. “Oops- I didn’t noticed that I woke up everyone, did I?”

Becca came out of her room. With a hand on her hip and narrowed eyes, Becca said, “No, you really didn’t.”

#playchoices #The Freshman #the haunting of braidwood manor #mc x eleanor #kaitlyn x mc #Eleanor Waverly #Kaitlyn Liao #what is this? a crossover episode?#tw: death #tw: suicide mention #tw: murder #tw: alcholism

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queen-of-deans-booty · 7 years

Text

We Were Bound To Meet

Characters: Sam x FBI!Reader, Dean, Henrikson, Brianna (OC)

Word Count: 3,056

Warnings: no warnings here, maybe talk of a boyfriend wanting to kill a girlfriend but he was a monster so, maybe that’s why (<that wasn’t spoilers), fluffy Sam at the end

Request: Can you do a fluffy Sam fic where him and the reader are soulmates and they finally meet each other and instantly click? Sorry if this bad!

Summary: You’re the best in The Bureau but only because you were a hunter. you knew how to protect yourself, to make sure that the cases got solved before anyone with prying eyes had a chance to see. You knew you just had to take on this case and you were glad you did.

Author’s Note: Sorry this took so long to be out. If you want to be a Bean or a Queen, pop me an ask!

Feedback the glue that holds my writing together

Tags at the bottom

“Y/N, you’re wanted in conference room 3C.” Your assistant, Brianna said from the half open door to your office. You looked up from your desk and you sighed. You were busy with things right now and didn’t need another assignment on your plate.

“With who? What is going on?” You asked.

“They didn’t say, but I’m assuming it’s another case.” She said with a look of sympathy on her face.

“Great, this is just what I need.” You grumbled under your breath, minimizing your tabs before locking your computer and making sure the confidential files on your desk were put away. You got up and left your office, watching as Briana took her seat again at the desk right outside your door.

“Good luck!” Brianna said before you disappeared around the corner. You walked down the hall, people glancing at you as you passed. You were well known at The Bureau and even more so since your recent promotion. You walked into conference room 3C and everyone that was already inside turned to look at you. It looks like you were the only person they were waiting on.

“Sorry if you were waiting on me, Hendrickson.” You said as you took a seat, waiting for them to begin.

“Alright, now that we’re all here, I would like to discuss the case I’m going to be assigning one of you on,” Hendrickson said. You wondered what kind of crime was going on in the world today and if it was human related or monster related. “We have two victims brutally stabbed in Cedarburg, Wisconsin.”

You perked up on the name of the city. You were doing some investigating on your own and your case just happened to be in Cedarburg. Could it be your case is the same as his? You didn’t say anything but kept on listening.

“One of the victims was identified, but the other has yet to be. The weirdest thing about this is the markings they found on the bodies of both victims.” Hendrickson said, taking out pictures from a folder and passing them around. When they got to you, you looked at them and your mouth went dry.

Carved on the man’s body were Enochian symbols that you recognized for your lore books. See, the thing with you was that you weren’t just a normal FBI Agent. You were also a hunter. You became a real FBI Agent to blend in more. Of course, you had double the work and barely got enough sleep, but you got access to all kinds of cool equipment to help you on cases.

You became a hunter when your ex-boyfriend was bitten by a vampire and got turned. He tried killing you and nearly did, but you got away just in time and killed him. After that, you read up on everything about vampires, moving from one kind of monster to the other.

Soon, you were hunting alone, trying to make ends meet with what little materialistic things you had. You didn’t lead an honest life, like most hunters don’t. You stole a lot and had fraudulent cards, but you always made sure nothing could be traced back to you in case the FBI or the police found something.

You saw your window of opportunity to become a police officer and took it, joining the team in only a few short years. You still hunted but made sure your game was higher than ever, ranking in the top three officers of your class.

You were a police officer for about five years before moving into the FBI and starting from the bottom, but you made sure you worked your ass off and it payed off. You were very well respected in the FBI and you were very smart. Being a hunter almost all your life helped in that department and you were able to look at cases in a new light, often solving them on your own.

Now, you knew how to really cover your tracks and used your own computer at work for supernatural related cases. Your work computer was encrypted and set up on its own VPN server, so there was no way any research or hacking could be linked back to you. Even the phone calls, e-mails, and documents you worked on were all protected from prying eyes and after eight years of doing this, you were safe.

