#i only found out after i started writing this post that the graveyard is canonically just adam and Eve

[court-of-constellations]

The Evil's Theater graveyard is not, as most think, for intruders.

If it was, then all the gravestones would be blank. The Master of the Graveyard never asks who she's devouring, and the Master of the Court rarely keeps record of her trials.

Yes, the Waiter and Gardener keep track, remembering the names of every hapless victim that comes through the gates, but the Gardener writes them down and the Waiter simply catalogues them in her mind, much like the way she catalogues the name of each person the Daughter of Evil executed.

The graveyard is not for intruders.

It's for the inhabitants.

The oldest graves in the graveyard are engraved with old names, names none of them go by any longer.

Adam and Eve Moonlit's graves are right next to each other, only a short distance from Meta Salmhofer's and her children. Two smaller graves are there as well, the names "Cain" and "Abel" the only thing identifying them. Maria Moonlit is there as well, her grave the most finely decorated in that particular section.

Irina Clockworker's grave is a little further away from the lovers, set distinctly apart from her brother and sister-in-law, as well as her two other victims. Four tiny graves surround hers, one of her aliases carved on each. A little red cat is painted on all these graves, courtesy of one of the twin servants.

Riliane Lucifen d'Autriche's grave is pristine, as is Allen Avadonia's. Their family and friends surround them, all perfectly clean and in good shape. The Waiter never lets the Gardener clean these particular graves, for they are her sins to carry alone.

There's a section in the graveyard that the twins desecrate near-constantly, the names "Mikulia Calaground," "Phantom Thief Platonic," and "Margarita Blankenheim" the only words discernable after so long. Oddly enough, the graves of Lemy Abelard and Rin Chan nearby are always left untouched.

The Gardener cleans the graves of the Miroku family and their murderer every other week, though he leaves the patriarch's grave to rot. The Waiter cleans them afterwards, fixing any spots he may have missed. Noticeably, she too makes less of an effort on Miroku Kai's grave. She tries, however, and that seems to be enough.

The Marlons (and Nyoze Octo, a recent addition) are the newest graves, and only Gallerian's grave (and Nyoze's, once it was added) is taken care of. The Director seems to have a strange vendetta against Michelle, and none of them care much about Mira, but the graves are there regardless.

The graveyard at Evil's Theater is not for the intruders.

[lulzyrobot]

Pokemon Dynamorph AU Masterpost

Based on THIS POST 

The short of this AU is that the climax of the Eternatus fight had an even more profound effect on the Galar region and its people. The excess energy made people fuse with their pokemon! Oh boy! So below the cut I’m going to outline all the ideas behind this AU thanks to everyone’s asks showing an increasing curiosity about all this! I’m used to writing original content, nothing based on an existing property so bare with me…

Events Leading Up to The Dynamorph Event

So for this AU, the events of the game leading up to the Eternatus conflict are the SAME except for some details. 

Gloria/Victor and Hop never encounter Zacian or Zamazenta. The Rusty Sword and Shield were lost to time.

When Leon goes to confront Eternatus, he is joined by everyone up on the roof. The Gloria/ Victor, Hop, Bede, Marnie, the Gym Leaders (minus Opal because she’s back in Ballonlea enjoying retirement.) 

This confrontation happens AFTER Gloria/ Victor beats Leon, for simplicity’s sake.

So when everyone confronts Eternatus, thanks to Rose’s eager impatience to do good for the Galar region, they are unable to stop it properly since Zacian and Zamazenta are nowhere to be found. Instead, the combined efforts of everyone force Eternatus to flee.

But not without releasing an overwhelming blast of Dynamax energy.

The blast rippled throughout a portion of Galar, and had a chain reaction with power spots and the dens of the Wild Area. When the dust settled, the pokemon everyone had out that they were using in the big fight were...gone. Not in their pokeball, just..gone. Naturally, people assume the worst but they have a lingering feeling that the Pokemon are still...here somehow. But they don’t know why. So when everyone’s calmed down, and clean up begins, they all go their separate ways.

About a day passes, and then it starts to happen. From the time of the blast and when the changes start to happen externally, everyone experiences some oddities superficially (better hearing, acute sensitivity to stuff etc.)

 Leon was in his newly acquired office and the just obtained Battle Tower. He had the blind closed, sat in the darkened room thinking over everything that happened, and his loss of the Champion title. When the changes started happening, he nearly burned the office, leaving claw marks in his desk, the floor, and the walls. The noise attracted someone from the Battle Tower staff and he yelled at them in panic to call Sonia. His own phone started ringing. It was Hop.

Gloria/ Victor (I separate them cuz it's more of a ‘who you imagine in this role.’ Can only have one Champion) were being briefed on Champion duties and what that entails. It’s a boring meeting, but they excuse themself to go to the bathroom. In reality they duck away outside to just get a breather. They suddenly feel a sharp pain and start to change, probably biting into their arm to muffle any scream to prevent causing a scene.

Bede headed back to Ballonlea, distraught that Hatterine was nowhere to be found. He wanted to distract himself by continuing his gym leader training, but Opal sat him down for some tea to talk about grief and loss. She’s way older and definitely has experience in that field. What she doesn’t have experience in, is what to do when your protege starts growing traits of a pokemon…

Hop, after that whole ordeal, missing Dubwool, and having lost the gym challenge just had so many feelings to vent out, he wanted to just scream. So he heads deep into the Slumbering Weald to just scream out his frustrations. When he sits down after tiring himself out, his changes start happening. In pain, scared, and alone, he calls Leon.

Marnie went back to Spikemuth with Piers. Team Yell welcomed them with open arms and gave them the idea to have a tribute concert for the pokemon they believe they lost. Marnie declined, electing to stay at home and be alone for a while. She didn’t want to be around people right now. Then her changes started happening, and she uncontrollably let out a burst of electricity, causing an outage in Spikemuth. 

Piers, meanwhile, was setting up for an impromptu concert. He dealt with his feelings by doing literally anything to distract him from them so yelling into a microphone for a couple hours seemed like a good idea. Just as he was about to test the mic, a huge power surge came from his place and shut down all of Spikemuth’s power. Concerned for his sister he runs off stage, taking alleys as a shortcut. In his adrenaline he doesn’t even realize his changes started until he tripped over his own new claws and writhes just outside their place.

Raihan, being in Hammerlocke, wastes no time in helping with the clean up. While at the highest point in the city, he and his gym trainers were hard at work. Until Raihan collapsed, trying to hold himself up with his broom. His trainers looked on in concern and horror as he began changing, even starting up a sandstorm in the process. As a result, one trainer almost gets pushed off the roof but, bearing through the pain, Raihan leaps in and grabs them in time.

Gordie and Melony head back to Circhester. On the way, they had talked a lot about their issues and gripes that had torn a rift in their family, in earnest. The assumed loss of their pokemon worked as good common ground to remind them about the importance of family. They were both at Melony’s home when it happened. The heat and cold put a completely new kind of barrier between the two.

Bea wanted to get her mind off everything that happened by training in the outskirts of Stow-on-Side. She pushed herself too far, and her pokemon urged her to stop. But she fought them off. At first with difficulty, but then as her changes happened, more easily. Her pokemon backed off and started looking for help.

Alister, figuring that his Gengar maybe wandered off on its own again, headed to the graveyard during the night. One of Gengar’s favourite spots. For a moment, Alister thought he heard Gengar’s chuckle and it’s cry but turned to see nothing. Something compelled him to look down at himself and he could see himself becoming translucent and a suspicious shade of purple. He had always had an affinity with ghosts but becoming one was something else entirely. Ensue panic attack.

Kabu returned home to quietly meditate and think rationally about everything that happened. In a trance-like state, he could feel Centiskorch right there next to him. He felt at peace. The smell of burning snapped him out of it, however when he realized he, as well as a good part of the room, was on fire. He quickly escaped, realizing the fire didn’t hurt him. 

Nessa just wanted to be alone, so back at Hulberry, she walked along the docks, shrouded in early morning fog. Her changes started happening, but she really only felt itchy as the scales came in. Upon checking her phone, did she herself in the screen’s reflection and freak out.

Life moves on and Milo had a farm to tend to. His family urged him to take a break but he smiled back at them and assured them he was okay. He wasn’t. While working was when his changes happened. His whole family rushed to his aid. And again, through a smile, he insisted he was okay.

Oleana was working feverishly on getting money together for lawyers and bail money to get Rose out of his self-imposed jail sentence. She knew all he wanted was good for the region, but he was just too blind to see the potential damage he was causing. She wanted him to have a second chance. But her changes slowed her down. 

Rose, in a cell, reflected on his actions. How rash he was that he didn’t see the big picture. He should’ve listened. When his changes happened in his cell, he was horrified. Not at what happened to him, but what was no doubt, happening to the others. And probably more. What had he done? He needed to fix his mistake. 

The ones present at the event were not the only ones to change, however. This was happening all over the region, closer to power spots (which includes the towns, but the morphs aren’t all as drastic) and the wild area (trainers fused with wild pokemon and went hostile. This is covered in depth in another section). After one of the quickest trials, Rose had offered to the court that instead of a full prison sentence, he spent his entire resources and wealth into funding on solving this new, now coined ‘Dynamorph Crisis.’ They agreed and the Macro Cosmos got to work.

How the Dynamorph Actually Works

Bare with me because this is where I kind of bend canon and make assumptions about things for the sake of explaining how this AU even works. So. Eternatus caused all this by basically converting things into energy. On humans, it would just tear them apart. On pokemon it would just turn them into dynamax energy temporarily. The normal situation is that dynamaxing makes the pokemon grow and change form, yeah? Well for this AU, the pokemon, seeing that their trainers are potentially going to die, decide to fuse with them to ‘fill in the gaps.’ Saving them. At first, it appears like they were able to change into the parts missing, but after a while, the pokemon traits start showing, which is my excuse for why the actual changes were delayed. 

The severity of the dynamorph is dependent on proximity to the blast/ powerspot. And just personal preference if you wanted to make your own trainersona dynamorphed (which I totally encourage! It’s fun and I like seeing what you all come up with!!). 

Dynamorphed trainers gain the physical traits, special abilities, movesets and odd quirks that come with the pokemon they are dynamorphed with. (Bonding with Morpeko makes you hungry, bonding with a Xatu lets you see the future, etc) Though, since the humanity is still there, they are able to curb some of the more aggressive quirks with diligence.

If the pokemon bonded is not fully evolved, applying the correct evolutionary method will evolve and change the outward appearance of the dynamorphed trainer. Normal level up are accomplished by fighting, not by age. 

Since being part pokemon, the trainer is a lot more resilient and could, if they REALLY wanted to, fight other morphed trainers. Trainers feel the type weakness and resistances. They would faint just like a pokemon fight. Potions and pokemon centres would help them recover. Though death is still something that can happen. 

Trainers fused with food-like pokemon are not edible please don't eat them, there's a place where the food stops and the flesh starts and we don’t need to find out where that is ok??

Normal pokemon that are caught and trained will REFUSE to attack a dynamorphed trainer unless absolutely provoked. So you can’t really have a pokemon battle where a dynamoprhed trainer is beating up a pokemon or vice versa. That’s messed up.

Dynamorphed trainers cannot be caught in any kind of pokeballs. That’s also messed up.

They cannot breed to make a weird hybrid plz stop asking.

Dynamorphed Trainers can NOT be Dynamaxed. Too much energy, man.

Trainers CAN bond with more than one pokemon, but that's where complications start to occur. The more pokemon bonded to the trainer, the harder it is form them to hold on to their humanity. 

1 Pokemon = Okay

2 Pokemon = A struggle to keep humanity, but it’s possible.

3+ Pokemon = This is not a person. It is a hostile beast.

There are no legendary pokemon/ ultra beasts dynamorphed. They’re all in other regions and wouldn’t be in the Galar region when it happened so there just wouldn’t be. But if ya’ll make one with one anyway, I won’t stop you but the legendary pokemon may be too strong for a trainer to handle.

If the pokemon’s nature is different than the trainer’s than it might affect their personality. The extent of this is varied.

**No two dynamorphs look the same! If you have two trainers bonded with like...a Pikachu for example. One might get yellow fur, ears, and a tail while the other only gets a tail and the cheeks. Go nuts.

If the pokemon dynamorphed with the trainer is the opposite gender, the result is whatever you want. 

Speaking of complications, that brings us to the next part…

The Wild Area Trainers

During this whole event, I previously mentioned that the Wild Area was significantly affected. Those unfortunate enough to be out camping during the blast had the chance of 1 of 3 things happening:

They dynamorphed with one of their pokemon. 

They dynamorphed with with more than one of their pokemon

They dynamorphed with one or more wild pokemon Examples found HERE.

In the case of being bonded to a wild pokemon, this takes a heavy toll on the trainer’s mind as its constantly fighting with a wild pokemon. This causes them to lose their minds and become hostile, just like a wild pokemon. Unfortunately a large number of “Wild Trainers” roam the Wild Area. Their previously caught pokemon usually try to flee or stick around to protect their trainer out of sheer devotion. As mentioned before, they cannot be caught with a pokeball. But the region is working on a program to deal with this. …

How the Galar Region is dealing with the Dynamorph Crisis

Professors Sonia and Magnolia are appointed the top researchers, being granted the resources of the Macro Cosmos thanks to Oleana and Rose, wanting to atone for his mistakes. However the government, doubting Rose’s competence, sends out their own officials to oversee and make decisions. (I have no idea how the government of this region works. Is there a parliament? Is the gym league the authority? I’ll say for this AU there is actually a system of government…). 

They have labs and rehabilitation centres set up to be able to study and help help dynamorphed trainers cope and eventually go back home. They are not kept there against their will. Most, anyway. The main cast were quarantined in a lab/ facility for the early stages of the crisis so they could learn/ test their capabilities in a safe environment. Shenanigans ensue. Because of this, the crisis put a hold on the gym challenge league entirely. 

At first, the authorities wanted to keep this under wraps in case their morphs were an isolated incident but quickly realized that was going to be impossible. Travel to and from the Galar region became incredibly restricted. Dynamorphed trainers are not allowed to leave the region, for everyone’s safety (don’t want to risk an outburst that could harm anyone :c ), but unchanged people were free to travel once they were confirmed as ‘human’ by a mandatory test. 

The Wild Area became a huge problem, what with Wild Trainers running about. Defenses were set up just in case to prevent Wild Trainers from wandering into populated areas and causing havoc, though a few occurrences still happen, what with flying pokemon and all. Eventually, a special force was assembled that consisted of consenting dynamorphed trainers that were tasked with going into the Wild Area and subduing and retrieving Wild Trainers to bring them to a more secured location to help study them and to try and find a cure. And to confirm to families the fate of their missing family member(s). The attempt is to be as humane as possible. 

The special force (Do I really wanna call it Dynaforce? I feel like I’m abusing the prefix if I do), consists of all the current gym leaders, Piers, Leon, Victor/ Gloria and a bunch of other trainers who signed up who are 18+. (you don't want to send kids out doing this kind of dangerous work, I know pokemon is all about children taming powerful animals but you gotta draw the line in the sand somewhere. Gym leaders are exempt because they why not. They insisted and already proved their strength to the region. It’s an AU based off a fuckin game/ anime.) This force has two jobs:

Go into the Wild Area to subdue Wild Trainers and bring them home

Protect the towns in case any wild trainers get in. 

So what happened to Eternatus if it just escaped? Theories indicate it might be living in a massive den in the heart of the Wild Area, waiting to strike again. There are a lot more Wild Trainers near this area, so excursions here are difficult.

Is a cure eventually found? Honestly this is just an AU so that's up to you. My personal answer is no. Improvise. Adapt. Overcome. //Bear Grylls voice

So….this is a lot. This is just some silly AU that inspired me to expand on it for fun since you guys showed a lot of interest! I’ll edit this as I get more asks about things I may have missed, but I will be going in and deleting a lot of previous asks so I can clean up my blog a bit. I had WANTED to keep a lot of this ‘secret’ cuz I wanted to draw stuff for it. I STILL WILL DRAW for it, but realistically I don’t have the time or energy ahah. Especially for an AU of a published franchise aha. 

If you want to make a dynamorph trainersona, totally go for it! Just tag me when its done! I love seeing what people do!

[sheron-c]

XiSang Fic Recs

I haven’t seen any rec lists floating about, so for the XiSang Week 2020 challenge - Day 7 - Free choice, I wanted to create a rec list of my personal favourites for Nie Huaisang/Lan Xichen ship. There’s actually a lot of stories that are great and I don’t want to duplicate the entire ship tag, so these are just the top 10 that I found super enjoyable: 1.  My Heart is a Saber by peskyjellyfish (~11k)

Summary: Huaisang is on his way to Xinglu Ridge when he gets sidetracked. Rec: This is the fic that gave me everything I wanted to read about them post-canon. Nie Huaisang is angry and damaged, Lan Xichen is hurt and curious, and they find the kind of hope in despair that can only be found together. 2.  come and find me (lying in the bed i made) by ImaginationCake  @demonic-cultivar​ (~22k)

Summary: After Jin Guangyao dies, Nie Huaisang is ready to enjoy his life free from the burden of revenge plots and subterfuge. But his decisions have resulted in a deep guilt that he can't shake, and he struggles to stay afloat with no one left to support him. To top it off, he finds himself tangled up in politics that he really couldn't care less about.What he does care about is Lan Xichen's opinion of him, but Lan Xichen won't even look at him anymore. Nie Huaisang can only hope that his life doesn't get any worse. Rec: The fic that got me into this ship! ♡ I did of course come to AO3 looking for more NHS & LXC content immediately after watching the Untamed. After seeing that ending scene with their conversation on the Temple’s steps I wanted more, but I wasn’t sure it was a romantic ship for me until I read this story. It’s got everything, a kidnapping, a rescue and a bad case of feelings :D 3.  A Skilled Tactician is the Jewel of a Kingdom by Hypatia3 (~50k, WIP) Summary: During the Sunshot Campaign, Nie Huaisang wants to help despite his terrible sword skills. But there are other things he's good at, and nobody can say his mind is weak. But nobody has to know.After all, he wants to go back to his life of general uselessness after the war is over, and Nie Mingjue would never allow it if he saw a single sign of competence from him.But this has consequences that he didn't expect. Rec: One of the absolute best stories in this fandom when it comes to Nie Huaisang’s characterization -- he’s clever and yet so very Huaisang, in such a believable way that *hands* I can’t explain how much satisfaction I get out of reading and rereading this story. Honourable mention:  A Decisive Victory by Hypatia3 (~24k, WIP) Summary: When Jin Guangyao acts against the Nie Sect a little earlier, Nie Huaisang ends up in over his head as acting sect leader. But he has a responsibility and a duty to his sect. His brother is counting on him until he recovers.Or Nie Huaisang loses his temper, starts a war, and impresses a lot of people along the way. Rec: This is not marked XiSang, and is a divergence from the earlier Tactician story (around chapter 7) but it’s such fun to read and Huaisang’s interactions with Lan Xichen are top notch, so I can’t help mentioning it here.

4.  from tomb to tomb by @the-pretzel​  (~16k)

Summary: It's a lot easier to get truth out of someone, even one with a very good reason to lie, when they're drunk. Or, five times Nie Huaisang was drunk and once it was Lan Xichen's turn instead. Rec: Written to capture moments over the years during the course of the show, as Lan Xichen and Nie Huaisang dance around each other, this story is absolutely beautiful and vivid. I can still see the scenes of the story pop up in my head like drawings, of Lan Xichen walking in on semi-hungover Nie Huaisang and the sheer tension between them enough to keep you breathlessly reading.

Honourable mention:  when i'm reborn by @the-pretzel (~1.1k)

Summary:  Nie Huaisang's daemon settles the day he finds out what Jin Guangyao has done. (His Dark Materials fusion) Rec: A very short, very lovely daemon AU, which I’m definitely reading as XiSang :)

5.  What I had to do by @ibijau​ (~20k) Summary:  After three years in seclusion, Lan Xichen gets an unexpected guest he would rather have avoided. Yet when he learns that Nie Huaisang is dying from a curse, he is forced to confront his guilt toward Jin Guangyao's fate and the people his sworn brother hurt. Rec: I’d say this is a fandom classic, so you’ve probably read it already :D But, one of my favourite things about this story is the way it captures Nie Huaisang running away from emotions, and Lan Xichen being selfless when it comes to those he cares about. 6.  gather jewels from graveyards by LuckyDiceKirby (~15k) Summary: Nie Huaisang stole happiness from Lan Xichen. He stole peace. If he could just see him, and see for himself exactly what he’s done, and know—that will be enough. Then he’ll be able to paint again, and his hands won’t shake as he does it, and he’ll remember why he ever in his life bothered to put brush to ink to paper. After all, a man should have to live with his mistakes. There is no other way to learn from them. His brother believed that. Rec: One of the first stories I read for this ship and so well done! This is one where Nie Huaisang feels very guilty, and who doesn’t enjoy reading that? Nie Huaisang comes to the Hanshi to make amends, and doesn’t go away when Lan Xichen won’t see him.

7.  When the world is cold (I will feel a glow) by @marsdiogenes (~3k)

Summary: Xichen is trying very hard to get his crush to notice him, but gallery curator Nie Huaisang has a job to do and would appreciate it if Lan Xichen's beautiful face would stop for a moment so he can focus. Mingjue just wants to have a nice, quiet family dinner and for everyone to respect his efforts.

Rec: I don’t normally go for Modern AUs for this ship, but this was so fun and sexy! Also Nie Mingjue’s knowing reaction is :3 8.  to embrace doubt by fensandmarshes, Fleetling, idendreams, medievalfantasyqueen, space_enjolras, sxnshot (blasphemyincarnate)

Summary: Five times people thought they understood Nie Huaisang + one time someone admitted they didn’t - a collaborative, semi-chronological character study of Nie Huaisang through other characters’ eyes. Rec: Okay, it’s technically not marked shippy, but you tell me that someone who thinks about Nie Huaisang the way Lan Xichen does in this story, in the chapter that’s from his pov can possibly not love him, and I won’t believe it. The lyrical prose is the best description in a paragraph I’ve ever read of Nie Huaisang.

9.  Love of my life, I hate you by Ibijau (~126k) Summary:  With Qishan Wen growing ever more powerful and menacing, QInghe Nie and Gusu Lan decide to cement a firm alliance between their sects through a marriage between their children. Lan Xichen and Nie Huaisang are less than thrilled to learn this, but nobody is asking for their opinion anyway Rec: At first, I wasn’t sold on Lan Xichen being so thoughtless in his treatment of Nie Huaisang as a child and mostly wanted to smack him, but damn if the later events don’t make up for it, make him grow up, and turn the tables around. :D This story is utterly satisfying to read, like one of those novels that give your Id everything you want, eventually. I love slow burn and this is that in spades! So much fun, I’ve re-read parts of it multiple times already.

