#like assuming he doesn’t remember any of the supernatural shit

[lesbianfakir]

If fakir succeeds in turning duck human what the FUCK does that look like from charon’s perspective like.

Your son brings home a fully naked woman who’s now dripping pond water all over your floor. She has no home no family no possessions she doesn’t even own CLOTHES. You swear you’ve never met this woman before but something about her is vaguely familiar? Your son is talking to her like he’s known her all his life. Cherry on the fucking cake she has the same name as your son’s duck that he adores. You’re never going to see that goddamn duck again.

[musicalmoritz]

Ok ok I want you to think about swap terukane so like clock keeper Teru x exorcist Akane. And also like Akanes the super super popular school president. Yea so like thoughts/headcanons?? (I always cook up the most insane ideas in the middle of the night and I actually remember this one vaguely!)

Let’s talk about the Terukane swap au!! I’ve seen a few people write and draw for this but I’ve never rly read any of the fics or looked too much into it so I’m entirely making this shit up on my own, Ik this is a popular trope so I apologize if I miss any of the sub tropes that are included with it ;-;

It’s hard for me to separate Teru or Kou from exorcism since the Minamotos were a real life clan, but I don’t think I’d go about this in the “Akane is a Minamoto and Teru is an Aoi” way. I suppose for this au it’s most reasonable to say the Minamotos are a regular family and the Aois are the exorcist clan. That provides another fun question tho, are the Akane girls still kannagi?? Since this is strictly a Terukane swap au I’ll assume they are, though if we wanted to take it further we could swap Aoi with Nene or one of the other characters. It’s easier for me to follow strict guidelines tho so I’m gonna keep it at just Terukane being swapped

That alone changes so much of the story tho, it’s very interesting to me. We’ll say the Minamotos are still a strict/traditional family, so there’s still some pressure on Teru and Kou. Just not to the extent that there is in canon. And assuming their mom still died in due to complications from childbirth, their dad would still be absent and Teru and Kou will still have to grow up too soon by raising Tiara. But things would be significantly easier on them since they’d be taking care of the family together. Teru would learn basic life skills like cooking, which would take a load off of Kou. Then since the work would be split, they’d both have more free time on their hands. If one of them wants to hang out with friends, the other can take over cooking and cleaning for the night. Tho that would lead to numerous sibling arguments, since Teru is the oldest he’d probably push Kou around a bit when they’re younger lol. He’d run that house like the military

I want to say Kou is the one the Clock Keepers threaten him with since Teru is so protective of him, but that wouldn’t rly work since they wouldn’t be at school together during Teru’s first year of junior high. As an oldest sibling, Teru is very protective by nature, so they might be able to choose any random student. Once they have him where they want him, they throw in some threats aimed at his siblings to secure their chances of making a contract. So Teru ends up going down the same self-sacrificial route we see in canon, he becomes a Clock Keeper so that no one else has to do it

Without any siblings, Akane is the soul beholder of the family legacy. Self-sacrifice isn’t even an option for him, he’s the only one who can succeed his parents so he must do it. Then there’s Aoi, his childhood best friend. If Akane were an exorcist and they grew up together, Aoi would find out about supernaturals way sooner. Maybe he tells her himself, because he can no longer carry the burden alone. And he knows she’s a kannagi, that something bad could happen to her someday if he doesn’t keep a close eye on her, so he has to watch her like a hawk. In this au there’s not as many secrets between them, so much is at stake so they have to be transparent with each other. Akane’s honesty inspires Aoi to be more honest with him as well. So the obsession between them, platonic or otherwise, is a lot more mutual. They developed sort of a trauma bond at an early age and now they have to look out for each other

Akane’s popularity comes from his natural inclination to help others. He’s such a kind person, even if he can be aggressive. And without him having to constantly chase Aoi, no one thinks he’s a weirdo. It’s a little odd that he’s so protective of his friend, but he’s so damn nice that everyone just shrugs it off as him being sweet. Teru though? Teru is the weirdo

His family is still strict but without the same expectations placed on him, there’s no need for him to try and excel at everything. No one cares if he’s the best student so he can do whatever he wants. And yeah, he’s pretty, but he’s also loud and annoying. He teases people and gets creepily sadistic at times. This ties into my audhd Minamotos headcanon, without the pressure he’s under in canon, Teru feels less of a need to mask. He still does it to some extent due to societal pressure and all but the only opinion he really cares about are those of his siblings, so he’s content to be himself. He makes a few friends this way too, he’s not exactly popular but the people who get him get him. I’m gonna make him friends with Nene in this au, she appreciates his realness

Because of Akane’s hatred for supernaturals, they don’t get along at first. Teru joins the Student Council to keep a better eye on everyone so he can do better at his job as a Clock Keeper. Kou attending Kamome and getting closer with supernaturals has a lot to do with it. When they first meet, Akane ties Teru up and tries to interrogate him but bcuz this is Less Traumatized Teru it goes way differently than he planned. Teru’s filter is nonexistent so when Akane tries to threaten him he’s just like “oh hello cute boy I like you very much.” But the thing is, Akane can’t tell if Teru is joking or not. He assumes he must be, because there’s no way a School Mystery feels things like love and crushes. Still, Teru is so painfully Just A Regular Dude that Akane is forced to see him differently. Cue the typical Terukane “relationship built on trust” shenanigans. Reluctant partners in crime and what not

I’m not gonna go as far as to say they have a Sakura and Natsuhiko type dynamic but it’s similar. The classic “are you flirting with me?” “have been for the past 10 years, thanks for noticing” meme. Think of it as all of Teru’s jokes about liking Aoi in canon if they were directly aimed at Akane instead. Then the “wait- do you have genuine feelings for Ao-chan?” scene becomes “do you have genuine feelings for me?” or “were you serious this whole time?” Their dynamic changes a lot after that. Akane starts flirting back, and instead of using Aoi to motivate Teru he uses himself. “Help me save her and I might take you up on that offer for a date.” And then they do go on a date, at the school festival right before everything turns to shit

Adding to that, in this au I imagine Aoi and Akane are the ones betrothed in the new timeline. This brings in conflict bcuz let’s say Akane used to have feelings for Aoi but those faded over time, it’s all platonic between them now as opposed to what we see in canon. So he has the opportunity to either be with the girl he used to love, the girl he’s been with all his life, his safety blanket…or go back to the boy who’s stolen his heart. Damn that was cheesy, I’m cooking here

Kako also becomes Teru’s father figure btw bcuz he needs one. And despite his dislike for supernaturals, Teru adores Mirai bcuz she reminds him of Tiara. Found family ftw

Thanks for the ask, I hadn’t thought much abt this au before but now I’ve gotten myself invested

[quietwingsinthesky]

what do you think people would say about supernatural/the winchesters relationship if sam was female?

Realistically, I think Sam being a woman would have given the show itself free rein to be So Much Fucking Weirder towards her. I know this ask is mostly about the fandom’s reaction, but I need to set the basis that, given everything we know about how the show already is, Supernatural would have taken the Sam Experiencing Sexual Violence dial that is already at 9 and cranked that baby up to 20 and left it there for the whole run. And also, given everything else we know about the show, every time Dean ribs about Sam being gay in canon would either 1) stay that way but now have the extra layer of “Dean is really into watching girls fuck” on top of it to make it weird or 2) would just flat out be replaced with Dean hitting on Sam/insinuating something along the lines of ‘why would u ever want another guy? when I am here and all u need?’ because Dean is already a creep obsessed with his brother, can you imagine how it would’ve been written if he had a baby sister instead? Homophobia was the only thing holding the show back from flat out incest sometimes, I swear to god.

Okay, so. Now that I have established All Of That.

For one, we have to take into account how the fandom tended to react to female characters in general. Let’s see the forecast is uh. Bad. We are looking at huge divides between the “Sam is cool, we like her” and the “Sam is a bitch and the show should just be about Dean” crowds. (And the third crowd of “Sam should fuck her brother 😩”, absolutely wincest would still be a thing. It might be even more of a thing in this universe, but that’s all speculation.) Especially when s4 rolls around and Sam decides to be a little evil (and have a girlfriend? I’m assuming everything else in the show goes as is, and so would the Ruby plotline. Which means that’s going to awaken even more things in people than it already does. I would have stopped functioning if I saw girl!Sam/Ruby blood drinking and fucking on my screen as a preteen do you have any idea-) People are going to villainize the shit out of her for that, never let it go.

(Now, as the fandom ages, a lot of this is gonna simmer down like it did for real for characters like Bela. But in the moment? A goddamn war zone. Toxic waste dump.)

And we need to talk about the elephant in the room. Destiel. We already exist in a world where Sam will be completely sidelined and erased to get Dean and Castiel’s love story to seem like the most important plot of Supernatural. Now, I want you to imagine the absolute hell that would be to exist in a fandom where Destiel is the big slash ship and the other main character of the show is a woman. At best, continued sidelining. At worst, we are looking at “Sam is a bitch and the show should be about dean only” attitudes that carry forward into “Sam is a bitch who is in the way of destiel and should be killed off to get her out of the way.” Which you may note is usually a role given to female love interests that are despised for breaking up the main ship. This is because, for all intents and purposes, Sam is the main love interest in competition with Castiel for Dean. On a fandom level between ship wars of destiel vs wincest, but also textually, in the show, beyond shipping, Sam fills out that role in a platonic way as well and Castiel doesn’t. If Sam was a woman, this spells bad news for her. No woman gets in the way of gay ships and comes out unharmed.

Okay and now let’s talk about Lucifer because we need to talk about Lucifer, I’m a Lucifer blog, I’m a samifer girl, and I can tell you that none of these things would change for me if I was watching this version of the show lol. But! Remember what I said about the Sam Sexual Violence dial? Yeah. That is going to be. Extremely loud. Every time Sam and Lucifer are in the same scene. I guarantee you this is the universe where we get evil forced Samifer kisses at multiple points. This is absolutely the universe where, when Lucifer decides he wants a kid, he tries to get Sam pregnant first and only if he fails does he move onto someone else (and hint: he probably doesn’t fail.) Think about every Sam & Lucifer scene that ever happened and now reimagine it but the show can now be as weirdly sexually violent as it feels like because it’s “straight” now. The innuendos are out, and Lucifer is going to pin Sam against a wall at some point.

I’m very into this, but I feel like this would make the whole fandom situation around them a lot worse. People already get up in arms around samifer, or even liking Lucifer at all. If all that subtext became flat out text and people could gif “Times Lucifer sexually assaulted Sam on screen” into little gotcha compilations, it would be way more of a struggle to exist around here.

But like I’d still be into it so I’d definitely still be here, give me those comps, I’m gonna jerk off to them

ANYWAY. That’s what I think would change if Sam was a lady. Overall, not great, but I think there would also be a lot of people who find her relatable, empowering, etc, and really enjoy her as a woman. Probably the same people who like Sam now, honestly. If there’s any universe I got a chance to peak into, I’d want it to be this one. If only for samruby canon lesbian sex.

[wontbyers]

I don’t know why anyone would not want Will to have powers. I’ve been on this train since the fucking start. He is the central character of the whole story, along with El. It all starts and ends with them. He is so connected to the Upside Down. He was the first one taken, hunted but not killed by the Demogorgon.

Remember it killed the scientist and Barb without hesitation, it didn’t bring Barb’s body to a secondary location (the library, apparently the center of town where the gates all converge in s4) and put a vine in her throat for purposes still unknown to us. Why was Will treated differently? I’ll note it’s possible that the vine is just the temporary stage for the demo-larvae incubation, which we know Barb’s body must have been subjected to as well with the slug coming out of her mouth later. We don’t actually see that process (thankfully) so we can’t be sure how it works and if that’s the only reason Will had the vine at that time.

But S4 shows us how the hive-mind and all the vines are connected to Henry/Vecna/One and how he absorbs people’s powers by either killing them or with the hive-mind, like the meat flayer biting El in s3 to steal/copy her powers. So it’s also possible that had something to do with the state Joyce and Hop found Will in. And in that case, what exactly was taken/borrowed from Will when he had the vine in him or when he temporarily died in the Upside Down in 1983?

He follows the “came back wrong” trope wherein even after he’s revived and brought back home, he had a connection to the other side. He was experiencing flashes into the UD (shadow-walking or what have you) when he wasn’t even possessed yet. In fact, the Mind Flayer (which we know now to be Henry’s tool) was specifically hunting him, stalking him, beckoning him, chasing him down.

Thus Henry either 1. opened the doorway for him into the other dimension (not a gate-doorway, but whatever that shadow-walking was—the “flea and the acrobat” but Will is the flea) so that he could possess him with the Mind Flayer, because he wanted Will in particular as his host for some reason.

OR 2. He chose Will as his host because Will could already shadow-walk (unintentionally/uncontrollably) and happened to make himself an available option for possession by being an accessible body in the UD, in which case Will is the one with the special ability.

Like, either he was chosen for a reason (we don’t know yet) or he was chosen for convenience because he was doing something supernatural on his own. Either way it’s fucking suspicious, no? What more do you people want??

Will also maintains his connection to the Upside Down hive-mind AFTER being exorcised of the shadow/flayer particles. He can sense that shit in s3 and s4 (once he’s back in proximity/in Hawkins.) He gets the same neck tingles he did BEFORE he was ever possessed, while he was possessed, after he was freed.

(And of course, Henry focuses on his vendetta against El because he has a personal beef with her, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t also have a secret motive for targeting Will, trying to use him for whatever purposes. The reason he hasn’t spoken it is to keep it a surprise—why would the Duffers show all their hands in the second-to-last season and not leave any more surprises for the big finale?? What other twist is left, unless s5 is just “they’re gonna have to fight him again until El finally puts him down for good, the end, nothing else unique or interesting or new to understand here.”)

