#in almost every version of this story he fixes his mistake and he dies at the end. he dies happy.

[aunmenosheteroenespanol]

Bobby Nash + David Kushner Burn

[boldlyvoid]

Million Dollar Man | chapter two

18+

summary: Spencer's therapist recommended he branch out and meet new people who don't want to talk about his work... she didn't expect him to sign up for a Sugar Daddy website.

Content warnings: sugar daddy!spencer, age gaps (14 years), daddy kink, blow jobs, kissing, drinking mention, lowkey perv!Spencer, cum play, praise, oral (female receiving), grinding, love confessions, arrangements, Spencers anxiety, (more to add)

word count: 3.4K

a/n: updates on Wednesdays and saturdays at 2 pm est

Chapter Two | Masterlist

She sat on the subway with an anxious pit in her stomach and her purse held close to her chest. Her laptop in her bag, she didn’t want to lose it on her way to the most important meeting of her whole life.

Her story was becoming a book, she was almost done the final draft, they were making touch-ups to the cover and picking the type of paper today.

Her dreams were coming true within the next month, soon she’d have a physical copy of her book, her pre-sales were showing that she’d be on the bestseller list, and her name was finally going to be on the cover of this one.

She sighed and reached for her necklace, holding it between her fingers as she took a few deep breaths. She was doing so much better today than she was last year and it was all because of Spencer, he was the best thing to happen to her. To think she complimented his sweater vest and now he’s the only person in her life she can count on.

All she can think about is him for the rest of her journey, through 4 more stops she keeps her eyes closed as she thinks of all his little facts and his cute laugh. She smiles to herself and the anxiety slips away, she loves him and she knows that for sure, but she just doesn’t know how she loves him.

She’s never had a sibling, her best friends are all women, her previous boyfriends were all shit and her other sugar daddies were never this wonderful, and her parents are lesbians… she doesn’t know what her feelings really are for Spencer, mainly because she’s never known any other men to compare him to.

But she does know the exact moment she realized she fell for him.

He booked a hotel room in DC after a local case, asking her to meet him in there at 10 pm. She was waiting in the bathtub when he arrived, bubbles galore, her hair up and arms open, “welcome home, honey.”

He laughs, “you want me to get in there with you?”

She just nods, “let me take care of you, daddy?”

He takes off his blazer, pulls his tie off and starts to unbutton his shirt. She watches patiently as he gets undressed, and it’s not sexual to her. He’s her person, her best friend, the only human being she would ever share a moment like this with and that’s when it hits her.

She doesn’t accept it just yet.

It’s not until he’s lying on her chest, between her legs, cheek resting on her boobs as she runs a sponge over his back while he gives her a little run down on his terrible week. His co-worker almost died, his mom is stressing him out, the only good thing he has left is her and she knows that.

“And then I get to my moms facility and she’s had a really good day, she knows me and she knows all of my childhood again and she’s all right there in front of me and yet she’s so far away. I’m never going to get all the time I want with her and it’s really hard to accept.”

He shares things with her that he doesn’t even tell his therapist. Because his therapist doesn’t hold him like a child against her chest and tell him he’s okay when he get’s upset.

Y/N loves him, so she kisses his forehead, “I’m so sorry, I have 2 moms if you’d like to have one?”

“It’s okay, I would love to meet them sometime though,” he wraps his arms around her waist a little tighter under the water. “Thank you for tonight.”

“Did I mention my leg is 44 inches from hip to toe?” She asks in the middle of the silence, quoting pretty woman, knowing he hasn’t seen that far into the movie yet. “So basically we’re talking about 88 inches of therapy for the bargain price of $800 dollars a week.”

Her legs wrap around him and their naked bodies are closer than they’ve ever been and yet it’s completely platonic, “I’d spend a million dollars on you if it always meant feeling this good after.”

She runs her cheek along his wet hair as he snuggles into her neck, “mmm, I like the sound of that,” she teased. “My million dollar man.”

Her stop rolls around and she pulls herself out of her day dreams to get off the train and head to her meeting. She smiles as she walks through the station, up the stairs and onto the busy downtown streets when she gets a text with Spencers special chime. She opens it when she gets to where she’s going, safely inside and in the waiting room.

It makes her laugh in the waiting room. People look at her but she doesn’t care, he’s so special to her she feels butterflies in her stomach even when he’s not around.

“Y/N!” She hears her name being called by her editor, he’s over ecstatic as he comes running out to get her. “Come, come we have so many choices to make!” He jumps up and down as he holds her arm, like a child in a candy store.

“Andy, chill man,” she laughs at him and plays it cool, “It’s just the cover being finalized.”

“It’s our baby!” He teases back, pushing his glasses up and tugging her behind the glass doors of the office.

She’s surrounded by people and paper and huge versions of her book cover. She has a sharpie as she fixed mistakes and jots down final ideas. “And I wan’t Phil to look more human and less like data from Star Trek?”

“But Dorothy looks okay?” The artist asks, nervously and Y/N can tell.

“She looks beautiful! You really brought her justice,” she smiles, “really she looks the same in my head! It’s just Phil and I’m sure it’s tough getting a drawing to look like a robotic human, let alone human.”

“I have some ideas?” She opens up more, taking her iPad out and sliding it across the table, “I wanted to give him more of a Sophia feel? His face is silicone but his joints and everything are more like an Elon Musk crash dummy.”

“That’s perfect!” She’s shocked, “why didn’t that go in the first draft?”

“I was worried it was too much,” she’s a little older than Y/N, and yet her anxiety is that of a teenage girl. “I’m going to get working on the final, do you want some emailed versions tonight?”

“Yes please,” she smiles.

“So we’re done?” Andy asks, “we’ve made all our final calls?”

“I believe we have,” Y/N closes her laptop and takes her phone out, taking a photo of the final rough sketch of her book cover on the table to send to Spencer before he comes to pick her up. She can’t wait to see him now.

—

They’re sitting side by side in matching spa robes, he’s getting a pedicure while she gets her nails done. Leaning back in her chair with a face mask and cucumbers on her eyes, she’s never felt more relaxed in her life. And just in time too, her back was killing her from writing, her knuckles hurt and she just needed a break.

Spencer did too, he was genuinely not having a good time at work anymore, every case made him spiral and he always looked to Y/N on days like that. They met more than once a week now, she got $800 every Friday and she didn’t even really need it anymore. He was coving for so much of her bills and lively hood that her savings account was growing and growing because of him.

For the first time in her life she thought she would be okay if a man left her. As terrible as it was, as much as her moms tried to raise her differently, she fell down the daddy issues rabbit hole and she’s never going to find her way out— however, luckily for her, Spencer is down here too, and he brought a flashlight.

He understands her, more than anyone else on earth. He knows all her secrets, every crush and bad grade and snide remark she’s ever kept to herself. He didn’t judge her, he could actually listen to her issues and tell her why she had them. He gave better advice than a therapist and he was able to get information for her if he didn’t know the answer to what she was going through.

He’s absolutely everything to her and yet he’s 14 years older than her, he’s still traumatized beyond belief, he’s sad and ashamed and recovering… but he’s the best man in the whole world and she wishes he could see that. If he just looked at himself from her eyes, if he felt how she did in her soul when they were together, he’d love himself.

They’re too relaxed to drive home, and Spencer knew that would happen beforehand, bringing her a change of clothes (lingerie) and that robe me mentioned. He books a hotel above the spa and takes her to it. Arms linked as they enter the suite, she’s amazed to find more than one gift bag on the bed.

“How many gifts is this now?”

“We’re at 5 out of 24.”

She laughs as she wraps her arms around him in a thank you hug, “this is what you consider 4 gifts? Spencer there are like 8 things on the bed, let alone the massage and manicure?”

“If you think this is too much I guess you’re going to get really mad next week,” he teases as she looks up at him with a surprised look on her face.

“Spencer, I am so busy next week, I cannot be galavanting around with my sugar daddy,” she tries to act like she doesn’t want to go on an adventure with him again.

The last trip they took was the best week of her life. They went to all the historical sites in the UK that she and Spencer had talked about. Mainly old churches and castles, strange poets graves, random art and most importantly; stone henge. It was a trip of a lifetime and he took it with her.

“I watched the rest of Pretty Woman the other day,” he smiles, “and I thought I’d pull an Edward Lewis and really surprise you because you deserve it.”

“You know how the movie ends, right?” Her heart beats really fast in her chest and she wants him to love her so bad but it’s also terrifying now that she’s this close.

“He lets her choose,” he whispers.

“He rescues her,” she corrects him.

“And she rescues him right back,” he really did watch the end of the movie.

It makes her heart skip a beat as she swallows sharply, “what does this mean for us?”

“I have a whole plan, a whole sequence of events I want to stick to. I wanted to make you fall in love with me this week and ask you on your birthday, can we still do that?” He pleads with her, he’s so serious. He’s clearly put a lot of effort into this.

“Absolutely,” she smiles, “but if you’re going to make me wait that long for you to ask, you still can’t kiss me till then. No matter how much I already love you.”

“Really?” He’s so soft with her, she knows he’s not reacting to the teasing. He’s never had someone tell him they love him and then stay after.

“I would never lie to you about that, spence. I know what love means to you, I know how scared you are and I’m scared too. But I know there is no one else in the whole world I’d rather be scared with than you,” she holds him tighter and rubs her nose against his, “so what’s in the bags, daddy? Finish your surprise.”

She plays along perfectly, stepping back and hauling him towards the bed. “I got you some outfits and things for the next 2 weeks, we have a few things planned. We’re going on a flight soon, I have new luggage being delivered to your apartment this week and we’re going to see your moms for 3 days.”

“No,” she shakes her head, “there’s no way, Spencer, I haven’t seen them in 5 years, I’m going to cry.”

“I know,” he cups her jaw with his hand. “They’re really excited to see you.”

She hugs him tight, kissing his neck as she holds him. “Thank you, daddy, do you want me to put something on for you now?”

“I’m just going to take it off you, plus, what your wearing is sexy enough, he whispers back. “You’re always so beautiful, baby.”

“I thought you were saving the best for last?” She asks as she pulls back, overly eager and he can tell.

“I want to repay the favour from the other night.”

She doesn’t mean to gasp and yet she does, “please?”

He pulls on the tie of her robe, opening it enough to snake a hand behind her back and draw her in with a hand on her bare back. “Please what?”

“Please, daddy?” She looks up with her best begging eyes, perfect pout and all. “I want you to touch me, I promise I’ll be a good girl.”

He steps away from her to swipe all the bags off the bed before picking her up and laying her back against the pillows. He kisses down her body, hand on her lover back as she arches, he drags his bottom lip from her belly button to her cleavage. Nipping and sucking at the exposed skin on her chest, pulling her breasts out of the bra to suck on her nipples, she moans and it’s louder than she expected.

As she plays with his hair, he marks her, bruising small little love bites all the way down as he makes his way between her legs, “take me, please?”

He’s been dreaming of this for so long, he can’t even give you an accurate number of times his mind has drifted to the thought of how wonderful she would taste, how beautiful she’d sound…

“Tell me how badly you want me?” He asks as he spreads her legs and kisses her left thigh.

“I haven’t had sex in 10 months while waiting for you. Daddy, please you’ve owned me for so long, just take what’s yours already for gods sa- OH!”

With a broad lick, his tongue flattens against her core and it shuts her up. She gets what she wants, holding into his hair as she tosses her head back, taking it all in and enjoying it. He’s been on her mind for months, every time her vibrator was where he is now, she thought of him. he’s been the man of her dreams longer than she’s known him, and he was proving it.

“Right there, daddy,” she speaks through shallow breaths, “do you know how much I’ve thought of this?”

“You know I don’t,” the vibrations of his voice against her skin are glorious, he looks up at her through his lashes as his tongue flicks over her clit and she shakes a bit.

“Fuck,” she gasps, gripping his hair tighter, “better than I thought you’d be, fuck, too bad you— Jesus, don’t have the stash anymore…”

He stops and looks up at her, the smirk on his face glistening with her juices, “the stash?”

She nods, “I’ve thought about calling it the pussy tickler,” she teases, running her hand down his cheek and swiping her thumb across his bottom lip before bringing it up to her mouth to taste, “I want more of you.”

He kisses back up her body and she reaches for his robe the second he’s close enough. “Just grind against me? I know you’re waiting but we can still feel good together?”

He kisses the side of her mouth and she takes that as a yes, wrapping her legs around him so his hard cock is pressed right against her core as they move their hips in synchronicity with each other. His breathing is heavy as he kisses her cheek and jaw, her nails scratch down his back, he feels absolutely amazing against her.

She feels so empty, she wants him so bad she’s clenching around nothing as she squirms against his cock and wishes she was full.

“I wish I could move time,” she whispers. “Fuck, why can’t it be my birthday?”

He laughs against her, grazing his teeth over her neck and drawing another moan from her but then he stops moving his hips, “why are you so impatient?”

“Remember I said I stopped enjoying everything? Well, taking a 10 month break from sex and thinking about you every time I got off has made me desperate,” her hand cups his cheek, “I’d wait forever for you, but a girl needs to be fucked hard every once in a while.”

Only she could find a way to make something both profoundly beautiful and whorish at the same time, he loved her for it and she knew that now. He smiles and leaned in to rub his nose against hers and it takes everything in her not to kiss him. The same way it was taking everything in him not to slip into her as he began to grind against her once more.

She’s so close, the accidental edging has added a whole new level of desperation she’s never felt before. She wants to cum for him so bad, but more importantly she wants him to cum for her.

“Take my bra off,” she whispers, Spencer’s hands travel behind her back to unclasp it and he helps her out of it before tossing it to the floor.

“Cum for me daddy,” she whispers in his head with a hand in his hair, gripping him tightly as he bites at her neck, “cover me with your cum like you’re marking your territory.”

“Shit,” his hips sputter against hers.

“Say it, I know you want to,” she teases, so close to the edge but it’s too good of an opportunity. She loves seeing him fall apart like this and she can’t wait to see it again. “Who’s am I?”

“Daddy’s girl.”

He grinds down on her harder and faster and she’s so close, the bubble in her gut is reaching a fever pitch and with a gasp, she’s cumming and then she feels it. His load covers her stomach as he pants against her neck and grips her hips tighter as he comes down.

She wraps her arms around him and holds him as close as humanly possible, her breathing still heavy as he rises and falls on her chest. He’s heavy but she doesn’t care, she just kisses the top of his head and thanks him.

He brushes his nose against her neck, nuzzling her like a cat, “do you really mean it?”

“What, honey?” He remembers so much, this could be a question about something she said 2 months or 2 minutes ago and she has no clue.

“You’re not just playing along with my kinks right, you genuinely want to be mine?”

For being her million dollar man, his heart sure was broke. This is why he wasn’t ready, he still didn’t understand why she would want to stay without anything in return, he’s gotten so used to paying her for her time now that his anxiety has managed to convince him that she’ll leave when he stops being worth it to her.

“What does my necklace say?” She asks, knowing how close he was to it. “Read it to me, I forget.”

“Daddy’s girl,” he smiles again.

She soothes her hands over his back, “I would do anything with you because I love and trust you, but also because everything you do is sexy… you could read me the dictionary and I’d still want you to pump me full of cum after.”

“It sounds so crude after,” he laughs, “speaking of, we really need to have a shower.”

“I’ll wash your back if you wash mine?” She teases as he gets up.

“Only if you let me wash the front too?”

She smacks his bare ass and races him into the bathroom, turning on the water and getting in with him while still laughing and carrying on. He’s her best friend in the whole world, there’s no one else she would rather do this with… there was no one she has done this with. No one has made her feel this good, before during and after sex.

Spencer Reid was an anomaly, but he was hers.

Permanent tag list:

@g0lden-cth @doctorspenceryeet @samuel-de-champagne-problems @reiding-recs @shemarmooresfedora @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @blanchardsbk @idonotexiste @measure-in-pain @dreams-in-blxck @doc-padfoot @nomajdetective @mggswhorificlover @dinonuggets1967 @meganskane @gubeskneescrew @kya-li @reidsbookclub @muffin-cup @sassymoon @shirleyrose

Sugar daddy fic (Some tags didn't work)

@mggs-sidehoe @bakugouswh0r3 @mggskneescrews @moonlight-2-6 @spencerreidscumwhore @my-thoughts-are-weird @violetclifford @youabitchhhh @bunny-script @baby-i-am-fireproof @moondustmemories @rexorangecouny @minervaonmars @onlyhereforthefanfics @anonymous-reading @go2sleepducky @kingcrain @beepbooptoop @givemeth @emma-is-a-nerd@wrecky-becky @eternalspence @ne--yo-pets @valerieweasley @coldlilheart @andiebeaword

[adhdeancas]

Dean Winchester (and the script leaks last night) possessed me to write this.

Dean happens upon Chuck's latest book: Carry On. Except it ends differently than it really went, and the ending? It's really fucking bad.

tw: suicide mention, transphobia (quickly shut the fuck down) 

Dean doesn’t make a habit of going to bookstores. Not because he hates books, contrary to what Sam might think; he just prefers to buy used books. There’s something comforting about a book that has already been worn and read over and over, that already shows how much the previous owner loved it. Plus, y’know, big corporations are evil and all that. And Dean only allows himself to overlook that when his stomach or his wallet wins over his hatred of the shitty mass-produced products. 

This time it was Jack who won; he’s obsessed with this new fantasy series and the new book just came out, so there’s no way he can hunt it down on Ebay. He makes his way to the fantasy and sci-fi section, eyes roaming over the displays of new releases, and his eye catches on something that turns his blood cold. 

“Supernatural: Carry On, The Final Book of the Winchesters’ Epic Journey” takes up a whole table, the generic and overly serious cover jeering out at him. 

He storms over to the display, anger covering up for the way his body feels light as a feather and like lead all at once, and picks up a book. “Why is Sam always fucking shirtless?” he mutters, the only thought that allows itself from the mess inside his head to his mouth. 

“Book sales.” A voice behind him says. He turns to see a teenager with their arms crossed over their work polo, pierced lip fixed into a customer-unfriendly frown.

“People want to see that?”

They snort, a small grin turning up the corner of their lips. It reminds Dean of Cas. “No. But that’s what advertisers think all ‘women’ want,” They use air quotes. 

He raises an eyebrow and asks. “Women?”

They shrug and uncross their arms, leaning back against the display table behind them. Their nametag says Jadyn. “Supernatural’s biggest block of readers is queer. I’d go out on a limb and say a lot of those the marketers think of as ‘women’ aren’t, or if they are, they aren’t itching to see Sam’s six pack.” Jadyn smirks. 

Dean takes a second to digest that, then grins down at the book, thinking past Sam’s apparently badly-received nudity now. “So how’d they like it?” he asks, waving the book a bit and looking up at Jadyn. Apparently they know a lot about the fans of the books, and for once, he’s proud of the way the story ended. 

Jadyn’s face sets into all hard lines. “Most people fucking hated it.” they say bluntly, then, probably remembering that he’s a customer, correct. “Sorry. I mean, it got some good reviews, mostly from people who like Wincest, but beyond that, it had some problematic plot points.”

Dean winces at the reminder of the ship between him and his brother, then scrunches his whole face together in confusion. “Wait, what? Why?” Why would Wincest fans like it? What was problematic about their end?

Jadyn shifts from foot to foot. “I don’t wanna spoil anything for you-”

“I don’t care about spoilers, just give me the short version.” Dean says quickly. A quiet panic is rising in him, and suddenly he has a horrible feeling that he’s not holding the truth in his hands anymore. 