And now, the case being presented to you was the same case you were researching. They just didn’t know about the supernatural like you did.

You passed off the folder to the agent next to you and looked at Hendrickson. He gave you and the other agents in the room more information regarding the circumstances of the murders and who might be suspects. The only reason the FBI was called into this was because of the markings. Local authorities were concerned that it might be some kind of religious cult or fanatics, so the FBI was called in to investigate it.

You had to be the Agent in charge of this otherwise it would be a lot harder for you to do your job as a hunter.

“So, any volunteers on this one. It’s a tough one, but you’re all my best Agents.” Hendrickson said.

“I’ll do it,” You said, making everyone turn to look at you. You made sure to answer, careful to not sound too eager about it.

“Y/L/N, this is a tough case. Are you sure you’re up for it?”

“Yes, I’m fully aware of what might happen and the circumstances on this case.” You said, leaning back in your seat.

“Then you’re going to need some help. Round up a team and then you can—”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I would like to work on this alone. I’m the best when it comes to figuring out these kinds of cases and no offense to anyone in here but I’d work a lot faster if I were alone.” You said, cutting off your boss. He stared at you, his mouth in a thin line.

“Alright, you have one week to figure this out or else I’m sending a team of my own agents out.” He said, sliding the folder over to you.

“Trust me, sir, I’ll only need a couple of days.” You said, grabbing the folder and getting up. You left the room, leaving the other Agents speechless. People knew you worked fast and some were baffled how you were able to solve these cases so easily but they never questioned you. You kept to yourself and the only person who may have had an inkling about what was going on was Brianna.

She was the only person you trusted since you saved her from a spirit haunting. She didn’t question it, but it solidified her trust in you. She never told anyone, which you were grateful about, and she didn’t ask questions to know more. She left well enough alone and you were happy about that.

You walked back to your office, passing Brianna on the way.

“Hey, was I right? Was it another case?”

“It’s more than a case. It’s my kind of case.” You said, winking at her before walking into your office. She got up and rushed after you, closing the door behind her.

“Your kind of case? Could I see?” She asked. Just because she didn’t ask questions didn’t mean she wasn’t curious. You nodded and handed her the folder to which she opened and shuffled through the photos and notes.

“What are those markings?” She asked.

“Enochian, angel symbols. You don’t want to know.” You said, taking the folder back.

“You know what, I think you’re right. I figured you would take the case so I booked you a first-class ticket to Wisconsin in the morning. It leaves late tonight.”

“You are a life saver. Keep the office alive for me until I get back, yeah?” You said with a smile.

“You know I will.” She said with a laugh.

24 hours had passed since you grabbed the case before anyone else could. You were in the motel room you snagged, even though Brianna booked you at a hotel. Motels were safer because they had less security which means you could bring in your weapons with an even lesser chance of someone seeing you.

When you got there, you saw a beautiful, sleek black car in front of a room and you wondered who owned it. You weren’t a big car fanatic but you could appreciate them visually. You shook your head and walked into your room, taking your duffel bag of weapons before shutting the door.

You got out the case file and opened your encrypted work laptop to use your abilities of an FBI Agent to do some research on the case. Another benefit of being an FBI Agent was the unlimited database access and no chance of being arrested for hacking a federal database. You knew the ins and outs of each program and were able to make quick work of accessing them.

You hacked into security cameras of the surrounding buildings from the crime scene to see if they caught something. You frowned, seeing something on a traffic cam. You watched the playback, seeing the same black car in the parking lot outside run through a red light before stopping in front of the crime scene.

You looked at the time stamp and saw this happened only a few hours ago.

Two men got out and you lucked out that the angle of the traffic cam caught exactly what they were doing. You didn’t know who they were or why they were there but they were messing with the corpse, the one with the Angel symbols carved in it.

You took screenshots of the parts you needed and printed those out on your portable printer you brought with you. You grabbed the pictures and your badge along with your pistol before exiting your room. You walked a few doors down where their car was parked in front of. You rapped on the door and waited for someone to answer.

When it was opened, you stared into a pair of brilliant green eyes. He wasn’t dressed to go to sleep, he was in the same outfit you saw him wearing in the traffic cam footage.