Honourable mention: Ibijau has so many interesting XiSang stories, like the one where Jin Rusong survives and Nie Huaisang ends up raising him (Second Chances For First Time Villains), and the one where Lan Wangji and Nie Huaisang, both in love with someone else, make a marriage match and solve crimes together ( We can light a match and burn it down), the god!LXC AU, and many others. Check them out! And finally,

10.  Chapter 95: LXC finds out about JGY and tells NHS,  from MDZS short fics by nirejseki ( @robininthelabyrinth) (~1k) Summary:  In that AU where LXC pretends to be LWJ and discovers NMJ's head, what if he went on a quest to put the body of his old friend together and along the way accidentally ran into NHS who's on the same mission. And they realize the other knows! Rec: Nirejseki writes a lot of great Nie brothers content, and this is one short story that can arguably turn into XiSang in the future. The possibilities of this AU make it so exciting, I had to include it on the list even though NHS and LXC only talk and nothing else happens.  ...Okay, that was more than ten fics here, but can you blame me? 😍 I love these two together. And with the XiSang week running we have so much new stuff!

[kirbyspits]

Can Makorra Fics fit in with Book 4?

So I'm compiling a list of my favorite makorra fanfics for times when I want to rewatch the show and need some fillers for certain episodes & happenings between seasons. During my search for stories, I noticed something really intriguing. Most of the fanfics I found are for Books 1-3. There’s one that I'm adding to my list for Book 4 and the one "post" Book 4 fic I like is an AU. It’s so interesting because I don't necessarily believe all these stans jumped ships when Korrasami became canon. 

As a reader and a fan, once I discovered the lack of Makorra fics on both FF.net and AO3, I started considering what I was actually looking for: canon compliant ones. I realized I don't know what I want to see in a post Book 4 fic as a Makorra fan. I may not ship Korrasami, but that doesn't mean I want to read about them breaking up or Asami dying just so Korra can get back with Mako. I'm more open to breakups or things changing when it's years down the line (like they get married and had a falling out or something), but even then the premise of the story has to sell me into believing it's something that could happen. I found one I think handles this very well that's an ongoing story. However, it's an AU and Hiroshi is alive, so it's different enough for me to enjoy it.

I can't help but wonder if other Makorra writers felt the same way. They pushed out so many one-shots and there are so many good ones that expand on our favorite episodes. Book2 is dead to us of course, but man do these writers kill it with the breakup angst and romance. 

I didn't find much for book 3, but book 4 is a graveyard. Maybe it's because there's a 3-year gap, giving Mako the opportunity to finally move on? We could have a nice reunion one-shot for Makorra for a couple Book 4 episodes, but not much else. There also aren't many opportunities where you can have a fic that seamlessly ties in with Korra's trauma and Mako being there for her. The only story I can picture myself enjoying is Mako trying to reach out and Korra harshly rejecting him. It would tie in nicely with Mako being as far away from Korra as possible in the last episode in Book 3. As for Korra returning home, Mako can visit her, if you really want to stretch it, but I just can't imagine Korra accepting him or letting him in.

Fanfic writers already have our back by providing closure for Mako and Korra's relationship and breakup. TLOK establishes that Mako will always remain in Korra's life. The show handles this perfectly. I may have wanted more screen time, but Mako didn't need to say much else. There's nothing I would've wanted him to say that didn't lead to a confession or a conversation to try and make things work again. So, what else is there to write about?  What else is there to expand upon for Mako and Korra? IMO, not much unless you want to take the time to write a whole new arc, which is time-consuming work with little to no payoff, especially since the majority of fanfic readers don't like or want Makorra fics.

So that's my main theory. My other theory is Korra fatigue. We enjoyed Book 4, but then we hashed out the ending. We spoke about representation, biases, bi-erasure, expectations, and more. I can't speak for everyone, but after Book 4, I kind of didn't want anymore Korra. I was happy with the finale, but I wasn't craving for more content. It has nothing to do with my preferred ship either. I think it was just the story being fine and seemingly coming to a close. I had no desire to rewatch book 1 again either. I was active on Tumblr for a bit and then completely fell off. I was happy to see Korra trending on twitter ever now and then, but I never had any desire to rewatch the series until it came on Netflix. 

When I skipped Book 1 and started with Book 2, I had the same reaction as I did 6 years ago. I enjoyed the series, but was ready to move on. It was only after watching Book 1 for the first time in 7 years that all my obsession with tlok took hold. I feel the desire to create again and I'm writing more than ever. So I can't help but wonder if what happened to me happened to a lot of Makorra fanfic writers out there and if maybe they need to rewatch Book 1 again to get some of that drive and inspiration back. Only, once again, how will they want to bring that creativity to Book 4 and beyond? Tbh, I can't picture it. Maybe it's because Mako and Korra are not canon and Korra is already happy being with Asami. Therefore the bulk of the works remain in earlier seasons or are turned into AUs.

Btw, it's a bit humorous how little fics are canon compliant. Makes it easy to avoid binging! The list is coming soon! I bookmarked a few more and will be reading them over the weekend!   

[thehoneyedhufflepuff]

Promises Kept & Made (& Researched):

behind the scenes on my zine fic

(Wow, cannot even keep the title of this post succinct, but is anyone actually surprised?)

Yesterday @captain-aralias made an awesome post re: the research that went into her zine fic, & I was inspired! So, with a little less than one week left to pre-order @goldendayszine , I thought I’d fill y’all in on some of the research & reasoning that went on behind the scenes for this particular fic of mine. (If you haven’t pre-ordered your copy yet, please do! All you have to do is donate $10 or more to our charity of choice, Outright International at this link. That $10 gets you a digital copy of the zine + an entry into our raffle! More info on raffle prizes here.)

While being accepted as a writer for the zine was super exciting, I was suddenly faced with the debacle all of us writers have to face: what the heck was I going to write? What do? What is plot??? The zine’s theme is new beginnings, & I let my noggin think on that for a while, & eventually it came to me: honeymoon. Give the boys some distance from their current trauma, set this in the future, give them that milestone moment, let them be happy…

What is plot???

As usual, I laid out a short, corny, ridiculous outline for myself. Actual footage of me sharing my nonsense with the zine discord:

Why Disney? Well, I know Disney like the back of my hand. I even worked at the one in Florida for a short period of time in college (pre-bookstore days). And at the heart of it, our boys need to have some fun & experience the childhoods they never really had. I was thinking of the fun they had together at the Ren Faire & wanted to draw from that.

Of course, I then had to figure out what exactly was going on—I had a word count limit, & if y’all know me at all you probably know that had me side-eyeing myself. I knew I had to get my point across, & I only had a certain amount of words to do it. So I needed to pick one area of the park to set my fic in…

And that turned out to be the easy bit. What's my & Mr HH’s favorite attraction? The Haunted Mansion. Where do Simon & Baz have their first kiss in canon (among many of my other favorite scenes)? A literal haunted mansion.

Okay, great. I had my setting. But then I realized I had another small problem: I was sending them to Disneyland Paris, where I’ve personally never been. And then I got to thinking…that I was pretty sure the Haunted Mansion in Paris was different from the Haunted Mansions here in the US. Because after my husband & I went on our own Disneyworld honeymoon in 2015, I bought & read a book all about the Haunted Mansion in its many iterations. 

And, well, I was right about the differences, of which there are many. (Maybe you wouldn’t think so if you haven’t ridden the US versions upwards of one billion times, but this one is so very different.)

Starting with the name: Phantom Manor.

I think a few people have guessed where this fic is set based on the previews shared here & by the zine tumblr, but I don’t want y’all North Americans to be shocked & confused when Baz literally says “Phantom Manor” in the fic instead of “The Haunted Mansion.” If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I was trying to avoid like…some weird copyright thing. Treading lightly. Nope, I’m just being geographically correct.

Second difference? The outside of the manor. Unlike its cousins in the US & Tokyo, Phantom Manor is more derelict & ramshackle in outward appearance, which is really just a factoid & not at all relevant to the fic itself.

Third: the locale. With no New Orleans Square in Disney Paris, & nowhere to put the manor in Fantasyland, the house found its own home in Frontierland. And unlike the Frontierlands of the other Disney parks, this one has its very own story that ties all the attractions together. The boys refer to the legend of the Ravenswood family very briefly in the fic (it’s more of one of the many bad jokes made in the fic than it is a referral, tbh). Put very simply, it’s one of those stories where the crazy dad kills all his daughter’s suitors because he doesn’t want her to grow up & leave. You know, normal shit.

Fourth: the ride itself. Because there’s a different storyline for this manor than there is for any of the others, I spent a good deal of time watching a ride-through video. I watched that damn video so much that the music was stuck in my head for days. What’s the same? We’ve got our portrait room. We’ve got our doom buggies. We’ve got our ride through the dark, haunted mansion house (which Baz complains about, since he can see in the dark & is therefore underwhelmed with the effects) & then through the graveyard. What we don’t have: the ghost host (RIP) & the hitchhiking ghosts. And keeping us company through it all: the bride.

I was admittedly a little put out at first (so much so that I tried to find a way to rationally send them to Disneyworld in Florida instead) (spoiler alert, there was no rational way to do it, especially with Baz's sensitive vampire skin & how much he probably hates America at this point). Still, I was perturbed: no ghost host?! WhY iS iT dIfFeReNt?! But I really warmed up to this version of the manor after I acquainted myself with it. It’s just as magical as the others, really. And I love that I got to share one of my favorite things with Simon & Baz, in a way. 

If you’d like to see Phantom Manor for yourself—& get the music stuck in your head—here’s the private ride-through I watched about one million times, outlined, reviewed, & used to block every mini section of the fic. (Below is one of my many outlines, & most of the bad jokes shown here did not make it into the fic.)

Anyway, hope y’all enjoyed this tangential & probably unnecessary look into my process. It’s been such a pleasure to be part of the zine, & I really hope y’all enjoy it! The previews & pieces I've gotten to see from other contributors are absolutely phenomenal.

donate $10 here to receive your digital copy of the zine*

Oh, PS. I made sure to give Simon some wonky dragon magic. It’s there if you squint. 😉

*please note that zines are not being distributed until April 1. 💜

💛💙

[violetsmoak]

Appetence [1/?]

AO3 Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/20251420/chapters/47997634

Blanket Disclaimer

Summary: Red Robin is investigating the disappearance of a friend and stumbles into a spot of supernatural trouble. He doesn't expect to be saved by Jason Todd, miraculously alive five years after his death and now with the inexplicable ability to commune with the dead. Meanwhile, when Jason returned to Gotham he meant to maintain a low profile and not get involved with Bat business. That was before he found out how hot his Replacement is.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: #cemetery #haunting #relics

Canon-Compliance: Alternate Universe; Jason still died but was not found by Talia when he was resurrected. All other events mostly follow the same chronology as New Earth continuity, with mentions made to events in New 52

Author’s Note(s): My attention span was really terrible today and I couldn't focus on either of my two other fics even though the next chapters of both are completely planned out. So I'm posting the start of the third (and final) story that I'm doing for the JayTimWeek/Month challenge. Also, I'm really excited about this one. I spent more time planning this than either of the other two and I can't wait to hear what you guys think!I've got work stuff to do tomorrow so there may not be anything updated until Friday.

Beta Reader: I’ll get back to you on that.

________________________________________________________________

The Bat-Signal cuts through the dark and hazy clouds lingering above Gotham City, and for a split-second, Jason Todd has the urge to drop everything and race for the roof of the GCPD Headquarters. It’s hard to ignore the nervous jump of excitement in his stomach, the phantom sensation of a domino mask on his face and the heavy drag of a cape at his shoulders.

Which makes no sense, since it’s been at least five years since I even wore that shit.

Taking a drag of his cigarette, the smoke mixing with the familiar summer smog, Jason turns his back on Gotham’s literal beacon of hope and steels himself against nocturnal threats of his own. The city is for the caped crew—because apparently, the Bat has a posse now, he thinks with only a hint of a bitter sneer—and Jason has been fighting in a different arena for quite some time now.

He takes a final drag of the cigarette, and then grinds it beneath his boots, and shoves his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. It’s a weathered and worn thing that reminds him of one Willis Todd wore in one of the few memories Jason has of him that doesn’t involve alcohol or fists. He thinks it’s less pretentious looking than a trench coat and probably gives off fewer ‘creepy motherfucker’ vibes like the sartorial choices of certain other people. It’s also less likely to snag on things when he needs to make a quick exit while digging up graves.

Yeah, it’s a thing in his line of work.

Gotham Cemetery is a sprawling necropolis, as dark and forbidding now as it was the night he dug himself out of his own grave. Half a decade of Gotham-style tender, loving negligence has left the somber green hills overgrown and the majority of the old tombstones fallen or rotting.

You’d think in a city with the highest homicide rate in the country, the mayor would spring for better maintenance. Then again, it’s Gotham. The dead don’t pay taxes, so fuck ‘em.

Which…enough said.

Gotham and the world think Jason Todd-Wayne is dead and has been for five years now; in a way, it’s the truth. He’s no longer anything like the boy that was beaten to death by a psychotic clown, no longer the shrimp who fastidiously dyed his hair black and jumped into someone else’s cape and pixie boots just so he didn’t have to be his own screwup self anymore. He outgrew wanting to be Dick a long time ago, outgrew wanting to be Bruce, too, and embraced a whole new other set of skills to put him apart from them.

Most occultists and even homo magi need to put conscious effort and intent into calling up or even seeing a spirit. Ever since Jason died and then mysteriously got better, the dead appear to him as blatantly and a solid as the living.

John told him he was a fool to come back here.

“Someone with your gifts, they’ll drive you bloody mad,” his mentor warned him when he left London. “And I ain’t talking about the dead ones, neither.”

“You’re just saying that because Batman wouldn’t hold your hand that one time,” Jason retorted, shrugging off the concern. He is Gotham born and bred, his blood is in those streets, and he has always wanted to come home, even if it wasn’t necessarily to a stately manor or its inhabitants.

He clenches his fists.

Inhabitants that wasted no time in replacing him after he died. Jason was rotting away in fucking Arkham, and Bruce was shoving another kid into the tights.

If it didn’t involve seeing him, I would hunt him down and break his jaw.

He surveys the graveyard proper. The everyday observer considers cemeteries to be places of peace and eternal rest; quiet, if a little bit spooky. To Jason, they’re as gruesome as any major battlefield.

Spirits pack the way before him; some of them look relatively normal if dated by their clothes; many others are disfigured and bloody from whatever killed them, whether natural or unnatural. They clamor and crowd, eternally shouting to be heard, or screaming as they relive their deaths in their own personal purgatories.

In the beginning, that din almost drove Jason insane. Bruce’s teachings kept him rational as long as it could in the months after he woke up, and then John’s training helped him temper his own awareness further. By now, he can function almost normally, automatically filtering the voices out as he goes about his daily business; it’s only in places like this, where the dead outnumber the living, where it’s harder.

Jason reaches up, adjusting the noise filters in his ears—mechanical devices that need regular winding but are still more reliable than anything running on electricity of batteries. They’re like steampunk hearing aids, only instead of magnifying sound, they drown out the constant moan of the ghosts when he can’t do it himself. Just one of many methods of protection he’s learned over the years. Some are physical, like the prayer beads wrapped around his wrist or the bottle of holy water in his pocket; others—spells and symbols and mantras—are carved all over his body in tattoos and blood writing. Anything to keep the otherworld away.

“Personal space is a key to a medium’s sanity,” John told him once. “That and a good bottle of single malt scotch.”  

Jason ignores the moss-covered path that winds through the larger and more prominent mausoleums. He deliberately doesn’t search out the one in the distance bearing the Wayne crest—

(Still remembers the feel of his fingernails splitting against the wood of the coffin, choking on clumps of soil and insects.)

—and instead seeks a small structure much farther away. It’s in the furthest part of the cemetery, the shabby section almost hidden by overgrown willows. Half of the name above the doorway is obscured by vines, but it’s easy for him to make out the name etched into the stone with bold letters.

HAYWOOD.

According to the public record, Sheila Haywood’s body was returned to Gotham at the same time as Jason Todd’s. Bruce paid for her funeral and internment, which was just as well since she had no other family, and then she was promptly forgotten about.

By everyone except Jason, it seems.

It took some doing and a few weeks tracking down everyone that had worked at the same refugee camp as his mother, but he’d finally managed to collect what possessions she left behind. A colleague of hers had put them aside when there appeared to be nothing of actual monetary value in them.

A gold coin, small bone carvings of stylized animals, dainty trinkets of garnets, amber and lapis lazuli, a compact mirror, some seashells, a decorative fan, quartz paperweight, and a brightly colored feather. There was a picture of Willis in there, too, young and almost Jason’s double. No picture of Jason, though, but he hadn’t expected it.

He kept the picture but left the rest in the small wooden box, which he now removes from his messenger bag and sets down in front of the stone bearing his mother’s name. He follows that with various tools and ingredients. Black candles arranged in a star shape around the box, a chalice, a jar of detritus—teff seeds, driftwood and soil, all from the place where she died—that he sprinkles around in a circle, a handful of smooth obsidian stones to mark a pentagram joining the candles, the dagger John gave him for his last birthday, vials of oil and holy water.

Murmuring a few protection oaths, he shrugs off his jacket, leaving his arms bare, and then digs out a pack of matches to light the candles; flickering shadows dance across the mausoleum walls. He takes up the chalice to combine the water and oil, and then reaches for the dagger.

Hate this part.

Training to ignore pain doesn’t mean it goes away, and he grits his teeth a little as he draws his blade across his forearm, not deep enough to nick anything vital, but enough that the blood runs easily into the chalice. Without bothering to bandage the wound, Jason holds up the chalice in front of him and centers himself.

“Phantasma inrequietum, te voco,” he intones. “Eloguiorum mei audi: Sheila Haywood, te nominas!“ The stagnant air in the mausoleum starts to pick up. “In nominee creatricis, te impero, hic locum decede.” Hand over the top of the chalice, he swirls the liquid within, and then tips it into the open keepsake box. “Per sanguinem hominis et per sanguinem filii tui, non remane et apage! ”He strikes a match and lobs it into the box, not even flinching as the whole thing flares into flame; he intends to watch it until it burns to nothing.

“That’s not going to work, you know.”

“Jesus fuck!” Jason explodes, whirling to the right and glaring at the interrupter. “What did I say about sneaking up on me? Or just—showing up around me in general?”

The apparition in front of him doesn’t look impressed.

Sheila is still beautiful—or, at least, the side of her body that isn’t covered with third-degree burns and sections of pulverized bone—and still sharp. Cold, untouchable and self-interested.

But unlike the way she was before, she’s all-too present in Jason’s life now.

“Goddamn it,” he snarls, and against every lesson John has ever given him, lashes out and knocks the candles and detritus hard enough to send it skidding across the floor. “What the hell. I’ve done everything. You had last rites, your body was cremated, I just torched the things that had any value to you, why the hell won’t you just move on?”

“You’re asking the wrong questions,” Sheila replies, as always.

Jason scowls. “And of course, you can’t just tell me.”

She gazes at him balefully, and he runs a frustrated hand through his hair.

“Sheila, we’ve been over this. You can’t stay here. One, you know spirits that stick around past their time go Dark Side, and I really don’t want to have to exorcise your spectral ass. Two, it’s fucking creepy for a twenty-year-old guy to be followed around by his mother wherever he goes. What the hell is keeping you here? What more do you want from me?”

“Your forgiveness,” she tells him patiently.

“I already forgave you. Years ago.”

“You still call me Sheila.”

“That’s your name.”

“I’m your mother.”

“Who sold me out and got me murdered.”

“See? You haven’t forgiven me.”

“I have. I’m just stating a fact, Jesus…”

“Apparently the cosmic balance doesn’t agree enough to let me move on,” the ghost says dryly. “And to think, I used to be an atheist.”

“This is total bullshit,” Jason snaps, grabbing his jacket and stalking out of the mausoleum in frustration.

Three years of this mediumship crap, and neither he nor John have ever been able to figure out why the ghost of Jason’s dead mother won’t stop haunting him. Wards and sutras that keep even the nastiest spirits away from Jason don’t even phase her, and she’s inexplicably coherent.

And persistent.

As Jason stalks back through the cemetery, he can sense her in his periphery, gliding along beside him, unconcerned with his irritation.

“Can you just…stay away from me? Like you did in the beginning?” he grumbles.

“You were just learning how to communicate without going insane. I wasn’t about to disrupt that.”

“How considerate of you.”

“I try.”

“Look, I’ve had enough of the ghost-stalker thing for today. I went out of my way for this, you know. I didn’t even want to come back here. And now I’m back to the fucking drawing board.”

“It may not have been a waste of a trip,” she replies and vanishes.

“Oh, you can fuck off when it’s convenient for you,” he grumbles, though he already senses what she was speaking of.

Several yards away, a small boy, maybe eight, is clinging forlornly to an angel headstone. Translucent tears stream down his cheeks, but every now and again his face shifts, like a television caught between two channels, and his mouth widens into an unnatural smile.

Jason could have gone the rest of his life without seeing that smile again.

Still, he sighs and heads toward the kid.

“Hey,” he says, keeping his voice low and maintaining a safe distance from the boy, whose head whips up to stare at Jason in sudden fear.

“Who are you?” he asks, voice thick with tears.

“I’m Jason. You okay, kid?”

“I can’t find my mom,” the boy murmurs, wiping at his face. “I keep going looking, but I forget the way home. And then…I always end up back here.”

He sounds on the verge of tears again; it’s something Jason can understand.

With the puzzling exception of Sheila, who appears to come and go as she pleases, most ghosts are stuck in certain patterns and paths when they die, frozen in an infinite loop until they break themselves out of it or until some arbitrary higher power decides they’ve suffered enough. And for some reason, Jason can break them out of it.

“You could always try again,” he suggests. “I think you’ll manage it this time.”

The boy shudders. “There’s scary people here.”

No arguing with that.

“I know. I see them, too.” Jason glances at the headstone, scanning the name and dates. “Your name’s Cole?”

“Yeah.”

“If you’re missing, there are probably people looking for you. They might have posted something online about it. I’ll check it out, but it could take a bit.” He holds up his phone, glad to see it’s at full charge and bars; that’s hit or miss around so many ghosts. “Can you hang around here until I’m done?”

The boy nods, silent, face flicking back and forth between sadness and the unnatural smile.

Fucking Joker…

Jason does a quick search of the kid’s name, pulling up obituaries in the Gotham Gazette in the past year. It doesn’t take long for an article to pop up concerning the Joker’s latest escape and a list of the dead.

He narrows his eyes, startling the kid.

“It’s fine,” he lies. “The internet is just really slow.”

“Or our phone is really bad,” Cole tells him with the blunt honesty of a kid that grew up constantly surrounded by functional technology.