“Uh, okay… Well, the most obvious thing is the bury-your-gays thing, then there’s the fact that it completely contradicted the rest of the lore. And it was ableist, misogynistic, and messed up, like, every character’s arc.” they take a breath, clearly worked up by it. “Even if they changed any of the details too, it was all built on Dean’s death, and that’s just bullshit. Sorry.” they apologize again, apparently mistaking Dean’s stricken expression to be in reaction to their rant and swearing. 

“No, nah, you’re… you’re okay. Uh, thanks.” he waves a hand and wanders away from them, only remembering Jack’s book when he’s almost to the register. He manages to make his way back and find the damn thing, but he’s still in a fog when he gets to the register. 

“Did anyone help you in the store today?”

“Huh?” he looks up and meets the middle-aged cashier’s gaze for the first time. Brent, from the nametag, looks at him impatiently. “Oh, yeah, uh… Jadyn. Jadyn helped me.” Brent scoffs and starts typing with a shake of the head. “Uh, is there a problem?” Dean asks, a little annoyed at this cashier’s unnecessary attitude. He usually doesn’t care if an employee’s rude, because they have to deal with assholes all the time and honestly Dean isn’t much better, but this one gives him a bad feeling. 

“No, no, sorry. It’s just - “Jadyn’s” got this idea that he’s a girl. Makes everybody call him that name now too. Just-” Brent shakes his head. “I mean, you get it. Their generation, everybody wants to be special.”

Dean glares. “No, I don’t get it, Brent.” He says through gritted teeth. “Seems to me like Jadyn probably deals with enough assholes like you that her asking for a little basic decency is the exact opposite of special. Sounds pretty normal, actually.” He can see the fear creep into Brent’s eyes, and he knows the cashier is reacting to the murderous look in his eyes more than his actual words. 

Brent hands Dean his bag of books with a quiet, “Here you go.”

Dean snatches it away. “Oh, Brent?” he checks over his shoulder to make sure they’re alone and then leans across the counter into Brent’s space. “You should find a new job, one where you don’t have to interact with other people. At least until you learn how to stop being a piece of shit.” He starts to ease away but thinks better about it. “And if you think that’s a suggestion, it’s not. My husband likes this book coming out next month that I’ll need to buy, and if I see you here when I come, well… it would be really embarrassing for you to tell all your little friends that you got your ass beat by a ‘special’ guy, huh?” He pats Brent on the cheek condescendingly and leaves with a huff. 

Damn transphobes. 

He only remembers the book once he’s back in Baby, and he takes the time to drive out of town before he pulls over to read it. It’s an old abandoned church, the cross long since fallen from the roof and the doors hanging off their hinges. He sits on the steps just because being in Baby seems claustrophobic for once in his life, and going back to the bunker to look at this is just… not happening.

Dean only skims the beginning to see that it starts the same. The ground erupting with bodies, hell spitting out its most-conveniently placed nasties, Rowena sacrificing herself, Cas leaving. His throat closes up at that, at Chuck’s description of Cas’s heartbroken expression as he climbs the stairs of the bunker. He clears his throat and skips to the end, right past Cas’s death that he doesn’t have the time to think about right now, past them defeating Chuck and then stops. He goes back a few pages, trying to find the disconnect. 

The story’s different.

After Jack takes on God’s power, in the book, he’s totally fine. Not almost vibrating out of his skin or anything, not crying like the three year old he is because he’s scared. Not like it really happened. He just smiles and leaves him and Sam, and they let him go. 

Dean scoffs, skimming over the story as it just gets more ridiculous. 

In the book, he doesn’t even try to save Cas. They barely even mention him. And they never mention Eileen, either. In fact, Dean notes disbelievingly, practically the only characters in the last few chapters are him and Sam. They’re hunting again.

“What, is Chuck trying to keep the series going?” he whispers to himself, anger flaring through him. They let Chuck live, and he decided to write obnoxious fanfiction about them? He’s gonna kill that shameless little fucker. For real, this time. He deserves it.

In the book, Sam and Dean torture some vampire mime, and they enjoy it. Dean cringes; this is really what Chuck thinks of them. Then they tussle with more vamps in a barn and- 

Dean’s brain stops working. He rereads the scene again and again. 

“There’s something in my… something in my back. It feels like it’s right through me.” 

Dean Winchester dies in a dirty barn, on a piece of freaking rebar. 

More than that, Dean realizes on his fourth read-through. This Dean? He tried to drag out his speech, Dean can tell by the way he pauses for fucking drama. He would never do that. He would never talk to Sam for fifteen hellish minutes when he could be trying. Trying to live, so he can actually get his life back on track, get his family back. No, he made that speech stalling. He made that speech so Sam wouldn’t try to save him. 

“You gotta admit, I had one helluva ride.” He was strangely calm.

Chuck made him kill himself.

Dean reads the rest of the book through blurry eyes, reading an ambiguous and nothing-ending, one where he’s somehow happy to be dead and driving around in heaven alone while Sam raises a kid into hunting and cries about Dean decades after he’s died. Eileen isn’t mentioned. Cas is mentioned once, and Bizzarro-Dean doesn’t even think about seeing him, apparently. The whole book ends with a hug between him and Sam, both dead. Both alone. 

Dean rips the ending up. He tears through the stupid paper covering and keeps ripping the pages up until they’re the size of confetti. His lower lip wobbles. He throws the whole thing against the side of the building, and it tumbles through the broken doorway and drops into a pile of dust and dirt. “That isn’t the fucking ending.” he grounds out, knocking his hand against the flimsy handrail. It gives a little under his fist and he kicks at it. “That isn’t the fucking ending!”

He’s having a panic attack. Again. He tries to take deep breaths, but they’re gulping, too big, they’re making him panic more. He scrambles back to Baby and grabs his phone, presses the first number on his favorites list and waits for him to answer on speaker phone.

“Hey Dean, what’s up?” Sam sounds like he’s been laughing. There are voices in the background, and Dean tries to convince himself one of them is Eileen. 

“Hey Sammy.” he chokes out, trying to sound normal. “You busy?”

There’s a pause, and then the sounds in the background. “Nah, Rowena’s just over.” he says casually. 

“So those voices in the background were-”

“Rowena and Eileen, yeah. They’re trying to convince me we need to go to Mexico. For the beaches.” A smile in his voice. Dean lets out a sigh of relief.  What’s up, Dean? You need something?” The smile drops, and Sam’s worried. 

Sam’s okay. Sam’s okay. “No, nah. Hey, you heard from Donna lately?” Dean just needs to triple-check.

“Uh, no, not since Sunday dinner… Dean, you okay?”

“Yeah, she just- she hasn’t been answering my texts. Just wanted to make sure.” Dean lies quickly. His breathing is still uneven, but his body is settling into uneven shakes. 

Sam sounds skeptical. “Yeah, well, she did tell us it’s been pretty busy at work lately. Y’know, everybody going out for the first time with COVID, getting stupid. Plus, y’know, nowhere’s drowning in EMTs right now.”

“Right. Yeah.” Dean takes a deep breath, a distant memory of Donna talking about that coming back to him.

“Pretty sure you were setting up a D&D session with Charlie while she was talking about that,” Sam laughs. Dean knows he means it as a subtle jab, but there’s too much relief flooding through him to care. Still, a string is pulled taut in him, and Sam can’t fix that completely.

“Gotta go, Sam,” Dean hangs up before Sam can say anything else, and goes to his next contact. It rings for far too long, and Dean’s heartbeat picks back up to thundering.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Cas,” Dean breathes out. “Cas, you know I love you, right?” He needs to test all the bounds of this, to make sure, just to make sure. Make sure Chuck isn’t still fucking with him. Because apparently, Chuck won’t let him be queer. Not in his story. Not out loud.

He can hear Cas’s eyebrow raise through the phone, and his chest is overcome with stupid fondness. “I would be a little worried if you didn’t.”

Dean grins widely. “Like, romantically. I’m in love with you. Because you’re the love of my life and I’m bisexual.” He says it all like it’s a checklist, like he expects some cosmic being to slap a hand over his mouth before he gets each next phrase out.

“Yes, Dean. We’ve been married almost two months.” Cas is smiling. It happens everytime he talks about their wedding. Dean adores it. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, now it is.” His whole body relaxes, still vibrating with leftover panic, but satisfied. “I got Jack’s book.”

“Oh, good. He’ll be so pleased.” Cas pauses. “Dean, are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Dean eases off the ground and sends a last look at the dilapidated church before climbing into Baby. “Just- read a bad book. I’ll tell you about it later. When I get home.”

[ectonurites]

My least favorite type of fic!Tim is when he’s portrayed as depressed/very mentally and emotionally unstable, but also at the same time as someone who is like lauded as being super dangerous/the most skilled or something like that?? Those fics where Tim is chugging caffeine and barely sleeping, but characters are still like “oh I wouldn’t wanna piss off Tim he is Dangerous” and that’s annoying enough but then there are fics that at the same time as that portray him as like on the edge of a breakdown. It’s very irritating even if I’m not sure I can articulate exactly why, it just really rubs me the wrong way. Like, I definitely do think Tim has some issues with depression and stuff, but in fics like those it’s treated more like a quirk sort of instead of a serious issue

LMAOO I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT i’m not a fan of that either. I’m apologizing in advance if I sound mean in any of this critique i’m about to give of that fanon version of him. I want to preface this by saying that people can write whatever the hell they want, like, they’re allowed to! And I’m not referencing/calling out any specific works here. Just trends. But I’m gonna bitch about some things I’ve noticed that annoy me, personally. (so again, not saying other people can’t enjoy this stuff! just. not for me)

so like sorry if im mean but this is just me ranting and also this is my blog anyways so:

(nobody take this as an attack on them please because it’s really not)

The problem is a lot of those fics seem to interpret Tim’s behavior in Red Robin (& especially like that last whole arc of his Robin run also by FabNic) as if that’s his normal, rather than the result of a few years of CONSTANT traumatic incidents pushing him to a breaking point (because while all the shit he went through with his Dad, Steph, Kon, Bart, and then Bruce dying was spread out over several years for us as readers, it’s regarded as like within two years in canon! It all happens when he’s 16 and 17. According to the Batman comic right after War Games, Jack was murdered only days after Steph died.

(Batman #634)

That’s a LOT to process for one kid jesus christ) 

I love Red Robin honestly, I do, but it is about Tim at the lowest points in his life. It’s the grand finale of Tim’s story, and everything crumbles, that’s kinda the point! The end leaves him in a position to either rebuild himself or fall apart. It’s all about how he chooses to continue after this point!

(Red Robin #26)

The way he acts and the things he does in that comic should be regarded as such. He can’t live the way he does in Red Robin forever or he will literally burn himself out/become something unrecognizable, like, jesus it’s kinda even acknowledged in the comic when he thinks about what his potential futures would be if he keeps it up like he’s doing:

(Red Robin #25)

He sees himself as dead, as Batman (which he has countless times said he doesn’t want to be and at this point in his history almost every time he’s seen a future he became Batman in he had become a killer), or needing to retire and taking over an Oracle-esque role, likely because he exerted himself too much to continue. 

When you look at him around this same timeframe when he’s not isolating himself/too deep into the mission and is instead working with his friends back on the Titans, you can see that he is starting to heal and work in a more positive direction. He’s choosing to work on coming out of this rough period by being together with his friends who he loves.

(Teen Titans (2003) #100)

Not to say that you can’t write about situations in which he doesn’t start to come out of it, but if you are doing so it’s something you should be taking seriously because that’s the idea you want to explore, not just acting like it’s perfectly okay or normal? (And again, there are a lot of works that do explore it in good ways, there’s just also a LOT that don’t)

Like, so much content I see just make any sadness and depression and tendency to over-work himself that’s rooted in his traumas (which! those do have a basis in canon!) into a quirky personality trait rather than a response to trauma. Acting as if he’s always been this way and it’s normal for him. That’s what bothers me. If people want to seriously explore the effects of all these incidents and how that plays into his ability to do his job as a hero, then hell yes do it! But when it all gets brushed off as ‘oh thats just tim, he just doesnt eat or sleep or feel any happiness but like its fine he’s just always been like that’ I feel my blood boil. 

This also often strikes me as related/tied to fanon’s seemingly never-ending quest to make Tim into this victim of so many things he really wasn’t. They make his childhood 10x worse than it actually was (yes he was lonely because he was sent to boarding schools rather than having his parents around, but he was NOT just left home alone all the time as a child. 

(Batman #441)

He snuck away during a school vacation week to follow Bruce one (1) time and to then track down Dick. This is established in his introduction story! PLEASE read Lonely Place of Dying!) and it just... going with those fanon assumptions as being true changes so much of how people characterize him! 

Some people will also (not to call out tim/kon shippers especially because I  literally am also one but) vilify the shit out of Steph and make their relationship out to be some abusive thing rather than just... a messy teen relationship between vigilantes because they had really complicated lives and baggage with one another? Which they both acknowledge they made mistakes in!

(Red Robin #10)

Or people will vilify the shit out of Dick in regards to the situation at the start of Red Robin, or literally just make anyone who Tim ever had a disagreement with out to be the bad guy despite the actual situations always being way more complex and multi-faceted than that.

And then on top of all that, aside from making him into this ‘im broken 24/7 and not doing anything to fix it also everyone around me is terrible to me’ type of character, because he’s a lot of people’s favorite, they also want him to be as cool and strong as he is at his high points. So they’re projecting all this stuff onto him that makes him what should be a barely functioning person but then also act like that’s fine and he’s able to be a dangerous badass on top of it. 

Like I’m sorry but someone who is going out and actively acting as a vigilante like that which is incredibly physically taxing is NOT surviving on coffee alone and no sleep. That’s literally not possible, he’d fucking collapse. (And like, again, if you want to explore him pushing himself to that point, that’s one thing! but acting like he can manage all of that for more than a few days at a time/maybe while working on one really tough case is nuts!) and like, even canon can be a little guilty of this type of thing particularly since the New 52 (Detective Comics 2016 had more than a few references to him barely sleeping, but at least they also made references to him eating normally/healthily and he wasn’t completely self isolating or anything) (and also that comic had him be so self sacrificial he was ready to die to save everyone and only didn’t die because of Mr.Oz’s interference, he’s definitely not in his best place there) but usually it’s still within some realm of possibility.

Also like. The fanon ‘chugging coffee to survive thing’ just annoys the shit out of me because, like, yes there’s a few moments in canon where he’s under a lot of pressure and pushing himself further than he normally would and had some coffee (one of the only times I can even remember him having it on panel is... oh... during that last Robin arc I just mentioned a little while ago shouldn’t be where you source your normal characterization of him because it’s a very difficult situation that pushes him further than he normally would go! huh!) But the thing is like, people play it off for laughs, or like it’s a normal thing he would do at any time in his life! If you want to explore him pushing himself and using coffee as a crutch, like, there’s ways you can write it that takes it seriously, but almost every time I see it come up in fics it is like a core part of his personality and just ‘oh haha silly tim always with his entire pot of coffee he must chug every morning or he’ll die :^)’ And that bothers the hell out of me. 

In general it’s just... people treat Tim so weird. They want him to be so many different things that he’s shown himself to be at different times for very specific reasons, except they want him to do all of it at the same time which just doesn’t work. A person can’t function like that, and it’s not even close to who he is in canon. 

Again, people can do what they want, and this is just my opinion obviously, but yeah. My two cents on the matter.  Read Lonely Place of Dying, read Young Justice, read his Robin run. Read his comics and get a feel for who he was before all the rest of his trauma, and see how he canonically reacts to it along the way. I know reading comics can be tough for some people but so much stuff just echo chambers and becomes barely recognizable in this fandom and it’s just... a shame when it happens with a character ya love. 

[jediofbooksandsnacks]

wounds

Each scar has a story to tell.

also on AO3

This is set after Kogami returns to Japan after Sinners of the System Case 3. Season 3 had not debuted when I wrote this, uhm, some time ago.

all my thanks to @whatsyourcolor, @sandypenguin6 and @saber-of-dreams for their beta reading skills. All mistakes are mine, and I’m not a medical professional so please tell me if I mixed anything up, yes?

~

The wan morning sunlight drew Shinya from restless sleep. The palm of his hand rubbed over his eyes as he blinked slowly awake, his legs shifting beneath the yellow sheets in the still bedroom. Everything around him waited, as though it had caught its breath in anticipation of something soon to happen.

He dropped his hand.

The clock said it was too fucking early for this.

Next to him, Akane slept with an unburdened face. Nothing pulled her mouth tight, nothing caught her brow and then vanished when he glanced at her. This waiting game was slowly driving him crazy, but he couldn’t push her. Not on this.

He sighed. Ran a hand through his messy hair, ran his tongue over his teeth. A deep breath had him sitting up, sheets falling to his waist. The bed squeaked as his feet met the floor and he rolled his shoulder to work out a kink as the nail marks she’d left behind twinged on his back. On the way to the bathroom, he picked up his abandoned boxer briefs.

Their night had been lustful, and he couldn’t remember when he’d tossed them aside and had buried himself in her, in her scent and her body. Time stopped when he was with her and he didn’t yet know if it was a blessing or a curse. The spigot washed soap from his hands over the low hum of water refilling the toilet. Their toothbrushes were in the holder, hers looked like she needed a new one. He spat the toothpaste out, rinsed. Decided to shave later. The cotton of his boxers was loose around his legs as he returned to the bedroom.

She’d shifted while he was in there. One foot draped off of the bed and her face was buried in a pillow, her mouth opened on a small snore. A print book was on her nightstand and a glass of water stood next to it, blurring the digital time on her clock. The bubble they created together, a place where their daily responsibilities were laid outside the door, slid through his thoughts as he lay back down next to the sleeping curve of her body.

A mole stood out against her pale skin, just beneath her left shoulder blade. Gentle fingers ran across it, trailing down the naked skin of her back. In sleep she rolled over and settled against him and the pillows, her brown hair falling across her face. It was soft as he brushed it back. The smell of chemical apples lifted from her shampoo filled his nose as he kissed her forehead.

The sharpness of her eyes, the curl of her hair tucked under her ear, the slope of her shoulder in the night; he wanted to fix this in his memory, the entirety of Akane, to recall in the long nights he knew were ahead.

In a few minutes she stirred and woke. The exhalation of her breath made goosebumps prickle his skin as her eyes blinked open to meet his. Flashes of a hundred things ran through her look, and he was struck by the fact that they could discover something new each morning ahead until they were old and gray and faced that last, final discovery; if he could only ask her. If they had that luxury. One hand touched his chest as she lifted herself and kissed his shoulder with her tired mouth. As she sat up, she gave out a jaw-cracking yawn while the sheets fell back and dim morning light caught on the smooth skin of scar tissue healed on her upper abdomen.

Evidence of the night before was in the bite mark on her shoulder, the hickey bruising her right breast.

“Be back in a minute,” she said sleepily and kissed him again before she got up to go to the bathroom. The fluid lines of her back bent as she picked up her own underwear and then closed the door behind her.

When the door clicked shut he lay back, his hand beneath his head. It was a struggle to still his mind and think of nothing.

The expectation of violence had been his life, as an enforcer and then as a guerrilla. Wars had been his purpose, and he was prepared at any moment to sacrifice himself for the good of something greater. But nothing, nothing at all, had prepared him for the way he’d died last night in her arms.

Soulmates, his destiny, the One; he hated that take. It was thoughtless. Regressive. It wholesale shattered the fire and blood and meaning each person struggled with to make a life worth sharing and replaced it with a ridiculous trick of fate. But that wanting hit on something as-of-yet unspoken between them. Something that was, for all of its ups and downs, inescapably true.