“Yes, hi, I’m Agent Y/L/N,” You started, pulling out your badge to show the man who you were. “And I would like to ask you a couple of questions. Do you happen to be rooming with another man?” Green Eyes stared at you and for a moment and you saw a flash of panic before he shuffled behind the door. He opened it wider and walked over to his jacket that was hanging on the back of a chair.

He pulled out something and flashed you a badge of his own. You were an expert in fraud and forgery, and you knew a fake badge when you saw one. You nodded and he put it away, looking behind him as a man exited out of the bathroom, only a towel around his waist.

Your eyes met and it was like something sparked inside of you. Even from the distance you were at, you could tell that his eyes were a vibrant green speckled with a shade of brown that made them sparkle no matter where he looked. He was also well defined but you weren’t focusing on that as much even though you definitely wanted to.

There was something about this man that made you feel safe, like he was a good man despite what happened to him in his life.

“Oh, I’m sorry, is there a problem?” Towel Guy said, grabbing a shirt before tugging it on to cover up despite your borderline lewd thoughts.

“Yes, I’m Agent Y/L/N,” you said, flashing him your badge. “I would like to ask you and him some questions if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, of course, just let me get dressed and we’ll be right out.” You nodded at Towel guy and Green Eyes closed the door before you could say anything. You heard hushed whispers come from inside but you turned to look at the car in question. You walked to the car and around the back, looking at the license plate. Yes, same plate. They didn’t even think to ditch the car.

You walked to the side and peered inside the car but didn’t see anything too alarming aside from no seatbelts.

“What can we help you with?” You straightened up to see both men outside, Green Eyes with his arms crossed and Towel Guy leaning against a pillar.

“Yes, do you realize this car was at the scene of a crime?” You walked over to the two men and held out the pictures for them to see. “I’m doing an investigation on this case and I would like to know what you were doing there.”

“Do you realize we’re also FBI?” Green Eyes said, showing you his badge before Towel Guy reluctantly showed you his. Yep, totally fake badges.

“Do you realize that FBI badges are gold and not bronze plated like yours are? Do you realize that your pictures are smudged like it was printed off a crappy printer at Kinkos? Do you realize that impersonating an FBI Agent is punishable up to three years in prison and/or being fined a ridiculous amount of money?” You said, seeing the color drain from their faces.

“Agent Y/L/N… we can explain.” Towel Guy said, stuttering a little. You looked at him and felt that spark when your eyes met. You had no idea how dangerous these guys were but damn, why did it feel like you knew this man already?

“You should start with your names and why you were at that crime scene.”

“My name is Sam Winchester and this is my brother Dean.” Towel Guy said.

“And if we tell you why we were there, you wouldn’t believe us.” You looked at Dean and bit your lip. Maybe they were hunters.

“Try me.” You said, relaxing your posture a bit, not feeling threatened by them.

“There is an Angel here, killing people and carving Enochian symbols on the victim’s chest. We don’t know why yet, so that is why we went to the crime scene.” Dean said, laying it all on the line. Yes, they were hunters and if you were to work with them, you would get this done a lot faster.

“Follow me,” You said, walking to your room. You looked back at the brothers to see them staring at each other, having a silent communication. “Well, come on.” Sam and Dean followed you to you room and you led them inside.

“I’ve been studying these symbols for a while now and I think I have some leads on where the Angel might be hiding in or who the Angel might be possessing.” You said, sitting at your desk. Both brothers stared at you in shock, not knowing how to react.

“You’re a hunter?” Sam spoke finally.

“Yeah, sorry about the whole ‘you’re going to jail if you don’t tell me’ thing. It was just a scare tactic.” You said, looking at the brothers and smirking at their baffled faces.

“How…? But you’re…?” Sam said, trying to think of the right question to ask.

“Are we in trouble?” Dean asked.

“No, you’re not.”

“Great, I’m going across the street to the bar to get a few rounds before we jump into this. Sam, you coming?” Dean asked his brother. You and Sam both stared at one another and you wished he didn’t go. You felt drawn to him, like it was fate that you and him were supposed to meet.

“Uh, no, go ahead without me.” Sam said. You grinned and Dean shrugged, not seeing the obvious connection.