IN ADDITION. The UD is frozen on the day Will was taken (November 6, 1983 is also the day El opened the mother-gate, but remember this was the second time she opened it so clearly it was not her influence that—either imprinted a flashbulb image of Hawkins as it was on that night onto the formerly untouched UD dimension, or froze the dimension in its progression of time if the UD was already existing as a dark mirror of our world at that point.)

This has Will written all over it, but everyone automatically assuming it only comes back to El is such a good misdirect that people who are not as invested in theorizing will be shocked to find out how deeply connected Will is with all of it. Everyone assumes El is the only main character but she and Will’s stories have always been so intertwined.

I swear, I’ve been waiting for the ultimate reveal of Will’s importance to the core storyline—not just “he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and then again idk”—for years. Since I first watched this show. Seeing people say he’s not is SO BIZARRE TO ME.

Some are just people who don’t care for him as a character and therefore refuse to see how central he is, even with all the evidence in their face. Some do like Will but are El super-fans who want her to be the only special one and think we’re trying to take something away from her by suggesting Will also has importance to the main supernatural storyline and has powers. Couldn’t be me, I’m a Willel Wonder Twins truther from day 1, fuck you. They’re equally central to the plot. They’re two sides of the same coin. They’re (platonic) soulmates.

But also seeing people who love Will and ship Byler say they don’t want him to have powers because “oh but Mike’s superhero complex, it’s not good for their romantic storyline because—” blah blah I’ve been a Will Byers stan before Byler and regardless of Byler. I love them, I need them to have their happy ending together, but Will Byers having powers and a connection to the Upside Down has ALWAYS been the plot and neither that nor the Byler plotline cancel each other out or cheapen each other!!! (Will being gay and getting the boy is not his only character arc. Controversial???)

My personal favorite theory: I think it makes so much sense if Will had an unknown ability to shape the Upside Down into a version of Hawkins—because we do get to see how the realm appeared before he was taken (when Henry explores it) and we know that it was frozen on the date he was taken.

The Duffers have literally stated that season 5 would address those questions, that they included that bit in s4 but didn’t explain it—which means that the answer CANNOT simply be that it’s the date El opened the gate and that’s why. That’s already the information we have. If that was the answer there wouldn’t still be a question.

Plus Will is paralleled to Henry—Henry was said to be a “sensitive” boy and had some artistic interest: he drew his spiders and the unique spider-adjacent shape of the “Mind Flayer” which we see him form out of the shapeless cloud of particles in the UD. Will also being an artist and having the unexplored ability to shape an imprint of his hometown on the foreign dimension he was adbucted into? More likely than you’d think.

Also, the idea that it’s maybe too late to show that he has powers, that he (or we as an audience) should have known by now? They did a whole entire plot-line in s4 where El had repressed memories due to trauma and was able to recover powers that had been stolen from her. Is it truly impossible that we’ll see a “plot twist” (it’s not a twist for genius Will-has-powers-truthers who have predicted it but I digress) where Will unlocks latent abilities that he didn’t even know he had?

He doesn’t have to specifically have powers to have shaped/frozen the Upside Down, I just think that makes a lot of sense. I also thinks it makes a lot of sense that he’s connected to the Upside Down without even being attached to the hive-mind, because he could sense it before/after the possession. Inarguable, actually that part’s just canon.

Speculation: maybe we’ll see him wrest control of the hive-mind from Henry and bring peace back to the Demogorgons and their home dimension. (Return it to being unspoiled by mankind.) That’s my ultimate pipe dream, but I probably won’t get everything I want.

Anyway, Noah Schnapp and the Duffers have all stated multiple times that Will is gonna be a big focus next season, fans are going to be shocked and pleased, it all started and will end with him etc etc. Whether you like it or not.

Get on board losers!!!! I don’t care if I’m mean, you are the most boring person ever if you think Will Byers doesn’t/shouldn’t canonically have powers in Stranger Things.

[chasseurdeloup]

2 Hunters, 1 Prey || Leticia and Kaden

TIMING: Before The Sound of Silence LOCATION: A tunnel near the outskirts of town PARTIES: @rhythmicmeow and @chasseurdeloup SUMMARY: Leticia goes after a young employee of her shop that she thinks might be in trouble. Kaden gets a call to animal control about a weird bear in the tunnels and goes to investigate just as Leticia arrives. CONTENT WARNINGS: None

Myra. The name kept repeating in Leticia’s head. She was a regular employee at the Vinyl Countdown. A good kid. But with stupid, risky ideas of what a fun night looked like. And this was the only strange location that she could remember Myra talking about. A haunted tunnel on the outskirts of town that led into, what Leticia assumed, was the sewer system. Weird things happen there, Myra had said. By the dense shadows at the entrance, Leticia had a feeling what kind of beast Myra might have tangled with. 

Giving the balam spirit more room to breathe within her body, Leticia listened for the creature inside, but mostly, for Myra, hoping to hear any lifesign of the young woman. Instead, she heard footsteps. Her head snapped in the direction of the footsteps, away from the tunnel, and towards an approaching man in the darkness. Fuck. “Hey friend,” she said, in an overtly friendly tone. “I wouldn’t recommend coming down here, I work with the Park Rangers and there’s a bear down here. WIth one of her cubs. I’m watching her to make sure when she wakes up and starts moving, she heads back to the woods where she belongs and doesn’t get confused. So, why don’t you head back home?” 

It was 50/50 if the call about a bear in the tunnel on the outskirts of town was about a real bear or some sort of monster. It was just as likely it was a grizzly in there as it was that it had been a bugbear trying to scare the shit out of people. Either way, Kaden was more than suited for the job. He headed out with the usual arsenal: crossbow, rifle, pistol with tranquilizers, and a number of knives. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure what he was hoping to run into. A normal bear would be dangerous, but he’d know what to do. A bakubear would be fine, as well. But a bugbear? Putin, he wasn’t sure what the fuck the plan was going to be if he ran into one of those. In the past, the answer had been simple. Was it supernatural? If yes, kill it. But now, the thought of just shooting a shifter and not asking any questions felt–

Didn’t matter, he’d cross that bridge when he got there– if he even got there tonight. Putain de merde, he really shouldn’t be out working or hunting without any goddamn codes yet. In the field, there wasn’t time to question a decision, there was only time to act, and it was a hell of a lot easier to act when you knew the rules of the game. So far his only rules were that he shouldn’t default to his family’s rules.

As he approached the area where the entrance to the tunnel opened up, a shiver shot down his spine. Fuck. His stomach dropped. He was going to have to make some kind of decision tonight if he kept going. There was a shifter in the area. Probably not a werewolf, the signals weren’t strong enough. He could turn around, just leave, make this a problem for later or for someone else. It might be better if–

A voice called out and Kaden stopped in his tracks. “That so?” he replied, taking a few more cautious steps towards the sound. The hairs on his arm stood on edge as he closed the distance between them. It could mean a number of things — he wasn’t going to read into it just yet. “Good thing I’m animal control and came to handle the situation. Why don’t you go on home, then?”

She had been prepared for a question or two about the bear — some information to sate their curiosity before they would eventually make the trip back to town, but she had not prepared herself to be dealing with anyone from animal control. It would seem that, once again, Leticia was the punchline to a joke the universe was telling. Hopefully, someone was getting a laugh about her misfortune. 

Dusting off her pants, Leticia stood up and crossed her arms, facing the man fully now. Maybe, like a traditional bear, Leticia could stand a little taller and intimidate him into leaving. “Animal control? You’re a little late to the scene, buddy. Besides, I was here first and the situation is already under control.” There was a silver of concern for him as well as Myra. For all the assumptions she had made about the beast inside the tunnels, Leticia couldn’t be sure until she saw the thing with her own eyes. And letting another human into the tunnels with it? 

She didn’t want to be responsible for his safety, too. 

Taking a moment to look at him more fully, her heart dropped. A new twist and worry formed in the pit of her stomach and pulled her out of the delusion she had allowed herself to fall into. He was too well equipped to just work for animal control. Paranoia pulled at the corners of her mind. She couldn’t turn her back on him. It was too big of a risk. 

Feigning disinterest, Leticia shrugged her shoulders and then glanced towards the tunnel opening. “Well, since you’re already here, you might as well make yourself useful. How much tranquilizer do you have on you?” Arms crossed and head tipped just slightly, Leticia sighed, this was going to be a mess. “This better not be your first day.” 

Kaden’s brows knit together in confusion. “Late? What are you–” Ah, she thought she was going to handle this. He rolled his eyes and began to walk past her. “Yeah, I don’t think so. I’ve got it covered. Since you shouldn’t be here at all let alone first.”

He’d hoped she’d take the hint and turn around and go. Home. 

She did not.

Kaden sighed as she planted her feet firmly, arms crossed. Bordel de merde, he didn’t want to have to make sure she didn’t get herself hurt. Or killed. It was hard enough to make sure he didn’t get killed when it was just him. 

“Right, I’m not the one who has to make themselves useful,” he said as he pulled the rifle off his back, making sure it was loaded. Kaden tried not to raise his brow too much at her mention of tranquilizers. Sure, he had those, but that wasn’t what he was loading into the gun just then. “Plenty,” he answered flatly. Rifle looked good and Kaden was ready to head into the tunnel, so he started walking. 

He wondered if maybe he should take out a flashlight or something just for show. Sure, he could see just fine in the dark, but she didn’t need to know that. Of course, he wasn’t entirely sure if he had one. Didn’t normally have company on hunts. He huffed out a laugh at her last comment. First day? “Far from it.” He may have only been an animal control officer for a few months, but he’d been a hunter his whole damn life.  

“You’d better be a fast runner,” he said as they started down the tunnel. “Because the first sign of trouble, that’s what you should do, got it?” It was the least he could hope for now that she followed him into the potential monster’s lair. 

It was a fire that she had started with her words, an insult for an insult, a prod for a prod — but still, Leticia looked like he had overstepped when he said that she would be the one that would have to prove their worth here. “I think a prompt arrival already proves that at least one of us has some sense of urgency.” No matter how annoyed she was, she didn’t say what she did loudly. It was a grumbling under her breath. 

He stepped into the tunnel and Leticia was right on his heels, pretending not to notice that he didn’t have a light in his hand and wondering how long he’d pretend not to notice that she wasn’t tripping in the dark either. “You want me to run?” She said, louder this time. It was demanding but kind, in a strange way. 

Leticia chewed the inside of her lip, listening to the sounds echoing around the tunnels as they walked. “Wait,” she whispered, stopping a few feet behind him. “Head towards the left.” There was an unnatural pause before she followed the man again. “Listen—“ the word came out harsher than she intended, and mentally, she cursed herself, but pressed on. He was already in the tunnel with her and the deeper in the tunnels they got, the less she cared about what he knew about her. Myra was more important. 

“There’s a girl named Myra and last I heard from her she was talking about some spooky tunnels at the edge of town. She didn’t come home last night. Her parents called this morning to see if she showed up for her shift.” Leticia wished she could say that she knew Myra was down there and that she was alive, but she couldn’t. “I can run, but not without her.” 

Kaden snuck a sideways glance at the woman who was right on his heels. He already knew to go left, there were faint sounds that way somewhere off in the distance. The real question was how did she know that? He could still feel the alert prickling at his skin, but it hadn’t changed since he’d gotten to the entrance to the tunnel. It had remained steady, constant. And that certainly brought even more questions. None that he was going to question even in his mind let alone outloud. Not yet. 

Her next words stopped him in his tracks, his head snapping to look at her. “There’s a kid down here?” Putain. He rubbed his hands down his face. Well that fucking complicated things. And also increased the urgency ten-fold. “No time to waste, then,” he said and continued deeper into the tunnel. He was careful to keep his steps light, trying not to sacrifice speed as best he could. 

The hunter listened for any more signs of life up ahead. There wasn’t much, but there were small scuffs and scratches he could hear. Kaden tried to plan what to do whenever they did find the creature in question. He had his rifle in hand, but if there was a potential human down there, too, he wondered if that was the best weapon to start with. A missed shot could be fatal. 

A roar rang through the tunnel. “Shit.” Kaden couldn’t stop himself from running towards the source. Plans would have to be improvised. 

He snapped, and for good reason. Leticia bit the inside of her lip and looked him in the eyes, wondering if he could see the concern in her features, or if the movement was just for show. He had been moving flawlessly through the tunnels, stepping lightly and moving quickly — with such care in the dark that it was impossible to convince herself that he was either like her… or he was after people like her. 

“Myra,” Leticia repeated. “Her name is Myra.” Clinging to the present tense as if it would change anything that might have already happened. This was no place for a young woman to get lost, and certainly not one who was simply human, but until there was evidence otherwise, she’d keep holding onto Myra as if she were still there. “I don’t know what’s down here.” The only other truly honest thing she had shared with her new companion. “But… tranquilizers.” The silent please hung in the air. Would it have mattered if she had said it? Should he have begged for him to change the weapon he was holding? 

He might have been uninterested in her for the time being, but he cared that there was a child down here. Leticia figured betting on his humanity might be safe. 

But the roar meant all bets were off. He ran and Leticia was close behind, hands clenched into fists as fear and anxiety mixed to create a toxic cocktail, threatening to overwhelm her. The tunnel opened into a small canal, Myra was slumped on the ground by a barred gate that prevented anyone from getting too far into the underground of the city. 

The beast that they had heard was an unnatural looking bear, one that Leticia couldn’t name… but she was confident she could take. “You’re going to hate this idea,” she whispered to him, a huff of a laugh hidden in her words. “I can take this thing.” She looked at him, only long enough to make sure he wasn’t about to risk it all with a shot. “How fast can you run? With her added weight?” 