The bathroom door opened and her footsteps shuffled across the carpet. The bed did not sink quite so far as she slid into it again and curled her arms around his torso and managed to tangle her legs through his. One hand drew an absent line down his chest, and then back up, as her breath tickled his skin and her face settled flush against his neck. Cotton met his hand as it settled on her hip. Yawning again, her breath now minty fresh, she murmured, “How long have you been up?”

“Not long,” he said. Fingers traced up and down her back, making slow, steady progress.

She hummed. The midday deadline for his departure loomed in front of them and manifested in the ceaseless motion of her hands against the contours of his skin. Will they ever be free of the System and its demands on their attention, on their hard work, and on their sacrifices? Her fingers settled into a circle on his side, tracing from his hip to his ribcage and back again. Both of them handing in their resignations and retiring to a house in the countryside, like Saiga, almost made him mention it to her. But that hadn't ended so well for him, had it?

Absently, she kissed his chest.

Understanding their jobs and saying goodbye were two different things.

“When did you get this?” His hand skimmed across the puckered skin on her side, just beneath her ribcage. Dominators were her judge and occasional jury, but this looked like—

“I got shot while we were making an arrest.” Her hand curled in the center of his chest. “I was glad that Gino was there to pursue while Hinakawa radioed for help.”

Of course it was Gino. Gino and his steady presence, manifesting his own guardian enforcer version of Dime. For whatever else was going on, for whatever bullshit Gino was going through, Shinya knew that Gino would have been tempted to end those assholes for hurting Akane.

Gino’s one problem was that he fell into the trap of being Iago’s green-eyed monster. But Gino’s feelings towards Akane were that of an older brother looking out for little sis, and that hadn’t changed. Masaoka’s own role suited him, though Shinya was leery of saying that. Their healing relationship was still sometimes contentious.

“He’s a good friend,” she carried on, “though he’s always trying to be a warrior.” The motion of her hands on his skin made him shiver; she traced one of his scars with gentle fingers.

“You seem to attract them.” The conversation he’d had with Hanashiro many months ago resounded in his head.

Eyes bright with knowing insight sparkled in her otherwise obviously controlled and clearly quite serious face which was in absolutely no way fighting a smile. “Detective instincts.”

A more secure him would not draw her close and kiss her. A more secure him would not fight a battle with himself about any of this, hue be damned. A more secure him would say the hell with it and ask her to--

(Still.)

One of her legs came high, her warm knee brushing the hair on his thigh as they lost themselves in a long, slow kiss. When it ended, her hands fell into her habit of retracing his scars. The bullet slash on his neck, the deep cut on his chest, the mottled skin of a one on his side that had healed slowly and needed better medicine than they had available.

“I can feel that,” he said to break the silence, “but at a remove.” Her waiting eyes watched him, so many questions looming unanswered between them.

“I know.” Fingers splayed over the wound, briefly erasing the mark from their sight. Beneath the warmth of her hand, though, he felt that dead zone, that place holding his marked history. Only parts of that story had come out since he’d been back, something he felt almost a pull to tell her and bring reality back to their plastic and Hue-cleared world. Someday he’d tell her more. But not now.

He threaded his fingers through hers. Kissed them. The sorrow in her smile held grace as she laid her head on his shoulder.

Could he turn time back to that first click of the loaded gun? Does the passage of time only heal wounds, or set them in deeper? And how can you find absolution when each morning dawned on a fresh battle with your own demons?

He’d met people like that. He fought back against it every day.

Shinya buried his nose in her hair, inhaling lab-created apples once more. Fingers ran over her back as he set those thoughts aside as he murmured, “I’m not dead yet, you know.”

Contrite, she hummed. “Are my thoughts that clear?”

“I know you.”

“You do,” she sighed. “Then I’ll see you when you return.”

“Only if you make the same promise.”

Her nose pressed into his neck, her mouth gave him a light kiss beneath his jugular. One hand slid down to her hips while the other traced her back, his own body responding to having her so close. The curve of Akane’s hip sloped down beneath his hand, and on his way back up he brushed his fingers over her stomach and abdomen and between her breasts before he brought them to her jaw. Ran his knuckles along her cheek, kissed her nose.

Trust and worry warred there and something deeper. Darker. But there was nothing they could say unless they opened her own tightly closed doors.

And how could he push through them, when his own had opened barely a crack?

Her face was only inches from his own when he caught her lips in a kiss.

Notes:

[secret-engima]

*kicks down door* WHO WANTS TO READ ME RAMBLE/RANT ABOUT THE GRALEA LEVEL IN FFXV AND WHY IT ACTUALLY WAS A GOOD LEVEL AND EVERYONE SHOULD PLAY THE NOCTIS ROUTE AT LEAST ONCE RATHER THAN THE GLADIO ROUTE EVEN THOUGH IT’S TERRIFYING AND FRUSTRATING.

No one?

WELL TOO BAD.

(Unless you haven’t played or watched the game yet and don’t want spoilers in which case TURN AWAY NOW).

...Ahem. *deep breath* Okay so I will forever stand by my opinion that chapter 13 of the game (the one that takes place on the train and then in Gralea) is Good™ and does exactly what it's supposed to in the narrative. That is not to say I don't hate it with a passion and didn't cheer when they added the Gladiolus route for those of us (like me) who didn't want to replay the Noctis route again, but I will stubbornly insist to anyone that wants to listen that the chapter's difficulty and wildly different tone and pacing was THE POINT of the darn thing and deserves some respect for it.

See, the game up to that point is, if not always lighthearted (because it's not), has still been something of an Adventure Story™. Yes there's horrible tragic things like Insomnia falling and Regis dying, but for the most part the gameplay is exploration and cool combat mechanics and the relationship between the four brothers. It's ... happy for a good chunk of it. There's this light at the end of the tunnel, this comfy assurance that there can be a happy ending, that this can all be fixed and tied up in a neat little bow somehow.

Then Altissia happens. Luna dies, Ignis is blinded, and the game puts you on literal rails, forcing you to go hurtling toward A Different Tone. Everyone is stressed, everyone is scared or angry. You’d THINK that this is the lowest point of the story and that surely there’s going to be an emotional reconciliation between Noctis and Gladio and then we’ll get back to exploring and saving the world and all that jazz.

Except we don’t.

The train scene with Ardyn and Shiva happens, and the entire heartbreak with Prompto happens, and that’s when things start to seriously crack. You lose all access to your magic while stuck in this narrow train, then you lose the Regalia, your symbol of freedom, your main way to travel through the game (even when you fast travel, the animation of arrival shows you getting out of the Regalia). You are now trapped in Gralea. In dark, hostile territory with one of your party missing, one of them blind, the other angry at you, and still no magic. Then a few minutes later you are forcibly separated from the rest of your party, the characters you’ve spent all game getting attached to, and leaning on, and laughing with. They are your last anchor points to the brother dynamic that has kept the whole game on a lighter note and now they are GONE. You have none of your weapons or skills, you have no idea where the others are (first time playing the game without spoilers anyway), you have NOTHING. No hope. No backup. No distractions from the fact that, oh yeah, this is a story where the Bad. Guys. Win. Are winning, have won, and all Noctis (all you) can do is take out the Ring that slowly killed Regis, that Luna died for, the thing that represents everything going wrong and all NOCTIS must do to fix it even when he is painfully, woefully unprepared ... and finally put it on. 

Noctis (and by extension you, the player) MUST shoulder the responsibility of being the king of a lost kingdom, of acknowledging that he IS the king, his dad was MURDERED, and Luna was killed for the thing you are now wearing and everything it means. It’s your only option until you eventually find the dead Ravus and take back Regis’s sword toward the middle/end of the level, which you can’t use recklessly because every swing drains your very life-force, forcing the Ring to still be your “best” option in many cases.

Most of that level is spent running, and hiding, and praying that the MT Units on the floor don’t leap up and try to murder you, or that the daemons don’t notice you, or that the teleporting daemon doesn’t find you, or that Ardyn will just SHUT UP because his taunts are really unhelpful right now.

The only hope you have left in this level is to grit your teeth and get through it with the Ring until you can reunite with your brothers and get magic back and go get the Crystal, the mcguffin of this whole game, and put the game back on the normal track of brotherly dynamics and fun quests. Just get to the Crystal, and everything will somehow start going back to normal.

And then that turns out to be a trap too.

Welcome to the final act of a tragedy, and your character is the one living through it. There will be no restoration of the norm until you’ve seen this to its final conclusion. There will be no light save for the one Noctis dies for.

Even when I first played that level (vanilla, not even a day one patch version btw because I was an idiot like that) and hated it because it was terrifying, I never thought it didn't belong in the story like ... quite a few comments I saw on the internet later insisted it didn’t. This is Noctis's story. This is Noctis's tragedy. THIS is the level that strips every last distraction and security blanket and shelter away from him and makes him put on the Ring and thus shoulder everything it represents. There is- terror here, there is trauma, there is GRIEF. This is practically Noctis's headspace without his brothers, because let's not forget that while we the players are having fun fishing and catching frogs for a silly scientist lady, Noctis is a refugee from an empire that MURDERED HIS FATHER and the FATHER OF HIS SHIELD-BROTHER, destroyed his HOME and then, right before Gralea, murdered Luna, the girl who he's known and talked to and confided in via letter for twelve years. This is a world falling into literal darkness (and if the player hadn’t noticed how the daytime cycle in the game kept getting shorter and shorter before this point YOU CERTAINLY NOTICE NOW) and it's up to Noctis- JUST Noctis, ONLY NOCTIS thanks to a Prophecy made long before he was ever born, to somehow Fix It™.

One person. Just one.

And he has to fix ... all of this.

How?

He doesn’t know. During the Gralea level he DOESN’T KNOW. All he (all we) know is that the Crystal is the key, but since the Crystal only answers to Lucis Caelums, that means Noctis is the key, and Noctis (and you the player) is painfully aware of how Not Ready he is.

And the weight of that is enough to render you helpless in the face of it. The fear of that is a maze. The terror of it is a monster following you down the halls that you cannot escape from and cannot kill while it laughs at your misery.

All of that is GRALEA. The capital city of the people who overthrew his home, killed his father, killed his fiancé, and isolated him from the last safety nets he had.

The entirety of chapter 13 isn’t meant to be enjoyed. It’s meant to make you scared. It’s meant to frustrate you and make you feel helpless. It’s meant to make you feel sick when you learn what the daemons and MTs you’ve been killing really are. It’s meant to make you RAGE against Ardyn, and the Empire, and this entire situation because you’re one person and you’re not prepared for this and it’s NOT FAIR and you just want things to go BACK TO THE WAY IT WAS AND ALL OF THIS SUCKS.

Yeah. It does.

And who else do you think feels like that?

Noctis.

Chapter 13 isn’t meant to be fun. It’s meant to make you feel like Noctis does.

And what emotions would you expect from someone who has just lost everything and is expected to fix everything for everyone else, and now has no distractions or shields between him and his grief?

I remember reading an article about “why this chapter failed” and it was basically to the order of “this game is about a fun road trip with your bros and reuniting with your fiancé and chapter 13 breaks away from that too hard” and I respectfully have to disagree.

This story isn’t about a “fun road trip” and it isn’t just about “reuniting with your fiancé”. From the very first cutscene we are told that it’s not in Regis’s desperate (and soon revealed as last) words to his son about setting forth on a journey and not being able to go back. We are told it’s not in the first hour or so when Insomnia burns and Noctis cries and Cor tells us that “in his last moments together he didn’t want to be your king, he wanted to be your father”. How is that a “fun story about a road trip?”. Yes the road trip IS fun for us, and it IS about the brother relationship, but in a large, LARGE part-

Final Fantasy XV is about a young man setting out into the world and facing the hardships of it. It’s about loss. It’s about regrets. It’s about how no matter how much you want them to, some things can never go back to the way they were yet you must keep going anyway. It’s about how the darkness of the world will just keep taking-taking-taking until someone is willing to pay the price to make it stop, and that sometimes a happy ending for the people you love most means giving up your own personal happy ending on their behalf.

Final Fantasy XV never really hid the fact that it was a tragic, bittersweet story.

But it’s in chapter 13 that the story refuses to let you mistake it for anything else any longer.

Could the chapter have been structured a little better so that the gameplay itself wasn’t so frustrating? Probably. I know almost nothing about game design so that’s not really my call. But does the chapter, for all its frustration and anger-inducing inversion of pacing and tone, brutally get the point across?

Maybe it’s just my opinion, but I’d say yes. Yes it does. Because this video game was the one that fully 100% convinced me, in a way that no other video game had before, that the platform could tell heart wrenching stories, could give me characters I would care for, cry over, rage on the behalf of.

And a big part of that clicked for me at the ending, but it likely wouldn’t have if I hadn’t first struggled my way through chapter 13 and all the emotions it causes and represents just like Noctis did.

...

There. I’m done. Thanks for reading my long-suppressed rant on the most hated chapter of FFXV.

[a-bit-too-much-of-a-zelda-fan]

LinkedUniverse Fanfiction Ch. 17: Swords, Shields, Arrows

Stop! You’ve Violated the Law!

So, you’ve stumbled upon this original post for my Linked Universe fanfiction. That’s okay, it happens to everyone. As of March 2021, I’ve uploaded the entirety of this fanfic to my Archive of Our Own page. Along with finally giving the story a name–Oops! All Links: A Linked Universe Story–I made substantial edits to some of the chapters. These range from minor stylistic revisions to fixing a gaping plot hole that kinda completely broke the character conflict in the earlier chapters. I also renamed and renumbered (but not reordered) the chapters. Specifically, this is now Chapter 19: Please, Don't Scare the Customers

The AO3 iterations of these chapters are the definitive versions. So, if you would like to read this fanfiction, please do so on AO3, right here. With this embedded link. Hehe. Geddit? Link?

Note: My screen name on AO3 is FrancisDuFresne. Yes, that is me. I am not plagiarizing myself.

Anyway, for posterity’s sake, the rest of the original post is below the cut.

In this continuation of my @linkeduniverse fan narrative, Wild and Four go on their own errand to find weapons to replace the resident amnesiac's busted sword and unwieldy Stalfos shield.

Word Count: 1482

Twilight and Wind had already left Madame Viliafore’s shop by the time Four and Wild had located an armorer. The town of Selggog was even busier in the late morning than it had been the previous evening. The sights and smells bombarded the two young heroes. Wild glanced down at his companion. The Hero of the Four Sword had to walk more briskly to keep pace with him, on account of him being a good deal shorter.

Four had planned to help Wild pick out new weapons once they had found an armorer. That was the main reason Warriors sent the two together. The moment they’d entered the store, however, Wild gravitated toward the higher-end swords. He picked a sword, tossed it between his hands, twirled it, shook his head, and chose a different one.

Four looked at the shopkeeper as Wild repeated this routine. The burly man behind the counter eyed the young knight warily. Four guessed his customers didn’t often test his weapons inside the store, if at all. Wild slowed his motions. He grasped the hilt of the sword he had been swinging with both hands, lowering it from above his head. When his hands were at waist-height, he stood still a moment. He took a deep breath.

The shorter of the Links watched in anticipation. The taller released his left hand’s grip and picked up the sword’s scabbard, then fit the blade easily into its place. He looked at Four and nodded. He strode to the shields, grasped an iron heater shield about half his height, fitted it on his left arm, and shook it a few times. He shook his head and tried a few more.

Wild stared at one shield for a moment before tilting his head to one side. He suddenly took off at a jog toward the opposite wall. He jumped, threw the shield to the ground, landed on it, and skidded a meter before he hopped off again. The shopkeeper had had enough. “Hey!” he growled, crossing his arms. “This isn’t a soldier’s barracks, kid. You’re scaring my customers!”

The young hero picked up the shield and checked the face of it for scratches. Content to find none, he faced Four and nodded again. Then he cast a glance around the shop. The Links were the only customers to be seen. The two of them exchanged a quizzical look. Wild turned to the shopkeeper. “Sorry, sir,” he said, “I’ve found what I want.”

The Links strode to the counter. Four passed a shelf with bundles of ten arrows each. He grabbed all fifteen of them. They placed their selection before the shopkeeper. The man scrutinized them. “What are two kids like you going to do with a knight’s weapons and my entire stock of arrows?” he asked.

Four looked up and stared the man in the eyes. He knew he was only fifteen but still didn’t like being called a kid. “There are actually nine of us,” he explained with a very slight edge to his voice. “We’re travelling a long way. Between monsters and bandits, the roads are dangerous.”

A few seconds passed before the shopkeeper cracked a grin and let out a bout of hearty laughter. Before either Link could recover from his confusion, the man planted his palms on the counter and continued. “Hell, whatever you say. So long as you’ve got the rupees, you’ve got the weapons. Let’s see… two hundred for the sword, three hundred for the shield, and three-sixty for the arrows… that comes out to eight hundred sixty.”

The Links winced at the number. Four shot a glare at Wild. Wild shrugged. He didn’t want to show how embarrassed he was that they were dropping five hundred rupees just because he needed new weapons. Thinking back to his conversation with Sky and Hyrule the previous night, he decided to try haggling. The young knight imitated Hyrule and put a forearm on the counter. He looked the man in the eyes. “Four hundred,” he declared boldly. Four saw the mistake immediately and shook his head.

The shopkeeper laughed even harder than before. Wild’s half-baked cocky expression faded. “Oh, boy,” the man said when he calmed down, “I know what you’re trying here, kid. Word of advice, huh? Never insult someone by offering less than half the starting price.”

Wild gulped. “I… um…”

“Save your breath, I can tell you have no clue what you’re doing. Let’s say seven hundred and call it even.”

Eager to avoid any more awkwardness, Wild just nodded. Four opened his wallet and withdrew three silver rupees, four purple, seven red, nine blue, and fifteen green. After placing them on the counter, he looked back in his wallet to find it almost empty. He sighed then stuffed the arrows in his pouch. Wild grabbed his weapons and the young adventurers went to leave the store. Four shot off a quick “thank you” before the door closed behind them.

Wild quickly fastened his new sword and shield to his baldric. “Right,” he started, “now to the café.”

Four sighed again. “You’re lucky that guy’s well-humored. That could have gone really badly.”

“How was I supposed to know what to offer?”

They started walking. “I dunno, but definitely not less than half.”

Wild’s shoulders slumped. "The Captain is gonna be on my hide for weeks.”

Four gently nudged his partner’s hip. “Don’t worry about it, he’ll probably appreciate that you picked such quality weapons. I saw the way you tested each sword. Where’d you learn that?”

“Part of knighthood is being able to choose the equipment that will keep you and your wards safe.” Wild went silent a moment. He remembered how the Master Sword had nearly fallen apart from the abuse of the Calamity. “When I’m out in the wilds, I take what I can get. Give me a choice and I’ll take the best I can find.”

“You didn’t pick the most expensive ones, though,” Four pointed out.

“I didn’t like the most expensive ones. This one,” he tapped the pommel above his right shoulder, “was weighted and sized the best for me. I know my abilities and my limitations. I can kill with virtually anything you give me, Four. Still, my own skill only carries me so far. My gear needs to pick up the slack. As the knight sworn to protect the princess of Hyrule, I’m most valuable when I’m at my most lethal.”

Four had to give it to him, that was solid reasoning. When he himself had forged the Four Sword, he put care into every strike on red-hot metal. In a way, he viewed the sword more as a piece of art than an instrument of violence. Wild had a point, though: Before everything else, a sword is meant to kill. Still, something bothered Four about his partner’s phrasing.