“Suit yourself. I’ll be back.” Dean said, leaving the room to go drown his confusion in alcohol. Sam sat across from you and it was clear he was curious about you. He opened his mouth to say something, but you spoke before he could.

“I became a hunter when my ex-boyfriend tried to kill me after he was turned into a vampire. I had to fend for myself and tried to hunt alone for a while. I was a bad kid, fraud and theft, like I’m sure you know. Then I saw the opportunity to become a police officer and I took it. I was still hunting, which was harder than it looks, but I made it. Now, because of my skills as a hunter, I’m one of, if not the best, Agent there is. It makes it a lot easier to get access to traffic cams and databases and even to guns and other kinds of weapons. You’d be surprised the kind of secrets the government is hiding.” You finished.

“Wow, you know, I was kind of scared there for a minute. It’s not the first time I was arrested and escaped jail, but the last time we were caught by the FBI, I had to die in order to get out.” Sam said.,

“You died?” You said, not believing your ears.

“Yeah I did and it was a pain in the ass. Oh man, Agent Y/L/N you have no clue what’s out there.”

“Call me Y/N.” You said, sticking your hand out. When Sam grabbed it you gasped, feeling these intense shocks go through your body. It felt like two pieces of a puzzle finally coming together, like you and Sam belonged together.

“Did you feel that?” You whispered.

“Yeah, I did.”

“What does it mean?” You asked.

“It means that we might be spending a lot more time together than I thought.” Sam said with a smile. You didn’t let go of his hand and even when the case was over, you didn’t want to leave. Even though you’d only known Sam for a week, it felt like forever and you didn’t want to give that up.

You were still an FBI Agent, but that didn’t stop you from working with the Winchesters. You believed in soulmates and maybe you and Sam were each other’s. But, soulmates or not, you still had jobs to do and people to save.

But that never stopped your love life before, so why should it now?

The Queens:

@maddieburcham1@ginamsmith @mogaruke @whit85-blog @inlovewithbja @spn67-sister @kdfrqqg @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @roxyspearing @supercalifragilistic26 @mishamigose @cobrakai1967@essie1876 @wishedworld @crispychrissy @laqueus-ludovicus@nostalgic-uncertainty @jerk-bitch-and-an-angel@potterhead1265 @starswirlblitz @untitled39887 @ta-n-ja @deans-fallen-angel-boy @scarletluvscas @notnaturalanahi @tahbehonest@stay-in--place @dreaminofdean @posiemax @donnaintx@mikey1822 @alexandriajanae4 @li-ssu @just-another-winchester @obsessivecompulsivespn@emoryhemsworth @newtospnfandom @mizzezm @goldenolaf25 @jessikared97 @wh1sp3r1ng-impala @charliebradbury1104 @queen-of-moons-peace-out-bitches @becs-bunker @atc74

The Sam Fam:

@elma-shay @xxno-wayxx @saxxxology @sinfulfanfictionkitten

128 notes · View notes

afni-fics · 4 years

Text

Elder Scrolls DC - A Reluctant Dragonborn - Chapter 1: Post-Helgen

Elder Scrolls DC - A Reluctant Dragonborn - Chapter 1: Post-Helgen by C_R_Scott Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Red Robin (Comics), DCU (Comics) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Characters: Tim Drake, Lucien Flavius Additional Tags: Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Skyrim/DCU crossover, Reluctant Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Not Beta Read

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Summary: Tim wakes up and remembers he's not in Kansas/Gotham/Earth anymore.

AKA: Decided to be mean and drop DC's Tim Drake/Red Robin into the role of reluctant Dovahkiin on my very modded version of The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim. While they will be going through the standard storyline of the rise of the last Dragonborn from the game, the events will likely not turn out exactly as they do in canon due to both Tim's origins from the DCU and the non-canon characters from certain mods I will be using.

(NOTE: I'm in the process of reblogging the initial chapters of this story because, for some reason, Tumblr won't let me edit the earlier versions that I created using the Tumblr app on my phone. I'm also in the process of creating a masterlist for this series)

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

Timothy Drake wasn't sure what it was that woke him up with a gasp.

Could it have been the sudden crack of thunder that was so loud it rattled all the wooden planks of the cabin he was taking shelter in?