Kaden slowed once Myra and the monster were in sight. It was bear-shaped, alright.  Squinting, he took a closer look, trying to discern what it really was he was about to face. It was hard to say, could be a bugbear or a regular grizzly. 

A rumble of bau, bau, bau came from the canal in front of them. 

That answered that question. Baukbear. Should be easy enough to take down. Kaden was ready to line up a shot, with the rifle that wasn’t loaded with tranquilizers, despite her request. The hunter was about to steady the gun, hands hovering over the trigger, when she spoke. An idea?  “Mmhmm,” he mumbled, lowering the barrel ever slightly to look over at her from the corner of his eye. He was interested. It wasn’t like he had a plan beyond run in and fight the monster. He hoped that would be enough but he was open to other options.

“What?” He almost forgot to keep his voice lowered as he turned to face her, dropping his line of sight on the beast.  Well, he thought he was open to other options. At least not that option. “You can take this thing? With what?! A song and dance? What are you going to do barehanded against a bauk–” 

Kaden nearly missed the shiver down his spine, the one that had almost doubled since they got closer to the monster. His hunter senses felt like he was surrounded. Which meant…

His mouth pulled into a thin, tight line and his eyes bore into the shifter standing next to him, searching for a reason to trust her. Every little hair on his arm that was standing on edge was telling him not to, that he should make sure to take care of her just as much as that bakubear across the way. He could practically hear his sister’s voice hissing in his ear, telling him to do the right thing.

His eyes darted to the slumped body of the girl on the ground with the monster. Saving her. That was the right thing, no questions asked. The rest, well, he could debate the rest but Myra was what was important above all else. 

He had to trust that they shared the same goal, and that she had the better perspective on things. And if he was wrong, he’d make it right later. 

“Faster than most,” he finally answered, lowering his weapon and flipping the safety back on. He wondered if she knew what he was, if she suspected. Didn’t matter. “You sure about this?” 

The gun in his hands caused Leticia to internally panic. She should have been worried about the notbear inside the tunnel with them, or even more concerned about the fact that he seemed too well adjusted to the darkness to be normal, but instead, she was looking at that gun and thinking about Myra. All it would take was one wrong move. 

Whatever suspicions she had been willfully ignoring were confirmed with one slip. Bauk— the start of what she assumed was the creature’s name. A small slip, but Leticia didn’t miss it. How many people came well equipped into the tunnels of a seemingly small town more than prepared to face off against something supernatural in nature? Suddenly the strange bear wasn’t the most dangerous thing in these tunnels. No, that honor went to the man standing next to her. Looking her in the eyes. 

There was a long, silent moment, where Leticia wondered if she had earned herself a bullet. What would be more important to him? She wanted to believe that Myra was the obvious answer, the only right answer would be to save her. But Leticia had never tangled with a hunter directly. She couldn’t pretend to know what went on in their minds or how they made such decisions. Maybe she was the greater threat to them, being able to blend in with humans so easily. 

But he had the benefit of seeing her face. If he wanted to, he’d find her after this. Leticia’s heart was pounding in her chest. The choice to her was simple. But in the darkness of the tunnel she was drafting a letter to her mother in her head. That way she wouldn’t wonder about what happened like Leticia did daily with her absence. 

He flipped the safety back on his gun and Leticia took in a sharp breath. “You’re a hunter, aren’t you?” It wasn’t a question that needed answering. It didn’t matter what he said, the fear had already rooted itself in her stomach. And she had already made her choice about revealing herself so that the three of them would make it out of here alive. Whatever his answer was, she was ready to reveal her hand. 

“I can’t carry her and run, so that just leaves you.” Leticia nodded her head, finally answering the actual question he posed. “I’m sure.” She moved closer to where the tunnel connected to the other room, her hand braced on the wall while she watched the strange bear’s movements. Rotating her shoulders back, Leticia took a deep breath, preparing herself. She had done this before, she could do it again. Focus on the bear. Myra’s scent is familiar, she’ll be safe. 

Propelling herself out of the passage, Leticia threw herself at the bear the moment it put the slightest bit of distance between itself and Myra. Her elongated nails dug into the skin of the bear, only for her to be swatted with uncanny strength. It wasn’t her that hit the floor though, it was the jaguar. Landing on her feet, the beast roared to life as the bear stumbled. 

The question caught him off guard, though it shouldn’t. It was easy for Kaden to forget about the other side of the coin, that shifters could recognize a hunter the same way a hunter could identify a shifter. For a moment, he worried that the ire might turn on him, that it might have been an even bigger mistake to put his gun away than he initially thought. But like a lot of what he was conditioned to believe, his first thought was wrong. She wasn’t about to turn on him the same way he didn’t plan to turn on her – there was something far more important to focus on. The girl.

It still felt wrong to be the one running in and then back out with the girl. He was a hunter, he should be fighting the monster. Instead, he was letting a monster run in to fight the monster while he just ran away. It was against everything he was ever taught. But he couldn’t doubt it now. She was already launching herself into the fight. 

Merde. Okay. He dashed in behind her, trying to stay low and hidden. He didn’t need to draw attention to himself, not now. His hand still hovered over the hilt of his knife, just in case. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was going to be needed in the fight. He couldn’t trust that a shifter had this covered, that the hunter wasn’t the best choice. When he saw her body thrown back by the baukbear, he feared that his instincts were right. He grabbed his knife and almost yanked it out of its hilt, but then she bounced back. More than that. She transformed into a jaguar.

A balam. Kaden was familiar with the species, but he had never encountered one. He was stuck for a moment, watching her, wanting to spectate the fight. Putain. He shook himself out of it and darted towards Myra. He had to ignore whatever was happening with the two beasts brawling, he had to focus on the girl. “Hey,” he whispered. He was unsure if she could hear him or if she was out cold, but he’d rather err on the side of caution. “I’m going to get you out of here, alright.” He was relieved he could hear her breathing even though her breaths were shallow. Her eyes flitted a little in response. She was still there. For now. If they didn’t get the hell out of there, they wouldn’t be for long. 

Kaden was tempted to glance over his shoulder and check in on what was happening behind him. No. It didn’t matter. Myra mattered. He scooped up the girl and slid her onto his back in a fireman carry. Time to get the fuck out of here. He pushed himself up and sprinted out towards the tunnels. He had to hope that the balam was alright, that she was as capable as she said. 

Leticia had every reason to stop and reconsider showing this man what she was and pretend to be human a little while longer. But every time she avoided it, it felt like another lie was being told against her will. A secret that she had to keep, boarding on the line of something to be ashamed of. But what was the point of hiding if it cost people their lives? How could they claim to be protectors if they simply hid in the shadows? What good was she if she couldn’t protect those around her?  

While the man lifted Myra’s limp body from the ground, the jaguar was matching the baukbear, step for step. Circling each other in the water as the two humans fled the area. The beast, despite the injury her human counterpart had sustained, moved with grace despite the pain. A low growl came from the jaguar, a steady warning that sounded like a purr at first before erupting into a full roar. The baukbear replied in turn, the bau bau bau echoing off the walls and throughout the tunnels. 

A moment later, the beasts clashed once more. This time, instead of taking the attack straight on, the jaguar leapt above the head of the baukbear, running down his back and then digging her claws into him as she descended. The claws cutting deep enough to draw blood, which ran down the animal’s fur and dripped onto the tainted ground below. In the blink of an eye, the baukbear had vanished into the darkness. The surrounding shadows seemingly darker than they had been. The jaguar stayed alert, letting out a long growl as she paced the room. Her eyes stayed on the beast despite the darkness, almost curious if the other monster knew what she could see.  

The beast reared up for another round with the jaguar, but as he charged toward her, she jumped to the side this time, allowing him a clear shot into the wall that gave way to the massive force. The wreckage revealed another tunnel on the other side of the wall that the baukbear stumbled in, trying to regain his footing. And as he did, the jaguar approached, the low growl starting up again, warning the other creature away from starting up again. The bear rose to his hind legs and let out the call once more, but the jaguar put a paw forward and roared, forcing the bear into silence.  

Dropping to his four paws, the baukbear looked at the jaguar, sounding off again, and the jaguar responded in turn. As if they could be understood. As time passed, the baukbear faded into the shadows and deeper into the tunnels. The jaguar waited, sniffing the air and tracking the scent until it was faint. The tunnels were still not safe, but for the time being, the humans could have this space back. Wandering back towards the tunnel they had entered from, the jaguar sat down and huffed loudly before letting its body completely touch the ground. Her turn, as brief as it was, was over. 

Leticia leaned against the wall, her hand instinctively gripping the right side of her body where the bear had initially made contact. Glancing around the room she had lost herself in, she noticed a new passage that had been opened through a broken wall and no body in sight. She hadn’t killed it, despite the blood on her hands that was now staining her shirt and the walls where she propped herself up. Hobbling toward the entrance of the tunnels, she was unsure of how much time had passed and could only hope that she hadn’t been left behind.  

At the mouth of the tunnel, Leticia caught a glimpse of them before she squeezed her eyes shut. “How is she?” The worry in her tone was cut out by pain now. “I couldn’t kill it. It’s further in now. Broke through the wall into another tunnel.” An ending that the balam had been satisfied with, but not Leticia. And she hoped not the hunter either. It was too close to humans and other unexpecting prey.  

As Kaden heard the snarls and growls from further within the tunnels, his instinct was to turn and run back. He had to trust that she had this under control. He hoped like hell she was winning the fight but he’d have to learn that the hard way. 

At the entrance to the tunnel, Kaden had to decide if he was going to go on with the girl, try to take her farther away to safety, or wait there for the balam to come back. Well, hope that it was the balam returning and not the baukbear escaping the tunnels. He should leave. Shouldn’t he? Putain. The stupid fucking part of him needed to know that she was going to get out of the tunnels, too.

Against his better judgment, he found a nearby tree and placed Myra down gently, leaning her up against the trunk. She still hadn’t come to, yet, but she was breathing steadily. Looking over at her, he didn’t see any injuries. It had been a minute or two. Maybe he should go back in and check on the balam.

Right as he reached for his weapons, ready to charge back into the underground when he saw her stumbling out of it, hand on her side. He put his weapons back down and walked over to her, offering to help her over to the tree where Myra was. “Merde, it’s still alive?” He sighed, but there was nothing to do right now. Not while she was injured and the girl was still unconscious. “I’ll come back for it later. For now, we should get her taken care of,” he said, nodding towards Myra. There were also her own injuries but he’d let her acknowledge those first before saying anything. 

There was a disconnect between Leticia and the balam at any given moment, no matter how much she respected the spirit, no matter how much she trusted it to protect those she loved and cared for, Leticia was not privy to the thoughts she had. And that included why she chose to spare the strange bear they had just tangled with. The man sighed and Leticia, despite herself, looked away and toward the ground. She had never felt shame in a failure like this before. Sending a creature running had been enough before, but she would have been lying if she claimed to be satisfied with this ending.  

An apology hung on the tip of her tongue, threatening to spill out despite herself. But Myra was leaning against a tree and she was breathing and that was enough for Leticia to swallow those thoughts and pretend to be someone else. Someone stronger.  “It’s wounded,” she informed him, looking at the blood on her hands that wasn’t her own.  

Leticia made the mistake of closing her eyes. Trying to sort her mind, the darkness that covered her vision invited a need for rest and her head fell forward slightly before she forced her eyes open again. The bruise that was undoubtedly forming on the side of her body and the exhaustion of whatever the balam had done was catching up quickly.  She wondered, silently, if she spent more time allowing the balam to exist in her own skin, if this wouldn’t impact her so much in the aftermath of a transformation.  

Forcing her eyes open and standing up straighter, Leticia forced herself forward. “Does she need a hospital?” She assumed the answer was no, but she wasn’t sure if the bear had any special abilities that she hadn’t seen firsthand. But she didn’t say any of that out loud, not wanting for the man to know she ran in head first without knowing a damn thing, running purely on instinct. She knelt by Myra and put the back of her hand to the girl’s cheek, checking her temperature as best she could and her breathing.  

Sucking in a breath, she stood back up turned toward the man. “You know, I went thirty years without meeting one of you assholes. And now I can’t seem to turn a corner without saying hello to one.” Leticia huffed a laugh, then shook her head. They had the same goals in mind, but that didn’t mean that would extend past this single night. “Should I be worried?”   

Kaden nodded when she mentioned the beast was wounded. “Should make it easier to track. And less of a threat in the meantime.” He’d rather the monster get away and have everyone get out safe than the alternative. The sentiment startled him a bit when he remembered that everyone in that scenario also included a monster. He wasn’t used to that just yet. His world had changed so much in the past few months that when he stopped to look at things as they were now, it was sometimes hard to reconcile. 

“I don’t think so,” he said, shaking his head, “but I’m not a doctor. I didn’t see any injuries so we might have gotten there just in time.” It didn’t always work out that way. This girl was lucky. 

As she crouched to examine the girl, Kaden made sure all his weapons were back in place, that he was ready to head home. He shouldn’t have been surprised by her next question but for some reason he thought the words would be left unspoken for a little while longer. “Can’t say the same about balam. You’re the first I’ve run into here or otherwise.” He was stalling and he knew it. He didn’t want to kill her, he knew that much. Admitting that would make him an easy mark if it ever came down to it. At least, that was the fear that bubbled up from somewhere deeper in his mind, a part of his training that he hadn’t shaken off. “No, you don’t have to worry,” he said, the words quiet but sincere. “Unless there’s suddenly reports of a jaguar murdering people in town, I’m not going to come knocking.” He couldn’t speak for the other rangers in Wicked’s Rest, of course, the same way she couldn’t speak for every shifter, but he knew they both knew that much. 