“Wild, your value isn’t just in your ability to slay evil,” Four said, careful to avoid the word kill. Wild looked down to his companion. Four couldn’t identify his expression, so he continued: “I don’t think you give yourself enough credit. You’re kind, caring, and humble to a fault. You had the weight of the world thrust on your shoulders, and nearly died protecting the princess. You lost your memory, but you still soldiered on and saved Hyrule. And you were able to wield the Master Sword, which is a testament to the purity of your soul.”

The shortest Link looked skyward and smiled. “Just look at all of us Links. We share a love for life and a sense of justice that drives us to protect the light. That’s what binds us, what summons us whenever Hyrule needs us most. I’d bet all four of my lives that we aren’t the only Links there have been or ever will be.”

A few seconds passed. Four glanced at Wild. The Hylian Champion seemed lost in thought, as if he were walking on autopilot. The young smithy had had to make sense of four fragmented personalities to achieve his full potential. He still couldn’t make sense of Wild sometimes. He figured, as the other Links had, that Wild came out of his adventure the most psychologically damaged of all of them—even more than Time.

Wild was shocked out of his reverie by a little girl shoving past him trying to chase her friends. The sights and sounds of Selggog rushed back to him. He stopped walking and shook his head to clear it. Four waited a few paces ahead. “Sorry, were you saying something?” Wild asked, still a little dazed.

Four walked back, reached up to put his hand on his friend’s shoulder, and smiled. “Not really, no. Let’s head back to the café and meet up with the others. They probably picked out some good food.”

“Yeah, sounds good. I’m down for a second breakfast.”

“Hah, you always are.”

[just-a-fangirl13]

MacGyver fanfic

So this is my attempt at a MacGyver fanfic based on the spoiler we got from the MacGyver writers about Mac and Riley getting unexpectedly linked in season 5. (No this does not have anything to do with handcuffs this is just something I would like to see play out.😂)

I know it's kinda long but I hope you like it anyways.

I WOULD RECOMMEND LISTENING TO ARMOUR BY LANDON AUSTIN in the background for added effect...(I am weird I know😂)

(P.S. please ignore any typos...)

spoilers for. season 1-4.

*this takes place a six months after Mac and Desi have broken up. Bozer and Mac are spending time with each other playing video games at Mac’s flat after a long mission. They hadnt got a call from Matty about a new one just yet. So they were making the most of it after ages.*

“So Mac when are you getting back to dating?” Bozer asked. He was happy that Mac was finally doing better emotionally but he was worried Mac was going to spend the rest of his life building carbon scrubbers and car engines out of blenders, alone. He knew Riley and Mac would be perfect together but saying anything upfront would just end with Mac closing up like a clam shell and not dealing with his feelings. He knew better than to try and get involved.

He did have a plan though. He was going to convince Mac to try out this new dating app called Link’d. It was basically like every other dating app only difference..? It narrowed matches down by people you might have crossed paths with and you also have no idea who your date is until you get to a restaurant the app picked for you. The app reduced any possibility of being stood up or judged because you had no idea what the other person looked like and so no one ever lied. Bozer had already told Riley to try it out but he wasn’t sure if she would.

Bozer had hoped that maybe Mac and Riley would see each other going on dates and the fear of losing the other might kick in and maybe, just maybe they would deal with their feelings.

“Bozer come on, I am not ready yet besides I thought we talked about this. It’s only been a few months since Desi and I broke up.” said Mac. 

“A few? Mac, its been six months and even Desi has moved on. All I’m saying is go on a date or two. You deserve to be happy too you know. Its time to get all that weight off your shoulders and live a little man.”

“Yeah I know.” Mac seemed to be considering the idea. A date sounded like fun and he could use a distraction from everything going on at Phoenix. 

“Fine, then show me your phone.” said Bozer putting his hand out. Mac raised his eyebrow. “Why do you need it? I know I’ve broken a lot of your phones, is this your version of payback?", said Mac laughing nervously, "You'll won't hold my phone hostage until I agree will you?"

Bozer laughed, Mac was really never going to change. He cautiously handed over the phone and Bozer got to setting up Mac’s profile while Mac tried to get a look at what Bozer was doing secretly worried he was going to put him in some ridiculous situation.

When Bozer was done he handed the phone back to Mac.

“There you go. I installed a dating app called Link’d that will set you up on a blind date. Just hit that button and the algorithm will find you your perfect match.” Bozer left out the part where Riley might also use the app. But then again the possibility of them getting Link’d was slim since LA itself had about a few hundred thousand other users.

“A blind date?” Mac was confused. “Boze I dont know if this is such a good idea.” Bozer could tell every worst case scenario was going through Mac’s head right now.

“I haven't hit the button yet. Think about it and press it whenever you want. No pressure Mac. Whoever you end up with will be lucky to know you.”

“Thanks Boze. Ill think about it. Now can we get back to the game so I can kick your ass again?” said Mac with a smile on his face. He really would think about it. After all a blind date meant no pressure right?

*A few days later*

Riley had decided to use the app after all. It was just a date right? It didn't have to mean anything. She wouldn't even have to call the person back if it was a disaster.

Riley’s phone had pinged with an alert last night. She had got a match and had it yes without thinking twice. She was a bit nervous about going on a date with some random guy but Bozer had a lot of faith in the app. She only knew the guy would have a white rose with him so she could identify him. nothing else

She was very tempted to hack into the apps mainframe and find out who the guy was but she remembered her promise to Bozer. No hacking. 

She had looked up the restaurant however. It was a nice romantic place in the heart of the city. Yes she could enjoy herself. No worrying about Mac or Phoenix or Codex or anything else.

She could do this. She could go on this one date, no strings attached and maybe just maybe she would be able to forget about her feelings for Mac for a night.

She decided to wear the new black knee-length dress she had bought a few weeks ago, but hadn't had the chance to wear yet. It felt good to dress up for a change. She could totally do this. After all what could even go wrong. No one at Phoenix knew about this date and she would fill Bozer and Desi in later if it went well.

********

Meanwhile, Mac was at the restaurant at a corner table. It was a nice cozy booth that meant they were away from the hustle and bustle of the 3 star restaurant. He had to admit the app was pretty cool. Not only did it pick a restaurant but it had pre booked a table too. It did help alleviate the stress of picking a place. 

Mac still fidgeted though:- with the candle in the center of the table, the tablecloth, his suit jacket and even the white rose he had to carry so his date would recognise him. He checked the time for the 10th time in the last five minutes. He was always a little late so he didn't want to take any chances and had ended up 10 minutes early instead.

********

Riley’s cab pulled up at the restaurant. She was walking past the huge front window in a hurry. She was just on time.

She walked into the restaurant and gave her name to the host. As she was being led to her table and praying she wasn’t late, her phone started ringing. It was Bozer. Filled with guilt she put her phone on silent. Stupid button wouldn't work and she fidgeted with it while walking. She promised herself she would fill Bozer in once the date was over.

“Riles?” 

Riley looked up from her phone at the sound of Mac’s voice. Was she hearing things now? But nope there he was, with a white rose, sitting at the table where the host had pulled up a chair intended for her.

“Mac? What are you doing here?”

Mac looked handsome as always. He had on a dark blue jacket, with his hair in his usual short and mess style. He had a look that bordered on confusion and amusement.

Surely there was some mistake. Maybe it was a joke. Or maybe there was an emergency mission and Mac was here to pick her up for the mission. That had to be it. Right?

“I was supposed to be here on a date with a girl I have never met before. You?” Mac smiled. Riley’s stomach flipped. Things had just got so much more complicated.

*****

Riley looked stunning. Mac knew that of course but she managed to catch him by surprise all the same.

She was just as surprised as him but now the doubt was creeping in. What if Riley was disappointed that it was him? What if she was really excited to meet someone new and him being here would ruin her night?

Riley had seemed a bit distant lately maybe this was the universes way of giving them a chance to figure things out after all.

“Well I came here thinking i was on blind date too. The Universe has a weird sense of humour." Riley broke into a smile and sat down. Mac was relieved and even more nervous at the same time. 

What was wrong with him? It was just Riles. They would have a nice meal, figure things out and then laugh about this story later right?

Riley picked up the menu and a few seconds of complete silence ticked by. Mac couldn’t handle it and broke the silence.

“So” he said. “We should probably talk right?”

*****

“Something on your mind?” asked Riley. A million thoughts ran through her head as she put down the menu. This was the part she wasn't looking forward to. She had hoped he wouldnt bring it up until later in the night but it was the elephant in the room. What was she thinking sitting down, pretending everything was fine?

“I was going to ask you the same thing.” said Mac. “You know about how you’ve been avoiding me ever since we almost died in that Codex compound from the missile. Then you moved out suddenly without much of a reason. If it was the drilling sounds I would have stopped you know.”

“It wasn't the drilling sounds or anything you did Mac. I just moved out to give you and Desi the space you deserved.” said Riley.

Her thoughts ran back to the moment he held her hand. Why did he have to do that? Why did he have to bring that up right now. The truth was Riley had been distancing herself from Mac. 

Desi was her friend and she was never going to tell Mac about her feelings. It would ruin everything. Even after he and Desi broke up, Riley knew that she and Mac would never happen. She wouldn't be selfish and risk their friendship.

“Come on Riles. You’re my best friend. Whatever is going on then, you can tell me. I know its probably my fault but I need you to talk to me so I can fix it.” 

How could she tell him? There would just be a cloak of awkwardness between them that would never go away and it wouldnt be something he could fix. She had to end this. Now.

“I have to go. I'm not feeling too great. I'm sorry Mac.”, said Riley getting up from her chair. Saying those words broke her heart but she had to put space between her and Mac, otherwise he would know. He would see right through the lies.

“Riles wait!”

Stupid heels she thought and walked out the door of the restaurant as fast as she could only to find it had begun raining. Oh great. This night could not be a bigger train wreck.

She turned around to find Mac right behind her at the door. A sad expression on his face. She prayed he would forgive her for this eventually.

“At least let me give you a ride home. You dont have to say anything if you dont want to.”

Riley considered her options. She really didnt want to. But she was not going to get a cab on a Friday night in this rain. She silently nodded and followed Mac to his truck.

******

Mac was wracking his brains to figure what he could have possibly done to upset Riley this much. They had almost been hit by the Reaper drone and then almost burnt alive in that warehouse, the guilt for putting Riley through that had been eating at him ever since.

He was thinking of all the things he had done in the past month, while Riley sat silently peering out the window not even looking at him. 

He could always fix things right? That was what he did best. What was the use of all his skills if he couldn’t even fix things with Riles.

The woman who knew him better then he knew himself. She had trusted him even when everyone thought he was an enemy of the state. Even when he thought he had lost himself. She was always there. He told her things he had never told anyone before. 

Suddenly his mind went back to the moment he held her hand in that Codex compound. He had thought about that many times. Why had he done it? He was sure he was going to die and he had just put Riley at risk too. He wanted her to know he was sorry right? What other reason could there have been?

Before he knew it he had pulled up at Riley's apartment entrance. 

Riley mumbled, “Thanks for the ride Mac. I'm sorry I ruined your night”, she barely met his eye as she open the door and stepped out. 

Suddenly it struck him.

He didn't want to lose Riley. The thought hit him so suddenly it almost sucked the air right out of him. How had he not realised sooner?

It was Riles. It had always been her.

He got out the car in the pouring rain,“Riles wait.” he pleaded, “I'm so sorry.”

Riley turned around to face him.

“You dont have anything to be sorry about Mac. This isn't your fault. I just have a lot on my mind right now.” she said. 

“I do Riles. I have so much to be sorry for.” said Mac walking around the car and towards her. 

“I’m sorry it took me so long to see what was right in front of me. I’m sorry i didnt realise sooner. I thought back to that day on the truck. The moment I held your hand, I realise it now, it was the first time I wasn't afraid of dying alone. I never let myself think about it. But the truth is Riles, I dont want to lose you.”

Riley had tears streaming down her face. 

Oh no. He had made a mistake hadn't he. He had completely misread the situation. Riley had never felt that way at all. He had just made things worse and now they would never be able to go back to the way things were. 

But deep down he didn't regret telling her. He had these feelings for so long. The idea of losing her had brought everything back to the surface.

“Riles, please say something.”

All these thoughts were running through his head when suddenly, Riley kissed him. He was taken aback for a second but he kissed her back. He could have stayed there in the rain forever. Just him and Riley. She wrapped her arms around him.

“I am so sorry Mac. You were right.. The truth is I was avoiding you. I thought if I distanced myself I would be able to move on and I would never have to risk our friendship. You’re my best friend too Mac and I just...” she was crying again.

Mac took her face in his hands tenderly and wiped the tears away. “Hey, hey its okay. I think we can both agree for two very smart people we can be pretty dumb”

Riley smiled. It made Mac’s heart do sommersalts.

They just stood there in the rain holding each other.

“So are we doing this then?” asked Riley breaking their embrace.

"I mean I guess your bed is big enough" said Mac with a mischievous grin. Riley smacked him, laughing and rolling her eyes.

"Not that. I meant us, dating and all that." She was blushing now.

“if you want to give this a shot? 100% Should we tell everyone though?” asked Mac. He wasn’t sure how everyone would react. A part of him wanted to just keep this between him and Riley.

“I do want to give us a shot. Maybe we should keep this to ourselves for a bit? Phoenix and relationships never seem to mix too well.” said Riley.

Mac nodded and smiled,”Yeah I like the sound of that. And if they get suspicious I guess we’ll just..”

“Improvise.” said Riley, completing Mac’s sentence. They laughed and kissed, standing there in the rain for what felt like forever.

[deberiaestarescribiendo]

Saint Jude's Miracle: A Javier Peña x OFC (Isa) FanFic

Summary: After leaving Colombia and the DEA for good, Javier Peña lives a completely different life that he never expected: He's married to Isa, has a beautiful little girl, Elvira, and the perfect suburban house with a mortgage he will be paying for the rest of his life. But when he discovers a shady company acting as a front for the Mexican cartels he has to team up with his old colleagues and relive the old Javi he thought died when he gave up the gun and the badge. How will he protect his family from the violence and the horrors he thought forgotten? And how can he avoid falling again into the old habits?

A/N: Hi! This is my first ever ever Fanfic! That’s how crazy Javi Peña got me. I love his character so much and, though I really love his arc on the show, I couldn’t stop thinking about what happens after, so this is my take. This is no beta’d so it comes from my Spanish speaking brain directly to you, I’ve revised BUT surely there are mistakes, sorry!

Warnings: Domestic Javi (yep that’s a warning), smoking, mentions of anxiety, mention of violence (later chapters, I think this one hasn’t), swearing, very light smut (a bit of masturbation, kisses and all the nice stuff). Cursive for internal thoughts. Let me know if I’ve forgotten anything, thanks!

Word count: 1,5k

El conticinio

Spanish. noun: Hour in the night where everything is in silence.

He stops the car at the side of the road. The neighborhood is calm, almost dead silent at midnight. It’s a small moment of peace, interrupted only by the annoying buzz stuck inside his brain. Javier puts his face on the steering wheel, focusing only on his breathing, 4 seconds each time.

Inhale

Exhale

Inhale

Exhale

Sometimes he wishes it could always be midnight, when he’s able to stop thinking, when nobody knows him or expects something from him. Just be able to breath and leave his head empty. Finally, he stands up ready to face reality again and grabs his jacket from the copilot seat, and gets out of the car. He takes a deep breath inhaling the scent of the recently cut grass and the neighbor’s pool’s chlorine. He guesses that this counts as “breathing fresh air” as the doctor suggested in order to de-stress, but, God, Javi does want the toxic air of a cigarette inside his chest.

He had stolen an almost empty packet of Marlboros from one of the jerks at the office. Fuck him and fuck my lungs he thinks while lighting one. He gives it a long drag, the nicotine kicking fast and he sighs when the smoke gets out of him, he can even picture part of the shit that pollutes him exiting his body. It’s like an exorcism; one that he would have to do many times a day if he really wants to expel all his demons, and one that would eventually kill him.

He finishes smoking in silence in front of the house. His home is a two-story, white painted house that he will be paying for more years than he expects to live.

Savoring the last puff he throws it on the pavement and steps on it before heading inside. He tries not to make any sound when he enters his home. Leaving the jacket and the shoes in the kitchen, he sees the rest of lasagna waiting for him on the table carefully covered with cling-film. Surely Isa thought he was coming earlier and that he would be hungry, suddenly he feels a little bit guilty. He had forgotten to call her and warn her.

Carefully he climbs the stairs trying not to step on any toy. Elvi is a good kid, but she can create a mess in an instant and leave the house as if a tornado had come in. To the right, the pinkish light shines of stars and moons all over Elvira's room. She hugs her unicorn plush and sleeps with her lips parted, peacefully. Javi gets in the room and kisses his daughter softly on her crown and runs his fingers through her dark and soft hair. She smells of Johnson&Johnson shampoo and that sweet particular scent that is only hers and that reminds him of when she was just a baby.

Inhale

Exhale

Fuck I missed her. He should be arriving earlier so he can see her awake and hug her tight and listen to whatever she did during the day. He certainly enjoys watching those big brown eyes shine bright when he comes through the door. A warm feeling he thought he would never feel or certainly that he doesn’t deserve to have. But here they are; a suburban family. Who would have thought?

He approaches the master room up front less enthusiastically. He doesn’t want to wake his wife up. Elvira is aware of his absence but she is content with whatever attention her dad gives her, and for now, Javier is the greatest father in the world. Winning the title for “greatest husband” is a tougher task.

The small light on her nightstand illuminates Isabel asleep tugged under the covers like a small ball, with her knees close to her chest. She breathes slowly, her long black hair over the pillows, he is tempted to kiss her head as he did with his child but the docile and sweet image of his wife sleeping is a completely different version of her being awake. He just turns off the lamp and proceeds to undress in complete silence. The bed creaks under his weight and she moves a little but continues to sleep soundly when Javi gets under the covers. His back hurts when the tightness in his muscles begins to soften over the mattress.

"You're late" Isa says her voice muffled by the pillows.

"Shh, I'm home, good night" Javi whispers to calm her.

With her eyes still closed she turns sluggishly towards him and passes her left arm over his chest resting her head on his shoulder.

"Where were you?"

"I had to stay for an op"

He pats her hair and adjusts himself to find a comfortable position, his lower back killing him with every movement.

"An op?" She opens her eyes abruptly. Shit. He could have said any other thing; he could’ve lied as it’s begging to be the routine.

"Just to counsel" he closes his eyes to make her understand that the conversation is over.

"To counsel you had to stay until late at night?" She is raising her head now, eyes fixed on him squinting.

"Well, raids are usually at the most inconvenient time, you know" Bad time to play smartass, Peña he thinks

"Javi..." The room is dark but he can sense her honey eyes turn greenish, it happens every time she gets mad.

"I swear"

She rubs his belly softly and lays her head again on his chest with a grunt. For a moment he thinks she has decided to leave it there, but she brushes her nose and lips over his neck, smelling him.

"You have smoked" he tries to ignore her by faking being asleep, but she taps him on his right shoulder.

"Javier"

"They were smoking in the car"

"What?" She sits on the bed, arms crossed over her chest

"Elvira's sleeping, don't shout" he hushes her knowing damn well it’s going to get her even madder.

"That's two lies you've told me in less than 2 minutes, Javier"

"I'm not lying" he arises a little with a grunt. Here we go again, shit

"You told me that: one" she raises one finger "you were going to counsel the police from time to time. And now you tell me you were on a raid? And second" she raises another finger "you think that I'm an idiot that I don't know that you've smoked?" Isa turns to face him, she frowns and Javier can feel her feet tapping nervously under the sheets.

When he doesn’t answer right away she adds "you know what the doctor said"

"I know"

"Then?"