“Everyone’s a critic…”

Another quick search for the parents, phone lists and social media, and he’s got an address. Crime Alley, of course. He brings it up on his map and enables a view of the street, holding the phone out to the boy. “Is this your house?”

Relief settles and settles over his face. “Yeah.”

“What if I helped you find your way home?”

Cole makes a suspicious face. “I’m not supposed to go anywhere with strangers.”

“Which is really smart. But you see, I’m not really a stranger.”

“Oh yeah? Why not?”

“Well, I’ll let you in on a secret.” Jason bends down, conspiratorial, and Cole’s eyes gleam the way any kid gets when hearing a secret. “When I was a little older than you…I was Robin.”

The boy gapes. “Like…Batman and Robin?”

“Exactly.”

“No way!”

“Way,” Jason smirks, crossing his arms. “And I’ll tell you all about it on the way to your house. Including the time that I stole the wheels off the Batmobile.”

“No way!”

Despite his scandalized disbelief, the kid is obviously hooked.

Jason’s heart clenches a bit at the open curiosity on Cole’s face, the reality hitting him that this boy will never have a chance to do anything mischievous or fun ever again.

From one dead boy to another, this sucks…

As he leads him out of the cemetery, Jason starts to tell the little ghost about his life. He edits out the less pleasant bits, like dying and returning to life half brain dead with the ability to see and hear ghosts.

He figures a good story is the least he can do for the boy.

⁂⁂⁂

Next Chapter

[tothedarkdarkseas]

For fanfic writer ask meme: E, J, K, M, P(for any fic or all your fics), R, T, X, and Y. (If that's too many questions, then you can split the answer into multiple posts. Also, no need to answer if you already answered these questions before.)

Thank you so much! I’ll put these below a cut just to account for the length, and I pray Tumblr works like it’s supposed to this evening! I appreciate you having an interest!

E: What character do you identify with most?  Is there a certain fic of yours that captures these qualities particularly well?

I really do not identify with Gorillaz characters and thank god for it, or most characters I tend to prefer! Haha, I know that might sound a bit strange, but I can think of very few characters I’d call “my favorite” that I also felt were a reflection of myself in a major way. Of course that isn’t implying that representation isn’t important, but just speaking for my own personal relationship to media– I live with myself all the time, I like people who live very different lives! Having said that, of the characters I write (all two, possibly three of ‘em) I’d say I identify with some of Stu’s worst qualities over anything else: being unambitious but craving reward, self-centered yet lacking in a concrete sense of self, dumb about mostly everything, overcompensating (to be fair, this is Murdoc as well) and so on. Despite picking fun at him I definitely have an affection for an unlikable guy like Stu, I do have sympathy for being sorta pathetic because I feel like I can access that.

J:  What’s your favorite fanfic trope?  Have you written it?

Hmm! That’s hard to say! At the risk of being an absolute knob, I don’t tend to be a fan of tropes, or at least what I think is meant here by “fanfic tropes” like uhh… the heat goes out and we have to share a bed, or that kind of thing? Is that what this means, the sort of repeated setups for fics? There’s of course a place for everything so I’ve got no real beef with more innocuous stuff, but I wouldn’t say I ever pick to read something because it’s got a “classic” trope. I’m definitely rife with tropes in the broader sense though, I’m rife with things I like and clearly just repeat, haha. I do not smoke pot, but I have a real affinity for characters who do, and this is evidenced by having like… half my stories feature that, haha. If a scene where two characters creep up to being intimate via sharing a joint/bowl/bong counts, that’s definitely a trope I’ve done and would probably do again.

K:  Do you have a guilty pleasures in fic (reading or writing)?

Does the above count? I’d certainly call myself self-indulgent, haha, I like what I like and I don’t stray very far from it. I think unsatisfying or incompatible intimacy is really interesting and I honestly never get tired of reading or writing that. (Er, as much as I “don’t get tired” of writing anything, which is not saying much as I’m very bad and undisciplined.)

M: What’s the weirdest AU scenario you’ve ever come up with?  Did it turn into a story?

The only AU I’ve written is Coffin Dancer, which is a story set in the early 1900s about Murdoc being a reanimated corpse and Stu being a gravedigger who buries/exhumes him. Sexy, I know, nothing hotter than… long paragraphs about digging. I think the occult element makes that one a bit weirder than anything else I’ve come up with. I’ve kind of entertained other AU ideas but they tend to be a lot more mundane, to be frank I just really like the characters as they are and I don’t want to change their dynamic too much. As a joke I once suggested something about a riverboat casino (Stu working there, Murdoc trying to pull a money laundering scam via currency exchange, potentially convincing Stu to go in on the scam with him) and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t still think about it sometimes and question how to make it work, haha. I think it might be fun to do an AU again, but I think there’s just too much of a gap between what I’d want to do or be capable of doing, and what people actually want to read.

P:  Where did you find the most inspiration for your story ?

Oh gosh, this makes it sound so important and I feel like the biggest jag going to pretend I’ve made anything that great or with particularly impressive roots, haha. A couple came from prompts, so that’s a fairly straightforward answer.

I first began planning Coffin Dancer because I was playing Graveyard Keeper on Steam at the time, haha. If you load up this game, you’ll quickly see there is next to no plot and it is simply a crafting sim. I just sorta… liked the setting, I guess? It is the 1900s and it does follow a graveyard keeper! Following that, I decided it would be a story about Murdoc’s skin turning from tan to green as it does in canon, but giving it a bit of a morbid tint, as opposed to the vague canon handwaves of Murdoc being “immortal” with no clear explanation of what that means.

Ampersands was mostly inspired by me being a big Buffy the Vampire Slayer fan and thinking it’d be fun to show a dynamic similar to Angelus/Drusilla/Spike, but heavily reworked to fit our characters. The first scene I imagined was the shoelace-tying one which has some resemblance to a shot of Angelus knelt at Spike’s feet while still mocking him, and that ended up being the very last scene I wrote (and probably one of the weaker ones.)

On Oysters and Black Water was actually the story that required the least research from me, as I already had an interest in oyster filtration and oyster reef restoration. By no means am I an expert nor is this story a genuinely educated look at this process (I am Genuinely Educated on zero things) but I definitely knew when planning a PB story that I wanted oysters to be used for a filtration system on the island, just as a little nod to something I find neat!

R: Which writers (fanfic or otherwise) do you consider the biggest influence on you and your writing?

This really puts me at risk of sounding knobbish, so to start with: I’m not really a writer. Fanfiction writer is already not the most impressive title, but even that I feel is a little generous for me. I’ve written things, but I struggle far too much and have too little dedication to pretend it’s something I feel “cut from the same cloth” as these folks to do. The writers I admire have “influenced” me in the sense that I’ve wished I could write that way, and I’ve probably/definitely ripped them off.

Some will find this laughable, but I’m a fan of Joey Comeau’s writing style. I’ve enjoyed every book he’s published, in particular the short novels Malagash and Lockpick Pornography, and especially his… err, non-novel collection of cover letters Overqualified. (I think I’ve read Overqualified more than anything else on my bookshelf, but this is saying very very little as you can sit down and read it in about 30 minutes.) The darkly comedic way he presents these ideas, how he’ll expand on these very offbeat details and veer so far from the topic, then take sudden sharp turns into something uncomfortable is just enjoyable to me.

Also somewhat cliched now, but Peter S. Beagle’s The Last Unicorn is a beautiful book to me. Beagle’s writing style is ideal for the fantasy setting, the poetry in his prose does not tip over the “purple” line for me (but I’ve always been unclear where the line is, obviously) and I’d really… feel like I’d accomplished something if I could say anything half as powerful as this book.

Shirley Jackson, (famously) the author of The Lottery and (less famously) We Have Always Lived in the Castle springs to mind as well. The latter in particular has a gothic tone, an at times strange sentence structure and an unreliable POV, which probably influenced Coffin Dancer stylistically and everything else I’ve done in perspective/structure.

But as far as influences, nothing more directly influenced me than @elapsed-spiral‘s writing and characterization. Old drum I’ve beat before, but it’s simply the truth. I would not have tried to write fanfiction again (after… many, many years) if I hadn’t found Danni’s stories and felt that excitement of reading something truly special. Now, it’s important to note that Danni is British so they’ll come out in hives if I praise them too much, but sincerely nothing in recent years has made me feel a “passion” for reading or writing like Yearz did. The oneshots Fairy Vale and Beside the Sea also deserve special mention for just being goddamn phenomenally good character studies. “Influence on your writing” could be misleading, in the sense that Danni’s biggest strengths (namely Being Funny, Being Realistic and Knowing What You Are Talking About) are among my biggest weaknesses, and I don’t feel that stylistically we’re all that similar; on the flipside though, I think so much of my “improvement” is really owed to Danni, aaaand I don’t think you’d ever look at something I’ve written and miss the fact that it’s ripping off Yearz in one way or another.

T: Any fanfic tropes you can’t stand?

Ahaha, alright, this jogs my memory and I do remember stepping on eggshells to answer this before! I mentioned above that I’m just not a big fan of tropes in general, but that means nothing as I don’t… have good taste. I never have. Famously bad taste over here. I don’t have any interest in raining on anyone’s fun or policing fan content, but I think we’re all perfectly fine just co-existing without feeling obligated to anything. More than anything else, in Gorillaz specifically I’d say there are some portrayals of their relationship that I find a little dodgy and I tend to avoid, but I recognize full well that many people may feel the same way about me! I also just like the characters to be compelling and to be themselves, whatever your version of them is. Of course my characterization is bonkers and mostly made-up and I have no expectation that someone else’s should resemble mine, but even if we have different ideas, I don’t like to feel you can slot them out and anyone else in? Which is why standard tropes like “coffeeshop” or “fake dating” don’t tend to be my favorite. Oh, I’m also a fuddy-duddy and I don’t love the nicknames, haha.

X: How would you categorize your fanfic reading?  Are you a voracious reader?  Do you carefully pick and choose?  Something in between?

I’m not a very big reader these days! I’d like to offer you a good excuse here, but I’m just picky, truth be told.

Y: What are your thoughts on your personal satisfaction with something you’ve written vs. the popularity of your stories?  Do you tend to be most satisfied with your most popular stories?  

In total honesty, it takes all of about a month to become completely unsatisfied with anything I’ve written. That’s not like, a plea for sympathy, it’s just being objective. I write comparatively little and comparatively slow, so whatever growth that may happen is still pretty limited and it’s a little disheartening, even if it’s also my own fault for having poor discipline. I would not call any of my stories “good,” at best “good for what they are.” There are definitely some I wished did better, I wished with a stupid amount of sincerity would hit some magical validating number that would Suddenly Mean It Was Good… but after a little distance, I can always understand why they wouldn’t.

Hoooowever, some are undeniably worse than others. Based on both hits and kudos, my most popular story is my first one (I Couldn’t Feel, So I Would Touch) and this is truly baffling as it’s garbage. I mean, with no exaggeration I just think this is bad writing through and through, it’s truly just the worst thing I’ve written over the age of 20. I hoped I’d get this question purely because of this, haha, I feel such shame every time I see this story at the top of my statistics page. If we consider that to be the “most popular,” no, I do not tend to be most satisfied with the most popular story. We could define that differently though; for example, I think the story that got the most notes here and I received spectacular fanart on (a thing I just… can’t believe can happen, how nice is that?) was Oysters, and at a time I did consider that my favorite, I was incredibly proud of it when I posted, and even if I’ve grown exhausted by my overwriting too much to read it again I do still rate it pretty favorably compared to the others. So it depends on what constitutes popular! But if we’re just talking hits and kudos, sadly my stats page puts some of the worst stuff at the top.

[gellavonhamster]

all the unasked questions

gen || Lemony Snicket | Bertrand Baudelaire | pre-canon

ao3 link || originally posted in Russian

It was B’s idea to visit the graveyard together. He called me on the phone while I was staying at my sister’s place, where I moved to temporarily after my place was damaged by what had been, according to the official narrative, a gas tank explosion (that narrative was false). I asked him how he had found out where to look for me, and he gave me the very name I expected to hear. I felt an urge to drop something along the lines of “I see you and my bride have become quite close friends lately”, but I restrained myself. She was not yet officially my bride anyway, except for in my head which, as experience had shown, was not in consonance with reality on all matters.      

“I wasn’t at the funeral either,” B said. It took me some time to figure out what funeral he meant. “Came back from Montreal just two days ago.”

“I see,” I responded, feeling that it was my turn to say something.

“I was thinking… if you are planning to visit her grave, we could go together. I have a mind to go there tomorrow in the first half of the day. I mean, if you want to.”

“All right,” I said, and immediately got mad at myself. I have been trying to hate B more or less ever since we first met. It seemed appropriate to have little liking for the peer who has been held up as an example to you for a long time, and with clear hints that he shall succeed both as a volunteer and in life as such, unlike some others. Later some other reasons to dislike him emerged, but they all lost ground every time I found myself face to face with him. I didn’t know anyone more amiable and good-natured than him. On that score, he surpassed even my brother, who, for all his positive qualities, was somewhat prone to being a bore, and M, who was a most kind-hearted fellow, but occasionally, let his truly viperous tongue loose. Therefore, that time, like many times before, I did not have the slightest reason to be uncivil, especially since the latest loss our organization had suffered must have wounded him much deeper than me. Clearly, that didn’t mean I was bound to assent to his proposal. I could have refused, referring to some urgent matters, but I realized it only after I put down the phone, having agreed to meet B the next day at one o’clock by the graveyard gate.        

“Going on a date?” my sister inquired, her nose still in a book, and I, being an adult, and with no pillow at hand to throw at her, ignored that nonsense.  

When I arrived at the agreed place the following day, B was already waiting for me. A most abominable rain was pouring, having started already after I left the house, and as I was staring at the black umbrella above B’s head, I couldn’t help thinking: of course he hasn’t forgotten his umbrella. Unlike some others.    

The moment my associate saw me, he hurried forward to meet me halfway.

“Snicket.”

“Bertrand. Have you been waiting for long?”

“No, some five minutes at most. How about you get under the umbrella? I feel like it’s not going to clear up any time soon.”

“No, thank you,” I refused. That was very foolish on my part, and after several steps I admitted it and hid under the umbrella after all. I wasn’t going to take B by the arm on principle, so we just went on side by side, jostling each other with elbows now and then.  

As we wandered among tombstones and maimed stone angels, I kept thinking back to the moment I learned about the tragic development that brought us here. I had only just returned from Puerto Rico, bringing back with me a report on the successfully completed operation, a couple of notebooks filled with writing, and a light stab wound. My brother met me at the port. It was not until two hours later that I was to present myself at the headquarters, so on our way we dropped by a café to get root beer floats. At a certain point, my brother put his glass on the counter, wiped off his beer-foam moustache and said, “L, while you were away, something awfully sad happened. Your chaperone…”

It was a car accident. I had been convinced that Theodora was still driving the same old green roadster, but it turned out she already had another car, the same model but grey. My former chaperone lost control of the car while escaping the chase; the confidential documents she had stolen from her pursuers burned with her. It could be said that Theodora remained a volunteer till the last minutes of her life, and perhaps in these minutes she was a better volunteer than over all those previous years. Back in the day, she was ranked fifty-second on the list of chaperones that included fifty-two persons, and what I had heard about her later suggested that she never achieved any higher rank. However, I was still of an opinion that I had learned a thing or two under her tutelage: for example, that grownups are often unable to see beyond the ends of their noses, or that it is important to recognize at the right time that all the questions you have been asking were the wrong ones. In any case, she was part of my youth, and when we approached the gravestone that bore her name, dates of birth and death, and the motto of our organization – The world is quiet here – I felt as if I was twelve again and it was the first time I faced something actually frightening, merciless, and much more powerful than me.            

Death has circled near me and my associates since our early childhood. Memento mori: such was the motto of the school most of us had graduated from. We often talked about death, often half-jokingly, half-earnestly asked our comrades to make sure our funerals went a certain way; for instance, I remember us promising W to scatter his ashes over the sea. But seeing the grave, laying some already wilting flowers on it, rereading the dates inscribed on the stone over and over again, realizing that the person buried underneath it was not old and could have lived more or less happily for many more years – that was something else entirely.    

The last time I saw Theodora was about a year and a half ago; that said, when I tried to picture her face, I could only remember her the way she looked many years ago in Stain’d-by-the-Sea. Presently I knew that back then she was only thirty-five, which looked to me the beginning of old age then and my own foreseeable future now. I realized I was crying, and crying not so much for Theodora, however egocentric that might sound, as for my own youth and the times when I was less smart, less experienced, braver and bolder. I was crying for my past that could not be returned, for my friends from Stain’d-by-the-Sea who – I was certain about that – didn’t want to have anything to do with me anymore, for my first love who disappeared from my life for ever after I ruined her life, or so she thought I did (and if my sister knew anything about her, then she didn’t tell me, and I didn’t ask). I was crying for that young man who was undergoing his apprenticeship in a dying forsaken little town, and – for all that – for his chaperone the way I remembered her, with a huge thatch of hair and a cheek divided in two by a long ugly bruise that was painful for me to look at. On our way to the graveyard, I didn’t expect myself to cry, but that only proved how little I knew about death – and about life.          

I didn’t turn to face B. I have long become more accepting of tears than I used to be as a child, but he and I were not close enough for me to cry in his presence without experiencing a constant need to apologize for that. I didn’t turn to face him when I heard him inhale loudly, like many people do when they are trying not to sob, and I didn’t turn to face him when he put his palm on my arm just above the elbow and I didn’t turn to face him when I covered his palm with mine. At that moment, his hand was the only source of warmth near me and, as it seemed to me, in the whole universe, but I could not make myself look him in the eye.      

I thought I could ask him about something: after all, who knows when we would happen to be alone with each other again. For one thing, I could ask him if a certain person we both knew had ever talked to him about me. Or what exactly his feelings towards that person were. Or what he was crying for at the time himself – just for Theodora or, like me, for his own past that he just lost the last binding thread with. Instead, I asked him:    

“So what does S stand for?”

That question came out of nowhere – I didn’t fully understand myself why I asked it – and I expected B to answer it the way Theodora would have done it. “Something she would’ve preferred to remain a secret.” “Something she never told me.” “Seriously, Snicket? That’s what you want to ask about right now?”

“Sunny,” B replied. I looked out from under the umbrella to make sure that the clouds had really started to clear away, and then looked at him to make sure he was not delirious. “Sunny Theodora Markson,” he explained with a sad smile. “That was her name.”  

“An unusual name,” I observed. I could understand why she kept concealing it. For a moment I felt vexed – so she did tell him what S stood for – but I told myself off at once. When it came to B, I couldn’t even manage to be jealous of my beloved – I could do without trying to be jealous of our late chaperone.      

“An interesting one. I thought maybe one day…” he began but must have changed his mind. We stood in the rain for a little while, holding our tongues, each of us immersed in his own thoughts. Finally, B broke the silence.  

“We should go somewhere later to drink to her memory. If you want to.”

“All right,” I said again, and immediately got mad at myself again, though less than the day before.

[katehuntington]

Title: My Brother’s First Hunt Fandom: Supernatural Timeframe: Pre-series (1993) Characters: Dean Winchester (POV), Sam Winchester, John Winchester (mentioned), Jessica Moore (mentioned) Pairing: Dean & Sam (platonic) Summary: Fourteen year old Dean takes his younger brother on a simple salt and burn, but soon regrets his decision when the hunt goes sideways and Sam finds himself in harm's way. Warnings: angsty, canon typical violence, swearing, mentions of smoking. Further than that Weechester feels and brotherly love. Word Count: 2427 words. Author’s note: I love to write these little insights of their lives before 2005. Thank you so much @littlegreenplasticsoldier for beta’ing this one shot! I gave it a once-over before posting, though, so all errors still in there are on me.

    “Wait, I thought you were supposed to bring that.”

    My ten-year-old brother Sam stared at me with wide open eyes, curtained by his fringe. He had frozen mid-action, holding the jerrycan over the six-foot deep hole in the ground as the last drops fell. Beneath our feet, the remains of Josephine Henrey were bared for the stars above to see for the first time in over a twenty-five years. Gasoline shimmered upon the bones, and enough salt to keep the road to Hell from freezing over covered the body like snow on a winter’s day. Because on my first hunt without Dad, I just had to be safe. I’d stuffed enough supplies in my backpack to light up this entire graveyard... If I only had a lighter.

    “Why am I supposed to be the one with a lighter, Dean? You’re the one who smokes!”, Sam returns annoyed.    “I do not!” I denied, lying through my teeth.     “Do too!” Sam countered, triumph in his stance. “I saw you with Jenny under the bleachers after practice.”     “That was one time!”     “Uh-huh.”     I glared at him, not too happy with the attitude my little brother was giving me. Maybe he wasn’t as tall as me just yet, but the days I could have fooled Sam were in the past.     “Fine. So maybe I do. But don’t even think about snitching on me and telling Dad, because I’ll kick your ass,” I warned him.     “Is that really the point now? Because we just dug up a body of an angry spirit without anything to start a fire,” my clever brother reminded me.

    He had a solid point. The fact that this situation was going from bad to worse became clear as soon as the atmosphere around us changed. A cold wind sent shivers down my spine and the temperature dropped below freezing point in only a few seconds. Suddenly the local cemetery did not seemed like such a peaceful resting place anymore. The pitch black shadows of the trees and crypts drew long silhouettes, creeping closer, like they were trying to gulp us down. Something was coming, and we had to hurry.

    “Dean?” Sam whispered, scanning his surroundings.     “Don’t worry, we’ll figure this out.”     I kneeled down next to the backpack, pulled out an iron steel pipe and started searching the extra pockets for anything that could ignite the fuel. My little brother held the flashlight above me so that I could see what I was doing, his unsteady hands giving away his fright. Truth be told, he wasn’t the only one, because I was scared shitless, too.

    At the age of fourteen I’d had a couple of hunts under my belt, always with Dad. He would track the thing, he would figure out what it was, he would kill it. I was just there to watch and learn, maybe assist if it was easy enough. Never had I ever hunted on my own, but when I read a suspicious newspaper article in the local newspaper, I was crawling the walls of that motel room. Dad was on a job in Minnesota and was gone for at least three weeks, so I couldn’t wait for him to get back. Something had to be done. I lasted one day after reading that article. My old man was going to kill me, that was a sure thing, but I couldn’t let anyone else die.

    Research turned out to be tough, and that’s where Sammy came in. In no time, he’d figured out whose ghost was haunting the old warehouse and where she was buried. But now that he’d had a part in the case, the little pain in the ass wanted to come along. I was gonna get in a lot of trouble for hunting solo at the age that didn’t even allow me to drive a car, let alone if I took a ten year old with me on the job. But Sammy begged, gave me that puppy dog stare that I have always been a sucker for.