Perhaps it was the pain of the angry, nearly raw burn scars that stretched across his entire back and left shoulder?

Maybe it was the nightmare of the last few hours of his life replaying itself in his head after sheer exhaustion had dragged him into an unwanted slumber?

It didn't really matter.

Tim shifted carefully into a sitting position, biting back the groan of pain that wanted to escape. Instead, a sharp inhale through his teeth was all he allowed as he clutched at the small portion of unburnt flesh on his left shoulder closest to his neck.

Once his eyes had adjusted to the dim light of the dying embers of the nearby fireplace, he scanned the area and zeroed in on a metal mug that was sitting on a top of the dresser next to the bed. Earlier, when he'd been offered the drink he'd declined. Now, he cursed his earlier stubborness. With a sigh, he gingerly reached over and brought it to his lips. Though the dark liquid was now tepid where earlier it had been warmed, Tim could still smell the strong aroma of medicinal herbs steeped in honey mead. Slowly, he drained the mug.

Within several minutes as Tim savored the warmth caused by the alcohol spreading internally he could feel the pain from his burns begin to fade to a dull throbbing ache. It still hurt, but at least now it was tolerable. He took a deep breath and released it slowly.

"Would you like another mug?"

Tim jerked in surprise at the voice and immediately hissed in pain as he clutched his shoulder. When the voice spoke again from the dark, it was apologetic.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you."

Tim swallowed hard and got his bearings. He looked at the blond Nord who was leaning up on his elbow from the cot on the other side of the room, studying him with concern. "No. It's alright Ralof. Sorry if I woke you."

He could hear Ralof get off the cot with a creak and pad across the room on bare feet. He paused by the fireplace to add another log and to poke the dying embers back to a semblance of life. "Nah. Wasn't really asleep."

Now that there was more light from the fireplace, Tim could see Ralof pouring steaming hot liquid from a kettle into another mug. Unlike earlier when he'd refused the medicinal mead from the Nord's elder sister Gerdur when she was trying to treat his wounds, Tim accepted the offered mug without hesitation or complaint. "It's better when it's hot," Ralof said knowingly.

Tim cupped the mug between his hands and breathed in the vapors rising from the mug before taking another long draught.

"Is it helping?" Ralof asked, then smiled when Tim nodded. "I'm glad. I wish I'd caught on to how badly you were hurt back in Helgen. Maybe if I'd looked harder at the keep for more poti--"

"Don't," Tim interrupted as he stared into his mug. Then he shook his head. "There's nothing more you could've done in the moment." He lifted his haunted gaze to meet Ralof's. "I'm alive... We're alive... That's all that matters." Quickly, he drained the remainder of the mead, coughing slightly as the alcohol burned on the way down. "I think I should be able to get back to sleep now."

"Aye," Ralof said as he drained his own mug of mead. "We both should rest. I need to make my way back to Jarl Ulfric, and you need to make your way to Whiterun." He smiled reassuringly. "I'll show you the way to the city before I head to Windhelm."

Tim nodded as he gingerly laid back down on the bed, easing onto his right side.

The moment his blue eyes closed, the nightmares returned, though they seemed muted by the alcohol he'd finally indulged in.

***

Riding in a wooden cart, bound with other prisoners of a rebellion he had no part in...

***

Kicked to a headsman's wooden block, still sticky and warm with blood from its previous victim, denied even a chance to argue his innocence to the merciless Imperial soldiers in scarlet armor...

***

Staring at massive black dragon with burning crimson eyes, unable to move. He could see the dragon's mouth move, as if it was speaking, but he could hear no words...

***

Screams of terror and cries of battle filled his ears while the stench of burning wood and charred flesh suffocated him as he tried to move to safety...

***

Searing pain as he felt unforgiving flames devouring his flesh...

***

Being saved by a blonde Stormcloak soldier clad in a blue cloak. Words of reassurance were barely intelligble as the stranger, his savior, forced a bittersweet red liquid from a small vial down his throat. Only then did the pain begin to finally subside...

***

Though the rest of his slumber was fitful, Tim did not wake again until the sun had risen over the horizon over the small village of Riverwood.

(in-game screenshots)

(extra: Tim Drake appearance in-game)

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

Warning: This is being pantsed more than plotted, and this is not beta read. We'll see where this journey takes us. Mostly I'm just doing this for my own amusement.