Javier knows better as to answer that with any kind of excuse. He knows also why she gets that angry at him; she cares, deeply. She loves you, idiot, don’t know why or how it happened, but she does, he thinks

He approaches her stroking her arms, and resting his head on the space between her collar bone and her neck. She is stiff and doesn’t react to his touch. Her face contorted with her gaze avoiding him.

"I'm sorry" he kissed her earlobe. “Really sorry” he repeats, with every apology he plants a kiss on her frown, her cheeks, her nose and her lips.

"So very sorry" he brushes softly his lips over hers but she closes hers tightly.

Sighing, Javier hugs her from the side and draws circles with his fingers over her cleavage and then trails downwards over her sternum to finally place his hand on her stomach. “I should have told you. I apologize, Isa” He begins to rub his palm over her hips bones and the hem of her silk nightgown comes higher and higher revealing her underwear.

"You have some nerve" Isabel blurts out, but Javi can feel her heart already beating faster.

"Let me make up for it" Javier strokes the lace elastic band of her panties with his index finger. His brown dark eyes look at her expecting her refusal, but she bites her lower lip and moves her hips against him impatiently. Her husband rushes to kiss her and this time she parts her lips welcoming him with eager moans.

"I’m still mad" she moans

One of Javi’s hands softly brushes her core over the fabric feeling her heat and arousal.

"I think you've missed me" he grins on her ear.

Isabel rolls her eyes at his proud expression and shuts him up crushing her lips onto his, savoring him with her tongue.

Javier increases his touch slipping her panties to the side. But suddenly, Isa takes control and straddles him; her eager kisses cover their moans while she lowers her hands towards his briefs.

"Don't ever lie to me again"

"Yes, ma'am"

[snkpolls]

SnK Episode 71 Poll Results (for Manga Readers)

The poll closed with 176 responses. Thank you to everyone who participated!

Please note that these are the results for the Manga Readers’ poll. If you wish to see the results for the Anime Only Watchers’ poll, click here.

--

RATE THE EPISODE 172 responses

This week’s episode keeps up the high mark of the previous episodes, with 98.8% of respondents giving the episode a score of 3 or higher (overwhelmingly 4s and 5s). Nice!

It was aight. 

It's cool

8.5/10 

great!

Very rocky imo in terms of animation, as the cracks are beginning to show but overall look like the backgrounds and music choices were top tier.

Really good episode, I was disappointed in the jacket scene but it’s not the end of the world

loved it

It was overall a great episode I loved it. 

🔥🔥🔥

WHICH OF THE FOLLOWING MOMENTS WAS YOUR FAVORITE? 174 responses

46.6% of respondents overall were most excited to see Eren meeting up with Floch and the others, with 23.6% of those respondents favoring the scene of Eren putting on his jacket specifically. 12.1% most enjoyed seeing the angry citizens shouting out the Survey Corps motto. 9.8% were thrilled to see Zackley’s death animated. 8% were psyched to see Pieck in disguise at the end, and 6.9% most enjoyed the moment where Hitch caught Armin red-handed trying to touch Annie’s crystal.

YOUR REACTION TO EREN PUTTING ON HIS JACKET? 171 responses

Eren putting on his jacket was a scene many obsessed over when it first appeared on page and many looked forward to seeing it animated. Most of the response choices were focused on various forms of swooning over Eren and his abs. Some (13.5%) stated that they didn’t really understand the dramatism and some others (another 13.5%) simply stated that they did not see much in Eren outright. We’ve gotten a lot of write-ins about comparisons to the pre-animated trailer shot of said scene. More on that in a later question. 

i mean i understand the thirst, but eh

Prefer manga :/

The trailer did it better 

Meh. Better in the trailer and the manga.

TF was that? Well it's still good in its own way. 

YES! YES! YES! YES! Y E S! 

both "HOOOOOLYYYYYY 😳" and "so dramatic and for what?"

Trailer/Manga shot was way better

Manga shot/trailer version are way better. Dissapointed

Trailer looked better :(

Mappa only made Reiner thicc, why Eren is so frain he has 1,85! He is so strong in the manga

I don't care

Manbun.........👀

He can have my babies anytime 😌💅🏻

Not as sexy as advertised; that’s okay, though.

That scene looked weird af ngl. It looked better in the trailer 😔

Me after THAT eren scene: 🤰🏻🤰🏻🤰🏻

Eren makes my dick rise

ON A SCALE OF 1-5, HOW HAPPY ARE YOU NOW THAT WE APPEAR TO BE GOING BACK TO LEVI AND ZEKE’S PERSPECTIVE NEXT WEEK FOR A BIT? 171 responses

Levi and Zeke’s chemistry has been the subject of praise for many, so it’s no wonder that 87.1% of respondents are rather excited to get back to seeing Levi and Zeke again. Wow!

ARE ARMIN’S FEELINGS FOR ANNIE GENUINELY HIS OWN? 173 responses

Armin’s feelings for Annie have been looked at under a microscope for a variety of reasons, which is why we’re asking if you believe that his feelings for her are genuine. A plurality, 49.1% think that they’re a mixture of his feelings for her, as well Bertolt’s. Slightly less (30.6%) believe that Armin’s feelings for her existed since before any of the recent developments. Only a select few believe that he either became interested in her post-timeskip or that his feelings are solely influenced by Bertolt. One person doesn’t think Armin has any feelings for Annie at all. And a few others just don’t care.

Bertmin simping for Annie and that apparently being enough for her to start considering him as boyfriend material is the fucking worst. I hate this shit. It's made me like both characters considerably less.

Uhh Armin where ya reaching?! 

He was interested with her even before it was revealed she was the Female Titan and now that he has Bertholdt's memories, he sympathizes with her too and wants to understand her more so maybe Bert's memories intensified his feelings

His feelings for Annie are mostly his own. Bert's feelings might be in there a little, but the feelings are still Armin's.

CONTINUITY ALERT! EREN HAS HIS HAIR UP IN A BUN IN YELENA’S FLASHBACK. THOUGHTS? 173 responses

Uh-oh, Eren’s hairstyle moment. It would appear that there might be a continuity error with Yelena’s flashback and whatever that means for the timeline. A slight plurality (37%) didn’t seem to care about this, actually. But 33.5% appeared to believe that it was a mistake on MAPPA’s part that might get fixed in the BluRay version of the episode. 16.8% also believe that it was a mistake, but don’t believe it’ll get fixed. 9.8% think that it’s actually a retcon and that Eren’ll have the man bun when Chapter 123 gets adapted in Final Season Part 2.  

I hope it gets fixed because it's bugging me.

I really wish it was like how it was in the manga. Eren looks good with his hair down in his 16-17-year-old phase. Despite the error, it wasn't a deal breaker for the episode.

He looks totally gorgeous with his hair up in a bun, please let this mistake be

Honestly I don’t mind it. It looks great either way.

Eren in a manbun is a total win for me!

WHICH PIECES OF INFORMATION MISSING FROM YELENA’S ADMISSION IN THE MANGA DO YOU WISH WOULD HAVE BEEN INCLUDED IN THE ADAPTATION? 163 responses

As with almost all dialogue-heavy chapters in this series, there are cuts. In this episode, these cuts mostly affected the conversation between Yelena and Pixis. The most yearned for cut material was Yelena never telling Eren to go along with the plan and Yelena saying that she used Floch as a “go-between” between her and Eren. Others also noted missing lines about Yelena wanting Eren to stand up for himself, Yelena stating that Zeke gave the volunteers a hopeful future and the idea that her and Eren came to quick agreement. The plurality (31.9%) however, didn’t seem to mind any cuts. 

WHAT ARE YOU OVERALL FEELINGS ABOUT SOME OR ALL OF THE AFOREMENTIONED DETAILS BEING CUT? 161 responses

There is often a sort of expectation to have everything (or almost every) line from the manga adapted in the anime, so it’s interesting to see how people react to that sort of stuff. An almost 50% of respondents stated that they didn’t really care about the cuts, whereas smaller handfuls of respondents stated that the cuts either took away from the characterization of the conversation, or from the context and timeline-building purposes. 

I'm not thrilled about the cuts, but I understand MAPPA can only fit so much in on each episode, so I'm okay with it

the yelena/volunteers plot has always been wonky and hard to follow

I don’t think it’s a problem, they need to cut certain things. 

i literally never notice but i agree that it makes it harder to piece things together 

Meh

It might seem for anime watchers that Yelena didnt do much, and Floch and Zeke that did the most part, in their own plans. Floch to betray and Zeke in predicting Eren wouldnt be on his side in some way. Yelena helped Zeke a lot to where he arrived in the rumbling 

All of the above

ZACKLEY WALKS OVER TO HIS TORTURE MACHINE IN THE ANIME BEFORE MIKASA ASKS WHAT WILL HAPPEN TO EREN, RATHER THAN GLANCE OVER AT IT AFTER HER QUESTION. WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT THE CHANGE? 170 responses

There was a partially comedic insinuation in the manga that Zackley thought about strapping Eren to his “art piece”. The insinuation is possibly still there in the anime, but in a different form. So we asked how you felt about it. Slightly below a half (48.8%) stated that they thought the subtlety was still there. 18.8% thought the subtlety was lost with the small change and 8.8% believed the change made Zackley seem less unhinged. 21.8% really didn’t care at all. 

Why is this a question?

The glance was funny as fuck in the manga, but might have been awkward to pull of in the animation

They're blown up tho, does it even matter?

DID EREN KNOW ABOUT THE BOMB? 170 responses

Whether Eren truly knew about the bomb is a bit unclear to this day and with how it endangered Armin and Mikasa. A plurality (40%) believe he knew about the bomb, but did not know about his childhood friends meeting Zackley. Slightly less (30.6%) think that Eren did not know about either the bomb or AM meeting the Artist. A minority (7.1%) does believe that Eren knew about both the bomb and meeting and 21.8% simply aren’t sure!

Even if he didn’t know, he obviously doesn’t care either way.

THERE IS SOME DEBATE ABOUT WHETHER EREN’S JACKET SCENE WAS BETTER ANIMATED IN THE PROMOTIONAL VIDEO OR IN THE EPISODE ITSELF. WHICH DO YOU CHOOSE? 170 responses

Here we go… The elephant in the room… Which Eren abs scene did you prefer? The Promotional video or the actual episode? A somewhat slight majority (57.1%) seemed to like the version seen in the promotional video more than the episode itself versus the ones who preferred the episode’s style (42.9%).

THE EPISODE MARKS THE BEGINNING OF FLOCH’S ACTIONS AS THE VOICE OF THE YEAGERISTS. HOW ARE YOU FEELING ABOUT IT? 170 responses

Floch has always been a controversial character and the developments seen post-time skip have not been any less debatable. You may floching love him or floching hate, but he’s here and he’s staying for a while. A plurality (48.8%) notes that although they may not personally be a fan of the character, they truly do appreciate the nuance his appearance gives to the story. Just over a quarter (25.3%) stated that as big fans of the character, they’re looking forward to all the screentime the Flochster will receive. In contrast, 20.6% despise the man and his questionable haircut and are also dreading the showcase he’ll soon receive.  

I hate Floch and will cheer again when he dies, but I enjoy his character.

I detest Floch but I'm not dreading all the screen time he'll take up.

Since he died in the manga, my hatred for him has cooled down somewhat now that I'm watching the anime.

I am once again asking for you to shut the fuck up, Floch.

WE KNOW NOW THAT EREN DID CONSPIRE WITH FLOCH TO BETRAY ZEKE TO ENACT THE RUMBLING. STILL, DO YOU BELIEVE HE DID IT BECAUSE HE HAS THE SAME BELIEFS AS FLOCH, OR WAS HE JUST USING FLOCH AND THE YEAGERISTS AS A MEANS TO AN END? 161 responses

An overwhelming amount of respondents (87.6%) stated that they believe Eren never truly saw eye to eye with Floch and his ideology and that Eren was simply using Floch as a means to an end. In contrast, 9.3% truly do think that Eren was ideologically similar to Floch and the “New Eldian Empire”. A select few thought you couldn’t just say one way or another. 

They both wanted to protect Paradis

DO YOU THINK IF THE YEAGERISTS, BESIDES FLOCH, KNEW ABOUT THE FULL SCALE RUMBLING BEFOREHAND THAT THEY WOULD WILLINGLY FOLLOW EREN? 167 responses

The majority (53.3%) feel that the Yeagerists would see a divide if they knew beforehand that Eren wanted to initiate the rumbling, with some sticking around for the cause and others possibly leaving because it’s too extreme. 25.1% believe that they all would have fully supported the rumbling in the name of their own survival. 15% believe that every Yeagerist already knew about the plan to commence the rumbling, and only 6% feel that they would most certainly have betrayed the Yeager brothers (and Floch) if they had known. 

I don’t know, this is a loaded question and I’m tired.

DO YOU THINK THAT, IF THE STORY ENDS PEACEFULLY, MIKASA WILL HAVE A ROLE TO PLAY IN HIZURU? 170 responses

While this plotline may not be going anywhere in the manga (or so it seems), the reminder of its existence is brought to light again as we revisit these older moments from the manga. 32.4% feel that Mikasa wouldn’t leave Paradis behind to start a life on Hizuru. 23.5% think that she wouldn’t leave Paradis behind, necessarily, but will still have a role to play in Hizuru. 21.2% think it doesn’t matter because Isayama has completely discarded (or forgotten) about this plotline. 12.4% don’t know what to predict (if anything) and only 8.2% believe that her future lies in Hizuru beyond the main storyline.

The last two options plus me not caring. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

hizuru is already rumbled, gone, but she will continue the azumabito clan in paradis

Is no one else gonna question Kiyomi's hair being sucked into her skull??? HELLO MA'AM???

Hizuru is likely flattened

WHICH SCENE FROM THE PREVIEW ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO? 171 responses

Episode 72 has already broadcasted as of the completion of this poll. For scenes that were most anticipated, 35.7% were most looking forward to seeing Levi and Zeke’s interaction in the forest. 33.3% most looked forward to Niccolo leaning straight from Gabi’s mouth that she is Sasha’s killer. 18.7% highly anticipated the Blouses learning about Gabi killing Sasha, and 9.4% were looking forward to Gabi/Falco and the Blouses gathering at Niccolo’s restaurant. Only a small amount were looking forward to Niccolo protecting Jean and Connie from drinking the wine.

ADDITIONAL THOUGHTS ON THE EPISODE?

Man the animation was gonky 

no levi </3

So many faces of Niles are weirds !

Let hange aloneeeeeeee and happy, please

I have no word for this, but I feeling good

Shit is getting really real now! 

Everyone talking about Eren’s abs and I just wanna say the music in that scene was amazing!

I loved how it was all neatly put together and fast moving

Armin looked so good. Homie walked from point A to B and i SCREAMED. Thank you. 

i wish they included eren's warhammer escape from the prison, besides that solid episode all around, the people chanting 'dedicate your hearts' gave me chills 

I can't stand Hitch at all but MAPPA made her really pretty. Re: The jacket scene The trailer version was pretty much identical to the manga panel. But I liked the version that made it into the final episode too. People have been so ridiculous about MAPPA ""ruining everything"" this season, they should stop watching if that's how they feel. I thought Eren looked great and found the sun shining on his abs funny. The scenery was better in the episode, imo. I hope they don't cut Jean's line about booze not caring about what race you are. Lmao

Meh. It's not bad of course, I just find the rythm weird and I don't really feel many emotions watching the episodes. And I was so thirsty for the jacket scene, and it turned out weird too.

Mappa pls stop drawing eren like shit he is gorgeous in the manga

MMGH SOON!! LET'S GOOOOOOO

You friccin moron, you just got zooked!

i miss eremin </3

Wish they had shown how eren used his titan powers to escape.

I'm so not looking forward to the controversy that's gonna be reignited during the EMA talk scene. I'm actually dreading it, but we'll finally get the Levi vs Beast Titan scene so I'll be fine

112 will destroy ships 

I felt the animation was flawless as usual but the script was kinda boring, I expected more of these aspects: -Yelena, it was bland with the cuts -Hange, they cut something I cant figure what in this Yeagerists coup act that turned her scenes a little bit lacking? Idk something -Again the soundtrack in the episodes is so silent. The only episode so far I liked the ost beyond the Opening and Closing themes is Reiner episode. I miss the melodrama of Witstudio osts

Eren putting his jacket on in slow-speed whilst talking at regular speed is fucking trippy

Just happy to see Hitch!

It was slow and mainly plot driven. I enjoyed it despite the changes.

goddamn is that a hella well-animated explosion

more abs please

Great episode. Really ridiculous how many people overreacted about the jacket scene. It's ok to perfer the way the trailer did it but to those who say Mappa is ruining the adaptation because of minor things like this, calm down. 

I wish the jacket scene was better But over all the ep is pretty good

Boring, but then again so was this phase in the manga.

I really like the VA they chose for Onyankopon! His voice is very warm and genuine, which suits his character well

The sunset was so aesthetically pleasing 

yoooo just read ch. 138 and im crying in da club :(

These MAPPA episodes have been a low point for me. I’m trying to enjoy them because I love this story but it feels like a chore.

WHERE DO YOU PRIMARILY DISCUSS THE SERIES? 161 responses

Thanks again to everyone who participated!

[bubbyleh]

Do I Know You? - Chapter 7

read this chapter on ao3! check out the rest of this series on tumblr!

Chapter 7: Redacted Version An idea of the truth.

- ○ -

Getting to know your long-lost sibling around thirty-nine years after they disappeared is certainly something. It’s difficult sometimes for Kleiner to reconcile the adult sitting across from him with the baby he knew so long ago, but he’s trying! And though Bubby isn’t really one to offer up much in the way of personal anecdotes, even hearing the odd story from five years ago from Coomer is nice.

At first, Kleiner told himself he wouldn’t press. He had no starry-eyed, idealized notion of Black Mesa in his head. The facility was fucked up beyond measure, and the thought of Bubby growing up surrounded by that? It was one he wanted to shove into a trash can in his mind.

But Bubby didn’t seem to want to talk about it, and Kleiner wasn’t sure he wanted to hear.

Slowly, though, that changed. The incidents were small initially, but Bubby began to open up slightly. Like how during one of their regular coffee meetings, Kleiner asked a bit about the conversation he’d overheard in Chemical Engineering.

“Oh, that,” Bubby grimaces. “That was Dr. Daniels. He’s been in charge of my project for as long as I can remember. He died not long after that night .”

“Good,” Kleiner says in response to that last fact, a statement that throws Bubby for a loop. They look unsure, avoiding Kleiner’s gaze for the briefest of moments and slouching forward. Suddenly, though, their eyes widen, and they sit right back up.

“Yeah, you’re right,” they finally say. “It is good.”

Bubby places their mug on the table, brow furrowing as they stare at the coffee, gently swishing. And something about it threatens to tear Kleiner’s heart apart. The wrongness of it all. Bubby shouldn’t have memories like that—of Dr. Daniels. They were supposed to grow up together, in a small house at the end of the street. Instead, they were in Kleiner’s admittedly cramped kitchen, trying to catch up on a lifetime of memories.

It’s unfair.

Kleiner takes a sip of his coffee.

“Bubby,” he manages to ask. “Have you ever thought about leaving Black Mesa?”

And Bubby frowns. “That’s… complicated.” They fiddle with the edge of their mug.

“How so?”

“Well,” Bubby sighs. “It’s not that I want to stay at Black Mesa, it’s more that… I don’t technically have a doctorate, you know. And I’m not qualified to do anything else. If I want a job, it’s gotta be here.”