Everything so far had been good news. Myra was safe and alive and the man who had helped was confirming minimal injuries. He wasn’t a doctor, but if there was anything deeper to worry about that the bear could have done to her that Leticia wouldn’t notice on the surface — he would have said something. “She lives with her parents on Worm Row. Might make more sense for Animal Control to drop her off than me.” She doubted the validity of his job now, but the cover story should be enough for them. 

She offered him a faint smile when he said she was the first balam he had ever met in person. Her mother would have been happy to hear it, and furious that it was Leticia that was the one who broke the track record. “Most of us tend to stay away from people.” And she was the idiot that decided the risk of being around people was worth it. 

His words echoed similar ones that Andy had spoken. And ones that Nora had texted her about Emilio. They all had their own different ways of saying it, but the underlying message was the same: they weren’t a threat to her until she became the monster she was believed to be by other hunters. She looked at him for a long, quiet moment. Almost telling him that if he heard attacks like that, that it wouldn’t be her — and if it was — it wasn’t something she chose. But that felt like a lot of preemptive begging. 

“Leticia,” she finally introduced. “If anything like that happens, you can find me downtown most days, I own a shop… the Vinyl Countdown.” She didn’t know if it was an attempt to humanize her to make it harder for him to make that call when it came down or if it was her trying to get ahead of him having to hunt her down like a rabid animal, but her gaze dropped after she spoke. Refocusing on Myra. “Let’s go ahead and get her home then.” 

Kaden nodded; it made sense to him to be the one to show up at Myra’s house with the girl. Even if he felt a bit like an impostor for being the one to bring her home safe and sound. It didn’t feel like he deserved the honor. It didn’t feel like he’d done enough or helped enough. Despite the fact that by all means this had turned out well, Kaden could feel the distinct feeling of failure seeping into him. It left stains that were hard to wash out and forget entirely. His family had done a lot to build them all on top of one another, dying and changing the whole color of who he thought he was to the point he’d forgotten who he was when he wasn’t a hunter – if he even knew in the first place. 

“Interesting.” He hadn’t spent a whole lot of time studying what the Langley family hunter journals said about balam given how often he’d encountered any. It never occurred to him that part of the reason they’d been listed as rare and hard to find might be because they were keeping themselves hidden rather than there being a population shortage. “Guess that makes you a trendsetter or something.” He had a feeling without knowing one damn thing about her family that they would approve of this team up about as much as his family would. And he wasn’t about to call himself the same. He wondered if she felt the same shame trickling inside her. 

“Kaden,” he said, returning the gesture of trust. “I am actually Animal Control, by the way.” He’d caught the twinge of doubt when she mentioned his profession. Couldn’t really blame her considering he didn’t look the part tonight (if ever). 

“It…” He sighed and placed his hands on his hips, trying to find the bravado to say what was on his mind. “It’s a good thing you were here.” His voice was quiet, unsure, and he wasn’t able to make eye contact with her for long. He did believe it; what he’d said. It was just hard to say out loud, to do the work to try and begin to remove the stains. Kaden crouched down to pick the girl up, this time cradling her instead of hoisting her on his shoulders. He didn’t need to sprint away with her anymore, he could take the time to be a little more gentle. Probably in more ways than one. “Let’s get her home,” he repeated.

[watchingspnagain]

Rewatching Are You There, God? It’s Me, Dean Winchester

Welcome to “I Think That Means Sam Is Grover: A Supernatural Rewatch Blog” with Lor and Mace!

  Up today, s4e2: Are You There God? It’s Me, Dean Winchester.

 Dean’s not convinced Cas is who he says he is—not just because he’s having a hard time wrapping his head around angels, but also because he thinks it’s unfathomable that God would choose to save *him* or recruit him for anything. Meanwhile, hunters are dying off weird and bloody. Sam, Dean, and Bobby look into it and discover that spirits of the dead are being risen and bound to someone to do as they are bidden. The spirits of Meg, Victor, Ronald, and two little girls that Bobby couldn’t save come for the boys and Bobby, and Dean, in particular, is eaten up with guilt over his inability to save everyone. The episode ends with a late-night visit from Cas where he reveals to Dean that Lilith is trying to break the 66 seals that will allow Lucifer to rise. You could cut the sexual tension between them with a floppy feather.

 Below is a log of our real-time reactions as we watched. Remember that there may be spoilers for any part of SPN’s 15-season run here. Note also that the nature of our conversation is adult and thus it may contain adult language and themes.

 [and we begin:]

  Lor:

 nnnngggg Cas

 Mace:

 CAS

 YAS

  Lor:

 LOL YES

Mace:

 this is a LONG intro

  Lor:

 I was just gonna say!

did they think people FORGOT?

 Mace:

 “because we have work for you” I have some work for you, Cas...

  Lor:

 LOLOLOL

 ooo Hunter living in a space that could just as easily be 25 years ago as it could be when it is set

 Mace:

 YES

 she looks amazing in that shirt

  Lor:

 YES

there is nothing like a woman in a scoop or v-neck t-shirt that fits her perfect

 Mace:

 YESYESYES

  Lor:

 "groped by an angel"

DEEEEEAN

 Mace:

 OMG

 DON'T EAT THAT DEAN

  Lor:

 "yeah, you just did, Dean"

Hahaha Sammy

 Mace:

 Fairy dust, Dean? I don’t think that’s PC

  Lor:

 omg Dean in his Henley over a t-shirt. he's all snuggy

 Mace:

 YAS

  Lor:

 HAAAAAHAHAHAHAHA

 the way he rubs his shoulder

 Mace:

 it’s not “cuniform” Bobby. Christ.

 YAS

  Lor:

 LOLOLOLOLOL

 Vegas money has been on yeah ALL ALONG. your incantations and shit WORK

 Mace:

 “who actually gives a crap about me?” OH DEAN

 oh DEAN HONEY

  Lor:

 RIGHT?

EVERYONE HUG HIM

 "I don't like getting singled out at birthday parties" oh MUFFIN

 Mace:

 aw, he’s an INTROVERT

  Lor:

 he IS

 "you're gonna get me some pie"

 Mace:

 YAS HE NEEDS PIE

  Lor:

 remember later when the bunker is full of strangers and he hides in his room? MY SOULMATE

 Mace:

 ALWAYS YOU ALWAYS FORGET THE PIE SAMMY

  Lor:

 RIGHT?

when has he ever REMEMBERED THE PIE

 Mace:

 HAHAHAH

  Lor:

 (actually my headcanon is that he never forgets the pie. he deliberately doesn't get it because he's a little brother)

 Mace:

 (oh i assumed that that’s actual canon because OF COURSE)

  Lor:

 no, Sam, she's a waitress at a diner who needs to know about angels

 (YES)

 Mace:

 HAHAHAHA

  Lor:

 "something's up, huh?"

pets him

 Mace:

 YES

 ew

  Lor:

 yeah, seriously gross

 Mace:

 “they’ve redecorated. in red”

HAHHA BOBBY

  Lor:

 BOBBYYYY

 OMG Dean asleep and letting Sam drive

 Mace:

 YES

  Lor:

 nope. Victor would 100% appear to Dean first

 Mace:

 HAHAHAHA

agreed

 ooof

  Lor:

 spooky kids. always with the spooky kids

 Mace:

 “don’t think at all” omg Dean

  Lor:

 YES

 Sam gets all in his head and fretful and Dean is all frantic nervous energy

 Mace:

 YES

 i love Bobby’s half creepy half cozy half absolute fucking mess house

  Lor:

 YES

 Mace:

 look, I don’t like demon meg much either, but lady? women can dress the way they want without judgment

  Lor:

 RIGHT?

 And she's not exactly not showing skin herself. like, don't be misogynistic and especially don't be a hypocrite about it

 Mace:

 EXACTLY

  Lor:

 ooooof Dean

hon, it's not your fault

not EVERYTHING is your fault

 Mace:

 he needs all the hugs this ep

  Lor:

 he really does

 he doesn't think he's a hero

 Mace:

 no he doesn't

  Lor:

 oh Dean

 Mace:

 yep

 SAMMY

  Lor:

 oooof

they are getting so beat up

 Mace:

 SMARTY DEAN

  Lor:

 oooo clever Dean

 Mace:

 they really are

  Lor:

 I call shenanigans on Dean being able to stand up straight and walk around (more evidence for our theory about when the injuries last)

 Mace:

 YES

  Lor:

 "I had a weekend off"

 Mace:

 YAS

 “you’re awesome” DED

  Lor:

 I love that Dean tells Bobby he's awesome

 YES

 "if he is out there, what's wrong with him?"

"why doesn't he help?"

I love that Dean has this crisis

AND that they come back to it waaaaay later

 Mace:

 I’m still having that crisis, Dean

  Lor:

 YEP

 "tourists"

 aaaaaah I love it when they say something at the same time

 Mace:

 YES

 They need Buffy to give them a seminar on apocalypses

  Lor:

 he wants to go to the Star Trek Experience. LET’S GO, DEAN. LET'S GET SHIT AT THE GIFTSHOP

 YES

 Mace:

 HAHAHAHA YES

  Lor:

 "aim careful"

I love Bobby

 Mace:

 i love bobby

 HAHAHAHA

  Lor:

 HAAHAAAAHAHA

 awww Ronald

 Mace:

 oh boy

 “don’t talk” HAHAHA

  Lor:

 okay, Ronald, hon, I like you, buddy, and I KNOW Dean feels terrible about your death, but you are dead because of you

 YES

 Mace:

 yep

 “opium?”

  Lor:

 YES

and the little hand gesture he makes when Bobby tells him to go

 Mace:

 YES

  Lor:

 this is SUCH a good way to set up some of the major themes of this season. Sam's a monster, Dean doesn't think he's worthy

 Mace:

 AGREED

 but there isn’t any Cas and that’s a problem for me

  Lor:

 I think he shows up for a minute at the end?

 oh DEAN

his trembly lip I CANNOT

 Mace:

 omg DEAN

  Lor:

 I LOVE when Dean says no when someone asks if he's all right

 Mace:

 “you alright?” “no” the truthiest truth he’s ever spoken

 YES

  Lor:

 YAAAAS

 "I'm not a cheeseburger" SNORK

 Mace:

 HAHAHAHA

  Lor:

 ...dammit. now I want one

 Mace:

 and now I want a cheeseburger

 AHAHAHAHA

  Lor:

 MACE

OMG us today

 Mace:

 YAAASSS

  Lor:

 where do they get these little girls who do the creepy thing SO WELL?

 Mace:

 RIGHT?!?!

  Lor:

 actually, you know what, never mind. I remember being a little girl. we dark as fuck sometimes

 Mace:

 SNORK!!!!

  Lor:

 Dean sleeps on the floor so Sammy can have the couch

(though I do not believe for a second this house doesn't have more than one bedroom)

 GOD Cas just leaning on the sink like that

 Mace:

 right?! what does bobby have in all those upstairs rooms!

 YASYASYAS

 “not dicks” HAHAHA

  Lor:

 "Michael Landon. Not dicks"

 YAAAAS

 LIAR. you are 100% there to perch on his shoulder

 Mace:

 YES

  Lor:

 omg Cas raising his hands and Dean's little "did I just threaten an angel of the lord?" face

 Mace:

 HAHAHAHA YEP

there is SO MUCH TENSION

  Lor:

 RIGHT?

they are standing SO CLOSE TO EACH OTHER

 the LIGHTING

 Mace:

 YES

  Lor:

 the EXTREME closeups where you can't NOT focus on their lips and their eyes

 Mace:

 YEP

 Misha doesn’t blink and I love that

  Lor:

 and the Dom/sub undercurrent. I like this scene a normal amount vibrates at a frequency unknown to science

 YES

 Mace:

 HAHAHAHA AGREED

 the way Dean gets uncomfortable when Cas leans in

  Lor:

 omg that lean in and "you should show me some respect"

 YAAAAAS

 Mace:

 YESYESYES

  Lor:

 and then he's gone and Dean's leaning on the sink

I cannoooooot

and the cut to him waking up on the floor

 Mace:

 sock-footed Sammy OMG

  Lor:

 the first time I watched this ep, I wondered if only Dean could see Cas

 YES

 Mace:

 oh INTERESTING

  Lor:

 which would have been an interesting way to go, at least for a little bit

 Mace:

 Ha! Cas as Snuffleupagus to Dean’s Big Bird I LOVE IT

  Lor:

 OMG YES

I need that fanart

 Mace:

 YAAASSS

[awellboiledicicle]

The fun part about Jon and April interacting in their [puffed up cat pose] phase is that April will be 100% honest about shit when they do speak about things and Jon 100% assumes they’re fucking with him.

Like the Trevor statement, he’s gonna double check Martin’s comment that Trevor passed away with the old guard but like. Michael doesn’t take statements unless no one else is available. Eric couldn’t be assed to remember anything that didn’t fuck him up, so that’s out. So there’s just April-- who, aside of Gertrude, got to be the one to sit in a room with someone who was trying to write down the hardest moments of their lives. With Trevor they did their level fucking best not to actually speak to the man. Because his Hunt vibes wigged them out. Like they got the statement, but they also spent their whole childhood learning to project “I AM NOT PREY” energy so they try not to think about it. So they absently respond to Jon asking if ‘Mr. Herbert passed away before finishing his statement’ with a “yeah maybe? I don’t know.”

Which Jon takes to mean they were lying alongside Martin [a noted pal] to fuck with him.

Which is not helped by them, with a smile, going “Taking your shit mood out on Martin makes you an asshole, Jon! A bully, even! Don’t like that!” with a pointed stare directly into his face. 

Like don’t get me wrong, they aren’t threatening him, but they’re also totally fine with the idea of looming at this dude that’s stubbornly determined to be a dick about things. Well, looking him in the eye and making that very uncomfortable.