Note1: If you have any questions about the playthrough and Tim's feelings/experiences that aren't described in the chapters, please ask me in the comments. I'll do my best to answer your questions as best I can.

Note2: It just so happened that during this playthrough one of the bandits ended up being Argonian along with the usual couple of human races, so I just decided to run with it with the role play.

Note3: There are quite a few mods I'm using when it comes to the appearance of Tim in my gameplay. Here are a few of what I used to create him: - RaceMenu: https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/19080 - Charmers of the Reach (COTR): https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/27405 - Skin Features Overlays SE: https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/20183 - KS Hairdos SSE: https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/6817 (I'm pretty sure I maybe missed a few mods here and there that contribute, but not 100% sure....)

#elder scrolls dc #tim drake #red robin #fanfiction #skyrim fanfiction #batfam #crossover #spoiler warning: skyrim

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pllsetskyonice · 7 years

Text

@yuriplisetsky is a size queen

Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky

2,900 words

“What are you talking about?”

“Your Twitter? Your thread that spends about ten tweets waxing poetry about the size of my dick? Everyone’s talking about it, the fans are going crazy, I had Victor ringing me up half an hour ago to ask if it was true and if I really had deflowered Russia’s Fairy like that, and I just – what the hell were you thinking, Yuri?”

In which Yuri gets drunk and Tweets some things he probably shouldn't have.

AO3 link

So @94mercy made this post that headcanoned that Yuri gets drunk one night and talks about the size of Otabek’s dick on social media, and I immediately knew I had to write it. Otherwise known as me just wanting to join in with all the hung!Otabek content that’s been coming out of this fandom in recent weeks.

(Also tagging @daddybek because that’s where this all started back in February)

They’ve been dating for a few months when it happens.

Yuri goes round to Mila’s for a few drinks after practice one day, and they steadily make their way through a bottle of vodka, laughing and talking about their respective partners. The music is loud and Yuri feels all loose and giggly as he reaches for his phone, taking selfies and documenting their escapades on Snapchat. He’s never been this drunk before, so drunk he’s not even sure what order his memories from the last few hours go in, so drunk that he can barely stand, so drunk that the room is spinning.

He sits down and opens Twitter, starting to type. He doesn’t even think about what he’s Tweeting, just starts a thread and keeps on going until he gets it all off his chest. Mila is grabbing at his hands and pulling him up so they can dance together again, and Yuri’s phone lies on the couch, forgotten.

So he doesn’t see what he’s done until morning.

It’s the sound of his phone vibrating loudly on the bedside table that wakes him up. He’s in Mila’s spare bedroom, a small sized room with what feels like the most uncomfortable bed he’s ever slept on, but it evidently didn’t bother him at whatever time he collapsed onto last night. At least he made it into bed, he supposes. That’s an achievement, even if he’s still wearing yesterday’s clothes.

He grabs at his phone, squinting at the screen. It reads 6 AM, and is somehow fully charged, even though he has doesn’t remember plugging it in last night. It’s far too early. Yuri wants nothing more at this particular moment in time than to roll over and go back to sleep to avoid dealing with this hangover from hell, but it’s Otabek that’s calling him, so he supposes that he’d better answer.

“Hello?” he says, his voice sounding all croaky as he unplugs his phone and rolls back onto his back. There’s light streaming in through a gap in the curtains, and Yuri would get up and close them properly, but they’re too far away to deal with right now. Instead, he opts for the easier option: pulling his blankets over his head.

“Yuri, what the fuck?” Otabek asks on the other end of the line. Even in this still half drunk, hungover state, Yuri can tell that this is Not Good. “What were you thinking?”

“What are you talking about?” Yuri replies. He wonders if it’s about his and Mila’s Snapchat stories, but from what he can remember there’s nothing too outrageous on them, just some really bad singing in questionable English to pop songs neither of them like.

Yuri fumbles with his phone, opening Twitter with his phone call with Otabek still active in the background. He doesn’t even need to go onto his profile to see it, it’s all over his timeline. “Oh, shit,” he swears as he scrolls through the Tweets. “I don’t even remember posting any of this. I was so drunk, Beka. So drunk. I’m sorry.”