Oh. Right. Actually, Kleiner hadn’t really thought about that, but it did make sense that Black Mesa wouldn’t be able to just hand Bubby a degree. Hell, it might actually be a bit of a warning sign if they could.

“But, also…” In the most simple of motions, Bubby smiles. “Harold’s here. You’re here, Isaac.” He brings his mug up to his mouth, but pauses to clarify, “You two are doing great work. I wouldn’t ask you to leave it, and I won’t leave either of you.”

Bubby’s clearly trying to keep their tone casual, but their words feel significant to Kleiner. They hold a weight to them; a promise.

- ○ -

The Hanukkah photo was the first step. It took a while, but the longer Bubby saw it and got used to it, the more he realized he was curious. The baby in that photo looks so happy to be with their brother, and it’s hard to imagine that that’s

him

. A little person whose family adored them. And maybe, if they see the rest of Kleiner’s photos, he’ll at least understand a bit about who that person could have been.

Isaac, of course, was thrilled by the prospect of sharing Bubby’s baby pictures. He’d promised to dig up as many as he could and bring them over, since Black Mesa’s singles dorms aren’t really great for receiving guests in. Once Harold had found out about the plan, though, he’d been eager to invite himself to the viewing. Actually, he’d been practically giddy about it.

Maybe they should be worried about that…

…

Oh this was a mistake.

Before they can really consider cancelling, though, there’s a knock at the door. And when Bubby opens the door to the sight of Kleiner holding a small cardboard box, it’s only then that he realizes that tonight is going to be extremely embarrassing.

- ○ -

“Oh, look at this one! He has to be less than an hour old, here!”

“My goodness, he’s adorable!”

Bubby has to resist every urge not to hide his red face behind his hands, because some poor part of his brain still really wants to see what he looked like as a baby. Unfortunately, Coomer does as well, and if they have to hear one more time about how they were the cutest thing to ever grace the planet, then they’re going to explode.

What’s even worse, though, is that Coomer brought out his own collection.

“You should see this one.” He slides a picture over to Kleiner. “They thought they were so cool!”

Bubby just barely catches a glance of a photo of himself when he was, what? Thirty-five? Thirty-six? Couldn’t have been too long after he started dating Coomer, actually.

“Wait a fucking second.” Bubby snatches the photo before Kleiner can get that good of a look. They do look younger, with a scowl on their face pointed somewhere offscreen. “I don’t remember you taking this.”

“Ah, well.” Finally, Coomer has the audacity to look at least a bit sheepish. “I made sure you weren’t looking.”

Bubby squints back down at the picture. “Why?”

“I thought you looked nice,” Coomer admits matter-of-factly.

And after a brief reprieve, Bubby’s flushed face returns in full force. This time, though, he draws his knees to his chest and buries his face in them.

“You two are killing me,” Bubby mumbles, holding the picture out for Isaac.

Kleiner plucks it from their hands. “You’re fine,” he insists.

“I will die, and it will be your fault.”

There’s a sound of papers shifting, followed by Kleiner muttering, “Hang on a moment…”

Bubby peeks out.

“I think that was it, actually,” Kleiner sighs. Almost instinctively, he reaches over and pats Bubby’s head, earning himself a glare. “You disappeared when you were around thirteen months. That’s not a lot of time…”

Kleiner’s eyes seem fixed on the photo of the newborn in his hand, though. He brushes it with his pointer finger, and in the back of Bubby’s mind, something clicks into place. They stand abruptly, much to their brother’s surprise.

“Fine,” Bubby states. “Give me a second.”

They loop around the couch, and after blindly fumbling under it for a moment, their hand finally finds purchase on what they were looking for. With a flourish, Bubby holds up their file, shaking off the dust that’s accumulated.

“Is that where you’ve been hiding that?” Coomer asks.

“Don’t worry, it’s getting a new hiding spot after tonight,” Bubby reveals. He settles back on the couch, clutching the file tightly. “Now, let me set the ground rules: This is a selective process, which means I reserve the right to withhold any picture I see fit.” He glares at the two of them. “No sneaking.”

Kleiner nods, and Coomer chimes in with “Understood!”

Bubby takes a deep breath before they open their file again. It’s been a while—a long while—since they last did, but everything is just as they left it. In fact, he thinks he might know where the first good picture is as he flips forwards slightly.

“Alright.” They undo the paperclip, slipping the photo to Kleiner. “This is me and Dr. Cynthia, one of the good ones. The notes say I was around fourteen months here.”

Dr. Cynthia had taken an immediate liking to Bubby, and judging by the picture, the feeling was mutual. She held him up to the camera with such a happy look on her face. Bubby’s struck with the thought that it was the first time in over a month that someone had loved him.

And Isaac has tears welling up in his eyes.

“No, shit,” Bubby struggles. “Don’t cry, fuck.” They pull Kleiner into a hug without really thinking.

Kleiner wipes away the few tears that escaped. “I’m fine, Bubby, seriously,” he says, but his voice sounds shaky. “It’s just… I didn’t get to see you grow up.”

Oh.

Crap.

“Okay, we don’t have to look at them anymore-” Bubby tries to put the file down.

“No wait!” Kleiner’s almost frantic as he grabs onto Bubby’s wrist. He takes a breath. “I want to see them.”

“You’re sure?”

Kleiner nods.

“Alright.” Bubby shakes his hand off them. “But we’re taking a break if you need it.”

- ○ -

Seeing the rest of Bubby’s childhood was certainly a mixed bag of emotions. They were such a cute little kid. There was a picture of them after they got their first pair of glasses, with a smile bright enough to light up a room. And then in their teenage years, their facial expressions gradually melted into “teen angst”. It was especially funny when Kleiner held up a picture of Bubby pouting when he was a baby, and they realized he was making the same face in both photographs.

Kleiner loved it, truly, but there was an underlying melancholy to it all. He should have seen this all himself. Bubby was taken away from their family, and for what?

That question sticks in their head. For what? Bubby’s clearly been skipping over large parts of their childhood, ignoring the bad parts and sharing the good. And that makes sense, of course, but…

Well, Kleiner read that first paper. Bubby was taken for augmentation and enhancement.

They did something to him.

“I’ll see you sometime next week,” Bubby promises as they see Kleiner out of their dorm. “Maybe we’ll do another dinner?”

“That would be nice,” Kleiner agrees. He’d stayed later than he meant to, but the trams would run for another hour or so. He has time for goodbyes.

“I’ll talk to you about it at work!” Harold calls from the seating area, where he’s still sorting the picture mess.

Bubby rolls their eyes, but they lean in, pulling Kleiner into another hug. “Thank you.”

Kleiner’s always happy about some genuine emotion from their sibling, but it’s a bit sudden. “Why are you thanking me?”

“I don’t know, really,” Bubby chuckles to himself. “Being my brother, I guess? Accepting me?”

“Like I wouldn’t welcome you back.” Kleiner returns the hug for a brief moment, before pulling back. “I’ll look at my schedule next week.”

Bubby waves his brother off. “Bye, Isaac.”

“Bye Bubby.”

And Isaac Kleiner decides. He is going to get his hands on that file.

[animeraider]

My Kevin Gilbert Story, and my latest single.

As some of you know I’ve had a few brushes with the “big break” that many in my line of work crave. I was signed to a major label in the early 1990s, and the record I turned in was shelved. The label wanted me to be the “next Michael Penn” and by that point not even Mr. Penn was interested in that, let alone me. I had three songs picked up for a movie, which was never released. I got out of my record contract and signed with another label, releasing an album that included 5 songs from the one that was shelved. The label put no money behind it. I had a big hit in 2009 and signed a European distribution deal, which fell apart when the married couple who ran the business fell into a messy divorce. I sold thousands and thousands of records in Eastern Europe – which were being sold by pirates. It took several years to get that fixed.

I had an audition that everyone felt I was a lock for to play keyboards for a Japanese band that had a huge following. My flight to the audition was supposed to be September 12, 2001. I actually watched the plane I was supposed to board land as it was the last flight grounded. I’ve done some engineering and performing I don’t get to tell anyone about – the NDA’s are pretty strong. One of my songs became the theme to a German Television show.

But let me tell you the story of a relationship I almost had with a multi-Grammy-winning star who soared high and made it further than I have, whose song I have made a cover of and released as a single today.

So where to begin. First of all, yes, I knew Kevin Gilbert. No, we weren’t friends, but we were colleagues and classmates. We performed together a few times – all of if school related. That’s it. Oh, and he invited me to a jam session he was going to have once and I turned him down. I’ll get to that.

Believe it or not, I have to tell this story starting in the middle. There was once a band called Toy Matinee. I loved that band. Clever songs, well written melodies, a sense of darkness and a sense of fun. It was a band that me and my roommate Max could agree on and we cranked that album loud and often. We went and saw them live at the Troubadour in Los Angeles, and were about 10 feet from the stage. This is NOT the live album released in 1999, but I can tell you they rocked the place that night. Played almost every song from the album, and did an encore of Elton John’s “Funeral for a Friend/Love Lies Bleeding” that smoked.

A great night.

Now I jump into the past, to tell the tale of the UCLA Synthesizer Ensemble. It was the brainchild of Professor Roger Bourland, who at the time was only in his 2nd year as a professor at the school and would later become dean of the department. He searched out the most rock and roll musicians in what was mostly a stuffy classical music department. Me. Dave Koz. Joel Harnel. And this kid named Kevin. The five of us took another student’s source material and arranged up a musical. Straight musical theater and full of schlock, and all performed on synthesizers. We eventually put on four shows, with the five of us in the orchestra pit. I wrote the show-stopper ballad and a Latin inspired piece. I hate to say it, but I no longer remember what everyone else did, although I remember Dave mostly for his EWI playing and Joel for multiple reasons – including the fact that he wrote and arranged all of the drum parts.

I knew Joel fairly well – we had played together a few times and he was even more rock and roll than me, with more experience. Dave Koz was, even then, Dave Koz. The only saxophonist I had met up to that point in my life who was better than me. We had played in jazz bands together but he was already a rising star. When he beat me for the gig with Richard Marx’s touring band his career just took off – but all this was before then. I was one of Roger Bourland’s students – in fact, I had been in the “test” classroom when he had auditioned for his job.

I barely knew this Kevin kid. I was constantly getting his name wrong – for whatever reason my brain had him wired as Kevin Anderson.

My only real interaction with him outside of this 12-week experiment was down in the practice rooms. Many of these rooms had pianos in them and on any given day you could hear Mozart, Brahms, Chopin and all of the other usual suspects. I would go and write my own material and be pounding out rock and roll. Kevin did that too. Once while in the middle of the writing process for the musical he came into my practice room while I was working on a song in the style of Elton John. He invited me to a jam session the next Tuesday he was going to, and I declined. Tuesday was when MY band practiced, and as their lead guitarist I needed the practice.

That was the end of it. After the musical was over we all drifted our separate ways and for the most part didn’t run into each other again. I ran into Dave once at a music festival in San Francisco and he introduced me to Clarence Clemmons, which was pretty damned cool.

By now you’ve figured out that Kevin was Kevin Gilbert. Congratulations. I hadn’t. For many years to follow I would remember him as Kevin Anderson.

Now I’ve told you all of this so that you understand that this is long BEFORE Max and I went to see Toy Matinee in concert. I became a fan of the band without knowing that Kevin was its leader. I was ten feet away from him, performing for an hour. I had performed with him myself.

I didn’t recognize him. Nothing clicked in my brain that this was the same guy. I didn’t put two and two together. I rolled for my intelligence check and got a one.

Kevin Gilbert would go on to a solo career, win seven Grammys for his work with Madonna, be part of the driving musical force behind Sheryl Crow’s first album, become one of the founders of the Tuesday Night Music Club, and become one of my songwriting heroes. The man could paint a picture with very few words and his musical ability was enviable.

And then he died; a victim of his own vices. I’m not going to go into that here – I know nothing at all and can shed no light on the subject.

Several years later I relocated to San Francisco with my family. I discovered the band Giraffe once I was on their home turf, and of course discovered the fact that Kevin Gilbert had been their leader when he was a teenager. BEFORE I knew him. Giraffe was a pretty damned good band that had come so startlingly close to making it big – their albums are worth hunting down and they did a fantastic live rendition of Genesis’ “Lamb Lies Down on Broadway” (the full album mind you) that is lots of fun.

I was looking for a recording studio for my second album when I ran across a man named Steve Smith who owned a recording studio down the peninsula from where I was living. In his bio, he briefly mentioned that he was the drummer for Giraffe. Awesome. On his web site of the time if you dug in a little bit there was a bio of Kevin Gilbert, and he talked about the brief time he spent at UCLA.

Parts of the story looked and felt awfully familiar to me. Smith talked about the musical without mentioning the name, and again, it felt familiar. Me being slightly brave, I wrote an e-mail to him to ask what was the title of that musical and that I might have been involved in it. He confirmed it for me.

Holy crap.

All of the pieces started falling into place then. The rehearsals, our discussions about piano playing, that I went to one of his shows and failed to recognize him? The fact that I think he invited me to come join the FUCKING TUESDAY NIGHT MUSIC CLUB and I didn’t even fucking notice!?!!?!!?!!?

I’m an idiot.

Actually, in looking back at the timeline I don’t think he invited me to join TNMC. That came a couple of years later – I think. I’m never going to know for certain. If he had told any of the other members I don’t know about it. I’ve exchanged about a dozen words with one of the other members over social media but we certainly don’t know one another.

I wonder if he saw me in the audience that night and laughed. I will never know. I can tell you there is an album version of that night you can listen to and/or buy. A then-unknown Sheryl Crow played keyboards in the band, dressed up like a dominatrix biker chick. When I found out about that later I was amazed – I didn’t recognize her either.

I’m an idiot.

Nick D’Virgilio of Spock’s Beard played drums. I don’t remember the name of the bass player but what I remember is this man with the thickest eyebrows I have ever seen in my life. Marc Bonilla played lead guitar. Oh, the people I could have met.

I never did work in Steve Smith’s studio. I no longer remember why.

When I was working on my third album in my newly built home studio I recorded a number of covers and one of those was Kevin Gilbert’s “Tea For One”. It’s a fantastic song of unrequited love and missed chances told from start to finish in only a few dozen words. I have no idea if he would have liked what I did to his song – he had a wicked sense of humor that I can recall now but I never got to know him on a personal level as a songwriter, which was my mistake. I could have but I was so focused on myself in those days that even if the overtures were made I probably didn’t even notice.

I recorded the song in what I called "Garage Pop" during those days. A bit uneven, imperfect vocals - what you might get from a band practicing in their garage instead of a polished studio version. If you want that, I recommend hunting down his version.

But I recorded “Tea for One” just the same – it’s a great song and I’d like to think I gave it some justice – even if it doesn’t come close his version. It was on the original version of my third album "The Long Goodbye", which I released myself, but was cut when the album was moved to digital streaming services (In all fairness, I cut 21 songs from the original release – which was a 2 CD set).

My music career has been dark for several years, but it got jump started in 2020 in the middle of the pandemic and I’ve been revisiting a lot of my unreleased work since, and of all the covers I did this is still my favorite. I am releasing it now, in tribute to a musician I admire and could have called friend if I had just paid a bit of attention.

The guy holding the roses was me, as it turns out. I had no idea.

+++++++++++++++++

For those of you with very long memories you should listen to the full single on Spotify, because I’ve thrown in a little bonus for people who remember the 1980’s band ASK. Just a little piece of a little ditty written by me, Kevin Donville and Ed Lee.

[madam-whim]

So I decided to try my hand at actually writing something that is not just a headcanon list and here it is! It’s based on @sweetrolls-and-draugr’s post about bards playing a tamrielic version of Jenny of Oldstones while Sheogorath dances through Cloud Ruler Temple. This is my first attempt at writing fanfic in English, which is not my first language, so there will probably be mistakes. Feel free to point them out so I can fix them!  The Dragonborn in this one can be whoever you want them to be, but Sheogorath is based on my own HoK, Arri. Oh, and it also turns out I am utterly hopeless as a bard. You have been warned!

____________________________________________________

Dances Among The Clouds

Winter in Bruma is always an uncomfortable affair. It’s too close to the Jeralls, too close to the bitter cold of Skyrim. The Nords don’t mind all that much – they are used to the harsh climate, but no one else ventures outside unless they have no other choice. This goes for Jovian as well, especially with the blizzard outside not showing any signs of letting up. There are worse fates than being trapped inside a tavern, though. He is a bard after all, even if he’s just playing for the owner’s child at the moment, keeping them distracted from the howling of the wind. Children are so easily scared, he knows, but this one, at least, seems to enjoy his songs.

“What’s this one about?”, they ask from their spot on one of the tables as soon as he starts playing again, brown eyes fixed on his hands. Jovian smiles. They’re good with melodies, and they ask about the song whenever it’s one they don’t recognize. “Well, it’s a sad one”, he replies. “I’m not sure you’ll even like it.” “But you’re going to sing it to me anyway! So tell me!”, they pout. He sighs fondly. “If you insist... I don’t know the whole story myself, you see, because this song is hundreds of years old.” The bard watches their eyes light up with interest. “Really?”, they ask. Jovian nods. “It’s sung in Bruma every year, near the end of Evening Star, because that’s when the lady who inspired it appears. She’s a ghost, I think, of a woman who lost her love. Do you know the ruined temple in the mountains above the city? You can see it on a clear day.” The child nods. “The one where the Blades used to live, right?” “Right”, Jovian says. “That’s where she’s appeared every year ever since the Oblivion Crisis ended.” “What’s an oblivion crisis?”, the child asks. They still seem interested, Jovian notes. That one’s definitely not a future innkeeper. “That’s a very long story, little one. It was a war between us mortals and a Daedric prince, and we won. Maybe I’ll tell you more when you’re a bit older. Anyway, my guess would be that this lady lost someone, and when she died as well, she became a ghost and began haunting the temple. There are several songs like that all over Cyrodiil, you know. The Imperial City has one too, and so does Kvatch.” “That’s a lot of ghosts”, the child says, frowning. “Will you sing that song to me now? Even if it’s sad. I want to hear about the lady.” Jovian smiles. “As you wish, little one.” He picks up his lute and starts playing again.

She dances among the clouds each year Her eyes the color of amber To a song that only she can hear When the closing of gates we remember

In robes of purple and gold she’s dressed Her pain they could not be masking Through day and night she’ll never rest As she pays no mind to time’s passing

And when you ask why she is dancing She’ll say she forgot how to weep And when you ask why she is mourning She’ll say her dearest was not hers to keep

The one that she loved, he haunts her still For every room holds a memory She cannot forget and never will Forevermore she remains lonely

And when you ask why she is dancing She’ll say she forgot how to weep And when you ask why she is mourning She’ll say her dearest was not hers to keep

Oh, if you ask why she is mourning She’ll say the dragon was not hers to keep

Many years later, trying to escape from the mind of a mad emperor, the Dragonborn remembers the song.

Sheogorath started rambling almost as soon as they got here, and then they made the mistake of interrupting him. But they can’t help it, when Sheogorath describes Martin Septim’s sacrifice, him turning into the avatar of Akatosh, as ‘hardly sporting’, so they blurt out “Hardly sporting? He saved Tamriel!” They know they’ve made a mistake right away, and they instantly back away, because Sheogorath is... angry, and changing, and something he wasn’t a moment ago. “Hardly sporting indeed”, he hisses, “Because he didn’t even give me a chance to stop him, and then he was gone and dead and he left me and I died too, but then again, I can’t really die and I wanted to -”

And as Sheogorath’s voice rises, the man fades away, and in his place is a woman in a dress of purple and gold, with red hair and eyes like amber, and she’s staring at the Dragonborn, looking like she wants to cry. But the Dragonborn knows with absolute certainty that she can’t, because she forgot how to cry, is no longer human enough to know how to do it, and they wonder if old Jovian is still alive, and if they’ll ever get to tell him that the ghost wasn’t a ghost at all.