    Those same eyes shimmered fearfully now, trying to read in mine if I had a plan to get us out of here. Boy, little Sam must’ve been regretting this field trip. The beam from the torch began to flicker and soon our only lightsource died. Sammy slammed the flashlight in the palm of his hand a couple of times, but it wasn’t faulty batteries, nor the wiring, that caused it to fail. I stood up, my brother mirroring me, as we alertly scanned the cemetery. Suddenly Sam yanked the sleeve of the leather jacket that Dad gave to me, and stared at a dark figure about thirty yards away; a bony old woman with dark messy hair hanging in front of her face. I gulped, my eyes widening, but before I could respond, the image vanished into thin air.

    Seeing her was scary, but not knowing where she was now ignited a whole new level of anxiety. Shit! This was so not how I planned this. For a few terrifying seconds the spirit was gone and I gripped the pipe.     “Listen to me, Sammy,” I said, keeping my voice down. “I need you to think of everything that Dad taught us so far. Don’t be scared, okay? I’ve got your back. We need to keep our heads together now.”     He only nodded, jaw clamped shut as his eyes darted from shadow to shadow. Then, out of nowhere the elderly woman flicked into my sight, right behind Sam, claws out to get him.

    “Sam, get down!”

    Without hesitation he dropped as I swung the iron bar over his head, tearing through the spirit of Josephine. She dissolved into smoky fog and reappeared, obsessively focusing on Sam again. Then I remembered the connection the victims had: all were younger siblings. In shock, I watched my little brother stumble back until he tripped over the backpack at the edge of the grave and fell.     “Sammy!”

    The helplessness, the desperation; I could see it in his eyes. Even at ten years old, the little guy knew he was facing death. No way in hell I was gonna let that bitch touch my brother, so my instinct kicked in. Every fiber in me suddenly knew exactly what to do. I had to fulfill the task Dad gave to me when I carried my baby brother out of the fire ten years ago. I had to protect him, with my life if necessary. That urge pushed all the fear that I carried for this supernatural being out of the way and I marched on the ghost, my weapon above my head as I lunged at her. Furious, the spirit threw me off her back, but I got on my feet and held the line.     “You wanna kill someone that bad? Pick someone your own size!” I challenged her, arrogantly spreading my arms.

    A frightening hissing murmur erupted from her throat. Her eyes sank deeper into the dark holes of her sockets and her mouth opened so wide that I heard her jaw crack. Moving faster than my eyes could register, the spirit sped towards me and then froze. Suddenly I was lifted from the ground like a feather and I found myself in mid-air, being thrown several yards away. My course of flight was interrupted by a tree and I hit it head first. A sharp pain shot through my skull, a wave of nausea disorientated me. The impact made me lose long vital seconds.

    Sammy? Where’s Sammy? It was all I could think of. I had to make sure the ghost kept her focus on me, I had to give Sam a fair chance to get away. Fighting to keep my ground I sat up at the roots of the tree, trying to blink the black spots and odd colors from my blurred vision. By the time I’d managed that, the spirit of Josephine Henrey was hovering over me and there was no way I could escape her grip. She placed her hand on my chest and I felt every muscle in my body tense, my heart rate increasing to a pace that was just plain unhealthy. The pain was unbearable and I cried out as her nails penetrated my skin. This is it, I realized. My first solo hunt was destined to be my last, I was going to die.

    Then without a sign, the ghost backed off, arching her back as she let out a horrifying scream. Flames engulfed her until there was nothing left but a few burning embers that twirled up the night sky. Unsure of what just happened, I laid my head back against the bark, out of breath as the discomfort wore off. Then my eyes caught Sam, standing next to the grave from which an orange light shimmered on his features. His innocence didn't seem compromised by the setting nor by his actions, but nevertheless he looked years older. His hair, due for a haircut was messy, and the hoodie I used to wear got muddy at the cuffs, the sleeves too short for him now. Although my brother was only ten, right there on the spot I became aware of how fast he was growing up. That growth wasn't just physical, it was his bright mind too.

    Sammy’s hazel eyes now jumped to me, still wild.     “You okay?”     “Yeah, yeah....” I muttered as I got to my feet. “What took you so long?”     “You try starting a fire without a lighter or matchsticks with a angry spirit looking over your shoulder,” Sammy scoffed.     He crouched down, collecting the empty jerrycan and his flashlight from the ground. After testing my balance first, I approached the fire pit slowly, feeling my forehead.     “How did you light up Josy anyway?” I wondered.     Sam picked up two pieces of rock and showed them to me.     “Two strike stones. Oldest survival trick in the book. Dad taught us, remember?”

    That he thought of Dad’s survival lessons was impressive, but how he stayed calm enough to get a spark while I was under attack by that spirit, I didn't know. I was sure, though, that Sam had what it took to become exceptionally good at this job. He would fill Dad with as much pride as I carried in that moment. Sammy was an outstanding hunter in the making. I smiled at my brother, but masked my true feelings with my usual bullshit.     “Awesome. But then, of course, you had all the time in the world, while I had that ghost on my ass.”     “No, I didn't,” Sam objected, as we started walking back to the road. “You would have been dead if I hadn't been so fast.”     “I was handling it,” I shrugged.     “Really, huh? Yeah, you dad everything perfectly under control.”     “I did!” I kept it up, resting the wooden handle of the shovel on my shoulder.     “Sure. You weren't scared either.”

    Sammy now glanced up at me, victory shining in his eyes. Of course, I wasn't going to admit that I was so frightened I nearly pissed my pants when that spirit worked me over. Fact is, though, that I love my little brother, and  it unleashed a new form of bravery I never thought I had. Fear never stood a chance.     “I wasn't,” I returned, cocky.     “Why did you scream like a girl then?”     “I didn't scream like a girl!”     “You so did.”     “She was trying to rip my heart out, jerkface!”     “You still screamed like a girl.”     Bickering, we strolled down the path, our walks synchronized like siblings often do. When we arrived at the main road, the lamppost shined a light on my brother much like one does now on Halloween night in Palo Alto, California, twelve years later. Sam is taller, he even outgrew me, but he still has the same hair, the same lean posture and that same innocence. These days he wears clothes that fit him, not my hand me downs. He’s his own person now.

    We just wrapped up a case considering a Woman In White, but since we didn't find our Dad like we set out to, I’m forced to drop him off at campus. An interview tomorrow morning is the reason our paths separate once again and there is nothing left for me but to face the road alone.

    From behind the wheel of my car I watch him walk away towards the apartment he shares with his girlfriend Jessica and I sigh as I lay my arm on the back of the seat. The passenger’s side already seems cold and empty and a tightness in my chest brings to mind how badly I want him to get back in the car and help me find Dad. But I can’t, I can't expect him to. This is the life Sam wants. A normal one, without monsters, weapon training and shitty motels. How many hunters get out? How many hunters get to go to university and live a normal, apple pie life? Few, but Sam is one of them. And if there is anyone who deserves that chance, it’s him.

    “Sam?” I call out.     He turns around, questioning eyes meeting mine. There’s a breath that escapes his throat when he sways and shifts his balance, a trace of annoyance, even though he tries to hide it and be patient with me. His body language makes me hesitate, but I tell him either way.

“Y’know we made a hell of a team back there.”     Sam keeps a hold of my gaze, then nods slightly as a small smile forms on his lips.     “Yeah…” he acknowledges.

    I grant him a few seconds to change his mind, but then I straighten my back, put the car in ‘drive’ and steer the Impala back onto the road. I bite down the frustration, my jaw flexing as I do so, doing my best to cast out my emotions. I've been here before, when Sam left for Stanford in the first place. An uneasy feeling settles in my stomach now that we’re apart, torn between what I’m supposed to do and what I truly want. Pain stings my heart now that I find myself alone, without my brother by my side. And as I drive off only accompanied by old tunes on cassette tapes, I don't see that Sam watches me leave. I don't hear the shuddering sigh that leaves his lips as the rumble of the engine fades in the distance. 

    I don’t know that deep down, Sam feels it, too.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. Feel free to send me a message or leave a comment!

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[secretshinigami]

Masterlist of Demegawa-chan’s Special Prompts

A compiled list of everyone’s prompts from the exchange – thank you for letting us post them, and we hope you guys enjoy them! Prompts are organized by their submitter, so be sure to give credit if you use one.

niatsuki

Near and Light kissing

Mikami and Light in the rain sharing an umbrella

Misa in a suit

Domestic Mikalight

Matsuda confronting Near on the theory he brings up at the end of the manga

Nate and Light having an obtuse argument, but with romantic undertones

toygowther

Light wearing a crop top, high waisted jeans and fishnets, and a choker. 

L having a nice day out in the park eating ice cream with Maki and Near 

Musical!Light smiling

Misa in a cute gothic dress doing a finger heart

L and Light wearing Misa Misa merch at one of her concerts.

AU in which Light is actually a woman. The fic would follow how Misa reacts to it and if she would still want to be her girlfriend.

Role swap au. Light as Misa and Misa as Light.

Light and Misa meeting a different way and actually forming a healthy relationship. 

spaceblue

L, Naomi & B shenanigans

Naomi, Wedy and Lidner as Charlie's angels (or L's angels?)

Wammy kids as Pokemon trainers

Matt gets the rest of the Wammy kids to play Smash with him

Naomi and L after the end of LABB, after he says his name is Rue Ryuzaki 

Drama!L and drama!Raye Penber bickering 

hazblogs

your take on A's gender and sexuality, bonus points if they're not a cis man and straight

Mello and sun imagery

Beyond Birthday and his eyes

Near with Hanahaki disease (pick who it's about if you want a specific ship)

Mello and witchcraft, if possible in the canon universe

Naomi interacting with Beyond (au or canon), if possible talking about L or the Wammy kids

L/Light being soulmates, in canon or in an AU

how Matt started smoking (I am comfortable with heavy drug themes)

polyphenols

L learning to garden, paint, cook, do taxes, care for an animal, or pay for a parking ticket for the first time

All the times L has cursed Right In Front Of The Task Force (poor Soichiro)

L alone, dressed for the cold, in a cathedral during midnight hours, gazing at the altar in silent contemplation

Aiber and Wedy at an evening gala on a mission

L and Alessandro Juliani warmly shaking hands

Young Naomi in a darkened room with red string and case clippings everywhere

What chain of events led to Quillsh Wammy deciding to adopt L and care for him?

Matsuda cant swim and he’s knocked into a body of water on a case, one of the task force has to go after him

The conversation that happened between L and Rem before he walked out onto that rooftop

L traveling somewhere exotic for a case, meets celebrity of your choice and becomes unlikely friends, takes down crime circle together 

Naomi and L interact side by side as partners during a seperate case  

paralllaxes

16 year old Gevanni (normal day or family banter)

Naomi in modern clothing

the SPK in one of those cheesy family pictures.

Naomi thinking about LABB while in Japan

SPK found family stuff / domesticity

Naomi being with the SPK (with or without Raye is the author's choice)

kiranatrix

Light and L in emo/goth clothes or in an emo band

Light in a crown on a throne

Ryuk doing something funny or playing a prank while invisible

L and Light on a road trip

Misa painting Rem’s looooong nails or giving her a makeover

Death Note characters as birds! 

Sayu gets a grumpy parrot and Light doesn’t realize it can talk until after he hears it repeat some Kira plan thing, so he has to adopt it to keep it from spilling on him

L and Light talk about something important that happened to them in their childhood

L has to deal with growing amount of Light’s products in their shared shower and tries some out of curiosity with disasterous results

Light accidentally eats the last piece of cake in Kira HQ and L can’t deal at 4am

Lawlight Apocalypse AU of any variety 

Beyond breaks out of prison after LABB, where does he go?

47gaslamps

The task force with portentous umbrellas

Halle, symbolically framed between Near and Mello

Naomi kicking Light's butt after he attempts to use force

Matsuda gives Yamamoto a welcome-aboard to the former Task Force / 

AU where the drawer IS forced open

Misa has to shield Light from the paparazzi

translightyagami

Light and L in a crowded apartment, obviously lived in, playing piano next to each other

Light sewing something like his father's suit jacket or a shirt Mikami tore

Indulgent ask for my cryptid AU L and Light sitting in a graveyard having a nice time

Light having a smoke before he has to go tell his parents he's moving in with Misa

Light and Sayu having a difficult conversation where they're both saying they're gay without out loud saying it

Near goes to a Lego building event and meets a nice boy who isn't a Wammy kid

almostsane-things

Wammy's kid(s) of your choice sitting on the roof, watching the sky

Beyond Birthday and Candy Guro

DN characters in a rock band, maybe the shinigami are their mascots

Draw a less appreciated character but try something new with your style/medium. (i.e. use different brushes, incorporate a traditional art/craft like painting or cross-stitch, make a collage piece, go abstract, etc)

L in prison

Misa and Sayu becoming friends/ hanging out

The legend of Kira, how has the story of Kira changed over time in universe? Do people believe it was something supernatural, a government conspiracy, a group of vigilantes, or perhaps it's faded to nothing but a cautionary tale for misbehaving kids

A DN character enjoys that thing you really like/ find interesting to learn about, and shares that interest with someone else. (i.e. Matt plays your favorite video game with someone, Linda teaches someone about gardening, etc)

weneedtotalkaboutdeathnote

A hot double date with BBxDemegawa and LxHiguchi

B meeting L (any context is fine).

Naomi and Raye getting coffee together, having a nice time.

L can see ghosts, but he chooses to ignore them. This becomes increasingly had to do when B’s spirit shows up during the Kira investigation.

An Au where L defeated Kira, grew older, and basically disappeared. Older Mello (mid 20sish, now a detective) follows a lead that takes him to the washed up L. 

Non serial killer, "Unprivate Detective" Beyond Birthday works on a case with Naomi Misora.

pensulliwen

Misa making Valentine’s Day chocolate, perhaps while daydreaming about a fantastically unlikely result of giving them to Light.

Rem holding Misa as they fly over the city.

Meme redraws featuring Misa, Light, and L. Just go crazy. Any ridiculous meme image, shove these dorks in there instead.

Misa convincing Rem to take her flying, the feelings they both experience in the air together.

Misa and Mogi on a shopping “date” in which the unlikely pair manage to work together surprisingly well.

Light considers eliminating Misa from the equation many times, but there’s always something that stops him. Explore how he views her and the dissonance between how he views her versus how he views himself, as well as the reasoning for keeping her around longer than intended. 

izaori

Demegawa in a hot tub but instead of water its money

Mello playing soccer with the other kids (like Matt for example). 

Matsuda playing cookie clicker, because he's obsessed.

Young Demegawa when he first got his job, maybe a few months into the job.

Sayu studying for her big exam coming up so she goes to big bro Light for help.

Ryuk discovers sour green apples rather than just the red ones. Maybe Sidoh discovers dark chocolate/white chocolate at the same time.

mikami

High school age Mikami in a high school uniform.

MikaLight out on a date

anything L/Higuchi

A Sakura TV Documentary about the Kiras. 

MikaLight office romance, non-Kira AU.

Write me a fic about Demegawa. Can definitely be comedy, but please take the character somewhat seriously.

ghostoftasslehoff

L and Light playing piano together.

L with a kitty

Sayu and ‘Ryuzaki’ meeting, and hitting it off 

Matsuda recieving a present or something from a ‘secret admirer’

A day in the life of Matsuda (away from the task force)

L and B’s first meeting (can be shippy or not, whichever my Shinigami prefers)

L tries to engage in punnery with the task force, but only one person engages (preference for Light, but surprise me!)

Sayu’s (or Sachiko’s) thoughts on Light’s new secretive actions as Kira becomes more and more active 

tzigi

(All canon-compliant)

L gets first suspicions about a string of heart attacks which may be a new murder case for him

Light’s first day at To-Oh after L’s death

Light’s first day of work at the NPA 

Near tries to pick up L’s investigation

Why did Near go back to L’s original font for the “L” logo between chapter 108 and the C-Kira oneshot? 

A non-Lawlight rendering of the first evening of Light being chained to L after everyone else has already gone to sleep (preferably in keeping with the One Day one-shot) 

Light begging Ryuk for his life

Light’s funeral

catfishmaster

The main characters (plus B) as DND characters

Older Near (like 25-30) with a bunch of cats he keeps for company

Roger bonding with Near after the Kira case.

Beyond Birthday faked his death in 2004 and now lives alone as a poor and pretty miserable theatre actor with a fake name. Oh, and also it's a Kira wins au.

Years after the Kira case has concluded, L takes on Near as an apprentice.

Matt takes Near on a tour of an afterlife-like world they both wound up in. It's more like a dreamscape than anything else but it serves as an afterlife.  

[sxs-fanfics]

My Not-Fic sort-of sequel to I Solemnly Swear

I’ve had this idea rolling around in my head since ISS finished, and I tried to write it, but I don’t think I have the time or ambition to do an entire HP rewrite. I thought about just doing scenes with the major points I wanted to hit, but I didn’t like that idea either. Then I saw this post https://sapphywatchesyousleep.tumblr.com/post/184624746272/wip-not-fic-amnesty

and I decided, fuck it, I’m getting the idea out and if I never flesh it out, at least people got to hear what I wanted to do. So thanks @sapphywatchesyousleep for the idea!!

There are a few references to ISS that may not make sense if you didn’t read it, but for the most part, this can be read as a standalone.

So, we all know that Remus and Sirius are together and so very in love by the end of ISS. So the war rolls around and everything that we know happens in canon happens EXCEPT Remus and Sirius don’t mistrust each other as much, and so Sirius has already told Remus that they switched Secret Keepers. Thus, when the shit hits the fan, Remus fights for Sirius’s innocence and he doesn’t go to Azkaban, even though Peter is nowhere to be found. Even though they know that revealing that Peter was an Animagi would help in looking for him, they’re afraid that they would have to reveal Sirius as an Animagi too, and that he would then be arrested for that. They keep their eyes out for him, but haven’t found anything yet.

Anyway, the point is, they get custody of Harry and raise him out in the country. They have plenty of money to support themselves, between the Black and Potter estates, but Sirius still works as a magizoologist just for the hell of it, and Remus does freelance work here and there for Dumbledore. Remus’s cousin Ernie (an OC from ISS) takes Harry during full moons to keep him safe. Harry grows up loved and supported like we all know he deserved to be, and it’s all hunky dory. 

On top of that, Andromeda has decided to try and bring together what little family she has left, and invites Sirius, Remus, and Harry to her house, along with Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco. The first time they go it’s very uncomfortable, but Harry and Draco have fun together, oblivious to their families. This happens a couple more times before the start of Harry’s first year, so by the time he gets there, he and Draco have an acquaintanceship.

The first two years at school go pretty much according to the books, except that Draco is involved here and there and acts a bit differently. He respects Harry much more and because Harry doesn’t reject first year, he likes to brag about knowing Harry like a brother. Harry can get kind of annoyed by this earlier in their friendship, but eventually it becomes true. This also means Draco doesn’t want to mess it up and have Harry take him down a notch, meaning he is a bit more influenced by Harry’s example. He’s still arrogant and proud, but he’s not as prejudiced. He isn’t buddy buddy with Ron and Hermione, but he doesn’t insult them the way he does in the books. There’s none of the polyjuice potion mess in second year and Draco even defends Harry against people saying he’s the heir just because he’s a Parselmouth (he says it kind of in a ‘he’s too goody goody to be the heir’ and other left-handed ways of defending him, but still). Basically, Draco is like a satellite of the Golden Trio.

Fast forward to third year. Even after all this time, there’s always been speculation about Sirius being the true spy because Remus is really the only one who was able to vouch for him, and everyone now knows of their ‘disgusting’ relationship. Legally, he was cleared with Remus’s testimony (including memories he had of being told about the Secret Keeper change), but the rumors still circulate that things were fixed and that Sirius and Remus having custody of Harry is dangerous to his safety if one day Voldemort were to return (it’s not a majority of people, but there’s always going to be some who don’t believe). It hurts Sirius, reminding him of what it was like to be judged for being a Black at school. The only possible proof that would completely exonerate him would be finding Peter, and there’s been no sign of him for ten years. That’s why, when Sirius and Remus see the paper with the Weasleys before third year, they are determined to find out if Scabbers is really Peter, and Remus takes the DADA job. When Scabbers/Peter sees Remus on the train, he freaks out and stays as out of the way as possible most of the year. Remus only has proof that it’s him once he recovers the map from Harry.

With the Dementors not being at the school, and Sirius not being wrongly imprisoned, there’s no need for all the time travel. Also, Draco not being a prick means that the Buckbeak thing doesn’t happen either. Peter unfortunately still escapes, though, because the confrontation scene is essentially still the same. Remus saw Peter on the map and rushed out of the castle without taking his potion, so he transforms, and Sirius can’t wrangle him because the wolf has been held back for so long it’s going crazy. Snape corrals the trio back into the castle safely, and finally believes that Remus and Sirius aren’t in league with Peter.

Instead of Ireland playing Bulgaria in the World Cup, it’s England, which is the team that AJ plays for (another OC from ISS). She’s an aunt to Harry, and they don’t get to see each other often because she tours the world playing Quidditch. She gets Harry, Remus, and Sirius great seats for the match, and they wind up not sitting too far from Draco and Lucius, so Harry and Draco chat during the match. 

Fourth year, Remus and Sirius are absolutely livid that Dumbledore allows Harry to compete in the Tournament, but they know that there really isn’t a choice because of the contract. They’re at every task, and use as much of their knowledge as they can to help guide him. Sirius is actually involved in bringing the dragons for the first task, so he’s the one that tips Harry off about them. Ron still fights with Harry, so he turns to Draco, and they start to become closer. Draco winds up being the one that Harry saves from the lake instead of Ron, and Ron is jealous at first until Hermione quietly explains to him the significance. She won’t tell Harry, though, wanting him to figure it out himself. Draco is sort of coming to the realization though, and he is jealous when Harry dances with Parvati. He makes a point of dragging him back to the dance floor later in the night and they enjoy a little time together, though they don’t slow dance. The rest of the year goes basically the same, and Harry winds up in the graveyard. He sees Lucius and is shocked because he thought that the man had changed, but can also see the fear in his eyes. He doesn’t really want to be there.

When he comes back, he doesn’t know whether or not he should say anything, but eventually decides that he should tell Draco, in case he doesn’t know. Insulted, Draco refuses to speak to him for the entirety of fifth year. Harry is devastated, and he tries to make up, but he’s also distracted with all the other problems going on. Draco doesn’t become part of the Inquisitorial Squad, though, because he knows what Harry is doing, and even though they aren’t speaking at the moment, he still likes him deep down and doesn’t want to get him in trouble.