This is partially because their eye mark is stronger at the offset, but not as deep as the Archivist mark, so being stared at with any real focus by them makes things... tingly. It’s not compulsion, but it does put the FEAR of spilling your guts into you and thus makes it more likely. Add in they’re naturally prone to staring for long periods just... normally, and you get problems. The second is they very much treat prolonged eye contact like their father does--AKA you are entering into a power struggle. So its very “you want to be a big man and belittle others, we can see if you can measure up to me” in intention.

But also Jon wigs them out largely because he’s.... well he’s resisted their attempts at friending. He acts just enough like them to make them fidget. He took the bookish ‘be a dick and maybe they will leave me alone’ rout to his ADHD not letting him make friends easily, and their response--aside of their childhood being fucking horrible--was to be aggressively social to make sure the most people possible would be pissed if someone tried to hurt them. His trauma and interaction with the supernatural was very isolating and left him with a lot of unearned guilt. Theirs was likewise isolating, and they assume no one they befriend actually cares, but they try anyway for the purposes of being able to have a safety net. Inward vs Outward focus responses.

Add in that April knows damn well that Elias hand picked him. Add in that Elias has been salivating over every single mark they’ve ever gotten and had them analyze mountains of info to KNOW just how they’re marked. Add in that they can almost taste the cobwebs on him. Add in that he seems willfully antagonistic of the existence of actual phenomena they have record of. Add in that they get told, very bluntly, not to tell him certain things outright unless not knowing would immediately kill him-- because Elias has them on a short leash whether it seems it or not. THEN add in that he seems bound and fucking determined to be an asshole to Martin of all people, AND the inherited staff?

Puffed up cat pose.

Meanwhile Jon is just... well the anxieties of canon plus the “oh god i inherited three people with decades more experience than i have in any of this” and he’s deep in puffed cat. Add in that April has a very blase manner about them when they’re not being 1000000000% more intense than is needed and he’s just. Hiss hiss spit hiss.

That said by the time he comes through his coma they’ll be okay, but the interactions are going to be Something for a bit.

[tarnishedxknight]

[ Another Time Another Place A Hollow Universe In Space ]

The Guardians stayed still, all of them alert and ready in case they had to fight off a potential threat. There was a moment of tension - not silence, since the Zune was still playing the song Candy by Cameo - as the doors opened to reveal the one who had been knocking: a man who introduced himself by his name, title and birthplace. Possibly to break the ice. Gamora, Drax and Quill lowered their weapons ever so slightly. Rocket did not.

“Nice to meet you, Captain Basch fon Ronsenburg Knight of Dalmasca.” Quill was the first to speak, visibly trying to remember Basch’s full title. “I’m Captain Star-Lord of Terra. This is Gamora, my girl,” he added, his tone fairly friendly, though not without emphasis. “And this is my team: Rocket, Drax, Mantis and Groot.”

Mantis waved with a calm hand as she held Groot with the other. Rocket studied the stranger with a scoff, his aim unwavering as he remained alert, but eventually lowered his gun as well.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Quill said when Basch pointed out that they had arrived without prior notification. “The ship did the craziest thing and we were forced to land. It was scary as hell. Not like I was scared. I wasn’t.” He was confused when Basch asked where the Guardians came from - what do you mean he wasn’t familiar with the legendary Star-Lord? - but he still answered: “I’m from Missouri.”

“Zen-Whoberi,” Gamora said.

“I hail from the planet of Kylos,” Drax stated solemnly.

“I am Groot.”

Rocket and Mantis didn’t offer an answer, though it was safe to assume Basch was getting the idea that they all had different origins. The Guardians then noticed the guards standing near Basch, and Rocket reached for his gun again, but he paused and dropped his paws to his sides after Mantis patted his head.

“We really mean no harm,” Quill added. “Y'know, we want to help people, so trying to cause harm would be… uh… Shit, I forgot the word.”

“Counterproductive?” Mantis offered.

“Counterproductive!” He clapped once. “Thank you, Mantis. You see, we were flying to A'askavariia to answer a distress call. Next thing we know, our ship’s being swallowed by light. I thought… maybe we flew too close to a star. And then I thought, we’re all going to die. And then I thought, not as long as I’m here! A man’s gotta protect his team. We landed because we had to. Not gonna lie, I knew we could get in trouble, but I wasn’t gonna let the ship crash. Sorry. Again,” Quill babbled, hopefully to let Basch know the Guardians were simply doing their thing until they found themselves in that place. “We didn’t mean to bother you guys.”

(Agreed, it’s best to let them settle on a hospitable place before any drama takes place… if Rocket doesn’t start drama first. Also, MUNOH KINDA LOOKS LIKE A CHANDELURE THAT’S SO CUTE. I do headcanon that Mantis seeing things that “aren’t there” - even though they absolutely are - is a recurring thing on some planets they visit, her abilities let her feel supernatural forces so feel free to have Munoh reach out to her if they suspect she can feel them. Unless they don’t show themself to anyone other than Caelen, in which case ignore ignore ignore.)

__________

Basch listened attentively as the captain of the ship introduced himself and everyone on his team. He had never heard of anyone named Star-Lord, or of any others in his crew, nor had he heard of Terra or any of the other places each of them mentioned. They must have come from very far away, indeed. Perhaps even from outside of Ivalice. Nevertheless, he would maintain cordiality until given a reason not to. “Well met, all of you,” he said respectfully. Behind him, the guardsmen he’d brought with him looked at each other in confusion, not recognizing any of the names that had been given either.

Sky pirates, most likely. That was Basch’s first impression. Many of them stole basic models of ships and altered them to suit their purposes. Some added storage or aesthetics, others added weapons or the ability to fly faster, and still others upgraded the hydraulics to allow for greater maneuverability. Judging by the look of this odd ship, they had done quite a bit of work on it. He peered at it as Star-Lord explained how they came to dock there illegally, and it was much as Basch had supposed. Distress with their ship had forced them to make an emergency landing. As illegal as it was, their arrival appeared to be nothing more than an unfortunate circumstance. And if it was true that this occurred in the process of answering a distress call, then perhaps they were not the sort of sky pirates to engage in shady activity.

“Very well,” Basch said upon hearing the entirety of their explanation. “However, you are not permitted entry to the palace unescorted. You may either wait here on your ship while we attempt to repair it, or I will escort you through the palace and into the city proper. When you wish to return to your ship, simply approach the palace entrance, ask for me, and I shall escort you back.” He wasn’t sure they could repair this ship, or even figure out what might be wrong with it, if anything was, but the more they made sure it was functioning properly, the better chance that it would not damage the dock or any surrounding structures when it departed.

He moved about a bit on the dock, looking at the ship from as many sides as he could see. Did it... not have any glossair rings? None were visible. Maybe they were located at the far end, obscured from his sight. The turbulence Star-Lord described, though... he wondered if inconsistent air buoyancy was the problem. “Has your ship’s skystone been depleted or become unstable, Captain? he asked.

{ So just to explain a bit... Airships in FFXII are powered by and held in the air by skystones, which are pieces of a naturally-growing, magical ore called magicite, and that’s a gravity-defying crystalline mineral. Magicite is mined, cut into stones, and those stones help keep airships in the air. A small ship might have one stone the size of a fist, whereas a massive ship will have one far larger. The glossair rings are literally revolving rings, usually at the bottom, back, or sides of a ship that are literally called that because the magic that keeps them spinning distorts the air and makes it look glossy.

The rings help disperse the magic that keeps the ship in the air to where it needs to be. You can see here on the ship the Ifrit, some of the glossair rings are circled. And here’s more of a side view of the same ship, where you can see that there are several sets of small rings. Larger ships will either have those, or only a few massive rings, such as in the Bahamut’s design. It all depends upon the size, design, and maneuverability of a ship how many rings they have, what size, and what the placement is. Essentially what Basch is asking is if their skystone has been too much depleted of magic and might need to be replaced or recharged, which will affect the ship’s ability to stay in the air. Obviously, the Guardians’ ship has no skystone or glossair rings, heh, but in Basch’s world, ships don’t fly without them, so he really has no clue. XD

Also HAHA they do look like a chandelier, omg. And oh, that’s an interesting idea. Since this is before the events of the main game, maybe Caelen is still in Dalmasca. But even if he’s not, Munoh can be their own muse separate of Caelen, so they could just be hanging out in the palace or the city and think they’re invisible, checking out the Guardians because maybe they can sense they’re not from this world... and then Mantis seems to be looking right at them. Munoh would be like..... hmmmm, this one is perceptive. XD I’m all for it if you want me to bug your girl at some point, no pun intended. }

[tooearlyforthis]

The Social Hour

Pairing: Steve Harrington x reader

Synopsis: (4.5k wc) Steve always hated his parents holiday parties. Long events dragged on with boring people. But this time, someone catches his eye.

Warnings: fluff, that's basically it lol

masterlist || steve harrington taglist

Not gonna lie I did forget this in my drafts last night. Anyways here it is!

If one more person asked Steve if he was going to college, he would strangle them. 

Yes he’d made peace with not getting into any schools. And yes he felt somewhat content with the life he built for himself. But that didn’t stop the ache in his heart of what might have been. 

Dwelling on the past, however, wouldn’t do him any good. So instead, he focused on the present. He clutched his glass tight against his chest and nodded along to the man in front of him. The room was packed, as it was every time his parents hosted a holiday party. People gathered from all over Loch Nora, including some from the city, who he assumed were his fathers work friends. 

Why he had to go to these parties, he didn’t know. He had begged and pleaded throughout his high school years to be dismissed. To go to a friend's house or hide in his room until the festivities were over. But every attempt ended in complete and utter failure. 

So instead of going to see a movie with Robin or the kids, he bit the side of his mouth as the fifth person tonight asked:

“So what are your plans for college next year?”

That was it, he wanted to reach forward, to wrap his hands around the man’s neck and yell, “My future doesn’t concern you! Mind your own business!”

But he knew that was wrong. Even in a world where alternate dimensions existed, a world where DnD-like characters hunted them down, strangling this man would be considered improper. He took a sharp inhale and forced a smile, ready to recite the same sentence he had practiced in the mirror earlier. 

“I’m actually working full time. I find real life experience more valuable than what I could learn in a classroom.” 

The man’s brow raised before quickly relaxing in an attempt to look intrigued. It was clear he didn’t agree but didn’t want to upset the son of the hosts. The man nodded, taking a sip of his drink. “Well that’s, progressive…”

Steve tried not to scoff. Progressive. He couldn’t take these people any more. The language they used, the way they looked down on almost everyone. He did not see why his parents enjoyed the company of such dull minded people. Then again, he guessed his parents were just as boring as their companions. 

“If you’ll excuse me, I have to go check on something,” Steve excused himself. 

Before the man could protest, he was moving away through the crowd of people and up the stairs. Just a moment in his room, that was what he needed. His parents wouldn’t even notice he was gone. Hell, he could probably stay upstairs all night if he wanted to. 

Steve let his back hit the wood of the door, it softly closing behind him. His head thudded against the back as the sounds of the party slowly drifted away to a distant muffle. For a moment, he felt peace. Tomorrow his parents would leave for their real holiday break. Some cruise he couldn’t care to remember. He’d finally be back to hanging out with Robin and the kids, and pretended like everything was okay. 

But not all of the noises faded away.

“Umm, hi?”

Without thinking, Steve’s eyes shot open, his hand reaching for the nail-poked bat leaning against his dresser. He could never be too careful since his last encounter with the supernatural. It was better to keep the weapon in his room than face a demogorgon alone and vulnerable. 

It wasn’t until he was armed in a defensive stance did he realize that there was no threat. In fact a very pretty stranger was sitting at the edge of his bed. Her hands were in front of her face, using the book she was holding to block from the suspecting blow. 

“Holy shit, you scared me,” Steve said exasperated. He let the bat fall to his side as he slumped down against the floor. The rush of unneeded adrenaline made him feel light headed. His tie wrinkled as it folded into his chest. 

“Sorry,” the stranger said, lowering the book and fixing her hair. “I didn’t think anyone would come in here. If I knew you had a bat-”

“No it’s alright, just… muscle memory,” he told her, still out of breath. He looked up at the book she was holding. It was one of his, plucked from his shelf next to his desk. “You came in here to read?”

She looked down at the book. “Not initially, no, but it looked interesting.”

“You can keep it. I only have it because it was required reading in school.”

The stranger’s eyes widened, her mouth forming an “o” with shock. 

“This is your room,” she said, the realization of her intrusion settling in. Steve only nodded, picking himself off the ground. The stranger stood up too, placing the book back on the shelf. “I’m so sorry I just wandered in here-“

“It’s fine,” he said, waving a hand in dismissal. He truly didn’t care that she had stumbled into his room. The night was so exhausting all he wanted to do was sit. The bed creased at his weight as he did so. 

The stranger remained standing, shifting her balance between each foot as she crossed her arms over her chest. Her gaze darted between him and the door, like she was pondering running away from the encounter entirely. 

“I uh, didn’t know anyone else my age would be here,” he told her, unsure of what else to say. “Usually it’s just me and all the couples.”

“Yeah, I guess our dad’s work together,” She said, though it came out more like a question. “We just moved to town, so I don’t really know anyone here.”

“To Hawkins?” He asked, making sure he heard her right. She nodded. 

“This town was just so great we had to move here,” she said, looking down at her feet. It was clearly a sore spot for her and he didn’t want to press any further. 

“Yeah usually I hear about more people moving away every year… it’s not all bad though.” She rolled her eyes. “No really it’s not!”

“Okay how? Ever since I got here it’s been nothing but stuck up middle aged people complaining that their pools aren’t clean.”