Carefully, they take a step closer to the... Madgod? They’re no longer sure who Sheogorath really is. “I’m sorry”, they whisper, because they’re not sure what else to say. “Truly.” “I can’t even dance anymore”, Sheogorath mutters. “They ruined it. They took Cloud Ruler from me, and now the good memories are fading and I...” She trails off, the anger slowly draining from her, and as the anger fades, so does the woman, and within a few moments, the other Sheogorath returns. “Sorry about that one”, he says, as if nothing had happened. As if the Dragonborn hadn’t just found out what became of the Hero of Kvatch, who was presumed dead after vanishing from the Imperial City, and who is dying, yet cannot die. “She still gets out sometimes”, the Madgod continues. “One of the nastier side effects of someone else being you, I suppose. I wouldn’t speak to poor Sanguine for years because of her, too, can you believe it? Years! Now, where were we?”

The Dragonborn leaves the mind of Pelagius Septim III. with the Wabbajack in hand. They are certain they will never have reason to use it, but if they keep it next to the small shrine to Akatosh they have built in their home, well... nobody needs to know.

[pluviophile-bookworm]

AWAE 1x6 rewatch: thoughts and reactions

It’s been literal months since my last rewatch, and you guys were obviously not satisfied with my randomly dug-up first impression of the show that I posted a couple of days ago to make up for the lack of reviews, so here I am with another one. Today we’re delving into the penultimate episode of the first season. I have completely forgotten what to expect, so this will be almost like a first time watching. Here we go:

Oh, that’s right. I remember now. This is one of the parts that I loved most from the original book, and it’s a really important moment in the show as well, one of the parts that were satisfyingly closely adapted. It’s the time when Minnie May is ill and Anne is the only one who can help. A very dramatic scene, and a crucial one for DiAnne’s friendship after they were forbidden to fraternise in the previous episode. 

Wait, Aunt Josephine was there? This is the situation in which she appears first? I had forgotten and I honestly thought it would have been something different. Apparently I’ve forgotten that at first she didn’t act like the cool old lady we’ve since come to love.

I’ve always thought it was incredibly impressive how Anne immediately knew what was happening to Minnie May from just a vague description of the symptoms. Her difficult childhood experience comes in handy sometimes, I guess. That’s at least a slight silver lining to it. 

I love how fiery, passionate Anne transforms into a sound, sane, level-headed nurse when Minnie May needs to be taken care of. It just popped into my mind - does Gilbert know about this? And how come it was never brought up in later seasons?

In my commentaries on the third season, I've said more than once that Minnie May was like God - she often fixed whatever trouble and misunderstandings the older characters would get in. Now I see she’s doing it again, in a way - her illness and Anne helping her get over it is what convinced Diana’s parents that Anne is a very good person and a suitable friend for their daughter after all. I wonder where everyone would have been without this little one. 

“It’s a big world, son.” It is indeed, and Gilbert will see at least some of it - but at what cost, really, at what cost? Having never lost a parent, nor a loved one of another kind, I can’t possibly imagine the pain this boy would go through later in the series. Now, seeing John Blythe on his deathbed breaks my heart. 

It’s amazing how much some people need to forgive. Accidentally get her daughter drunk, and you’re the devil. Save her other daughter’s life, and you’re suddenly a saint. I was never a big fan of Eliza Barry, and, well, this case is not helping. I mean, it took so much for her to forgive Anne’s minor innocent mistake. I can’t help but wonder - how much would Jerry have had to do to get her approval, had things not turned out the way they did (I’m referring to both his eventual falling out with Diana and the unjust cancellation of the series here #renewannewithane)? How many favours would he have to do her family before she would have been able to forget his origin? I guess we’ll never find out now. Unless... #renewannewithane

Anne seemingly equating herself and Diana to Josephine and her “companion” makes me suddenly see why people ship them romantically, although I personally don’t. I mean, neither Anne nor Diana knew at the time what exactly Josephine’s relationship with her partner was like, but still, for me as a second-time viewer, the subtext is certainly there. 

Diana’s prospective future as the wife of some “wealthy, handsome gentleman” could very well have been foreshadowing to her eventual marriage to Fred Wright in the books, but it is a bit of an ironic statement in the series where she first went for Jerry, who, to quote Aunt Jo from earlier, is “one, but not the other”. But I’m getting carried away here. 

Listen, I dislike Mr. Philips as much as the next person, but he’s sort of (unwittingly?) acting as a matchmaker for Anne and Gilbert, like teachers sometimes do. By making none other than Anne go give him his school materials every day, he is making them interact even when Anne might otherwise have chosen not to. So that is one good thing he’s ever done. I’m keeping score from now on. 

Anne’s sudden realisation that when Gilbert comes back to school, he will likely be an orphan, reminds me of her reaction later when it happened. And it’s not so much later either. Having been an orphan all her life, she seems not to realise quite how much he’s going through. Gilbert has been forced to become an adult all of a sudden by his father’s death, but Anne still has a lot of growing up to do.

John Blythe’s funeral is an odd contrast to Mary’s Easter which would come later - both are people Gilbert loves dearly, both deaths make him grow as a person, both die of an illness - but while his father’s funeral and the days before it are gloomy, dark and achromatic, Mary goes with a smile on her face, surrounded by her big family, in the middle of a colourful festivity. I don’t know why I’m commenting on this right now, I just suddenly became aware of the parallel and simply had to point it out. 

The snowflake that thaws on Gilbert’s palm and slowly rolls down reminded me of a tear - a tear that didn’t roll from his eyes. It might as well have been meant to symbolise that precisely. If that’s the case, job well done.

The blue ribbon that Anne wears now - John Blythe gave it to Marilla... I wonder if Anne was ever made fully aware of what exactly went on between her adoptive mother and Gilbert’s father when they were young. I mean off-screen, of course. 

Much better off than you were? I don’t think so, Anne. I mean, of course she might be right to a degree, but right now Gilbert’s pain is something she can’t comprehend. She shouldn’t try to. She shouldn’t assume she does. Being an orphan is not something to pass on “extensive knowledge” about. It’s an experience that everyone goes through differently. Saying Gilbert is lucky was definitely not the right thing to do. Not right now at least. But I should stop saying how I think Anne should have reacted, or I might come off as hypocritical. I’ve never experienced what either of them has, after all. Moving on.

It seems Aunt Jo has become the cool old lady we know and love. Her conversation with Anne in the clubhouse reminds me so much of the one they had at the end of season 3. I think that one was, in a way, meant to parallel this one. Of course, I’m not going to try and reinvent the wheel here, I just think it’s beautiful how subtle this show is when it comes to foreshadowing and callbacks, even to a viewer who goes into it having read the books first. I’m glad I get to rediscover this now when I’m rewatching it, and my reactions get to be a mix of re-encountering forgotten details, judging earlier episodes with regard to what happens in later ones, and just overall basking in the magic of AWAE once again. 

Anne wanting to be a bride but not a wife is so novel yet so relatable all at once. I mean, don’t get me wrong - I don’t want to be a wife, nor a bride myself, but I can definitely see why a girl, especially in Anne’s time, but even today as well, would want to walk down the aisle wearing a white dress without being burdened with the conservative version of a wife’s duty. 

Anne’s first encounter with Aunt Jo happens in such a different way from the book, but it’s even better, the way I see it. 

Anne is so unapologetically feminist and I’m all in for it. This character is so important even today, and it was so horrific to see her story cut short over trivial issues. #renewannewithane

As both Anne and Ruby are rambling away and Diana is trying her best to say the proper things, I figure Gilbert must think, at least for a moment, about how weird and incomprehensible girls are. And with Anne’s especially apropos mention of the word “wife”... I can just see his eyebrows doing the confusion dance - you know, despite the pain he must be in. 

I just love how Gilbert never even remotely hides his great respect and admiration of Anne. And even though there are underlying feelings of a different kind here, I’m quite sure he would respect and admire just as much any other intelligent, independent young woman deserving of it. Meanwhile, Billy has shown that he’s just a misogynist of the worst kind, no matter if the girl is an “ugly” orphan or a conventionally attractive girl with both parents alive and a substantial wealth. I don’t mean to deem anyone incorrigibly bad, but I do think Billy might as well be. 

What about “Gilbert’s father just died and you’re still acting like the petty little misogynist you are” doesn’t Billy get? I know what Gilbert did was sinking to his level, but I believe he deserved every bit of it. 

I wonder - I might have forgotten - if Gilbert knew before this conversation with Marilla, about the kind of relationship she and his father had. I wonder how much of it he found out from this conversation.

Ah, here we go, the Shirbert written communication begins. And it doesn’t begin very smoothly - as if to foreshadow how many bumps on the road its future holds. 

See, Josephine would have liked very much to be married to Gertrude - only the times she lives in wouldn’t allow it. She is of the marrying kind - just not of the conventional wife kind. And that’s beautiful, and exactly what Anne aspires to be - and will be one day, of course. She has done a good, nay, brilliant job choosing a role model.

To sum up this episode: Minnie May’s illness brings DiAnne back together; Aunt Jo’s first appearance is a meaningful one, as expected; John Blythe’s last days and the aftermath of his death; an important detail of Marilla’s past; thoughts on what it is to be a wife; Shirbert’s written communication begins, very clumsily, of course. 

[actually-autisticc]

Can we see Steven talking to his therapist

I guarantee that therapist might think “what the fuck has this boy been through” when is told that Steven:

Freaked out when his favorite ice cream got canceled and got attacked by a giant bug monster

Got trapped in a bubble underwater and almost drowned

Lost control of his body and turned into a blob of cats

Almost turned so old he almost died

Witnessing people he care about die in front of his eyes or almost dying (Pearl, Amethsyt, Garnet, Lars..I could go on)

Waking up in a spaceship with a black eye from an alien warrior head butting him

Witnessing versions of himself melting away (AND POSSIBLY HAVING THE ORIGINAL VERSION OF HIM DYING)

Crazed fanboy knocking him out with a potato and having said fanboy’s hideout almost eat him??

Witnessing a family member shape shift into his dead mother (who turned out to be her own killer AND TURNED OUT TO BE HIM)

Almost being stabbed/smashed when taking a joyride in a pod

Seeing forced fusions and having to feel the pressure of their anguish and helping them by bubbling them THAT IS ENTIRELY IN THE EARTHS CORE WHICH IS HUGE AND THEN SEEING THOSE FORCED FUSIONS IN A HOSPITAL LATE AT NIGHT WITH YOUR GIRLFRIEND

Having multiple dreams that are meaningful/helping you communicate with people that are forced into a relationship (Lapis in Malachite)

Being blasted by an alien multiple times and being kidnapped them (Aquamarine, Peridot when she did in the middle of the night)

Fighting COUNTLESS monsters that could literally crush you in a second if it weren’t for your three magical caretakers to help you

MULTIPLE GEMS MISTAKING YOU FOR YOUR MOTHER WHO YOU SHOULD NOT BE CLEANING UP HER MESSES (and one of them becoming corrupted in front of you BUT THEN YEARS LATER YOU SHATTER THEM) (aka Jasper)

A gem (with a fucking catchy song I’d play on loop) coming to earth that looks like the reincarnation of Mickey Mouse with a thirst for blood because your mother abandoned her for 6000 years on a space garden you had no clue about. Then having to save the Earth from being destroyed by the gem’s acidic koolaid all while trying to get his caretakers’ memories back AND SINGING AT THE SAME TIME

HAVING A GIGANTIC WOMAN RIP OUT A BODY PART FROM YOU BUT THEN DEFEATING HER BY LITERALLY SAYING OKAY BOOMER. BUT THEN HAVING MURDEROUS INTENTIONS AFTER YOU HAVE A CHANCE TO DO THAT TO HER LIKE SHE DID TO YOU

And lastly (or I think, there’s so much more) becoming so stressed out about you feeling the need you should be fixing every single problem that comes your way and said stress makes you become a gigantic monster but your family and friends must hug you and reassure you that they care about you.

Moral of the story: Steven finally got the therapy that he desperately needed but that poor therapist might have SEVERAL questions at first. But no therapist should ever judge a patient’s struggles. Not even if their patient went through things that no 16 year old boy should go through

I probably missed a bunch of things but I was partly going off of my head and in the one scene in Growing Pains. This took a long time to make 😂 if you wanna correct me on anything or have something to add to Steven’s list of traumas, feel free to! Let’s all be happy he is getting the help he TRULY deserves and needs

[lifeisdabubbles-undersalmondean]

La Pomme ~ Chapter 14

Pairing: Sam x OC (eventual Dean x OC and Dean x Castiel. And I mean eventual.)

Series summary: George is a casual French-Mistake-universe Supernatural fan living in no-COVID 2020, who's life is upended when she's suddenly launched between realities, two years into the boys' past (S13E22). What begins as an insane, immersive fan experience turns into more when Jack goes missing and George offers up her AU information to help track him down. Soon it's discovered that she and Sam may actually have history. But that's impossible, right?

Word Count: 5,800

Warnings: {smut, fluff, angst, show level violence, swearing, mentions of suicide} ***Detailed warnings will be tagged for specific chapters.

A/N: Following the events of my prequel Paradise and second story From My Eyes Off. Reading those first gives context but isn’t necessary to start this one.

As annoyed as she'd been about Cas leaving against her better judgement, it felt good to be back on the road again. What she'd done yesterday, running away and searching for her family, had felt simultaneously necessary and awful the entire time she was doing it; like her nerves were sliding up against a cheese grater the wrong way. Worse than her standard feelings of unease. Being back in the car with Sam and Dean, finally headed once again toward Jack on their rescue mission, gave her a sense of peace and a strange kind of pain relief from the prior day's grating.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now a threesome, Sam, Dean, and George had set sail again on their mission to find Jack. Everyone in the car--including George, surprisingly--seemed comfortable with Dean's music filling the silence for the first few hours.

That being said, at the moment there was a throng of angry butterflies swooping through her abdomen. Cas and Sam had said they trusted her, by which she was flattered, but she felt immeasurably guilty. Should they trust her? Sure, she knew she was leading them the right way to find Jack, but was she supposed to be leading them at all? For all she knew, she had disrupted their destined timeline and was causing all kinds of unknowable consequences that would come back to bite them all in the ass eventually. She was starting to wonder whether her intentions were purely altruistic or if she was really just being selfish.

They had a short way left to go when they stopped for a quick, light gas station lunch and Dean decided to get some shut eye. He denied it, but Sam was almost positive he needed to sleep off all the crap he'd been consuming. When they got back in the car, Dean laid down in the back, Sam drove, and George sat in the passenger's seat.

It was her first time in the passenger's seat of Baby and she was strangely giddy about it. Her eyes roamed over every inch of the infamous car, taking in the surreal experience. Sam's arm adjusting on the steering wheel caught her attention and her head snapped sideways to look at him. A memory of a dream she'd had years ago filled her sight and the Sam sitting next to her was 10 years younger, with shorter hair and a baby face, but he had the same expression on it. It was a strange kind of worried uncertainty, like he was trying to figure out a riddle he already knew the answer to.

The vision felt so real and before she could stop herself she blurted, "Sam?"

He turned to look at her quickly and in a blink he was back to the older, bearded version she was used to. She could tell she had startled him out of his thoughts. Quickly she covered, "Uh, can I ask you something?" He nodded with a quiet noise of permission and she asked, "What you and Cas said earlier… about 'trusting' me? Uh… were you serious about that?"

"Yeah?" He wondered why she seemed so stupefied.

"Well," George had to take a moment to figure out how to articulately ask her question, "Why? I mean what makes you believe you should?" The look on Sam's face made her chuckle, letting out a nervous breath she'd been holding; she quickly clarified, "Don't get me wrong, you definitely should trust me and I'm honored, truly. But, I'm a mysterious woman who showed up in the bunker one day with no provable explanation and now is claiming to have inside information about the location of your missing adult-son-angel-human? I should be a walking red flag to a Winchester. Like, at least as a safety precaution, you shouldn't trust me until you know me, right?"

"I know you--er, enough," Came falling out before he could stop himself. Quickly he stumbled to add, "I mean, I feel like I know you enough to know you aren't lying to me…? Anymore, I mean," He added upon remembering she'd lied about her origins when they first met. He didn't think that counted, exactly; he would have done the same thing in her situation.

"But… why? What makes you feel that way?" George pressed. She still didn't understand. What made him so quick to trust her?

Sam was quiet for a while, turning a pale shade of green, before answering, "Same reason I was able to find you at the hotel, I guess?" He glanced at her with a serious expression and could tell by her gulp that she knew exactly what he was talking about. The pull; she felt it too. He exhaled deeply and reminded her, "Good instincts?"

Staring at him curiously, she imitated him, "Yea… that must be it."

The air around them felt strangely electrified as they both sat in silence. They were each fighting their own internal struggles about what it all meant. She wanted to ask him what he meant, ask him what this feeling was and if he was feeling the same thing. He wanted to know what she knew about his dream. As Dean let out a sharp snore, they both debated whether it was the right time or place.

"Do you trust me?" He asked her suddenly and it surprised her.

"Uhhhh, yea? I mean…" She paused, seriously considering it for the first time, then nodded definitively, "Yes."

"Why?" He pressed with a smile.

Understanding his point, she rolled her eyes, "That's--"

Cutting her off, Sam admitted with a smile, "OK, maybe it's a little different, but… you trust me because I remind you of someone who you know to be trustworthy, right?" She nodded slowly and he shrugged, "It's kind of the same thing for me."

George's eyebrows furrowed at him, starting to get concerned that she already did understand what he meant. Still, she asked, "Oh-kay, but... the person you remind me of is Sam Winchester… and you just so happen to be Sam Winchester, soooo-"

"OK, I don't know exactly how to explain it without sounding crazy, but I feel a connection to you," He finally admitted. Each word scratched and clawed resistantly on their way out of his mouth while he squirmed in his seat.

"A connection? To me?" She was surprised. And not. He affirmed with a quick nod and she began to fidget nervously. What did he mean? Did she already know? Is it what she's been feeling, too? He couldn't possibly feel the same connection she felt, surely; what she felt was easily explainable by her having been a fan of the show. But then what 'connection' was he talking about?

Trying to gather her thoughts she blurted, "Why?"

Sam gripped the steering wheel tightly and admitted, "OK, uh, about ten years ago I had this... dream." His eyes were glued to the road, so he didn't notice George suddenly stiffen tightly, whipping around to look at him. She instantly remembered her memory flash from earlier and a strange tingling sensation in her gut told her she knew exactly what dream Sam was referring to. She knew this feeling had nothing to do with the show.

Of course she'd had lots of dreams about him, and countless other fictional or otherwise unobtainable people before, but the dream that sprang to mind had been… different. It had saved her life.

"A dream?" she croaked, sweat forming on her cool skin. Was it her or was it suddenly sweltering in the car? She was desperate to take off her hoodie, but felt like this was the wrong time to be stripping.

"It was right after Dean had died--and, at the time, I thought he was gone for good. I was trying to fix it but it was taking a long time. Things got pretty dark. And then one night I…" He hesitated for a moment and then said quickly, "I had a dream. In it I met a woman in a bar and she… well, she was trustworthy. She helped me... find the light again," He finished vaguely with a wistful, if slightly embarrassed smile.

George felt as though the world around her were still moving but everything about her was in suspended animation; her body, her thoughts, her functions, like someone hit pause on her.