The Order still uses Grimmuald Place as HQ, and Sirius and Remus being Harry’s legal guardians, they have the authority to tell Harry whatever they want. They tell Harry about the prophecy, so by the time he sees the vision from Voldy, he already knows what’s going on and where. The whole Umbridge thing still plays out basically the same, except that as Harry and company are running off, Draco happens to see them. He demands to know what’s going on, and Harry is all sassy (’oh, now you’re speaking to me?’) and Draco is just like, I know you’re going to wind up dead so I’m going too, and tags along. This results in him seeing Lucius there as a Death Eater. He’s so upset about it that he runs away from the battle, refusing to fight his father.

Obviously, Sirius lives. During the battle he still gets stupefied, but Remus is ridiculously triggered just seeing this, and uses his wolf speed to save Sirius by snagging him and tossing his frozen body away from the veil. He nearly rips Bellatrix in two, but she runs off giggling. Harry follows while Remus checks on Sirius.

After the battle and everything, Harry returns to Hogwarts to find Draco waiting for him outside the Gryffindor common room. He’s got tear stains on his cheeks and his eyes are red, but right now he’s just silently sitting and staring out at nothing. Harry sits down next to him and doesn’t say anything, and Draco just leans into him and apologizes for not believing him. He tells Harry that he should have known that his father couldn’t truly change, even though he seemed like he was better. He doesn’t know what to do. If he goes home, he knows that his father is going to force him to follow in his footsteps, but he could never do anything that would hurt Harry. Harry tells him that he has a choice if he wants it, and if he needs a place to stay, that he would have him in a heartbeat. Touched, Draco kisses Harry, making his decision.

Draco stays with Harry, Remus, and Sirius for the summer, leaving Lucius to 'disown' him, but he doesn't officially remove him as heir, hoping he'll change his mind and just come home safely. He thinks Draco is in too much danger being friends with Harry, because the Dark Lord won’t spare him if he gets in the way. Narcissa is beside herself with worry. Instead of Draco being assigned to kill Dumbledore, Voldemort simply plans the invasion, and Snape is assigned to repair the Vanishing Cabinet that allows everyone inside. During the invasion, Draco is confronted by Lucius again, demanding he comes home, but Draco refuses to be a part of the mess. Dumbledore still dies, Lucius is the one that disarms him instead, and Harry still decides to finish his work on the Horcruxes.

Harry shows Remus and Sirius the fake locket, and Sirius recognizes it as the same one that he threw into Regulus’s face years ago (an ISS reference). When he hears about what Regulus did from Kreacher, he is moved and heartbroken over the loss of his brother all over again. AJ hears the story too and she finally finds it in her heart to forgive Regulus. Some part of her still wishes they could have had a chance, but she knows it’s not fruitful to pine after the dead. Instead, she gets together with Ernie, who has been crushing on her the whole time, and who she thinks is cute, and they swear after the war to travel together.

Remus and Sirius are not at all happy about Harry running off, but they trust Dumbledore’s plan, and they know he’s more than capable of taking care of himself. They still worry constantly, and do their best to get in touch with him when they can.

Harry tells Draco that he’s going to leave and find the Horcruxes, and that it’s not his problem to fix, but Draco is definitely not having that. He tells Harry he loves him and isn’t going back to Hogwarts without him. He joins him, Ron, and Hermione, meaning that when they are caught by the Snatchers, it's very easy to tell that they’ve found Harry. Lucius and Narcissa are horrified, however, knowing that if Voldemort comes for Harry, he’ll kill Draco too because of his betrayal. They delay Bellatrix from calling him for as long as possible, hoping that they can convince Draco to change sides before he shows up, but he still refuses. Their stalling, however, inadvertently leads to the sword still being found and Dobby coming to help, etc. Harry disarms Lucius while they’re there, so that he’s still the owner of the Elder Wand.

The rest of DH is pretty much the same, just with Draco around, and they live happily ever after.

If you made it to the end of this, then thank you for reading and you have a really good attention span. XD

[nathanfoadstanaccount]

The Advent of Johnlock

So, I saw someone refer to Jefferson Hope and Faith Smith in the same post and some ideas kinda clicked into place for me, about why it was always going to be the fifth series in which we get canon Johnlock. This is my first meta, I’m not sure on structuring it, but I think this is the most logical way. So here we go!

Content warning: I’m going to analyse religious metaphor in this meta. If you’re very strongly Christian, some of the things I say you may find offensive. I mean no offence to anyone’s religion and respect all views - I am merely describing metaphor as I see it.

As someone brought up in Church of England, for me every Christmas came with the anticipation built by the four week long season of Advent. Advent is a time of preparation for the day of celebration, to think back on out past selves and improve, to prepare our hearts for Jesus.

Now bear with me, because this going to seem a little crazy until I unpack it. But my point here is that the first 4 series’ of Sherlock are the 4 weeks of Advent. Series 5 will be Christmas.

“Advent is a season of expectation and preparation, as the Church prepares to celebrate the coming (adventus) of Christ in his incarnation”

https://www.churchofengland.org/prayer-and-worship/worship-texts-and-resources/common-worship/churchs-year/times-and-seasons/advent

We already see religious metaphor in Sherlock - “Lazarus is go” is an example that springs to mind, and there’s the whole rising from the death situation. I could write loads about candles and light/dark symbolism too, but that’s a little much for now… We’re going to focus on the traditions of the Advent Wreath and the Four Last Things as our points of reference here. I’ve used a couple of sources, but there is a lot of different interpretations of the meanings of the 4 weeks of Advent and I’m basing this meta on the ones I grew up with, which doesn’t ally with all sources.

Just in case people aren’t familiar: an Advent Wreath is a set of 5 candles, one lit in each week of advent and the last on Christmas day, each symbolising a Christian value. As I mentioned before the order changes across the religion, but in the Church of England I grew up with Hope (Christ’s coming predicted by the prophets, our ancestors), Peace (the angels), Joy (the shepherds), Faith (the wise men), and Love (Jesus). The Four Last Things are themes for meditation during the season: Death, Judgement, Heaven and Hell.

Series 1, the first week of Advent: Hope, the Prophets, and the theme of death. 

Immediately, Jeff Hope. Obvious! 

But also, the themes of the series; John is hopeless, thinking about death. Sherlock gives him hope. 

Of course, death is a constant theme through the show, but in particular this series, where they choose to die together with a glance. 

And haven’t people seen Johnlock in ACD canon for decades? Centuries? Our forefathers of fandom saw this coming, and had hope for canon Johnlock. The first Sherlockians are our prophets and ancestors.

Series 2, the second week of Advent: Peace, the angels, and the theme of judgement.

Here, judgement is the obvious one. The Reichenbach fall is full of not only a literal trial where Moriarty is judged, but focusses on the media and public opinion’s judgement of Sherlock and John as people. Is Sherlock a good person? We as an audience are instructed to question him, by Moriarty, who sits in a throne of judgement. Literally.

Peace is more tricky. At a surface glance of the show, where does peace come into it? But when we look at inner peace maybe; this series is in some ways the most domestic between John and Sherlock - they fight, yes, but look at the small scraps they have compared to the wars they fight in series 4. They find peace in eachother’s company.

Peace is also what the struggle is all for; look at Sherlock, sacrificing himself, his life, his work, for his friends. But the failure to grasp that peace is an unreachable concept - heavenly, impossible on earth - is no doubt his downfall… literally. His sacrificing himself does not give his friends the peace he desires for them. The only peace found in the series is during their domestic moments in Baker Street, AKA when they actually communicate.

Angels of course link to Sherlock’s death, he may be on the side of them but he’s not one of them. He’s mortal. He must be, to die and rise again. And again and again, in different interpretations of ACD canon. Sherlock is mortal but can’t stay dead. He has unfinished business in his stories. The end isn’t right yet. And cupid, the eros statue at the start of ASIP, shows us right from the start what the angels mean - Sherlock’s unfinished business is announcing his feelings for John.

There’s another thing and it’s probably a bit of a stretch. I’ve always wondered why the scene in THOB where Sherlock apologises to John takes place in a graveyard, distinctly an English country church graveyard. Weird choice, right? Maybe we’re going for religious metaphor? And then we get John as a conductor of light. Now, Sherlock is Jesus, he rises from the dead, and believes in a higher power - himself. John is an angel then, who magnifies the Lord? John is the disciples, who follow Jesus with steadfast faith and trust, wonderment and awe, who follow his commands without question… usually. John is the name of one of the disciples, one of the fishermen who became a ‘fisher of men’, someone who recruited more followers of Jesus. What did John’s blog do if it didn’t recruit believers in Sherlock, especially after he fell, with the Empty Hearse society and people such as that? Maybe that is reading too much into it, but enjoy how smug Sherlock would be at being compared to literally God.

Series 3, the third week of Advent: Joy, the shepherds, heaven.

Weird to associate joy with this series of pain from the perspective of Johnlockers, who have suffered so much at the hands of this series, but hear me out!

Sherlock comes back from the dead and is no longer aiming for peace for his friends. He is much more focussed now, and, in fact, realistic, although still off the mark somewhat. He is determined to give John a life of joy, with the woman he chose to marry. He creates all kinds of chaos (shooting Magnussen a notable example) to secure John’s happiness. 

Shepherds guide and protect sheep, an animal with inferior intellect but that they care for nonetheless - you see where I’m going with this. Sherlock tries to shepherd John’s life into order, but then, as in the Christmas story, angels - Sherlock’s call to tell John how he feels, or face endless death and resurrection - in the form of his exile go to take him away. Up to the sky in a plane - heaven - oops, not quite. Back to Earth again. Sherlock can’t get into heaven until he does what he was brought back to life in this reincarnation/adaption to do: confess to John.

The Bible tells us that a wedding banquet is a foretaste of heaven, and here at John’s wedding banquet he gets an admission of fondness, and almost confession of love, the closest Sherlock has yet got - “a foretaste of the heavenly banquet".

No Sherlock, you definitely haven’t finished yet.

We get told as Sherlock’s plane comes in to land that “there’s an East Wind coming” - SherlockJesus is coming to pluck the unworthy from the Earth. We get that you like Sherlock, Mofftiss, but did you have to make him so transparently GOD??

Series 4, the fourth week of Advent: Faith, the wise men, and hell.

I make no secret of the fact that I’m less familiar with the fourth series, so if anyone would like to add any points here (or anywhere else to be honest) I’d love to hear more analysis.

Faith, again, a transparent one, Faith Smith.

The wise men are famously from the east - the east wind has arrived, with gifts fit for a king: an elaborate game for Sherlock to solve. But also causing accidental death - the wise men told Herod about Jesus, causing him to slay all the male babies in the kingdom, and Mary’s death happened because Sherlock returned, and why did he return? Eurus/Moriarty’s plans, the east wind, the wise men.

There are traditionally three wise men - three parts to the east wind. Eurus, Moriarty, and… Mary? That’s speculation. This needs more thinking about.

Of course, hell - we’ve all been in Johnlock hell for years now, but that’s not really relevant to this series. What IS relevant is that SHERLOCK is now in Johnlock hell - he’s putting himself through it, perhaps, but watch as he is punished for not confessing to John and John is hurt by Sherlock’s actions because of his aborted attempts to confess.

TFP shows Eurus’ games, which put Sherlock through the nightmares of those he loves being hurt. A private hell, built just for him. Or perhaps a purgatory, which after he suffers through it brings him close to heaven/Johnlock.

And Series 5, Christmas Day: Love, and Jesus.

Here we will have Christmas, with a present for everyone that we’ve longed for for generations: Johnlock becomes canon! The theme of love, of course, will be heavily present, and Jesus/Sherlock will at last be free of his earthly purpose - to come down, free us from the binds of Johnlock hell and ascend to a peaceful resting place, where his disciples/John will join him in the wedding banquet of heaven.

Well that’s that, my first attempt at meta! Once I wrote it out it got longer than I was really expecting, but I hope you all got something from it, and let me know if you also see an religious/advent metaphor in the show :)

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hello~! Ok so first of all, I hope you are having a lovely day. Second: Can you recommend me the fluffiest fics you've read? And if possible a fic that involves John reacting differently to Sherlock's "death" idk like getting reaaaaaally depressed or something angsty. Please no angst and fluff in the same fic, that's just playing with peoples hearts D:

Hi Lovely!

I’ve actually posted a lot of fluffy fics, which you can find compiled on my Johnlock Fic Rec Masterpost! I think what you will be looking for are these ones:

Tooth Rotting Fluff

Hugs & Cuddles and Tooth-Rotting Fluff (Pt. 2)

Hugs & Cuddles Pt. 2 / Tooth-Rotting Fluff Pt. 3 / Est. Relationship Pt. 2

There is a whole section for Fluff on the masterpost, so if you want to read a bit more you can check that out!

Aww, sad that you don’t want angsty fluff! It’s the last section on my Fluff Fic Rec megalist that I haven’t posted yet. Oh well, hahah! I’m sure it will come up eventually! But yeah, I do have some angsty sad John fics! I do apologize for a lot of them being “platonic” fics… I read a lot of angst back in my FFNet days, and it was all before my shipping goggles were on but I was super into Friendship Fics. I hope you enjoy them all anyway! 

JOHN DURING THE HIATUS 

Letters From Beyond by LittleBabeBlue (K, 637 w. || Friendship, Post-TRF) – A letter for John was found in Sherlock’s coat after he jumped.

Tea by Art and Soul (K, 693 w. || Angst & Friendship) – John’s habit of making tea for two has little use, considering his flat-mate has been dead for three years. But he keeps on making that second cup, hoping he’d wake up and it’d be gone. But it never was…

One-Way Mirror by StormyNight108 (K+, 830 w. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Post-TRF, John’s Blog) – It’s been months since the incident, where a man lost his best friend. Slowly but surely, John’s life is starting to turn up a little. That night, his blog is updated to share good news to his followers, and one anonymous commentator is quick to share his happiness. It’s about as close to his friend as he can get right now. No slash.

Thaw by reignofdreams (K+, 933 w. || Angst, Friendship, Post-TRF) – In a bitter twist of irony, John realizes that without the brilliance of Sherlock’s extraordinary intellect and pure but guarded heart, he too is lost.

The Sidewalk by politewarning (K, 956 w. || Post-TRF, Angst, Friendship, Sherlock’s Birthday) – Standing on the sidewalk outside the hospital on the 6th of January to have a one-sided conversation with his dead friend was not something John had intended to make into a ritual.

Black Cars by johnsarmylady (T, 1K+ w. || Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Post-TRF) – John is getting on with his life…if only he didn’t see black cars everywhere! A short Post Reichenbach tale in 221B style in 5 parts.

By the Graveside by CraftyLion (K, 1K+ w. ||  Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Death) – But what if Sherlock never really survived The Fall? What if the Sherlock in the graveyard was merely a spirit, forlornly watching his friend from the Other Realm?

Don’t Go Without Me by MirabileLectu (T, 1K+w. || Angst/Drama) - Deep in the recesses of the cluttered space under John’s bed, far from the prying eyes of nosy landladies, there is a box.

Memory by Pipsy (K, 1K+w || Angst / TRF Hiatus / Pining) - A short ficlet looking into the lives of John and Sherlock after the Fall. Short and painful.

Shooter by Amputation (K+, 1K+w. || Post-TRF, Suspense, BAMF!John) – The men were trying to rile the other into acting first, it seemed. How boringly predictable and dull this was! 

Spectrum of Mourning at the Funeral of a Solitary Man by TheBookshelfDweller (T, 1K+ w. Angst, Grief, Friendship, First Person POV, Introspection) – Because each kind of love produces its own kind of grief, a long-ignored voice tells the story of five mourners of Sherlock Holmes, a man who in the end, was all but solitary. 

Text Me When It’s Over by immaculately-flawed  (K+, 1K+ w. || Friendship, Humour, Post-TRF, Texting, Sort-Of Pining Sherlock) – After the fall Sherlock starts writing texts to John. Of course, he never sends them… Until he does by accident. Post Reichenbach fic but not angsty.

Hold On by Jennistar1 (T, 1300 w. || Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Post-TRF, Hiatus, Friendship) –  Alternative ending to Reichenbach Falls - John knew all along. 

I Never Told You by MrsNoggin (T, 1650 w. || Fluff & Angst) – Who looks after John when Sherlock is gone? Just a bit of angsty fluff, maybe with a bit of a happy ending. A little wishful one-shot, rated for John’s good old British pottymouth.

Feed The Memory by Hekate1308 (T, 2K+ w. ||  Tragedy & Hurt/Comfort) – He could feed John Watson, at least. Angelo POV.

Letters by Jenna Flare (T, 2K+ w. || Angst, Epistolary, Post-TRF) – John leaves letters on Sherlock’s grave as a method of coping. Sherlock reads them every week. Sherlock/John, John/Mary.

Not The First by StillWaters1 (K+, 2K+w. || Angst, Friendship, Post-Reunion) – Discovering that John had spent twelve months volunteering at a MSF trauma hospital in Afghanistan was surprising. But not as surprising as the discussion that followed. A post-Reichenbach conversation and character study.

Pen Pals by WerewolfDoctor (K, 2K+ w. || Epistolary, Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Post-TRF) – Most people don’t become pen pals by one of them writing a not-suicide note. Then again, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson have never exactly been normal, have they?

A Loss, A Latecomer, and a Question by Musicangel913 (T, 3K+ w. || Friendship, Post-TRF / Reunion, Non-BBC Mary, Straight John) – "He was my best friend and I’ll always believe in him.“

Because Your Coat is Part of You by camellialice (K, 3K+ w. || 5 and 1, Canon Compliant, Sherlock’s Coat, Angst, Fluff) – Five times John wore Sherlock’s coat and one time he didn’t need to.

The Sound of Silence by Dubbers (T, 3K+ w. || Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Post-TRF Hiatus, Reunion) – After Sherlock’s fall, John loses the ability to talk. Three years later, Sherlock is back.

Too Late by SJBHasADayPass (T, 3K+ w. || Angst, Suicide, Tragedy, Major Character Death, First Person POV) – Six months after the Fall, John is finding it difficult without Sherlock, and Sherlock is finding it just as painful. 

the things that comfort us by hudders-and-hiddles (T, 3,728 w. || Sherlock’s Return, H/C, John’s Jumpers, Post-TRF) – Sherlock takes one of John’s jumpers with him when he leaves to dismantle Moriarty’s network. One day, John notices it’s missing. Part 2 of Tumbling Hudders

Between Asleep and Awake by katydidit (K, 4K+ w. || Friendship, Sick Fic, Post-TRF / Reunion) – John is sick. Incredibly, extremely, dangerously sick. Plagued by a high fever, he begins to hallucinate, start seeing things that aren’t really there. Because they can’t be there. Can they?

Days Go By by Hummingbird1759 (T, 4K+ w. || Angst, Friendship, Post-TRF, Introspection) – The characters’ lives go on after the Fall… sort of.

Not Without Me by Jennistar1 (T, 4k+w. || Drama, Mystery, Post-TRF Hiatus, Pining Sherlock) – Halfway through Sherlock’s Great Hiatus, Mycroft comes to him with the news that John has died. But all is not what it seems…

On Hiatus: Rotterdam (T, 4K+ w. || Friendship, Drama, Couple For A Case, Post-TRF, John Joins Sherlock, No Slash) – “Used them after uni a bit. Purely for research purposes, of course,“ Sherlock said tiredly, head lolling against John’s shoulder.” Sherlock goes on a mission alone, or: Two blokes in a luxury hotel in the Netherlands. Non-linear timeline. Set during the Hiatus.

There’s Something Living in These Lines by teahigh (orphan_account) (M, 4,676 w. || Pining, Angst, Love Letters, UST, Dirty Talk, Hiatus) – Two men, complete opposites in almost every way, who speak only in letters and pages torn from books.

A Case of Identity by PostcardsfromTheoryland (T, 4,978 w. || Post-TRF, John on Holiday, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock Whump, Angst, Reunion) – All John wanted was to get away from London for a few weeks. No people pointing and whispering about Sherlock Holmes when he walked past, no reporters wanting an “exclusive” about the dead detective, just some rest and relaxation in the sunshine. Then again, these holiday trips never seem to go as planned.

Nothing Quite So Spectacular by Kerkerian-Horizon (K+, 5K+ w. || Drama, Hurt / Comfort, Post-TRF) – How John Watson grieves after Sherlock Holmes’ alleged suicide, and what happens when the detective returns home. Set post-Reichenbach, two parts.

Excerpts from Purgatory by reapersun, what_alchemy (E, 5,829 w. || Post-TRF, Doctor John, Reunion Fic, Rough Sex, Angry Sex, Bottomlock, Fic with Pics)  – John serves community service in homeless shelters for chinning the superintendent. Unbeknownst to him, the Homeless Network has his back.

Five Times by AliuIce0814 (T, 6K+w. || Drama, Canon-Compliant S1 & 2, Angst, 5 and Ones, Reunion) – … Sherlock woke John, and one time John woke Sherlock.

Not Without You by thisisforyou (T, 6K+ w. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Adventure, Mycroft is a Good Brother, Pining Sherlock, Suicide Mention, Sherlock First Person POV, Post-TRF / Reunion Fic) – “I can’t, Mycroft, I can’t do this without John.” Mycroft comes up with an alternative solution to the three years of two broken hearts that would have otherwise happened. 

The Death of Doubt by Gingerhermit (E, 6,584 w. || Alternate Canon, BAMF John, POV Sherlock, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Hurt/Comfort, Angst/Drama, Meddling Mycroft) – Mycroft asks for John’s help in rescuing Sherlock from his Serbian captors.

Drowning in Darkness by chappysmom (T, 7K+w. || Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapped John, Post-TRF Hiatus / Reunion, John Whump, Angst with Happy Ending, Depressed John, Background Case Fic) – He couldn’t decide if it was a relief or a curse that he’d been left completely, absolutely alone. You couldn’t fight darkness with your fists, and no matter how strong your will-power, it could be beaten down by the constant monotony of nothingness. Nobody needed John.

I’d be Lost Without my Blogger by shadenc (T, 8,057 w. || Rev. Reich, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Pining) – "There are several snipers with their guns pointed at your head this very moment. Now, if you look up you’ll see John and myself on the rooftop of Bart’s. Understand the game yet?“ “Shoot me. Let him go and shoot me.” “Noble now, are we? Unfortunately, you are not the one who will make that decision.”

Every Night I Look for You by destinationtoast (E, 8,377 w. || POV John, Post-TRF, Angst, Mystery, Unsafe Sex, BAMF John) – Every night, John looks for familiar hints of Sherlock in the men he meets in bars, and he does with them all the things he wishes he’d done before. Eventually, he stumbles into a situation that Sherlock would know how to handle, and John must decide whether he can handle it without him.

Watching You Die by laureleaf (T, 10K+ w. || Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Post-TRF, Suicide, Switching POVs, Sort-of Rev. Reich., Whump) – John watched Sherlock die three years ago, and Sherlock just watched John die. But neither of them are actually dead. Now an AU, with nods to “The Adventure of the Empty House”. Lots of angst and post-Reichenbach feels. No slash.