Steve chuckled. “Okay I’ll admit there are a lot of people like that. But just inside Loch Nora. This is kind of the more well off community ya know?”

“So,” the girl began, sitting down in the bed next to him. “There are other parts of this town not full of old rich people?”

“Well I can’t promise that,” he paused, watching her giggle. “Though I can say there will be much less of them. Just stay away from the community pool.”

The girl raised an eyebrow, “And how do you know that isn’t where I wanna be? I could be a gold digger for all you know.”

“Oh well in that case you’re in the perfect place!” She giggled again and Steve couldn’t help the smile forming on his face. Hearing her make that sound? He never wanted it to stop. “I could show you, ya know? Around town?”

“Really?”

“Of course,” he replied a little too quickly. She was so damn pretty it was like every thought had left his head. 

After his break up with Nancy, and Robin came out to him, Steve had done some serious rethinking in his life. Gone were the days of fooling around with the first girl he saw. Instead he decided to focus on more serious pursuits. People he could see being “the one.”

But with this girl, it was like he wanted to throw every single one of his rules out the window. He wanted to let himself get infatuated by her. Let her consume his only waking thoughts for however long this holiday party was supposed to last. He hoped she would let him.

The girl extended her hand. “I’m Y/n.”

Steve placed his hand in hers, giving it a firm shake. “Steve.”

“Nice to meet you, Steve. Now, how are we gonna make this party more interesting?”

“Are you sure about this?”

“Trust me, they won’t even know it’s gone.”

Y/n felt like a kid again. It had been a long time since a boy made her feel giddy inside. Someone she felt comfortable being around, not having to question any ulterior motives. 

The boy grasped her hand tightly, pulling her through the large groups of people in the living room of his house. She giggled as he did so, watching as he turned back every now and then to make sure he hadn't lost her. 

As they crossed the threshold into the kitchen, his hand slipped out of hers - she was surprised to find she missed his embrace. There hadn’t been many opportunities to socialize with people her age since moving to Hawkins so part of her was relieved when he barged into the room just minutes before. Yes, he had almost attacked her with a nail-covered bat, but he didn’t so that’s all that mattered. 

She watched as Steve stepped around a group of businessmen talking by the open bar, taking a towel and draping it over his forearm like a server. He gestured for her to step forward. She did so, walking up to rest her arms on the counter. The businessman next to them didn’t pay any attention, despite seeing the two underage kids about to serve themselves drinks. 

“What’s your poison?” Steve asked, putting on his most polite tone. 

She smiled coyly, feeling her cheeks warm up. “Is it boring if I say beer?”

“Oh, this overpriced wine is too good for you?” She laughed again. “I mean, how dare you have a different taste than these snobs.”

“I like my beer, what can I say?”

Leaning down below the bar, Steve grabbed two bottles from the mini-fridge and an opener.  “Well good thing I like it too.”

Handing the open drink to her, she relished the small moment their fingers touched, the way they twitched slightly on contact. She looked back up at him. Into the chocolate brown eyes that made her want to lean forward and kiss him. 

She never thought she’d feel that way after meeting someone for such a brief amount of time. But Steve radiated this kind and welcoming energy that was so unlike other people she had been attracted to in the past. 

Pushing the thought from her mind, she cleared her throat. “Where to now?”

Over the course of his life in the big Harrington house, Steve found his fair share of secret places. They were not secret passageways, much to his dismay as a child, but nooks and crannies he could escape to for hours at a time. With the house full of people, most of those places were blocked and unusable. But there was one, he knew would go unseen.

“Are you being serious?” Y/n asked him, her hand gripping the window sill. 

Steve balanced himself on the tiles of the roof, extending an arm back toward the open window of his bedroom. “I used to do this all the time,” he told her. “Do you trust me?”

Y/n let out a weak laugh, looking down. It was a weird question to ask someone you just met but in Steve’s mind, he could already trust her with his life. Thankfully, she felt the same way.

“For some reason, I do,” she said. 

Leaning forward, he made sure to grasp her hand, having no plans of letting go anytime soon. She climbed through the window, bumping into him slightly as her feet hit the uneven tiles. Instinctively, he wrapped his other arm around her back to steady her. The fuzzy texture of her sweater itched on his fingers, but he’d rather feel uncomfortable than let her fall off the roof.

Balancing on her own, he released his hand, now somewhat missing the feeling of her sweater. He looked up at her, giving a nod to ask if she was okay. When she nodded back, he slowly began to move forward. They carefully maneuvered around the brick roof, sitting down on the edge of another window sill. 

Y/n’s shoulders brushed against his as they sat down and Steve felt like a giddy teenager again. He had never taken a girl up here, but this felt like the type of sight she would wanna see. 

“This is the attic window,” he told her, “It doesn’t open from the inside.”

“Duly noted,” she replied, interlancing her fingers atop her lap. “So, what’s so special about this spot?”

Steve let out a long breath, a much needed one after sucking up to his dad’s business partners all night. This was a spot that he never came to with anyone else. Partly because it was on the roof and partly because he liked keeping it hidden. It was a place he could go to to unwind, to ignore all the problems he had with his homelife. 

Instead of baring his soul to this new girl, despite a part of him desperately wanting to, he went with a more simple explanation. “It has a good view of the neighborhood. When it starts to get dark, you can see the sun set over the houses.”

Y/n looked out in front of them. The sun had set a long time ago, but the sight was still beautiful. She told him so. “The stars are nice. You couldn’t see them in my old town.”

“No?”

She shook her head before turning to look at him. “Thank you for bringing me up here. This is just what I needed after the nightmare of moving here this week.” 

He didn’t know how to respond, afraid that somehow he would fuck everything up. As he tried to think of something interesting to say, she leaned her body toward him. He felt her head rested on his shoulder and found himself infatuated with her smell.

It was a mix of different citrus scents he couldn’t quite place. No matter, it started to consume him anyway.  She was sinking under his skin and he had no intention of letting it go. 

“O-of course,” he finally said, clearing his throat. “Glad to be of service.”

Y/n picked up her head from his shoulder, their faces barely inches away from each other. Steve thought she might kiss him from how she kept darting her eyes between his and his lips. He had barely known this girl for two hours. But he knew deep down that if she leaned in to kiss him, he would let her.

He let out a breath as she backed up slightly. A move that clarified there would be no making out to end the night. He wasn’t mad or upset, part of him actually was thankful. He didn’t wanna fuck up this relationship. Didn’t want his old self to seep into his new life with a person who didn’t know his past. 

“You and I are going to be great friends, Steve,” she said, her voice softly floating between them. “I just know it.”

The thought of kissing Y/n still hadn’t left Steve’s mind. She had left with her parents and being the stupid, stupid boy he was, he didn’t ask for her information. He had looked for her everywhere he went. At work, at the grocery store; sometimes he would even aimlessly drive around Loch Nora hoping to catch her outside her home. 

But a month later, he still hadn’t found her. Steve was starting to think that he made her up. That she was a beautiful figment of his imagination he conjured to pass the time at another boring holiday party. He wouldn’t put it past himself. After the battle with Vecna, he found himself daydreaming more and more, wanting to escape from the hellish reality he was placed in.

He had been daydreaming so much that Robin began to scold him. “Dingus, would at least try to act busy?”

Her words pulled him out of his thoughts of the mysterious Y/n. Back to the present, back to shelving tapes at Family Video. “Sorry,” he mumbled to his companion, not feeling like picking a fight with her.

Leaning on the shelf next to him, Robin could tell something was off. “You okay dingus? You were really gone there for a second.”

“I said sorry,” he told her, placing down another tape. “I was just…lost in thought.”

“Oh don’t tell me you were thinking of your mysterious party girl again. Steve glared at her, not engaging in her games. “Gosh you’re like a modern prince charming!”

“Am not!” he protested. 

“Really?” she said sarcastically, folding her arms across her chest. “Cause from here it looks like you're searching for your princess, except this time she didn’t leave a glass slipper.”

Steve sighed, moving to the shelf across from them, picking up another set of tapes for that genre. “Is it wrong to want to find her? I promised her I’d show her around, ya know? Be a friendly face in town.”

Robin moved over with him, leaning against another shelf. “You can’t go searching around Loch Nora again tonight.”

“And why not?”

“Argh you don’t remember anything! We’re going to Eddie’s gig tonight? At the Hideout?” Shit, he did forget. It was hard to keep track of anything with all the activities the kids had. “You better not back out, you're my ride!”

“I'm not gonna back out!” he protested, knowing full well he would’ve canceled if she didn’t say something. He loved Eddie but metal music was not his thing. The head pounding, the sharp drum beats - it made his head hurt.

Ring!

The front door sounded out, making Steve and Robin poke their heads out from the isle they were in. Thankfully it was just Dustin, a lollipop in his mouth from winning a game at the arcade next door.

“Can one of you take me home?” he asked.

Steve groaned. When he said “can one of you,” it really meant him. Robin, being a year out of high school, had yet to get her driver’s license. 

Sighing, he said, “Sure, my shift ends in five.”

The Hideout was more crowded than Steve remembered. People were bumping his shoulders on either side, the ground somewhat sticky from spilled drinks. The walls were covered in band posters, some of them local, most of which Steve had never heard of. Robin was plastered to his side, talking to Nancy and Jonathan who had just arrived. 

“Do you think they’re gonna play LaunchPad McQuack?” Jonathan asks, somewhat shouting over the music.

“I have no idea,” Robin yelled back. “I think they’re playing new stuff.”

They saw Jonathan nod, trying to hide his disappointment. He was always Eddie’s big supporter when it came to music. Being the only one of them who could actually studied music in his off time. 

“As long as -” Steve began to speak, being cut off by the uproar of the crowd. He looked over to see Corroded Coffin walking across the stage, Eddie walking up to take the mic.

He was already nursing a drink, placing it on a conveniently placed stool as the other members began tinkering with their instruments. Taking the mic in his hands he shouted, “How’s everyone doing tonight?”

The crowd roared as he scanned it, his eyes quickly falling on all of his friends. Eddie winked at them with a smirk. In unison, the four friends picked up their hands to flip him off. To outsiders it seemed like an awful thing to do, but for them, it was a fun gesture to let the others know that they’re there, they’re present, and they’re supporting one another. 

Eddie chuckled as he saw the gesture, the crowd dying down enough that he could speak again. “Now I know you’re excited to hear our new stuff, but unfortunately our bassist Jeff is sick.” The crowd booed, Steve and Robin among them. “Fear not! For we have a newcomer here to join us! Everyone, make some noise for the lovely, the wonderful, Y/n Y/L!”

The crowd began cheering as Y/n walked out, her bass already strapped around her. Steve, on the other hand, felt himself melt into shock. There she was, in all her beautiful glory. The girl he hadn’t stopped thinking about who was very much real and not his imagination. 

Y/n. Her name felt like butter on his tongue. The way she dressed left very little to his imagination - it was making him go insane.

She waved to the crowd, her eyes washing over them before they found him. She stuttered for a second and chuckled, her too not sure if he was really in front of her. But then, she smiled. She truly smiled. 

After going to so many of his parents’ holiday parties, he began to get pretty good at reading people. The amount of fake smiles that people had given him were enough to kick him down and stay there for good. But as he looked up at Y/n on that stage and saw that grin, he could tell that it was real.

“Steve?” His name pulled him out of his own thoughts. Robin had been talking to him. He hummed a yes. “Is that her?”

He had only told Robin her name one or twice over the course of the month and it was still hazy in memory.

“Y-yeah,” Steve managed to get out, just as the band began its first track. “Yeah it is.”

The band played most of their new stuff, people in the crowd jumping and jamming along to the songs. Most of it went over Steve’s head, everything around him becoming muffled as he watched Y/n in awe.

She was gorgeous, he knew that before. But watching her play the bass? It was so hot. The way her fingers plucked at the strings, her shoulders swaying back and forth to keep in time with the drums. Even down to the bead of sweat trickling down her forehead, she seemed perfect. 

The set was over before he registered it beginning. Applause ruptured from the crowd as the band made their way off stage. Steve felt a pang in his chest as he watched her disappear, like if he ever lost sight of her again she would be gone from his life for good. 

No. Not this time. He found her and he had no intention of letting her go.

The band had to have a meeting with their newly appointed manager so instead of meeting backstage, the four friends waited in the parking lot. Steve found it hard to stand still. He paced back and forth in front of Eddie’s van as he bit on his nails, anxiously waiting to see Y/n again.

Jonathan nudged Robin’s shoulder. “What’s got him so nervous?” he asked.

“That girl on bass?” Robin began, watching her two friends nod knowingly. “Apparently she moved to town a month ago. Steve met her at a party his parents were holding and like an idiot didn’t ask for her number.”

“You know I can hear you, Rob,” Steve told her, stopping his pacing in front of them.

“I wasn’t trying to hide it. You were stupid for not asking!”

He wanted to bicker with her, but in the end he knew she was right. It was stupid to let her leave that night without even knowing her address. 

Before he could even utter a word, Nancy said, “Oh look they’re coming!”

Steve turned around to see the band walking up to the van. Eddie was in front, his arms stretched out on either side of him as he dangled his guitar case. “Was that so metal or what?!”

Jonathan was the first to step forward. “Super metal man, congrats on the EP.”

Robin and Nancy began to congratulate him as well but Steve’s eyes were drawn on Y/n, her arm wrapped around Gareth’s shoulders. It dropped when she looked up at him. 

Gareth kept walking like nothing happened, everyone moving around each other in congratulations but Steve and Y/n stood still. His eyes were stuck on her, stuck in her beautiful eyes he never thought he’d see again. And then, she smiled. Gosh, he loved that smile.

Eddie was the first from the group to notice their staring. “You two look like deer caught in headlights,” he said with a chuckle. “You two know each other or something?”