The night she'd had The Dream™, she'd been left at the altar by her would-be-high school sweetheart, who ran off with her best friend, the maid of honor. The heartache had felt unbearable and she happened to have had access to some serious pain pills. In her grief, she assumed they, coupled with a few bottles of tequila, would be enough to end her pain. But instead she'd had an indescribably intense dream about a man who made her feel ridiculous about throwing her life away over a dipwad like Greg. And--purely coincidentally, she'd always assumed--the man from her dream had been Sam Winchester.

While her dream had been incredibly significant to her, it's not something she'd even thought about until this moment. Why would she? It was just her pill and booze induced dream haze, randomly manifesting a hot, loving, perfect person to help her see that life was worth living. Of course, she had always known it wasn't real, that she hadn't actually dreamt about the real Sam Winchester.

Obviously, that's ridiculous! Because, he's not re- She paused her thoughts when the man in question's anxious throat clearing snapped her back to the moment. Blinking finally, she looked at him closely and noticed that he was avoiding looking at her. He was white as a sheet and his jaw was clenched so tight, she felt sympathy pain in her teeth. A burning sensation in her lungs reminded her that she couldn't remember when she'd last breathed in.

With a quick, deliberate inhale she asked, "And I... remind you of this woman?"

The serious tone of her voice made Sam finally turn to look at her. Her expression told him his instincts were right but he couldn't believe it. The two of them stared at each other in shock for longer than was safe to be driving. Neither knew what to say.

The car swerved slightly when Sam was startled by a loud, screeching 80s guitar solo suddenly emanating from the backseat.

"Jesus!" George yelped, jumping out of her skin.

Dean rolled over and sat up with a grumble, "Close. Jimi Hendrix." He held his noisy phone up and dismissed the alarm, "Did I miss any stimulating conversation?" Sam and George both looked at each other out of the corner of their eyes before simultaneously mumbling vague denials. Dean was attune to their odd behavior but when he noticed a road sign for The Trees of Enigma, he opted to ask instead, "Where are we?"

"Oh, uh--'bout 20 miles from False Klamath. What's the plan?" Sam instantly switched to work mode when he realized they were getting close.

Dean raised an annoyed eyebrow, "Are we already that close? Didn't we talk about stopping at the last town for a motel first?"

"Er--uh, oh--right," Sam groaned and his eyes rolled back into his head in embarrassment. He was furious with himself; Dean had mentioned that plan at their last stop but Sam hadn't exactly been giving his brother his full attention.

"What?" George asked curiously. "When was this conversation?"

"At the gas station," Dean said matter of factly, watching as she narrowed her eyes at him. "It was just before we left. I wasn't hiding it from you; I mentioned it when you were walking back to the car. Remember, you got distracted trying to fish out that M&M that went down your top," He chuckled in amusement, looking to share the joke with Sam but finding him looking oddly guilty instead.

"Oh, yeah," She responded slowly. Looking down and pulling her top away from her chest, she muttered, "Did I ever get that out?" Dean snorted and then watched Sam glance over as she hooked a finger down her top to go fishing again, realizing why his brother had missed the motel plan in the first place.

"George, it's not--it's not like that--" Dean began but stopped short, not knowing what to say to comfort her.

When George's head suddenly popped up again, Sam jumped, his head jerking toward the road and Dean stifled a laugh.

Looking back at him, she asked, "Ok, but why would we stop at a motel when we're this close? It's the middle of the day, the place is still open." Looking back and forth between them, she saw their expressions slowly turn guilty and she realized. With a mildly offended huff, she stated matter of factly, "Oh, you were going to leave me at the motel while the two of you went to go look for Jack alone. Got it." Crossing her arms over her chest, she turned to look out the window. Dean and Sam shared a guilty, 'oh, shit' expression.

"It's just that..." Sam tried to pick up where his brother left off, wanting to explain, but he froze too. He couldn't stop kicking himself for being distracted by her--er, their conversation. He should have been paying closer attention and now they faced nothing but bad options. Options that put her life in more danger. "...Well, it's just-"

"Oh, calm down," She cut him off softly with a small eye roll, looking back at them. She sneered like a spoiled teenager, "It's fine; I'm fragile and weak and have no monster fighting skills to speak of. I'm a baby sans trench coat. It would be too dangerous and irresponsible to let me come with you, so you had a plan. I get it. Liking it is another story, but I get it. At least now I know how Jack feels," She lobbed, giving Sam an annoyed smirk, to which his head hung slightly. With a deep calming breath, she explained in a more poised tone, "I'm not upset, I'm just frustrated that there's nothing I can do about it; I know how fucking pig headed the two of you are when you're right."

"Even worse when we're wrong," Dean added empathetically after a beat and Sam nodded apologetically.

George snorted in agreement and sighed, "Alright, well your offensively infantilizing, yet totally justified plan to forcefully protect me has failed, so now what?"

Dean rubbed his eyes, letting out some thoughtful grumbles and trying to clear the sleep fog from his brain, "Uhm, well we just gotta keep driving to the next town, find a safe place for you there and then double back; start looking for Jack."

As Dean spoke, George allowed herself to focus on her instincts and there was suddenly a fire alarm going off in her head. There was a sense of urgency she couldn't shake. Jack was in trouble.

Looking directly at Sam, George begged, "The nearest town is nearly 20 miles away! We have to find Jack, now. We're this close and I don't think we have time to waste. I've got a bad feeling," Either because they were getting closer to where she believed Jack to be or because she was finally paying attention to something other than Sam, she could sense how much danger the kid was in. But Dean was shaking his head dismissively, not listening beyond her request to stop. She tried offering sweetly, "We can at least stop since it's right here and you guys can take ten minutes to ask around and see if they've seen him? Do your little detective cosplay, strictly recon--I'm not sure if I'm using that term right but it sounds cool, so just go with it. I will stay in the car! Please!"

Dean looked like he was considering it but quickly shook his head, "George, I don't think that's a good idea; you'd be completely vulnerable and we can't be distracted worrying about you when we're trying to find Jack." He then squinted at her, offended. "And it's not cosplay. We're hunters, not LARPers."

"OK, I've seen you LARP and I know for a FACT you fucking love it, Mr. Braveheart!" Dean gave her a shocked glare, forgetting again that she knew more about their lives than a woman he'd met mere days ago normally would. She continued before he could respond, "And seriously, you guys I have a really bad feeling," She held her abdomen for emphasis, "Jack's in trouble! Please, I'll stay in the car with all the doors locked and one of your big giant knives. I'll be OK! I stabbed you didn't I?!" George reminded Dean, though she knew she was grasping at straws now.

Dean's eyes narrowed, "OK, first of all, you sliced me a little an-"

"Enough! Dean's right, we're not risking your life, Georgia. It's too dangerous," Sam's tone was startlingly definitive and both she and Dean were a bit stunned. Now that he realized who she was--who she had to be--there was no fucking way Sam was putting her in anymore danger. He'd made enough lapses in judgment since she'd showed up, any number of which could have already gotten her killed. He was done taking risks with her life.

As they saw the 'coming up' sign for "The Trees of Enigma", he pushed his foot down, speeding up just enough to make his point.

"Sam, please listen to me! Jack is here and he's in danger! What about protecting him?!" Both Sam and Dean shared an uneasy look; she could see they were torn she just didn't know how to convince them. Desperately, she reasoned, "I will be fine in the car! I promise! I'm from the future, God damnit! Don't you think I would know if I'd died on an old episode of Supernatural?!"

"I can't take that chance," Sam replied sternly, gripping the steering wheel tightly. Dean and she shared a confused expression and George huffed.

When they spotted the giant Johnny Appleseed statue around the bend, her stomach dropped. She could tell by the look on Sam's face there was no use and she began to panic, pleading with him. He was resolute about continuing, but as they were coming up on the turn in for the parking lot, he suddenly felt the steering wheel pulling against him. The whole car started thumping hard on the left hand driver's side. It took them a second to realize they'd gotten a flat tire and Sam knew he had no choice but to pull off the mountain highway and into the tourist spot's parking lot.

As he safely maneuvered the car into a distant parking spot and shut Baby off, George couldn't help but thank her lucky stars.

"Motherfucker," Sam landed a punch on the steering wheel.

"Hey, hey, hey! Don't you take this out on her!" Dean shouted angrily. "A car is only as good as its driver."

"Oh, you know what?! Yo--" Sam began but he was cut off by George's impatience.

"It doesn't matter, stop fighting!" Her tone was authoritative. "We're here and we aren't going anywhere anytime soon. So, why don't you boys go be hunters while I put the spare on the car? I'll be preoccupied with the car, it'll give you a chance to gather some intel on Jack, and by the time you come out you'll be able to take me to a motel--Not like that, Dean." She cut him off when she saw a smart ass expression burst onto his face at her words.

"You can change a tire?" He asked skeptically instead.

"Yes, Dean, I can change a tire. Ya know, women can also vote and take birth control now, too!"

"No, I know women can, I'm asking: can you?"

She shoved him gently and opened her car door, ordering, "just get out and show me where the spare is!" When she exited, a grateful shiver ran through her at the piercingly crisp Oregon climate. She was thankful for the relief from her earlier panic sweating.

Sam and Dean both exchanged identical "I-don't-like-this" looks before getting out of the car after her and popping the trunk. Dean lifted the trunk and then grabbed the false bottom that held some of their weaponry, exposing the spare and equipment underneath.

"OK, here's the jack and the lug wrench," he handed her the two tools and then reached back in for the tire. "Lemme pull the spare out for you."

"Stop wasting time, I can pull a tire out of a trunk."

"No, really, it's probably going to take one person just to hold the weapons up." Sam gently nudged her out of the way and leaned in to grab the spare while Dean held up the armory. Sam set it down next to the flat and then shoved the jack into position underneath the car with ease.

"Hey, knock it off. I told you I can change a tire," She grabbed Sam's wrist and tugged him back from the car, gently shoving him and Dean toward the visitor center and gift shop. "Now go! Go find out what you can about Jack. The sooner you go, the sooner you'll be back." Sam and Dean exchanged nervous looks, hesitating. "I'll be fine. Go. Bring me back some salt-water taffy!" She joked, trying to distract them.

"Wait," Dean walked back over and flipped back down the weapons shelf in the trunk and pulled a 17" bowing knife from some hidden pocket. Holding it out to her hilt first, he said, "The biggest knife we have. Don't hurt yourself."

"Jesus," She gulped. "OK. That's… big." She took it from his outstretched hand, nodding apprehensively, trying to psych herself up should she need to use it.

"I get that a lot." As Dean winked, George let out a small laugh and brandished the sheathed knife at him, faux menacingly.

Sam took a step towards her and pointed his hands at her in prayer position, "Hey, the second you get the spare on, you get in that car, lock all the doors, and watch for us, OK? Don't leave the car for any reason. Promise?" Now he was pleading with her.

"What if I have to pee?" She joked half-heartedly, starting to feel nervous and selfishly not wanting him to go.

"You could always try using that empty Pepsi bottle you had your eye on the other day," Sam cracked a small smile.

"Don't. Don't do that." Dean interjected in a serious tone. "Let's go, Sammy," Dean had to pull Sam away with a rough tug and the brothers headed for the gift shop while George checked that the jack was in place and began wrenching it up.

When she finally finished changing the tire about an hour later, she was sweating again and even more grateful for the nice, cool outside air. She lowered the car to the ground, then picked up the jack and lug wrench, placing them in the trunk. When she turned around to grab the flat, a beautiful woman with long dark brown hair was standing practically where George had just been standing herself.

"Jesus!" George startled upon seeing her, reeling backwards into the trunk a little.

"No, I'm Duma. Are you with the Winchesters?" She got right to the point. George suddenly felt all the hairs on her arms stand on end; this woman definitely seemed familiar, but was she a demon or an angel? Or something else? George couldn't remember. She noticed that Duma was standing between her and the knife, which she'd stupidly left on the ground on the other side of the discarded tire.

Shit.

"The who?" George played dumb, trying to figure out what to do. The boys would be back any minute right? Duma was starting to give her a funny look, like she was studying her.

"What…" Duma paused, squinting her eyes and looking her slowly up and down, "what are you?"

"Excuse me?" George replied, a little dumbstruck--not to mention offended--by the question. She slowly placed her hand casually on the lip of the open trunk. She tried to dart her eyes down imperceptibly to where her hand was, searching for any weapons she might be able to grab. Duma started to slowly step closer to her, seemingly not noticing George's fingers moving toward the 3" tactical blade strapped just within reach.

"What are you?" Duma reached for her and George whipped the knife out of its holster, slicing it at her and causing her to jump back.

The little tourist shop was surprisingly busy. As Officers Page and Plant waited patiently to speak with the manager they'd asked for going on 20 minutes ago, Dean watched Sam closely.

"Not in the mood," George said, swiping at her again and taking a confident step forward as Duma retreated. "Now back off." George didn't notice the nameless angel minion that had appeared behind her and never saw the cosmic knockout coming.

-----

Finally Sam noticed and raised a perturbed eyebrow, "What?"

Dean smiled knowingly and shook his head, "Nothing."

"Good, then keep your eyes to yourself," Sam sneered at him. He was reeling from his last conversation with George. Despite his earlier convincing, he was now nearly positive she was the woman from his dream and it wasn't anything he wanted to discuss with Dean. Though, he felt like his brother could see the scarlet letter on his chest and it was putting him on edge.

Just then an aged, grey haired black man appeared at the counter and waved them over. He was tall with a little more weight around the middle than the rest of him and just the slightest hint of wrinkles along the sides of his face, denoting that the wide, friendly smile he was giving them was a typical look for him.

Dean chuckled and muttered, "Ooh, smitten Sammy is salty," as they walked up to the counter and flashed their badges at the man. Sam narrowed his eyes, biting back his response to focus on the job at hand.

"Can I help you, Officers?" The wrinkle-faced man asked, eyes scanning the police badges curiously.

"We're looking for a missing person," Dean stated as Sam held up his phone with a picture of Jack for the man to see. "There's a chance he's in some real danger. Have you seen him?"

The man looked carefully at the photo and then shook his head apologetically, "No sir, I don't believe I have. But there's a separate shack for our walking tour tickets. Molly's been out there working the window all day. If he came through she'll know."

"Thank you, how do we--?" Sam asked quickly, putting his phone away.

"Just go back out the way you came, follow the wooden fence along to the left, and you'll see a path for the walking tour," The man pointed the way with a renewed, jovial smile and they thanked him.

Exiting out the door, the brothers followed the man's directions until they found the walking tour shack. Behind the plexiglass window was an older woman they could only describe as a redneck hippie. What they could see of her outfit was jean overalls and a cotton tie-dye shirt. She had the tanned leathery skin of a woman who spent her life either working in or enjoying the outdoors, her bleach blonde hair was hair sprayed to heaven, had dark black roots, and her teeth were a muddy shade of smoker yellow. On the tip of her nose sat a pair of small, round, purple tinted glasses attached to a beaded chain around her neck and her overalls were covered in an eccentric mishmash of flair that included the NRA and the Grateful Dead.

Dean gave a charming smile and began, "Officers Page and Plant. Molly, I presume?"

"Hello Gentlemen," She greeted happily with a wide, appreciative smile, removing her glasses from her nose and laying them against her chest. When they lifted up their badges she raised a brow, "Oh, 'Officers,' I see."

"Everyday of my life. How can I be of service?" She was sizing them both up carefully, appraising them.

"We're looking for someone," Dean repeated as Sam held the phone up for Molly to see. "Have it on good authority he might have gone through here. Any chance you've seen him?"

Molly reached up and grabbed her glasses again. Slipping them on quickly, she leaned closer to the glass and inspected the photo.

"Hard to say," She started, squinting her eyes a bit. "But there was a baby faced young man that came through with his sister a little bit ago. Could be the same guy, but my eyes just ain't what they used ta be."

"How long ago?" Dean asked seriously.

"Maybe an hour?"

"How did he seem?"

"Quiet and moody," Molly shrugged, "typical for your average young boy dragged here by their family. Didn't think much of it, honestly."

"What did his sister look like?"

"Shorter than him, but just as pale. Long brown hair, brown eyes I think? I'd say mid-twenties. She looked about as thrilled to be here as he did."

"Did they buy tickets?" Sam asked quickly.

"Sure did," Molly nodded. "Paid cash, asked for the fastest route to the wilderness trail." She picked up a map sitting in the display case in front of her, then grabbed a pen and drew out directions quickly, as though she'd done it a thousand times before. Handing the map through the small cutout in her window, she stated, "These are the directions I gave them."

"Thank you very much for your assistance, Molly," Sam said sincerely, grabbing the map and taking a few steps back, ready to head toward Jack.

"No problem, Officer," Molly said with a sweet smile, then turned to Dean and said, "Listen, I have a granddaughter you'd be perfect for." Dean raised an intrigued eyebrow, a charming smile appearing on his face as Molly reached up above the plexiglass and yanked a photo down from the shelf. Holding it out for Dean to see, she suggested, "Maybe the two of us can figure out a way to get her away from her no good, crank dealing boyfriend, eh?"

Initially interested, Dean moved closer to the photo and then wrenched back quickly, "Molly… Uh… how old is--"

"Sheila. She'll be 17 in October. Ain't she a beauty?" Molly grinned proudly. Dean and Sam both tried to hold back grimaces.

"Oh, of course, I understand," Molly nodded quickly and grabbed up a pen and another map, scribbling a note and handing it through the plexiglass. "Here's her SnapChat. She's always looking for new friends!"

"Well, she certainly takes after her grandmother, doesn't she?" Was all Dean could think to say. Luckily Molly was clearly flattered and he added quickly, "But, uh, we're on official police business right now, so I can't real--"

Dean, masking his horror like a pro, took the glossy, folded piece of evidence and nodded, "Thanks, Molly. You've been a real help."

"Anything for you, Officer!" She called after them as he took a few steps to catch up with Sam and the two of them began heading down the trail.

After tossing Dean's map in the first trash can they could find out of eye-shot of Molly, they followed Sam's map for about a mile along the trail before coming to a split. The two of them looked first left then right. The left path went straight around the mountain, the right path wound up the mountain in a zigzag pattern.

Sam checked the map again, "OK, she directed them this way," he pointed toward the left.

"Hold on," Dean said, having turned around. He was now facing about 90 degrees to the left of the left path. "You see this?" Sam turned to look and saw a line in the surrounding ground ivy that looked like a man made path. It clearly wasn't as used as the other two and it wasn't on the map.

"What about it? Molly sai-"

"Look," Dean instructed, pointing into the forest. As Sam scanned the area Dean was pointing at, Dean started slowly following the small, easily missable path. He followed him, still not seeing anything of interest, and they walked about 40 feet before Sam finally noticed a patch of dark green that looked decidedly unnatural against the normal foliage.

As they got closer it became clear that what they were seeing was a dark green nylon winter coat. The coat was attached to a body that was crumpled on its side, as though tossed into the vegetation in a hasty effort to hide it. Drawing their weapons, they approached carefully. Dean got there first, finding a small, fair skinned, brown haired woman.

"Jack's 'sister'?" Dean asked bending down to place two fingers on the young woman's neck, though she was very clearly dead.

"That's Tilly!" Sam said sharply, finally catching up.

"You mean, it was Tilly," Dean looked at him curiously.

Sam grimaced and explained, "Another refugee. She's been training with us. I thought she was on a Wraith hunt with Steiner and Green."

"So, what's she doing here?" Dean asked, standing up straight again.

"And why did Jack come with her? They hardly know each other." The two of them quickly swept the immediate area for any clues but found nothing more. Moving her body farther out of sight for the time being, they then continued cautiously forward along the path.