The In-Between by blueink3 (M, 10,679 w. || Fluff and Angst, H/C, Parentlock, Fix-It Fic, Canon Compliantish) – Beginning in a Chinese restaurant and ending at the bottom of a well, what about the moments we didn’t see?

White Blank Page by SarahCat1717 (M, 11,936 w. || Post-TRF, Clever John, Reunion Fic, Pining Sherlock, Letters, Fantasies) – Post-fall, Sherlock is off eliminating Moriarty’s crime web. He finds he misses John. He can’t divulge that he still lives, but he placates his need to communicate with John and still feel a connection with him by sending him blank letters. But over time, this writing exercise lends itself to Sherlock exploring his feelings for his friend. What will happen when Sherlock returns to London and the man he has been “writing” to regularly for the past two years? NOT S3 compliant. Mary who?

Sunset’s Wake by StillWaters1 (T, 13K+ w. || Angst, Hurt /Comfort, Minor Character POV) – It wasn’t until that moment, when the dazed man in the practical black jacket came pushing through the crowd and into her arms, that she understood why she had been drawn outside St. Bart’s that day. 

When to Let Go by KendylGirl (M, 22,109 w. || Friends to Lovers, Reverse Reichenbach, Sacrifice, Forgiveness, Angst, Love, Implied Drug Use) – What if it were John who had to die to thwart Moriarty’s plans? John’s supposed death shatters Sherlock, and when he returns, it will challenge the pair to forge a path of forgiveness, to peace, and to find a way back to each other. Part 1 of When to Let Go

A Shipless Ocean by myswordfishmind (M, 22,135 w || Post-TRF, John has a Kid) – Ten years after the fall Sherlock goes back to London to find that John no longer lives there. Instead, he resides in a seaside town, a widower, and the father of a seven year old son. Now, Sherlock must struggle with the fact that there may no longer be a place for him in this new world.

Five Times: Watching and Waiting by Ira Lea (K+, 23K w. || Friendship, Post-TRF, No Slash) – Five times Sherlock didn’t know John was watching, and one time he made sure of it. Five times John didn’t know Sherlock was watching, and one time he figured it out. Three years of “he’s dead”, one moment of “he’s alive”, and the resulting chase through the streets of London. (Two 5:1s in quick succession and a bonus).

Dear John by wendymarlowe (E, 23,031 w. || Post-TRF, Online Dating, Pining, Epistolary, Cybersex, Long Distance Romance) – With Sherlock dead, John eventually (under duress) makes a profile on an online dating site. And falls into a long-distance relationship with an enigmatic partner who reminds him of Sherlock in all the right ways. (Hint: it turns out to be Sherlock.) Part 1 of Dear John

Holmes is where the heart is by Rose de Sharon (T, 49K+w. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Post-TRF, Reunion Fic, Bromance, Empty House Inspired, Adventure) – Three years after the Reichenbach Fall. On the anniversary of Sherlock’s death, John pays a visit at 221 B Baker Street… and he gets the shock of his life.

Lost Without My Blogger by starrysummernights (E, 52,155 w. || Rev. Reich, PTSD, Hurt / Comfort, Fluff / Angst, Psychological Torture, Reunion Fic, Friends to Lovers) – John is abducted and declared dead. How will Sherlock cope without his blogger? How will he react when John comes back from the “dead?” Drama and angst with a healthy dose of romance. Part 1 of I’d Be Lost Without My Blogger

The Burning Heart by May_Shepard (M, 119,150 w. || Canon Divergence, Post-TRF, John’s Sexuality, S3 Rewrite, Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, POV John Watson, John’s Gay) – When Sherlock dies, John Watson feels like his life is over too. He’s completely shut down, until Mark Morstan, a new nurse at John’s medical clinic, catches his attention, and helps him uncover the long buried truth of his attraction to men. Although he’s certain he’ll never get over Sherlock, John plans to move on, and build a new life with Mark, unaware that Sherlock is not quite as dead as he appears, and that Mark is hiding secrets of his own.

The Quiet Man by ivyblossom (E, 157,369 w. || Post-TRF, John First POV, Grief/Mourning, Angst, Present Tense, Imaginary Sherlock) – “Do you just carry on talking when I’m away?”

[huntertales]

Complete Edition: There’s Something About Sam. (Swap Meat S05E12)

Pairing: Sam x Reader  Word Count: 13,475. Summary: Sam’s been a little bit different lately since he went missing the other night. Little do you know, the man isn’t quite like himself. Warnings: Spoilers for Swap Meat, as this is a total rewrite of the episode, Sam centered for my Sam!Girls out there. Canon violence, that’s it!

GUESS WHAT? There's an entire episode rewrite dedicated just to my Sam!Girls. This is a whole whooping TWENTY-ONE PAGES in length. I've been writing this on and off for the past few months. Tonight I spent a little over six hours just finishing it up and writing it. But I decided since my rewrite is exactly on this episode, to just finish it up and post it tonight. Why it's so long is that I normally post an episode rewrite into four different parts. This is all smacked into one. Grab something to drink and don't prepare to read this before bed, because you're gonna be here for awhile. I really hope you guys enjoy. I had a lot of fun writing this, as there's almost no episode rewrites dedicated to Sam. (Far as I know. People have been vocal about wanting to see some. So...) I decided to give him a bit of love. And if you guys like this, maybe I'll do a few more with other episodes!

And is this rewrite going to be cheesy AF at times? Probably. But this is purely for entertainment. Enjoy! ^_^

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You quietly sat at the motel desk with your laptop propped open to a few internet browsers displaying the research you should be doing like you had promised, and not staring at your cell phone. Which was still burning hot after being used just a minute ago. You stared at your laptop and tried to get yourself on focusing again to the more important task at hand. But you knew it'd be impossible to think about at a time like this. Your gaze slowly drifted away from the website about a possible ghost you were hunting and to your damn phone, wondering for a split second if Sam might have called you in the past thirty seconds. But you knew it was impossible you would have missed it.

The volume on your phone was up all the way, you even put it on full vibration for extra caution. Sam had been missing for the past three hours, and despite knowing the giant hunter could take care of himself, your anxious mind wandered to the worst case scenario. Dean tried to reassure you that his brother probably got distracted by something at the library right as he was leaving, that's why he hadn't answered your dozen text messages or five voicemail. Maybe it was a bit of an overkill, but you were dealing with the end of days. You couldn't be too careful.

Dean was growing a bit worried himself when he headed out about an hour ago to check around town to see if he could find his brother somewhere. But even he wasn't answering his damn phone to give up a much needed update. Maybe Dean was onto something, Sam could have found something when he ended the call and found himself suckered into reading. You leaned back in the rickety old chair and pondered on the possible situation, but you found yourself slowly denying that it could be true. You'd spent every single day with the man and his brother for the past year and a half, he was smarter and more cautious than this. When he called about coming back from somewhere, he meant it. Something was wrong, you knew it.

Meeting the Winchester boys was...an accidental mishap that lead you down the rabbit hole of what they were calling the apocalypse, despite your best efforts of trying not getting here. You've been hunting now for five years, since you graduated high school and packed up what little belongings you had. Like most hunters, you were dragged into this lifestyle after someone you loved had been killed at the hands of a monster. For the Winchesters it had been their mother, which spiraled their father into a lifelong obsession he handed down to his children. You weren't so lucky to just have one person in your life die. For you, it was your entire family at the hands of a demon you still hadn't had the chance of tracking down. While you had met a few hunters of your own over the past several years by chance of taking the same hunt, how you met the Winchesters and their blue-eyed angel friend was a whole other story.

You had been working on a case in a small town that looked to be like it was a demon possession, jumping from person to person, leaving a body count caught your attention. While you had been happy to work on your own, the rare times when you had met up with another hunter, both of you worked together to get the job done. But it seemed this time you hadn't stolen a case from just any old hunter, you had two legends of the hunting world at your motel doorstep. You had heard rumors of the the two men over the years and was told about stories when you had stopped at a little bar known among hunters as the Roadhouse, a place which they had been frequent in before it burned down.

One thing lead to another, you learned the real reason why the Winchester brothers weren't letting you take care of some low-level demon you almost had a chance to exorcise again. You attempted once after tricking it into a devil's trap and saving a woman from being killed. While you had gotten her to safety, things had turned south when you realized the demon wasn't alone. But you had managed to get away with only a few marks you had been cleaning back in your motel room before the Winchesters were knocking on your door. It seemed they wanted you gone, not because they wanted to steal your hunt, but because this wasn't some run of the mill demon. You had met the big boss, the first demon ever created, Lilith. She had been the reason why people were dropping like flies, and it wasn't bedside she was bored. It was for a ritual to break what they were calling a seal.

After trying to explain the situation best they could, and meeting Castiel, a once very judgement angel, you learned you had stepped into the disaster of the sixty six seals. Each one that broke would lead closer to Lucifer being free, and this little thing called an apocalypse would become a reality. You had managed to stop the one seal, but you hadn't been efficient from letting the others break. Since Lilith had put her pale white eyes on you, it would only be a matter of time before she would try to seek revenge. So, you and the boys agreed that it might be better if you tagged along until this entire thing blew over. And much as you tried, you couldn't stop it, leading to this exact moment.

“What the hell is this?!”

Your head snapped up from the cell phone you were tempted to grab again when you heard the shrilling sounds of a female voice coming from just a few doors down grabbed your attention.  You pushed yourself to your feet and headed for the window, putting a finger between the blinds, cautiously peering out to see what the commotion was about. Three doors down in the motel room from yours stood the maid you had suspected was starting her graveyard shift by heading for the boys' room first. You furrowed your brow when you noticed she was scurrying away fast as she could with her cart. You nervously swallowed, wondering what could have been so frightening that made her run off like that as you walked to the door. Swinging it open, you scanned the parking lot, only to see the Impala was still gone. If someone was in the room, that meant only one thing.

Without thinking about grabbing a pair of shoes on this winter night, you tracked across the cold concrete and ignored the shivers ran down your spine. You counted down the numbers until you spotted 102. Pulling out your arm from the crook of your armpit that was keeping your fingers warm, you were taken by surprise when the door showed to be unlocked, but you stopped yourself from pushing it open. Every worse case scenario rushed through your mind while you stood outside in the freezing cold weather and began wondering what caused the maid to be so frightened like she had become. Maybe Sam was severely injured to the point of gruesome wounds. What if a few demons jumped him on his way back? Or maybe it was worse. You inhaled a deep breath and prepared yourself for the worst when you pushed open the door, stepping inside the room without announcement. But you stumbled upon a sight you weren't expecting to witness in a million years.

You opened your mouth to speak the man's name in a worried tone when you caught sight of him with his back turned to yours. But when you realized what he was doing, you stopped dead in your tracks in slight confusion. Sam was standing in front of the full length mirror without his flannel shirt he was wearing earlier today. He was left in his undershirt he'd always paired with. At first you thought he was inspecting himself for any possible wounds from an attack that might have happened. It could have explained his absence over the past few hours. Yet, you soon discovered that wasn't it.

You raised your brow ever so slightly when you noticed the fabric around his upper arm was stretched out, showing off the muscle he’d gained from years of a healthy regime and hunting. Sam always made you feel a bit inferior when you stood next to him. He towered over you with his six foot four frame, not to mention the muscles that barely could be contained in his flannel shirts he wore religiously. He looked like the kind of guy who could take down just about anyone, and he could. But he was more of the gentle giant. And far from showing any signs of vanity about his own body.

"Sam," You managed to find your voice, forcing this moment of privacy to be broken when you caught yourself staring like an idiot. Stepping into the motel and slamming the door shut, it was enough for the man to be taken out from his own personal thoughts. You watched as he jumped out of his own skin, startled by the interruption he wasn't expecting. You gave him a confused look, wondering what had gotten into him. “What the hell? Dean and I have been trying to call you for hours.”

Sam's response was to stare at you with almost a bewilderment look, as if he was wondering why you were scolding him. The younger Winchester should have been used to your over the top worrisome behavior. You and the boys had gotten close over the past year since you started hunting with them. Dean had turned into the big brother, Sam was like your best friend you had back home. Both of you shared the same sense of interest in research, and humor. He could make you laugh when you needed it the most. Not to mention Sam had the type of personality where he could make you spill just about anything he wanted to know about you. He knew all of your deep dark secrets, as you known all of is. After all, you seen him withdraw from his demon blood addiction.

But despite seeming him make so many wrong decisions over the past year and regretting every single one, it didn't stop you from longing for something more from the younger Winchester at times. What wasn't to like about Sam? He was handsome and had brains that could outwit just about anyone. Not to mention he was so damn tall. But you brushed off the feelings as loneliness all hunters faced. Sam was your hunting buddy, just like his big brother, Dean. And he should have been prepared for the wrath of your worried behavior you were lashing out at him tonight.

Before Sam could respond with a logical excuse, your gaze lingered over to the motel door when it swung wide open. You let out a sigh of relief when you saw that it was Dean, who looked pissed off as you had been. Sam, however, had a second of massive confusion to what was going on, and who all of you people were. “What the hell, man? Y/N and I’ve been trying to—”

“We’ve already been through this. You can cut the speech.” You said, letting the older Winchester save his breath for a scolding you already gave a few moments ago. A slight shiver passed through your body from the small breeze that came from the still opened door. “Mind closing the door? It's freezing enough in here.”

“Put some pants on, sweetheart.” Dean remarked. You furrowed your brow from his words, but when you glanced down at your ensemble, you quickly realized what was making him smirk like he'd just heard a funny joke. It was late enough at night for you retire with the thought of not having to go out in public. You glanced down to see you were wearing your favorite ensemble of an oversize shirt you'd stolen from Sam what felt like forever ago and some pajama shorts you wore to bed. You scoffed and crossed your arms over your chest. when Dean got a look on his face. He was like a big brother to you, and he would take just about every opportunity he could to harass you. It was a relationship you had grown to love from him over the past year. But the mood only lasted for a split second before he looked over at his little brother, curious for the reason of his brother's absence over the past few hours. "Where you been, man?"

“I picked up some food. Bacon burger turbo, large chili-cheese fry, right?” Sam tried to make up the situation by walking over to the motel bed, grabbing a fast food bag from the same greasy joint you had eaten at earlier this afternoon. You had grown used to the unhealthy diet of being a hunter, it was one of the perks of living on the road, but your stomach felt queasy at the thought of eating the same stuff twice in the same day. Dean, however, shrugged off his leather jacket and tossed it to the bed, all before grabbing the peace offering from his little brother without question. "Sorry, man. Really. I-I just—lost track of time. I didn't mean to freak you guys out."

"Thanks." Dean said, seeming a bit skeptical of why his brother was acting a bit out of character. You crossed your arms tighter around your body and looked at Sam, watching as he grabbed his button up from the bed to put it back on. "Don't know why it took you two hours, but thanks."

"Oh, you're gonna want to eat that on the road." Sam said as he pointed at the white paper bag Dean was about to open up to grab a fry. He then gestured a finger to the assortment of weapons that had been out for a cleaning, the usual drill, but it seemed the younger Winchester forgotten the discreteness of what it meant to keeping outsiders out without causing trouble. "The maid came in, saw that, and now they're all kind of freaking out."

“Why’d you let the maid in?” You asked him, a hint of disbelief could be heard in your tone from how accidentally careless he was acting tonight.

“It just happened.” Sam answered you not even a second later.

You furrowed your brow slightly as Dean looked at his brother with a bit of suspicion. You decided to let this little accident pass without much question. These past few months of traveling with the boys had been a stressful one, unraveling a situation that you had never thought would come to be. Stresses had made everyone do a bit of stupid things, that’s what you made yourself believe of why Sam wasn’t acting quite like himself.

“Whatever.” Dean said. “I got to hit the head and then we’ll take off.”

You pointed your thumb over the door, "Give me five minutes. I'm gonna go change."

“Alright.” Sam agreed. “I’ll be outside.”

Sam watched as his brother headed for the bathroom and shut the door behind him. You took a few steps forward to the motel door, but you found yourself stopping in your tracks for a moment as you looked over your shoulder to stare at the younger Winchester. He looked exactly like how he did when he left, and while nothing seemed physically different about him...you just felt like something was off. It seemed Sam had found out you were staring at him, he gave you a small smile and a wave, you returned the smile before making yourself walk back to your own motel room, thinking that maybe you were a being a little bit too paranoid for your own good.

Five minutes later you emerged from the motel room with a new set of clothes and your duffel bag packed up. You walked down the familiar path that lead to where the Impala was parked without much thought. As you stepped down from the sidewalk, you spotted the Impala was parked just across the way, next to a dumpster. You didn't think much of it as you began walking over, presuming that Sam was sitting in his usual spot in the passenger seat, but it seemed he was a little busy. You stopped in your tracks for a moment to see that he was cautiously getting something from the car before walking towards the dumpster and suspiciously tossing the content in. He didn't waste a second of brushing his hands clean from the evidence and heading back to the car, acting as if everything was fine.

You summed up the situation to thinking that he could have been throwing away some trash before his brother could find it. You headed over to the Impala when you heard Dean following behind by the sound of his shoes and the jingle of his keys. You opened up the backseat door and threw your bag inside before slipping yourself into the seat. Everything seemed normal again as all of you had taken your regular position, but it seemed that Sam was seeming a bit tired of sitting in the passenger side from the question he asked out of the blue.

"Hey, can I drive?" Sam curiously asked. Dean was a bit thrown off from the question that he never heard his brother ask. Sam was the only one out of the three of you that was allowed to drive the Impala. And mostly he only did that on occasions when there was long drives. All of you were just heading for another motel, but Dean decided to take over the wheel on this one. You sat in the middle of the backseat with Sam’s gigantic frame in your left view as Dean was to your right. Sam turned on the car, which triggered Baby’s usual purs from the engine that you heard every single time. To the younger Winchester, he acted like it was the best thing ever. “Oh, this is so sweet!”

Sam decided to have a little bit of fun by pressing on the gas pedal a few times while the car was still in parked. You slowly looked over at Dean, who wasn't growing confused at this situation, he was more annoyed at the lack of progress. "You want to get the lead out, Andretti? Come on." Dean complained, motioning for this situation to wrap up. Sam reached out to change gears, seeming to forget how to drive, too. Dean warned the man about the mistake he was going to make, but Sam pressed his foot lightly on the gas. "Reverse. Reverse!"

Sam didn't listen in time. You heard the tires squeal against the blacktop before the Impala was accelerating backwards, making you be the victim as you roughly hit the seat when the car backed into the dumpster. Luckily the Winchester managed to break before there was any damage to the Impala. You winced in slight pain as your hand reached around to touch your aching neck, Dean was nothing more than pissed at what had unfolded. But in a calm voice, he turned his head to look at his little brother.

“It’s in reverse.” Dean stated between clenched teeth.

Sam tried to apologize for what happened, but Dean wasn't having it. Both of them switched spots, putting them back to where they had started. Normally you would have laughed at any sort of accidental mishap Sam Winchester, the famous hunter known for his intelligence and quick reflexes, but you found the same pit in your stomach. You kept your feelings to yourself, thinking that it was, yet again, the paranoia from the bigger situation that was making you worried. 

+ + +

The next morning you and the boys checked into another motel just across town, but it was still little progress in the case. The boys had taken a simple salt and burn after hearing an old friend of their dad was in trouble with some nasty spirit. You had spent most of last night trying to find any sort of lead that could help solve this case that should have been one of the easier ones you've worked on this year. It was just early in the morning when you headed down the busy street with the boys to start on the busy day you had ahead for you.

“So, uh, where we going, anyway?” You looked over at the younger Winchester that was standing on your right. A small smile spreading across your lips from the question he asked. You told him you were going to work, which then required you to specifically mention the case. He nodded his head as a small smile spread across his lips, causing his dimples to pop out from each of his cheeks. “Oh, right. Yeah—the case. Of course. Where, uh, do you want to start?”

"Well, since you or Y/N couldn't find where Maggie Briggs was buried, now we have to do an all-day tombstone roll to see if we can dig her up." Dean said. He headed for the driver’s side of the impala as you followed behind to get into the backseat.

“Wait. Maggie Briggs? You mean like—like, the witch Maggie Briggs?” Sam asked. You looked at him with a funny expression as you nodded your head. But it seemed he knew exactly what he was talking about from how he started rambling on next. “Yeah, she’s in the basement. Isaiah Pickett’s house. Okay. there’s this legend that he hung her, but he didn’t. The real truth is that he was carrying his illegitimate child, and he killed her and then buried her in the basement.”

“Her ‘murdered chylde.’ That would explain the scratches.” You noted, remembering the terrible marks on the little girl’s stomach. Maggie wasn’t doing it at a vengeance, maybe she was trying to tell you something. “Wait, how do you know all of this?”

“Oh, I’ve done all kinds of research on it.” Sam said, shrugging off your question. You raised your brow slightly, wondering how he managed to squeeze in the time. All of you had been busy over the past few hours. But it seemed he hadn’t left the library empty handed before coming back. “I mean, you know...last night.”

You nodded your head at his excuse, thinking he must have kept this information to himself last night after the antics from last night after finding some lord in one of the local books at the library. You opened the backseat door and slipped yourself inside, the boys following behind. Dean turned on the Impala and reached out to turn on the radio as per usual, leading to a classic rock song to come on. While you and the oldest Winchester had bonded over the love of rock, Sam wasn't a personal fan of it like the both of you were. He had grown used to it over the decades of listening to the same rock tapes that were handed down from his father. But it seemed he had grown for a fondness for it today when he turned up the volume to start jamming out to it. You cocked up a brow when he caught your reflection in the side mirror. When he looked over his shoulder, he gave you another smile, the kind in which that seemed to have made his entire face light up. It'd been awhile since he had seen so positive, maybe the Sam you were seeing today was a newer version that you just needed to stop questioning.

+ + +

 About twenty minutes later, you arrived at the Pickett residence that had been abandoned long ago, thanks to Sam's knowledge on the place. He told you all sorts of information on the guy, which you listened, like always. Sam was like a sponge when it came to research, he soaked up just about everything, and he loved telling you about it. "So, get this..." was one of his most used catch phrases you had grown to recognize him by, as Dean's infamous "son of a bitch" when he got angry. You might have only been traveling for a little over a year with the boys, but after spending every waking moment with them, you grew to know a lot about them and develop special relationships with them. You and Dean were more like brother and sister. You bonded over the simplest of things, like your similar taste in music and your obsession with his car, and in return he teased you and treated you as family. Sam was a bit different with you.