Steve was still unable to get a word out, thankful Y/n spoke for them. “Yes we do,” she told Eddie, finally breaking her gaze to look at him. “In fact, we have plans tonight. Don’t we, Steve?”

They both knew that wasn’t true. But if she wanted to get away, he would follow her at the drop of a hat. 

“Uh y-yes. Yes we do,” he stuttered out. 

Nancy tilted her head in confusion. “Wait, I thought we were all heading to the diner?”

Steve could barely process he was being pulled away as Y/n’s hand wrapped around his, gently guiding him toward her own car parked a couple spots away. 

“Uh maybe next time?”

Y/n was giggling into his side as she loaded her bass into the trunk of her car. “You were my ride, dingus!” Robin shouted back as he opened the side of her car door.

“John will take you, right?” Steve asked, a pleading look on his face. 

Jonathan, confused as what had just happened stuttered out, “Y-yeah, sure. I can take you home.”

Shouting a thanks, Steve felt Y/n pull him into the car, the door shutting hastily behind him. Turning on the car, she turned to look at him, her smile stretching across her face. “So, I think you promised me a tour of Hawkins.”

He couldn’t help but smile back. “I did, didn’t I?” Reaching forward, he interlaced his hand with hers. “Looks like you already found Eddie, that covers the dangerous side of town.”

Y/n laughed, her head dropping forward. “Yeah, no need to show me the crack house.”

“Well, we could go to Lover’s Lake.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Lover’s Lake? You think you’re gonna get lucky tonight, Steve?” 

Her tone was more playful than condescending and it made Steve feel like the luckiest guy in the world. Shrugging he said, “Maybe?”

Laughing again, she put the car in drive, her hand leaving his to prop against the wheel. They pulled to the edge of the Hideout’s parking lot. She turned to look at him one more time.

“Lucky for you, Harrington, I think you’re right.”

Steve Harrington Taglist: @afraidofshrimp @halflifejess @nix-rose @palmtreesx3 @cilliansnostalgia @sweetdazequeen

[the-supernatural-rewatch-project]

s1ep1 "Pilot"

welp here we go again! the first episode of my two year long supernatural rewatch project! im pressing play, let to fuckery begin.

bullet points are thoughts as i watch, paragraphs are my closing comments!

Why do I pay money for amazon prime if they are gonna show me ads before what im trying to watch???

happy John Winchester feels incorrect, like where’s the assholery.

And poor Mary, dying for no good reason except to forward the plot.

AND FUCK AZELZEL or however you spell his name. They were so happy, they were a family!!! And yeah so what Mary was from a line of hunters or whatever BUT THATS RETCON!!!

god its been six?? years since I first saw supernatural but still the image of Mary of the dealing face screaming out in pain as the flames engulf the room is so chilling.

DAMN??? Sam got a 174 on the LSAT??? Good for him, i assume all I know about the lsat is from legally blonde.

justice for Jessica honestly, such a great girlfriend and Sam was a little shit.

Okay sam being all home defence over dean creeping around in the dark is kinda cute.

Sam and Jess were just a happy couple, Jess didn’t deserve all that.

“Dad hasn’t been home in a few days” “dads on a hunting trip, and he hasn’t been home in a few days” two sentences that make me regret starting this rewatch project.

“not normal, Safe” YEAH YOU TELL HIM SAM!!

I try and deny it but i am a sam girl.

DEAN TWENTY SIX??? oh my god, and still that attached to daddy.

Sam and Deans upbringing was basically a cult.

“you know there’s evp on that” yeah sam, its called static.

Sam should have become a lawyer. He wouldn’t be good, but it wouldn’t be hunting.

I LOVE YOU JESS, DATE ME NOT SAM!!! I would NEVER get you killed.

Oh yeah, this episode is a woman in white.

tits out, dead a fuck, “take me home” yeah I would 100% let her kill me.

Now that I remember this is a woman in white episode, i remember the plot of it. I actually really liked this episode’s monster of the week aspect. the woman in white was a compelling victim and perpetrator, and i really felt for her.

“it’s the greatest hits of mullet rock”

“driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake hole”

god I hate hate HATE the fbi badges, you two are babys, infants, CHILDREN!! Yall are NOT FBI agents!!!

“Why do you have to talk to police like that??” Damon Sammy? What kinda lawyer were you tryna become??

Oh yeah they are talking about dad again, this episode feels like it rapidly swings from feeling like any monster of the week episode of supernatural OR any plot driven episode.

um holy shit…. Dean shoving Sam against the pilled. Perhaps i know why wincest was the big ship until cas was introduced. (I mean like i dont ship it, but i can see why)

Okay the car driving itself was fun.

lmao dean at the edge of the river looking like a drowned fish is hilarious.

“you smell like a toilet” I’ve been reminded that supernatural wasn’t written for teen/young adult queer women and was actually written for white dudes.

“No chick flick moments” see my previous point.

“Jerk” “bitch” I hate this.

women in white are just so good, i love them.

ahhh the introduction of dads journal. The biggest problem solver in the entire fucking series.

this poor husband, kids gone, wife gone.

Jesus fucking christ, that jump scare jumped me scarred.

this poor girl, she just wants to go home.

kill him!!! I don’t want to watch another fifteen seasons of this horseshit

“Im taking you home” cringe alert 🚨

awww he’s not dead :(

Awww the kid ghosts :,(

wow that 2005 cgi does not hold up.

“If you screwed up my car, I’ll kill you” okay isnt the car the car that John brought Sam and Dean up in? How did the car become deans? John doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy to buy himself a new car when the old one will do, and he certainly isn’t the kind to give his kid his car.

JESS MY BELOVED DONT DIE

How did Sam and Jess afford this huge fucking apartment?

NOOOO SHES DEAD!!!

Well first episode done, i am not 0.00305810397% of the way done supernatural! Why have I cursed myself with this burden.

Overall I did really like this episode! I think that it does create intrigue into the storyline, while also introducing the monster of the week format. However I wish they did a better job a meshing the two together, it did feel like I was watching two separated shows that happens to smashed together. One monster of the week and one plot driven.

As for the monster of the week, I like women in white, i think they are a cool narrative function and aren’t region specific, they also aren’t indigenous folklore or spirituality significant / revered figures something that supernatural has a tendency to uh…. Lets say butcher, something that i can’t wait to deal with next episode.

For the arc’s plot I do think it does what it set out to do… introduce the plot of the show. Two brothers trying to find their father, who has gone missing. That’s really all I can say because honestly this arc was my least favorite the first time I watched supernatural I cant see that changing this time.

[adrianasunderworld]

Poor yoosung gets freaked out about Levi and his siblings names while idia is literally named hades (the old Ancient Greek name apparently. Or hades backwards I forget which one). Also how does Levi feel about idia anyways cause like he doesn’t think he’s also a demon does he??

I'm gonna be honest, I didn't know that's what Idias name meant until you said it. Lol. Besides I don't think someone named for a Greek god is really all that weird. I would assume you either are Greek or your parents were mythology lovers and leave it at that.

As for Levi... He definitely thinks Idia is something. Out of the three of them, he knows the most about magic and the supernatural. I mean one of the people he interacts with all the time can pick and choose timelines, Idia doesn't really hold a candle in the grand scheme of weird shit Levi has probably seen. He thinks at first Idia must be a demon, but eventually writes it off. Idia talks about spells and the learning to be a mage. He wonders if he's a sorcerer and his appearance is caused by some curse or spell. Then one day when it was just the two of them online, Idia mentions a bunch of stuff that simply does not exist in any of the three realms. After their gaming session, Levi decided it was time to dig. And that's when he remembers the nature of the server they use.

Levi is no stranger to playing with games that have all sorts of curses and charms placed on them. It's practically his thing. So when he heard about this secret magic server that let's you chat and game with people from other dimensions, Levi was all for it. And then his favorite animes new season released. Then there was a live event for one of his favorite idol groups. Then Mc wanted to take him a human world convention. Then exams started....He got busy forgot about the server being interdimensional,ok? But once he remembers this, everything clicks into place for him. That's why Idia doesn't know about other countries here. That's why Levi has never heard about NRC. It isn't so much shock as it is "ooohh that makes so much sense." If Levi does freak out, he's more upset that he allowed himself to forget such an important detail.

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

What would happen if you were sent back and ended up in the orphanage with Tom Riddle—and say you also had magic?

Oh boy.

Well, there's a lot to question here. Judging by the... spirit of this ask, I presume I'm... pretty much reincarnated. I'm in the orphanage, I'm much younger than I am now and a child, I'm pre-Hogwarts age, and I retain my current knowledge.

For the purpose of this ask I suppose I also retain my current mental faculties. Despite being in the body of an eight-year-old, I'm not The Carnivorous Muffin at eight.

Welp, there's a lot to consider here.

First, I probably don't realize I'm in Harry Potter for quite some time and instead assume I've been reincarnated to some parallel universe. It's the 1930's, I'm in England in the depression, WWI has occurred and the vast majority of major historical events I know about seem to have happened in the right order, and this Earth is eerily similar to the Earth I left behind.

Strange that I appear to remember everything of my past life with my adult mental abilities, but alright universe, I guess that's how we're going to play this.

What I do know is that I'm dirt poor, presumably still a woman which does not bode well for my career prospects, and if I want any prospects in life period I'm going to have to fight tooth and nail for it. It'd be great if I got adopted to help with this, and might be nice to have people in my life who love me, but there's a lot of orphans in the world and a lot of orphans who are much less weird than I am.

The orphanage is the orphanage and not great, Mrs. Cole is overworked, the orphanage is chronically understaffed, and the kids are running wild beating the shit out of each other.

Being a girl, I probably don't have to worry about getting the shit kicked out of me quite as much, but I still probably try to keep my head down and don't aggravate the particularly beefy looking orphans.

Yes, there's some very angry gremlin named Tom Riddle around who will shove you down the stairs in retribution, but that's just a weird coincidence. And then supernatural shit starts happening. Billy's rabbit hangs itself, people get injuries when Tom is nowhere near them, and I start wondering if this is really the Tom Riddle.

I'm in Wool's Orphanage, my matron is Mrs. Cole, Tom Riddle is running around lighting things on fire. It's possible, though it could all be a strange coincidence.

Now, how things go from here depends on how controlled my own magic is. Since accidental magic typically does manifest at least once or twice, it probably does manifest for me for.. something. If Tom Riddle's there to witness it then...

Well, I imagine he's very offended. Here he was, special, different, better than everyone else, and then some girl in the orphanage (who dares to get very good grades on her assignments in school) has it too.

And I just stand there, smiling, going "Tee hee".

He probably confronts me to prove that he's better at it than I am, and he probably is unless the universe hates both him and me, but having someone else with the Shining around probably prompts him to take me as his protégé (in part so he can show off and in part because he's genuinely excited to be able to share this super cool talent).

I am now apprentice to eight-year-old Tom Riddle. Whoop de doo.

Well, I don't remember this part of Harry Potter, so now I'm probably confused as to where I am again. Regardless, I try to advise Tom on how to tone it down and not, say, traumatize Amy and Dennis for life and antagonize all the other orphans forever. He probably doesn't take me seriously. What do I know, I can't even light that patch of grass on fire?

Hanging around Tom Riddle gets me a reputation to, given the difference in genders, probably a fairly nasty one at that. When Dumbledore arrives he's undoubtedly told hot gossip about how eleven-year-old Tom and I have had sex in a ritual to summon Satan. Dumbledore takes this seriously.

Dumbledore probably meets us both at the same time and it's a disaster. I tried my best to prep Tom without revealing I'm a prophet, Tom first doesn't believe there might not be others, then doesn't believe they would be antagonist/anything but amazed by how awesome he is.

Well, Dumbledore lights his wardrobe on fire while I sit there. Dying inside. Dumbledore probably also does something to me too, to teach me some kind of lesson about something.

I imagine he temporarily disfigures me/makes me appear very ugly, then sticks a mirror to the wall, that way I realize that looks aren’t everything/being a whore is wrong. Tom, still traumatized over the wardrobe, is no help and my magic’s probably not controlled enough to do a thing about it.

I spend a day looking like a pig, Tom and I are given just enough money to buy new wands and second hand/barely functioning everything else and given the world’s worst directions to Diagon Alley. Thanks, Albus.

Well, months pass, we get our wands, Tom gets excited for Hogwarts and I... start seriously considering the future. WWII is coming, the Blitz is coming, Tom and I live in east London and must be able to evacuate during the bombing of London (which went on well past the Blitz to the end of the war). I also start considering my future in the wizarding world. Do I now actually have career prospects?

Probably not because I’m muggle born and a woman. My best bet is doing very well in useful subjects and finding employment with the goblins, I can’t imagine they have the same hang ups as the wizarding world.

Tom wants to go to Slytherin, of course, I tell him this is a bad idea. “Gee Tom,” I say, “Not sure how I know this but I have this feeling that Slytherin is filled with people who loathe our very existence and will shank us. Why don’t we pick Ravenclaw or Gryffindor instead?”

No one shanks Tom Riddle! Tom says. Tom is still eleven and while he admits that sometimes I may, in retrospect, have been right about certain things that doesn’t mean he wants to go to the house known for hard work. That’s code word for everyone there being a moron and having no other redeeming features than tenacity. As for the other two, Ravenclaws sound like smug, elitist, nerds and Gryffindors like dumb jocks.

Better to be known for ambition, cunning, and actually being competent.

Well, there’s no talking him out of this one, and goddamn it we’re all each other has.

I’m the closest thing Tom Riddle has ever had to a friend in all these years and in the orphanage the only one who could hold a decent conversation with him. And while it’s not my moral obligation to keep Tom from becoming a domestic terrorist, and there’s no guarantee I even can, dumping him for one of the other houses and drifting apart won’t help.