 You found the relationship with Sam a bit different from his older brother, as the both of them were far polar opposite in their personalities. But that wasn't the case. When you first met Sam, he had a lot of...bad things going on for him. He found himself trusting a demon named Ruby and following her down a dark path of drinking demon blood to heighten his psychic abilities. The Winchesters had a past that was horrifying and filled with pain. But you never looked at Sam differently, not even when he freed the Devil himself from Hell. Because that wasn't the Sam you had grown to know over the past year and a half.

 Despite all of that, you had a friendship that was developed from hours of research in dimly lit libraries and bars when Dean was off trying to find himself a lover for the night. When Ruby wasn't around trying to mess with his head, you had seen the real Sam Winchester. He was smart as hell, yet he was empathetic enough to make just about anyone spill their dirty secrets without feeling ashamed for what they done. He was a giant with a set of puppy dog eyes that you wanted to stare into all day. There was something about Sam that drove you crazy. He wasn't any guy you had met before, but up weren't exactly a skilled romantic. The only real relationship you had was when you were in high school, and only that lasted a few weeks before he dumped you for another girl. Yet it didn't stop you from growing a fondness for the man, there was something about him that made you feel good and more like your old self before you started hunting. But the man you had grown to fall for seemed to have been absent since last night. He’d been acting a bit strange.

 You busied yourself with heading for the trunk when Dean tossed you the keys to fetch the supplies he already had packed after he wanted to take a quick sweep of the place to make sure it was really abandoned. You shoved the key inside the lock and opened up the trunk, you reached inside to pull out the duffel bag that on most days you could handle. As you yanked out the bag, you didn't realize how heavy it was, causing you to nearly stumble to the ground when gravity decided to play a part again. You were about to get a face full of dirt, but before you could, you felt someone reach out and grab the bag and then took the other to wrap an arm around your waist. Sam was quick enough to catch you before you could fall, but it took you a moment to realize how close you were as the result.

 You didn't realize Sam was at least a few inches from you, giving a rare chance to stare into his eyes, which always were a bit interesting to you. On some days that seemed green, but other occasions, in the right light, they looked blue. The both of you spent a few moments in this position as a bashful smile began to spread across your lips at the embarrassing situation you had landed yourself in. Sam let out a nervous chuckle and started to give you a smile, but the moment didn't last very long, as it was ruined by Dean's obnoxious attempt of clearing his throat. You quickly stood back up straight as Sam took ahold of the bag. Dean rolled his eyes, turning his back on you as he let out a quiet chuckle, finding the situation a little too amusing for his own good.

 All of you headed into the house and found the staircase to the basement, as Dean traveled first and you trailed after, leaving Sam to be the last in line. You cautiously made your way down the steps with one hand wrapped around the flashlight and the other carrying the shotgun loaded with nothing more than rock salt. Nothing seemed to have popped out as you took the final step down to the basement floor, you continued on your travels, wondering where Isaiah Pickett buried his ex lover’s body. But you found your search going quiet when you looked over your shoulder to see that Sam was having a bit of fun on the job. You furrowed your brow slightly when he was bent over at the waist with the shotgun, pretending to aim at invisible ghosts.

“Boo-yah!” He whispered to himself with a smirk. “Master chief in the house, bizatches!”

 “Feeling all right, Master chief?” You teased the younger Winchester, finding his behavior a little bit strange. But nevertheless you gave him a smile, trying to keep up with the lighthearted attitude he seemed to have been trying out. Sam nodded his head as his cheeks began to grow a bit rosy from the flashlight you had on him. You turned forward and continued on walking through the basement, until you stumbled upon a spot on the floor that wasn’t dirt like everything else. “Well, I’ll be damned. Willow moss.”

 “Yeah, right.” Sam agreed with you. You looked over your shoulder again to see that he was standing across the way from you and Dean, but he could see the shallow grave and its lightly green moss from where he was standing. “It’s, uh, supposed to grow over witches’ graves, right?”

 Dean found himself looking at his brother a little funny, wondering why the man seemed a little unsure of the piece of information that he should have clearly known. The oldest Winchester brushed off the coincidence as nothing. He dropped the duffel bag to the ground and got to work himself on digging up the grave, knowing it was the first part of wrapping up this hunt. While Sam remained as backup, you watched as Dean got to work, your hands were full of the salt and lighter fluid, itching to get this hunt wrapped up for good. It took only about fifteen minutes before you could see bones peeking through the shallow grave were about to peek through. While the process unfolded, you had your back turned on Sam, not seeming to notice what sort of fatal consequences might lead to, as the man you had thought was Sam...wasn’t really him.

 You leaned your back against the wall, giving Sam a perfect aim of Dean, who had no idea what was about to come. The younger Winchester took the shotgun and aimed it at the man, little did he realize there wasn’t actual bullets in the chamber, just salt rounds. “Hey, man,” Sam whispered to what he had grown to realize what his brother. But he spoke too softly for either one of you to hear him. “I’m really sorry about this.”

 Before the man could pull the trigger, it seemed that he was about to meet Maggie Briggs, who wasn't too happy about what you were doing to her grave. Your head whipped over your shoulder when you heard a crashing sound coming from behind. Sam had been taken by surprise when the spirit had thrown him across the room and crashing into a shelf that didn't look too comfortable. You called out the man's name in a panicked tone, causing Dean to quickly stop what he was doing. He headed over his brother to help, as you followed behind to see if he was all right. Dean pulled the man to his feet and asked if he was all right. 

“Let’s get the hell out of here!” Sam shouted with a panicked tone.

 “Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Dean stopped his little brother from making an escape, silently wondering why he was acting like a coward all of a sudden. “We still got to burn the body, you idiot.”

 Dean gave his little brother a look, wondering why he had been acting so strange since last night. He began walking forward to the grave, it still had to be dug up a bit more before anybody could salt the bones. You followed behind the older Winchester to wrap up this a little faster. But you only got a few steps ahead before you found yourself meeting the same compromise Sam had just been in a few moments ago. You found your back being roughly thrown against the wall, knocking the air out of your lungs, as you had accidentally hit your head roughly against the wall, making your vision turn a bit blurry. Faintly, you heard Dean call out your name in a panicked tone, but before he could come to your rescue, the man had been thrown across the room, leaving Sam to somehow find the courage to save the day.

 You closed your eyes for a moment when your head felt the headache begin to form, little realizing the attention that was soon to be focused on you. You slowly parted an eye open when you felt like someone was staring at you. You realized a second later that it was Maggie herself, and she wasn't exactly happy at the early retirement you were putting her into. Without a weapon to protect yourself with, you shield yourself to keep the pain to a minimum. You squeezed your eyes shut, expecting to feel her wrath be scratching a message into your skin or throwing you against the room, but there was nothing. You dropped your arms to your lap as you opened your eyes to see that Sam was standing over the grave with a bottle of lighter fluid in his hands and a toothy grin spread across his lips.

 “That was sweet!”

 + + +

 There was no better way to celebrate a job well done than a few rounds of beer. You weren't much of a drinker, you preferred to sip on something more non-alcoholic, but you wouldn't pass up the chance to do a few shots with the boys to at least congratulate yourself. Dean pressured you into at least doing one before he ordered around round and soon disappeared himself, saying something about seeing a pretty face at the bar, and needing to scratch an itch. You blocked out what he was saying and pushed him away, letting him have a chance to enjoy himself, leaving you alone with Sam. Which was something that he had done frequently when the restaurant he chose wasn't some diner or greasy fast food joint. He needed his alone time, as you never complained about being alone with Sam. You always enjoyed his company, no matter what the two of you were doing.

You sipped on your drink and watched the man get to work, a smile crept at the end of your lips, wondering to yourself of how the man always managed to get what he wanted. The waitress that had been helping you since you got here brought over the round of shots that Dean ordered. "Oh, would it be too much to ask if I ask for a cheeseburger? Everything on it, extra onions." You asked the waitress as you gave her a smile.

 “Absolutely, sweetheart.” She said as she cleared out the empty shot glasses.

 “Ooh, that—that sounds good. Ditto.” Sam joined in on getting himself an early dinner. “But make mine a bacon cheeseburger. And hell, why not put a fried egg on top?”

 The waitress nodded her head and walked back to the kitchen to put your orders in. You slowly glanced over at the man sitting across from you, his behavior over the past day was starting to grow more stranger, and this was just the final straw for you. "Okay, who are you and what have you done with Sam?" You questioned him with a serious tone. You looked at him straight in the eye, making him look at you with a slightly panicked look, as if you had caught him red handed. You raised a brow slightly as he shifted around in his seat. "Bacon cheeseburgers now? That's not like you, Sammy."

 "I don't know. I eat them, don't I? Anyways, we are celebrating." Sam said, managing to divert the conversation as he lifted up his shot glass.

 “Yeah, I guess.” You agreed with him. You grabbed your own glass and lifted it up, you gave him a small smile. “Another one bites the dust. Nice work today, like always,”

“You too. I had a, uh, really awesome day, Y/N. Seriously." Sam said. You reached out to lightly clink your glasses together before you downed your shot with ease. Sam, however, struggled a bit to make himself shallow it before letting out a rough cough from the burning. "Whoo! Sweet."

 “A really awesome day?” You found yourself lingering on what the younger man had said. Sam wondered what the fuss was all about when he managed to take another sip of his beer to wash away the taste of the shot. "It was a random, d-list ghost hunt. That's...that's awesome to you?"

 “I can’t be in a good mood?” Sam questioned you back.

"Yeah, I guess. It's..." You trailed off, trying to reason with his attitude that was all foreign to you. But you looked up from your drink, stopping yourself from taking another sip. "No, actually. In all of the time that I've known you, it's really not your style, Sam." 

"Well, then, it's a new me. I mean, come on. Why shouldn't I be happy? I've got a gun, I'm getting drunk, and I look like this." Sam gestured to his face, making you let out a quiet chuckle from his attitude. You bit your bottom lip as he let out a quiet sigh, finding himself getting lost in a small rant. "I don't know. You ever feel like your whole future is being decided for you. No matter how much you fight it, you can't stop the plan. The stupid, stupid plan."

"Not particularly." You said, knowing exactly what he was talking about without him needing to say it directly. “But I like to pretend I'm a pretty understanding person."

"So, I don't know. I guess it's, uh, it's just nice to do a little ass-kicking for a change, that's all. I've got a brother that's totally cool. And a best friend who's probably one of the prettiest and coolest chick I've ever met.” Sam found himself lost in his rambles, and without a warning, he let something slip out that you weren't expecting to hear in about a million years. Your eyebrows shot up in curiosity as the man suddenly began to turn the darkest shade of red you've ever seen. You tried covering your mouth to keep the small chuckles from his behavior to a minimum, but the grin that was peeking out from the cracks of your fingers was unavoidable. "Uh, you know what? I—I'm drunk. Sorry. Just—Just forget it. I'm making a complete ass out of myself, aren't I?"

 You swallowed down a laugh at what you heard, it was something that you would have never expected to hear from the younger Winchester, as he looked a little mortified. It was something that was starting to make you blush a little bit, but you brushed off the confession as a tipsy compliment. "It's, uh...I'll drink to that." You reached out to hit your shot glasses against his, enjoying the very rare moment together with him. As you swallowed down the shot with ease, you couldn't help yourself at how much the alcohol burned his throat. “Hey, is it me, or are we actually drinking together?”

 “We don't do it that often, huh?” Sam asked, a small smile spreading across hips lips.

 You shook your head as you reached for the straw to your drink, you stirred the ice around, making it quietly hit against the glass cup. “Not really. Most of the time when we’re alone it's because Dean abandoned us with the research. Not a lot of time for...just hanging out.” You said, shrugging your shoulders. “Guess it's just perks of the job.”

 “Well, we should do this more often.” Sam said. He seemed more lighthearted today. Maybe it was from the three shots he took and a beer he drank, but you were starting to find this new Sam very interesting, to say the least. “You're a pretty cool girl, Y/N.”

 “Sam Winchester thinks I’m pretty and cool? Well,”  You snickered at your attempt of teasing him as you reached for your drink to take another sip to cover the laugh you were about to let loose. “You really are drunk.”

 The waitress disrupted the moment between you and Sam when she arrived back with your food, the smell alone made your mouth water. You thanked her before she headed off to attend the rest of her customers, and as you reached out to grab one of your boiling hot fries, it was Sam that stopped you when he spoke up. “No, but I mean it, Y/N. You really are a good person.” Sam voice was trying to be serious, yet it was soft enough, as if he was trying to tell you something more. You gave him a smile of appreciation, finding his words rather touching. He rarely spoke to you like this, wanting to keep things between you professional. But it made something spark in you to hear that he thought of you as a good friend. Sam reached down to take a bite of his burger, which soon turned into a man who had never eaten one before in his life. “Mmm! The bread alone!”

You shook your head as you let out a small laugh from his reaction, it seemed that he wanted to steer away from salads for a while for something his brother would have picked. It's not like he needed to try and work so hard. The both of you talked while you slowly ate your meal, mostly he kept the conversation on normal topics as Sam let you do most of the talking. He was a good listener,  you told a few stories about hunting on your own before joining the boys and even about when you were still in school. Things between you haven't been this personal before, as over the past year, there hasn't been much time to have a little heart to heart. Maybe it was the inner girl that was making you blush ever so slightly at this moment.

 Sam had met a lot of different hunters through his life of hunting, and you were sure he’d met a lot of pretty girls during his time, some which might still haunt him to this day. He told you briefly about a girl named Jess when he was in college, both of them had been going steady until she was killed in a fire that was caused by Azazel, the yellow eyed demon who ruined the boys life. And then he had said there was another woman named Madison that he briefly started to take a personal liking for. But whenever you tried walking about it with him when it was brought up, Sam gotten all defensive, immediately wanting to change the subject. You didn’t press on any further, and from the conversation that Dean casually brought up at lunch yesterday, Sam wasn’t looking for anything serious. He might be young, but he was a drifter, with no intentions of settling down.

 The both of you continued on eating in mostly light talk, focusing mostly on the atmosphere that seemed different than normal. You kept your gaze mostly on your plate, but whenever you glanced up to take a drink from your beer, you noticed that he was staring at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. And when your eyes happened to wander over to him, he would bashfully turn his head away, as if he was trying not to get caught. You looked at him from the corner of your eye and raised a brow, curiously wondering what he was up to. Sam opened his mouth to try and say something, and while it came out as “Uh...I, um—So…” He attempts soon died off when he decided the effort was worth it. You gave him another chance, thinking it might have been something important, but he shrugged it off as nothing.

 “We’re good friends, right?” Sam asked you out of the blue.

 “I would hope so. I mean, I spend almost every waking moment with you and your brother.” You said, a small chuckle escaping you as you took another sip of your beer. You slowly let your laugh die off as Sam kept staring at you with a serious expression, you licked your lips. “Why?”

 “And what about Dean? Are you two dating?” You found yourself choking out your beer when you made the mistake of taking another sip. Sam’s question took you by surprise, causing you to let out a laugh if you weren’t in the middle of washing down your dinner. Dean might have given a few the idea that you might have been a couple from how many things you had in common, along with the constant teasing he brought on. But he was like your older brother. You only saw him as another hunter. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“What possessed you to ask that?” You wondered as you managed to clean up any sort of liquid that escaped your mouth.

 “Uh, I was just wondering.” Sam said, shrugging off your concern. You balled up the damp napkins and glanced up to see him smirking to himself, as if he'd gotten the exact answer that he was hoping for. He quickly snapped out of thoughts and looked over at you. Pointing a finger over his shoulder, he suddenly needed to leave. "I'll be right back. I'm gonna go release the hostages."

 “TMI, Sammy.” You muttered at him. You gave him a playful wink as he gave you a weak smile, he made a mental note to himself not to say that again if he wanted to keep this going. You watched as he headed for the bathrooms that were right behind you in the bar, disappearing into the crowd that was slowly starting to grow bigger as the dinner rush started to arrive. You kept yourself busy by reaching for your beer as you reached for your phone. You patted around in your pocket where you always kept it, but you noticed that it was gone, you thought you might have left it back at the motel. As you reached out to eat one of your lukewarm fries, you noticed a hand was being greedy at stealing what few remained. “Get your own fries, Winchester.”

 You slapped Dean's hand away, making flinch back at what you'd done, not exactly you to be so territorial of your food. You smiled in victory as you popped another fry into your mouth. “So, how's your little date with Sam going?"

 You rolled your eyes at Dean’s cheap attempt at of trying to tease you, which had turned into an ongoing theme over the past few months. One night you gotten drunk with Dean at a bar, trying to be his wing woman so he could quit whining about the dry spell he was having. The town you were staying in didn't have what he was looking for, so it ended with the both of you enjoying each other’s company and drinking until the room started spinning. While you woke up the next morning with the absolute worst headache, Dean felt completely fine, he even told you about what you had rambled on about while you were under the influence. He mentioned something about how you thought his little brother was smart, handsome and a total catch. He’d been harassing you about it until this very day.

 “Just peachy. He confessed his love to me and we’re going to get hitched in Vegas. Wanna come?” You asked him as your voice dropped with sarcasm. He let out a slight chuckle as he leaned against the table to and sipped his beer. You could see the shake of the head and he rolled his eyes, obviously not amused with your answer as you had been. “What are you getting at Dean? Sam’s my hunting partner. I—”

 “Oh my God. You two are so much alike it's creepy sometimes. He said the exact same thing.” Dean muttered. You furrowed your brow and looked at him with a slightly confused look. The Winchester quickly eyed the bar, taking notice his brother was spending a rather unusual amount of time in the bathroom, giving him the perfect opportunity to play matchmaker. “Look, I’m not dumb. I may have a terrible track record with women, but I know puppy love when I see it. And Sam’s just oozing with it when he's around you.”

 “No, he's not.” You brushed off what Dean had said to flick a piece of hair out of your face and looked around the room, trying to find anything just smallest enough to start a conversation.

 “Yeah, he does. You're just too stuck in your head to see it. I mean, you know how many times he told me how much he enjoys hunting with you? Or how smart you are? He tripped over himself trying to not make an ass out of himself when he first met you. Granted, he really wasn't himself back then. Still...he told me himself of how much he likes you. I mean, really likes you. The guy hasn't been like this about a girl since…” Dean told you straight of how his little brother viewed you. When you heard him trail off, you could see the bit of happiness spark in his eyes, hopeful something good would come of this from what he was about to say. “Well, Jess.”

 The name took you by surprise, as you knew how much Jess had meant to Sam. She was someone he had met during his few years at Stanford, the woman he was going to marry after tagging along on a hunting trip when their father went missing. He told you a little bit about her, and while it had been a bit painful to remember, he was at peace for what happened. But Sam was head over heels in love with the woman. The woman he wanted to spend a normal life with. You were a hunter, someone that was compatible with if this day continued on turning out to be Twilight Zone episode.

 “I’m sure he said those things to be nice—”

 “Sweetheart, my brother is a lot of things. But one thing I know about him is that he becomes a truthful son of a bitch when I get him drunk. He told me while you were doing that solo hunt down in Pennsylvania. He said how worried he was about you. Then...it all came out. You should have seen it. It was cute to see him admit that he's crazy about you, Y/N. Dean said. You inhaled a deep breath from what you were hearing as a small smile spread across your lips. “The only reason why he hasn't made a move is because of this whole apocalypse. What might happen if somebody gets wind that Sam likes a girl. He's scared of you getting hurt. But I saw screw that. Life's short. Get what you want.”

 Dean’s words were for more the just you and his little brother, it was advice that he could have used a month and a half ago. Jo was her name, while the both of the hunters had flirted back and forth, things took a tragic turn when her life ended. But Dean was right. Hunting wasn't a career you did for a few decades before you retired. One day you're hunting, the next you're dead. If Dean was right about this, which, why would he lie to you? He had grown to be like your surrogate big brother. The man wanted you and his little brother to just be happy.

 “Okay.” You admitted, knowing there was no point in denying the feelings you had for the man. You only lived once, and Dean was right, you had to get what you wanted. “I’ll ask him out first. We’ll take it from there.”

 “Atta girl.” Dean gave you a wink as he turned around to nudge your knee with his own.

 So you waited for Sam to get back from the bathroom. And waited. And waited. Fifteen minutes or so passed when you looked over at the clock to see what was taking the man so long. Your nerves were beginning to get the best of you. What if he said no? God, what if he said…”I like you, Just not like that.” Which you would respect. You let out a quiet sigh, knowing your mind was getting the best of you. If it was meant to be, it’ll happen.

 Dean had headed back to the bar a few minutes ago to get a refill, thinking he was going to be here a bit longer after some pretty brunette came walking in here by herself. You looked over your shoulder to see where Sam could have been, maybe he was at the bar himself trying to get another round, but he wasn't there. You furrowed your brow and looked straight ahead, from where you were sitting you had a perfect view of the exit. Strangely enough, you spotted Sam’s hard to miss large frame heading for the double doors. But he wasn't alone. You could feel your stomach drop when he was being pulled out by a woman that looked to have had a good fifteen years on him. He caught your gaze, and in a surprising move, the man gave you a grin as he pointed his thumbs up, as if you should have encouraged him.

 “We’re gonna do it!” He whispered with delight.

 You looked at him a bit funny, but you managed to snap yourself out of it, not dwelling on the sheer second of happiness that you once thought could have been. Your mind began wandering, thinking about how strange Sam has been acting over the past day and a half. It wasn't because he didn't reciprocate the same feelings as you when he decided to go off with that woman. It was how bad at driving he suddenly became, the attitude. Hell, the drinking and eating a burger was all out of character for him. And you doubt Sam going off with that woman was a way of making you feel jealous. Suddenly you didn't feel so sad anymore.

+ + +

 He didn't return until midnight. Sam, whoever this person was, lurked in the darkness of the motel room, trying to find his way around. He fumbled a bit, but never managed to wake the sleeping body in the bed. The stranger found a loaded pistol just lying on the untouched sheets, a smirk spread across his lips, silently thinking to himself of how easy this was going to be. He never shot off a gun before, but he’d never been six foot four before with a masculine body. Today was all about doing the unexpected. He took a few timid steps forward to the bed, unaware of the chair, and put his finger on the trigger. He sucked in a breath and pushed down on the trigger, preparing himself for the noise that was to come.

 But there was nothing. Nothing but a faint clicking sound. Gary furrowed the man’s brow and tried again, thinking it might have gotten jammed. Still, nothing.

 Suddenly he felt a grip around the barrel of the gun, and before he could realize what was happening, someone punched him directly in the face, taking him by absolute surprise. He felt one of his legs swing up from behind him, making him panic slightly as he thought he was about to fall backwards, but someone grabbed ahold of him by the collar of his shirt and sent him forward to a much lower level. His eyes adjusted to the darkness to see that he was staring directly at a familiar face, it was you. "You're not Sam." You hissed at him, he could hear the venom dripping in your voice as your eyes narrowed on him suspiciously. "Who the hell are you?"

 “Ow!” Gary shouted, affected by the pain that quickly settled in.

 You weren't feeling sympathetic from the punch, you were going to do far more worse things to him than you could imagine. Gary could tell from that scary look on your face that his gig was up. But before he could try and explain himself, there was a sharp pain to the back of his head, and his vision went black.

+ + +

“You have thirty-eight messages.”

“This is gonna sound crazy—really crazy—but, um, I think I’m in the wrong body.”

“Y/N, the guy right next to you and Dean is not me!”

“Y/N, check your friggin’ voicemail. Damn it.”

You cradled the motel phone against your ear, listen to just a few of the voicemail that had been left on all of your cell phones, which had magically seemed to disappear from sight. Dean took a few minutes to see if this pubescent voice that was on the other line claiming to be the younger Winchester explain what was going on. Dean stood next to you and watched the body he tied to chair, slowly beginning to come back into consciousness. You looked over at Dean and nodded your head slowly, informing that you had gotten the same kind of messages. Your first guess at what was going on was demonic possession, but Sam's tattoo was intact, and his body didn't react to the holy water you'd splashed on him. And he wasn't a shifter when you pressed a silver knife against his skin. Sam appeared to be himself, but he wasn't...himself. This was some weird, "Freaky Friday" stuff if you had to give your honest opinion.

 "All right, pal." Dean started talking when you hung up the phone, not needing anymore evidence to figure out that something dangerous wrong was happening here. He walked forward to the man that appeared to be his brother as he slowly rose from consciousness. "Either you start talking or I start waterboarding."

 “Oh, my God. Please, don’t hurt me. Please! I’m sorry!” The stranger wasted no time in pleading for his life, thinking you would have actually done something to hurt him. You would have, but you didn’t want to ruin such fine packaging. “I’m so, so sorry!”

 "Okay. Hey," Dean was taken back himself at how easy the kid gave up in defeat. He leaned over and slapped a supportive hand on his shoulder, it only made the stranger jump in fright, thinking he was going to harm him. "Pull it together, champ."

 “I don’t want to die.” He muttered as his eyes glazed over. “I don’t want to die.”

 “Where’s Sam?” You asked the stranger, not beating around the bush.

 “In my—my friend’s basement.” The stranger explained to you. “His parents are out of town.”

 “Parents?” You repeated after him, finding the answer was nothing you would have suspected. You slowly looked over at Dean as your brow furrowed even closer together. As if things weren’t getting any weirder, you decided to figure out who this person was that was walking in the younger Winchester’s skin. “How old are you?”

 “Seventeen.” He told you.

 Your eyebrows shot up from the answer you would have never guessed, "Seventeen? You’re a—”

 Before you could finish your sentence, you could feel yourself being thrown across the room, giving you a sensation of weightlessness, but the feeling only lasted when your body roughly hit not a wall, but the mirror of the dresser. Shards of glass pricked at your skin as you landed on the carpeted ground, you could feel it for a moment, your other senses were being bombarded with too many things at once. Your head was pounding as a trickle of blood seeped out from your wound. The sound of someone shouting your name could be heard, all before Dean was thrown into the same predicament. It seemed there was a special guest who wanted to make a terrible first impression.

You winced in pain as you tried to roll over on your back to figure out who the hell managed to get into the motel room without you or Dean realizing it. Whoever it was sure wasn’t here for good intentions. You sucked in a breath and forced your eyes open. From across the room you noticed a teenage girl was standing right next to Sam, but it wasn’t hard to see from the inky black eye color and how she was talking about promises, she a demon. She didn't waste anytime in freeing Sam's body from the ropes and helping up to his feet. You noticed her back was turned to you, without thinking of the consequences, you forced yourself to move to your stomach, so you could army crawl to the duffel bag that just so happened to be lying on the floor.

 It seemed the demon was here strictly for business, but this was more than just about some measly demon deal. The kid switched bodies with Sam because he wanted to be all mighty and powerful, in exchange, he would take Sam's body to the Devil himself so he could get exactly what he wanted. It'd be a win, win. But it seemed the kid was having a bit of cold feet as he tried to back out of this. It seemed playing with dark magic had its downfall. You snatched the demon knife out from the bag and pushed yourself to your feet, thinking you might have a chance at taking her by surprise. You didn't want to really hurt the poor girl as your arm swung up just in time for the demon to figure out what you were doing. But you never really had a chance to feel that regret when she grabbed you by the arm and threw you against the ground.

 “I was having a very important conversation. Didn’t your parents teach you manners, little girl?” The demon asked you, as if you were going to respond. You found it comical that she viewed you younger, as she was possessing the body of a teenage girl that was at least six years younger than you. But the demon decided to show her strength in choosing a young meat suit when she started kicking your tender stomach, not caring for the little noises you were making. You pretended to endure the pain, little did she realize that you were mumbling the fifty words of latin that would save the day. Yet it was getting harder when she didn’t stop. You stuttered the words, but it seemed the stranger knew a thing or two.

 You could feel the pain in your stomach suddenly stop when the demon realized the person she’d been working with turn against her. The man that took over Sam’s body continued on with the exorcism, focusing the demon’s attention over to him, and then getting the wrath that was brought from trying to send the black-eyed bitch to Hell where she belonged. She grabbed Sam by the throat, but you didn’t let her hurt the man. You managed to push yourself to your feet, and working through the pain, you finished the exorcism, before somebody could be left with more than just bruised and cut up bodies.

 You smirked at the demon with blood stained lips, "Adios, bitch."

“Uh,” The stranger looked over at you, deciding it’d be the best time to correct your Spanish. “It’s Audi nos.”

+ + +

 The man that you had been spending all day and late last night with wasn't in fact Sam Winchester, but a teenage boy named Gary Frankle. He told everything that had happened before his friend had come back around, thankfully, unharmed from the possession. She was curled up on the motel bed with a soft blanket around her. You sat next to her and gave you a reassuring smile. The girl was obviously freaked out from everything that had happened, as she learned a valuable lesson about dabbling with Satanic rituals for something that wasn't much worth it. Being a teenager was far harder than you remembered. At least you knew the consequences of what would happen if you tangled with demons and the Devil himself.

 Sam had came back to the motel after somehow getting himself out of the bonds Gary’s friends had tied him up in. It seemed that being a scrawny teenager had its advantages. Now the two sat in the middle of the floor, trying to reverse the damage that had been done. Gary sprinkled a bit of the herbs he needed into the pot, continuing on with the ritual as he changed something in Latin you didn’t quite understand. You reached up a hand to shield your eyes when a bright light suddenly filled up the entire room for a brief moment before fading away.

 Sam looked down at himself for a brief moment as he lifted up his arms, trying to remember what it felt like to be in control again. You watched as the man pushed himself to his feet and headed over to the mirror, wanting to see it with his own eyes. "So," You pushed yourself slowly to your feet as you quietly hissed in pain. "We all good?"

 “Yeah. We’re good” Sam said. The real Sam that you have missed over the past forty-eight hours was in his own skin again. You felt yourself growing a small smile, happy for everything to be back to normal. “Oh, man, it’s nice to be back.”

 “Yeah. Awesome.” Gary muttered. He obviously wasn’t too pleased to be back to his normal physique that was nothing like the younger Winchester's, but it was a lesson he learned. The teenager pushed himself to his feet and turned around to face you and Dean. You crossed your arms over your chest and looked at him straight in the eye. Oh, the trouble he was in. But Gary thought some half-assed apology was going to be enough to get him off the hook. “Yeah. I know—my bad.”

You let out a chuckle as you raised a brow from his answer. "Oh, kid. You have some nerve. ‘My bad’ ain’t gonna cut it. The things you put us through over the past few days…”

“You deserve a good ass kicking, kid. But we’re not monsters. See, if you were of voting age, you’d be dead. Because we would kill you.” Dean told the kid straight out. Gary was taken back from the answer. He looked over at you with a bit of surprise, thinking you might have been trying to scare him, but you nodded your head at the plan if he were just a bit older. “So either you straighten up and fly right or we will kill you. Are we clear?”

Gary vigorously nodded his head, “Crystal.”

"Good. Now get out of my sight." Dean said. Slipping a hand inside his pocket, you felt your arms stretching out so you could catch the keys to the Impala when Dean decided to throw them in your direction. "Y/N, take them home. I'll clean up this mess."

"Wait, really?" You clutched the cold metal in your hands, feeling like Dean had just handed you a million dollars. Baby was his most prized possession. He wouldn't let anyone drive it, not even you. But it seemed that he was starting to warm up to the idea.

 "Yes, really. Only on two conditions. You don't crash her, 'cause I will kill you. And second, life's short. I know it's what you've been dying to do." Dean said. You clutched the keys tighter, knowing exactly what he was trying to do. You gave him a small smile, the man returned it with a wink when his little brother wasn't looking.

+ + +

It started to rain when you slid yourself into the driver's side of the Impala, but that didn't let you stop from enjoying every single second of this precious car. Nora gave you directions to their friend's house, where his dead body still laid. You told them a bogus story to tell the police, that should have been enough of a punishment for the both of them for what they did. When you saw the house Gary pointed at to you, you slowly pulled the Impala into the driveway, cutting off the engine. All of you slipped out of the car and back into the pouring pain. You clutched your jacket tighter, watching as Nora began walking to the front door, Gary lingered behind, still pouting at the life he was forced to go back to. 

“Gary, look.” Sam stopped the teenager, deciding it wouldn't hurt to leave the young man with a few words of wisdom to help cheer him up. “Take it from someone who knows—chin up, man. Your life ain't that bad.”

 “Uh, you met my parents.” Gary said.

 “Yeah. So what? It's your life. You don't like their plan for you, tell them to cram it. Rebel a little bit.” Sam said. “In a healthy, non-satanic way, of course.”

 “By the way,” You leaned over the car to give the younger man a piece of advice coming from the opposite gender that he probably still had no clue of how they functioned. You nodded your head at Nora, who was quietly waiting for Gary, and gave him a smile when the both of them made eye contact. “You know why Nora’s into witchcraft? She doesn’t like Satan, you moron. She likes you.” 

"Really?" Gary asked, a little taken back at the assumption. A small smile spread across his lips as he bashfully looked over at his friend. "You—You think?"

 "She followed you into making a deal with a demon and then got possessed by one. Yet, she's still friendly towards you. Yeah," You nodded your head to give him the reassurance he was hoping for. "I think she likes you."

 "I'm telling you, kid—I wish I had your life." Sam said. Gary honestly didn't believe the man, but it seemed the younger Winchester was truly envious of the lifestyle he was never given. "Get out of here."

 Gary gave all of you an apologetic smile for the trouble that he had caused before he was joining his friend. When the two of them disappeared, you looked over at Sam, just as the rain began to pour down even harder. “That was a nice thing for you to say.”

 “I totally lied. That kid’s life sucked ass.” Sam admitted a second later, you let out a quiet laugh from his honest response. Not everything was what it was made out to be. You watched as Sam decided it was time to get inside the Impala after he was starting to get soaked from standing out in the rain for too long. You followed not too long after him and got back into the driver's side. “All that apple-pie, family crap? It’s stressful. Trust me—I didn’t miss a damn thing.”

 "It's not all that bad. I mean, sometimes I miss some aspects of it." You retorted back. Sam looked over at you, a bit thrown off guard from your response. You outstretched your arms and placed them on the wheel. "I mean, I know I'm never gonna have the white picket fence and kids. That’s just the consequences of hunting. And I'm fine with that. But there’s some things that I can still feel from my old life.”

 “Like, what?” Sam asked.

 "Like...have you ever wanted something so bad, but you were afraid to go after it? You were so scared of what might happen, you just keep yourself at the sidelines. I mean, I'm a damn good hunter. I can go just after anything/ But this is...This is stupid." You found yourself somehow going off course from what you were about to say. The words were at the top of your tongue. You've practiced them during the entire drive here. It sounded so easy in your head, but getting yourself do it was so much harder. When you found the courage to look at Sam, he was amused from how you were acting in front of him. He asked you what you were talking about to try and see what was making you so flustered. “It’s just...seeing Gary and Nora. It got me thinking. That’s all.”

 “About what, Y/N?” The younger Winchester pressed you a bit harder. You looked over at him to see that his expression had changed. It turned into a softer one, like how it always did when you and him got speaking into deeper conversation. You still kept your lips pressed shut as you slightly shook your head. “Come on. Nothing you say is stupid. You can tell me anything and I won’t look at you any differently.”

 You tightened your grip around the steering wheel, the words he told you fueled the fire in your stomach that was starting to grow with butterflies. The rhythm of rain hitting the roof of the Impala chimed in with your rapidly beating heart. You turned your head slightly to look at Sam from the corner of your eye, you took notice of how handsome he looked with his damp hair pushed back after he ran his fingers through it. Biting your bottom lip slightly, you let out a sigh, knowing you were going to regret what you were about to do. But like Dean had said, if you wanted something, you had to just go get it. You couldn't die with regret.

 Sam opened his mouth to try and tease the answer out of you, thinking it was something stupid about your teenage years. He was going to make a remark about you being into some satanic stuff, but he never quite got the chance to even let the first word out. He felt himself leaning slightly back in his seat when he felt your weight shift onto his body. Without a warning, you pressed your lips against his, giving into the desire that had been growing in you for over the past year and a half. You felt your eyelids flutter shut, enjoying the sweet taste of everything about him, along with the rain droplets that had remained on him. You wanted to stay like this forever, but reality came on knocking, and you realized what the hell you were doing.

 “Oh, my God.” You muttered underneath your breath, cowardly pressing yourself against the driver's side door as your eyes began to grow big. You didn't realize you had decided to launch yourself at Sam. Ever so slowly, you looked over at the younger man to see what sort of deviation you had caused. You could feel your cheeks ignite with fire at the sight of him staring at you with widening eyes, not sure of what happened. "Oh, my God. I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. It's just...You—No, Gary. I'm an idiot for listening to your brother. He told me that you really liked me. And I really like you. Then something about going after what you wanted. So I thought, what the hell? It's just...this is stupid. I'm so—"

 You tried your hardest to apologize for what you'd done, thinking you had ruined a friendship and hunting partnership. You wanted to crawl out of the car and die in a corner, but it seemed that Sam didn't a chance to show you how he was going to respond. Your words became muffled when you felt his lips coming down on yours after he turned your head to look at him. The second time around of kissing Sam Winchester was so much better. You felt yourself melting into his embrace as your eyelids fluttered shut, enjoying every single second of this moment that you thought would never come. Sam kissing you back was a good thing, right? Or how he opened his mouth and slightly growled when he tried pulling you closer to him. You'd hadn't had many chances at kissing different boys, but one thing for sure, Sam was the absolute best. He wouldn't let you go, disregarding the fact that the both of you were still in Gary's driveway, and you were running out of air in your lungs.

You pressed your hands on the man's chest, giving yourself a moment to enjoy the feeling of foreign territory, but that's not why you were touching him there. You managed to get yourself out of the hunter's grip and inhale a deep breath that you'd been needing. You stared at him with half hooded eyes and tried your hardest to figure out what you were saying. But you weren't exactly sure. You were concentrating on the sight of Sam with slightly swollen lips, and how his chest kept heaving up and down as he tried to catch his breath.

 "Nothing you do is stupid, Y/N. You're one of the, if not, the smartest hunter I've ever met." Sam spoke up, a small smile spread across your lips at his compliment. He knew there was more to say as he shifted around in his spot when the cat was out of the bag. "And...y-yeah. I do like you. It's just, people like me—we don't get happy endings. I’m not a good person. There’s things about me that you shouldn’t have to see. The people I love tend to die pretty viciously."

 “Sammy, you tend to forget that I’ve seen you at your very worst. I’ve seen you when you were hooked on the demon blood. I know you’re supposed to be the Devil’s vessel.” You said. Sam winced slightly at what you had brought up, as they weren’t the man’s best moments. Reaching out a hand, you squeeze his. “But that doesn’t mean you’re getting rid of me that easily. I would kind of like to see what could happen if we don’t let the world end.”

 “Who says we have to wait until it’s over?” Sam asked.

 You glanced over at the man to see that he was staring at you with a smirk. It didn’t take much for you to lean over and press your lips against his, deciding for this moment, you would forget about the world around you. You didn’t realize how cramped the Impala was, but with a quick shift of the seats, you were sitting comfortably in Sam’s lap. You gave him a soft giggle as you bent down to press his lips against his, wanting to spend a few more minutes on the theory that Sam was a good kisser. As you were barely millimeters from his, you stopped at the sound of a phone going off. You leaned back and looked at Sam with a confused expression. You thought all of your phones had been thrown out, all except for one. The younger Winchester managed to have found a single flip phone that had managed to slip underneath the seat. As he flipped it open to answer, you heard that it was Dean, and he wasted no time into what mattered.

“I’m guessing the reason why you two are taking forever is because you’ve finally come to your senses. And while that’s great and all, let’s get one thing straight. You guys bone in my car, and I’ll kill you. Now, get your asses back here.”

[priceforrottenjudgement]

ok, i’m rewatching TST and writing down everything that bothers me. part 3

1:00:00 onwards

part 1: [X]  part 2: [X] 

long post

-sherlock is easy to follow apparently. aj was not able to follow mary, but he found her through sherlock. is that sherlock blaming himself?

-john watson always wanting to talk about everything. john?!

-when mary tries that “it was always the four of us” spiel aj responds very cynically. not that much of a family then?

-considering her earlier outburst, mary looks pretty chill after being told someone out of her ‘family’ was tortured to death

-his captors forgot about him for six years, but he didn’t starve or died of thirst? and was still able to pick up ‘whispers’? why didn’t they kill him after he wasn’t “fun to torture” anymore? i’m calling psychological reconditioning.

-”every day as they tore into me. amo amo amo” yeah, reconditioning.

-was all of this based on a misunderstanding or was it conscious misdirection to make aj act like this?

-mycroft, walking wikipedia, not picking up a word in latin?

-john obviously sees that he’s being hypocritical about the ‘so many lies’ thing.

-john is always so much more smug, cocky and flirty in sherlock’s mind. is sherlock really making all of this up?

-btw who took the pic from john’s lockscreen? it wasn’t mrs hudson, bc they’re not looking into the camera. did sherlock take the pic with his phone and sent it to john?

-what is that smug little playa grin supposed to mean? john is NOT like that.

-e... eeeeee... are there any female characters from doyle canon starting with e?

-he sends hey, not hi.

-the texts from bed don’t start with ‘hi’ either. but sherlock usually ends his with SH. maybe it really is harry watson? then again the ‘miss you’ reminds me of moriarty’s ‘miss me’

-i don’t think it’s sherlock sending these, but maybe they’re something he wishes he could send?

-the texts he sends from the bus sound waaay guiltier and not playful at all. but ‘it was nice to get to know you a little’ implies at least some correspondence. so maybe the texts in bed really were from the woman?

-she looks dejected and understanding even before he sends the last text, she couldn’t possibly have read it yet.

-also the big bad of this season LITERALLY looms from the poster behind her. can’t ignore this

-what doesn the poster say? HE’S BACK; Business; it’s murder (?) in the...???

-mary is the key to solving the case, “They know eeeeverything”

-was john going to tell mary about the bus woman before they got the texts? also: why did they get the textx almost simultaneously??

-sherlock send a riddle to mary, only john got the exact location? but both knew where to go? how did mary know?

-so the old lady also has an obsession with sharks and just so happens to be sitting there waiting for agents all the time. what a feckeng coincidence.

-the lady sees agents as sharks. sherlock sees sharks as predators. agents are predators?

-”couldn’t have chosen it better myself. then i never could resist a touch of the dramatic.” sherlock is calling himself out. is this the confirmation that all of this is just happening in his head?

-how many times does someone say “i knew this would happen someday” this ep? the destiny thing again.

-”you are very sure of yourself aren’t you?” “with GOOD reason” ouch this hurts when you know what he’s going to say later on.

-and again the samarra thing. to me that’s the biggest proof for the mind palace/coma/dream theory. they cannot possibly all have this story at the tip of their tongues at any given moment. that just makes no sense.

-sherlock is too cocky in thinking he can manipulate the secretary and it ends badly.

-”maybe i can still surprise you” this is either sherlock @ himself: don’t be to sure of yourself or it is the authors telling us to suspect a big twist.

-”come on, be sensible!” “nah, don’t think so.” boy, they gonna do something big.

-why is sherlock not moving? mary had the time to jump, why didn’t sherlock move? is that him scolding himself for hesitating?

-norbury says “surprise”, but doesn’t look surprised at all that mary would do something like this.

-john didn’t see anything and doesn’t have any context.

-mary’s goodbye sounds incredibly textbook. like she practiced it.

-what is she saying? “hey sherlock, i still like you, did I ever say?” is she saying that?

-look, i love mary, but this death doesn’t make me sad, because i knew it would happen and it just feels so..... weird? idk how to explain it.

-”you were my whole world. mary watson was the only life worth living.” i’m sorry but ive heard that exact sentence in different versions at least 20 in different movies. its so ...fake?

-I needn’t say how ooc john blaming sherlock is to me, there have been a lot of posts about this

-lestrade’s and mycroft’s looks though. we know from tab that sherlock instinctively knows that the both of them will always be there for him, i think you can see this here as well

-we don’t see the funeral, just a coffin burning (blue flames) and john walking across a graveyard, pacing in his home, ignoring his phone

-then, almost like waking up, we hear ella’s voice while still seeing john’s face. maybe we are just now waking up from the ‘reoccuring dream’

-so i have two theories. either most of what we see in the ep was a dream or mindpalace and ella is real or it’s the other way round and sherlock is hallucinating her in his mindpalace, trying to help himself cope with everything (would explain why the office looks different). it looks like they’re in an attic, maybe a metaphor for ‘head’?

-mycroft’s fridge is pretty empty, but he has lots of stuff sticking to it, what’s ‘13th’ supposed to mean? or is it 13.00, can’t read it

-yay sherrinford. who may be a girl.

-the baloon john is still there, but deflated, hanging from the table

-ouch, sherlock using ‘norbury’ to keep himself in check, bc he’s so afraid of fucking up again

-miss me? is moriarty’s catchphrase and mary knew that. was kind of cruel to use it.

-judging by mary’s hair this video is not very old at all

-telling that we do’t get to see john’s note, but molly’s ‘you don’t need to read it now’ makes me think that the content is either hurtful or should be kept a secret

-the way molly repeats ‘anyone’ makes it sound like john also stressed it when he told her what to tell sherlock. maybe it’s a clue? or maybe im just grasping straws here

-again samarra and sharks

-idk, but her ‘go to hell, sherlock’ doesn’t sound all that hateful to me.

soooooooo, in conclusion. the major motifs of this ep were: sherlock feeling insecure and hating himself for his arrogance, is destiny inevitable? and an upcoming plot twist. oh and that everything is impostant, but should be taken with a grain of salt.