Not to mention that, after all these years, I’m undoubtedly lonely, I’m in this foreign land, and he’s now the closest thing to a friend I have.

Looks like I’m going to Slytherin, YOOOOOLLLLLLLLOOOOOOOOO! I shout as a battle cry as tears run down my face. I may have to convince the hat to put me in Slytherin, but like all human beings I am a mixture of many qualities. I’m not cunning in the least, mind games exhaust me unutterably, but I’m full of ambition. 

This confirms every bad opinion Dumbledore had regarding me and Tom.

For the next several months, Tom probably beats the shit out of dormmates who steal his things/harass him. He beats up mine too because feminism (TM) means that he should treat all people equally when guilty of the same crime. I... am not sure I can win that fight so I just resign myself to having to adopt some of Tom’s tactics to make sure I’m not shoved in lockers, have tampons thrown at me, or pig’s blood dumped on me at the prom.

Once again, everyone thinks Tom Riddle and I are dating. I don’t even know if they’re wrong at this point.

Well, being in class with eleven year olds who seem to have had little to no prior education, Tom and I are undoubtedly blazing through class. I imagine I’m bored out of my mind (the Hogwarts curriculum sounds unbelievably boring) and Tom is... well, probably devouring the library but probably also bored. I decide to try and see if I can find some real history texts on this world (there are probably none, the wizarding world seems to only have two historians and both... have a different approach to history than current modern thought as I know it) and discover what magic even is. That shit is fascinating: wingardium leviosa is not.

Dumbledore likely gives neither me nor Tom points in class, I think the house cup is stupid, so I really don’t care. I have no interest in playing quidditch, neither does Tom, so that doesn’t happen.

The second world war starts up, Tom, me, and the muggle borns are the only ones who give a flying fuck. I work harder on figuring out how to get lodging during the Blitz/the bombing of London. Unfortunately, Mrs. Cole hates me too for being the Bride of Satan, so that’s a no go. Third year, 1939, I probably write her in earnest anyway telling her to PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, send Tom and I instructions for the summer/where the orphans are staying/how they’ve been dispersed to the countryside. As a back up plan, I try desperately to shmooze shopkeepers in Hogsmeade during every Hogsmeade weekend to get myself and Tom part time jobs and lodging over the summer. As a back up back up plan, I spend my time badgering Tom to become very good at survivalist wandless magic and if the Lord has pity on me gain some ability in it myself.

Hopefully, either Mrs. Cole or one of the Hogsmeade shop owners take pity on us. If not, then Tom and I are going extreme camping. Given Mrs. Cole (and the brain damage brought on by Dumbledore erasing memories left and right) and the likelihood of Hogsmeade shop owners just not getting it, Tom and I probably go extreme camping.

(Tom, meanwhile, asks Dippet and Dumbledore if we can stay in Hogwarts over the summer. He’s told no exceptions. London’s being bombed, you say? No exceptions. Toodles. Tom is never the same.)

Me, Tom Riddle, a tent we made ourselves, several rabbits we had to catch and skin ourselves, and the pitiful fire that we can keep going through pure will alone because if we try to use real people spells then we’ll get arrested. It has the benefit of making Tom feel very manly and impressive, catching his own food, but both of us are well aware that this sucks.

But hey, we aren’t dead.

Well, I’m sure Tom doesn’t appreciate that and this is where I imagine he seriously starts talking about violent revolution. I imagine much of my time is spent discussing the merits of not violently overthrowing our ant overlords. I imagine a thirteen-year-old Tom isn’t impressed by my pacifism, but he’s not married to Voldemort yet (probably).

Then I imagine the horcrux thing comes up and... Well, I will argue hard against it. Humans die, it is a truth of the universe, and simply something we have to accept. Horcruxes are not a measure against that, they can be destroyed, given infinite time they will be, and the sacrifice they require is too high: human life as well as the very essence of who you are.

What is a soul? I’m not sure, we never really learn in HP canon, but whatever it is, it is in some way the essence of yourself. If you take half of it and throw it somewhere else, you will cease to be you, someone or something else is walking around in your body while the other half of you exists in endless agony.

If you must chase immortality, create a philosopher’s stone (as I darkly wonder why it was that couldn’t be replicated and what Flamel had to do to make it in the first place). On second thought, maybe we should search for the Holy Grail.

Whether I can talk Tom out of this or not is... unclear. I’m going to say that I can, in part because I imagine he’ll want to show the chamber off to me, tell me when he realizes he’s Heir of Slytherin, and in doing so I can prevent the basilisk incident from occurring. Without that, there’s no dead Myrtle, which means no first victim. That summer, when he goes to the Gaunts, I’ll go with him and convince him that it’s not worth it. He can just turn around and leave these people alone, I hopefully can talk him down. Which means no second victim.

I start writing Flamel to see if Tom or I can get an apprenticeship (Dumbledore probably beats us to the chase and poisons him against us, but it’s worth a shot).

Then, should all go well, I can convince Tom to find employment with the goblins rather than shady antique dealers on the bad side of town. Hopefully, I can convince him to never become Voldemort, and instead we travel the world together looking for the origins of magic or something.

Dumbledore goes around taking people’s memories of us in preparation for when Tom becomes a dark lord and I his lady of the night darkness.

TL;DR Apparently my life would become an SI/Tom Riddle fic. So, thanks anon.

[calaofnoldor]

What’s Mine

Characters: Sam x F!Reader, Dean

Words: 7,595

Summary: The secret you and Sam are hiding from Dean is threatened by your inability to keep your hands off each other.

Warnings: 18+ no actual smut but plenty of implied smut, pre-smut, and smut adjacency lol, secret dating, enemies to lovers, jealousy and possessiveness (exhibited by both sam and reader), slight obsession with sam’s big ass hands (i blame this largely on @walkerboy290​‘s glorious hand porn gif sets), and language

A/N: inspired by and written for @thinkinghardhardlythinking​ bc she’s been bugging me to write smut and using her birthday as a bargaining chip, so i hope you’re happy sai. happy (belated) birthday babe! i suppose in my subconscious need to truly honor you, this became the longest one shot i’ve ever written... that and this is now also a little birthday gesture for the brilliant and beautiful @sams-sass​​ (damn your close birthdays!) even though she never asked for smut (if you hate it, i’ll write you something else!) happy birthday to you too, darling!

also written for @superbadassnatural​‘s 333 badass followers celebration with the prompt “___ and I are together.” “Yeah, right, and I’m Santa.” and @writethelifeyouwant​‘s 300 follower fic challenge with the prompt “All the pretty girls like Samuel” (both prompts are bolded in the fic) i’m sorry i’m so late! congratulations to both of you and thanks for letting me enter your challenges!

[basically i have a lot of people to blame for this disaster 😂]

Square Filled: Secret Dating for @spnfluffbingo​ and Enemies to Lovers for @girl-next-door-writes​ Make Me Feel Bingo

MASTERLIST

The waffles on your plate are surprisingly good for a sketchy, 50’s-themed diner, but unfortunately your attention is elsewhere. In fact, the two distinctly masculine voices behind you have been obnoxiously impairing your ability to savor the buttery, syrup-doused carbs since their owners sat down in the adjoining booth. It’s the topic of their discussion that disturbs you, and nips at your conscience until you realize you can no longer take off without imparting a few words to your oblivious colleagues.

Turning your head subtly to the side, you try to catch a glimpse of the men you’re about to confront in your peripheral vision. From what you can see, they’re both rather burly, a little rough around the edges, and from what you’ve heard, recklessly cocksure. You know the type all too well. Being a lone hunter of the fairer sex for most of your life means you’ve long since learned that the best way to combat their kind is with a steadfast façade of thick skin and unwavering confidence.

So you sigh and put on your best smile before turning around, crossing your forearms along the top of the booth seat, “Listen fellas, I hate to interrupt, but I really wouldn’t bother with the bamboo dagger and Shinto priest if I were you.”

“And who the hell are you?” the one with shorter hair demands. He’s a bit stockier than his companion and has a face that looks like it was designed by Abercrombie and Fitch - well that explains the arrogance.

“I’m the person who’s about to save your asses evidently,” you respond with a smug grin, trying not to let their absurdly good looks deter your act.

Abercrombie’s partner, the Fabio wannabe, releases a quiet scoff, “And how are you gonna do that?” he questions dubiously.

“By letting you in on a little secret…” Throwing him a tight smile, you lean forward and lower your voice, “That ōkami you’re after? It’s not an ōkami, it’s a ghoul.” Sitting back, you await the outrage.

“What?! But that’s not possible, I checked the lore. And it’s obviously got a type.” Fabio’s glossy chestnut locks fall across his delicate features as he shakes his head in disbelief, and you almost snort out loud. How did this amateur expect to hunt with hair like that?

You look him over, taking in the broad shoulders and muscled arms, as well as the obvious height advantage he’s got over Abercrombie even whilst they’re both seated. To be honest, you’re surprised he’s referencing lore at all. Guys his size always assume they can either outman or outgun whatever obstacles cross their path, and they almost never take women like you seriously, despite your ample years of acquired knowledge and invaluable experience. It’s this experience that surmises a bit of antagonism here is inevitable, so you might as well get a head start.

“Yeah well maybe you should check again, big guy,” you glance down at his hands, your first mistake as their sheer size render you speechless and subsequently agitated at yourself for the momentary lapse of visceral lust, but the show must go on, “Make sure those giant, lumbering hands of yours don’t fumble over anything important or you might miss the connection to Isabelle Harding. You see it’s not ‘a type’; it’s revenge.”

“Wh- Bu- I looked through the files. I wouldn’t have missed that,” Fabio insists.

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you type ‘Isabelle Harding’ and ‘1987 school bombing’ into your search bar and see what comes up?” you gesture towards the laptop on their table with a raised brow. Minutes later, both men are dumbfounded by the revelation on the screen, staring between it and you with their mouths agape.  

You chuckle silently at their faces, “Don’t worry, there’s no need to thank me. Although you rookies might wanna go home and let the more experienced hunter finish up here.” As you’re about to bid them farewell, you dip back in to add, “Oh and a word of free advice, maybe don’t discuss supernatural monsters quite so loudly in public spaces next time. It might invite unwanted attention.”

With that, you turn around and slap some cash down next to your unfinished waffles, before grabbing your jacket and strutting out the door.

Sam is left in utter confusion. The sudden animosity you had spouted his way seems completely baseless and unwarranted. Had he somehow offended you? Sam generally considers himself a highly respectful and fairly easy-going guy, not quite as hot-blooded as his brother, and thus not as likely to provoke such antipathy from a complete stranger. To make matters worse, he certainly can’t deny that something about you had registered within his subconscious as inexplicably attractive, despite the way you’d embarrassed him. In his flustered and slightly aroused state, it had been all he could do to remain awestruck in his seat and stare blatantly at your ass as you walked away.

The next time Sam sees you is only twelve hours later and no less humiliating. You’re mid-swing in the killing blow against what you had accurately predicted to be a ghoul as he and Dean tumble in. Despite the low lighting, Sam is once again stupefied by your raging beauty, augmented by the incredible skill you’re displaying in a much more physical sense this time around. Before he can drag his eyes away, there’s a collective shout of “watch out!” and suddenly you’re right in front of him. In a blur of events, you somehow manage to push Sam out of the way and successfully decapitate the unexpected second ghoul that had been sneaking up behind him, with only a slice across the arm to show for it.

“Didn’t I tell you two to go home?” You’re panting from the exertion and Sam’s gaze lands on the neckline of your shirt, skewed from the fight and revealing a good amount of cleavage. He quickly averts his eyes. What is happening? Sam can’t remember the last time anyone had evoked such a staggering reaction from him. He feels as if he’s a mere spectator in his own body.

Across from him, you press your hand against the wound and curse when it comes back covered in blood. At your groan of pain, Sam finally finds his voice again, “Shit. I’m so sorry! I don’t know how I missed that other one. I- that normally doesn’t happen.”

“Yeah, I bet that’s what you say to all the girls, huh?” you reply offhand, still a bit out of breath.

It’s easy for Sam to dismiss your mocking given that he feels terribly guilty for being the cause of your injury. From where he’s standing, the cut looks deep. “Here, at least let me stitch it up for you. It’s too awkward a position for you to do it yourself,” he offers, holding out his ginormous hands to you like he’s waving a white flag.

“I think you’ve done enough damage for one day, haven’t you, big guy? At this point, I’d rather Abercrombie over there be the one behind the needle.”

“Who- what?” are the first words Dean speaks since the action has died down.

You turn to face the shorter guy, “Oh don’t look so surprised. You might as well be the model for a slightly older Ken doll. Are you up for it or not?”

Dean’s mouth hangs open as he tries to determine whether he should feel flattered or insulted.

“Uh- actually, I’m better at stitches than my brother,” Sam butts in.

“With those jumbo, fumbling hands? Yeah, sure you are, big guy,” you decline skeptically.

“It’s Sam,” he states through a clenched jaw.

“OK, Sam. Since I just saved your life, you mind making yourself useful and burning those bodies while your bro puts my arm back together? You know, as a ‘thank you’ perhaps?”

Sam is stunned for the third time that day. No one has ever belittled him (whilst gratuitously attacking his size) insofar without any apparent reason. It seems as though his very existence upsets you and the arbitrariness of your contempt has caused an anger to stir beneath him, but beyond that lies bewilderment and irritation. How had he managed to accomplish two such massive mistakes in front of you in the span of so short a time? Perturbed and bitter, Sam silently sets to work on the bodies.

Meanwhile, you’ve come to a surprising realization as Dean begins to cut the fabric of your flannel away from your damaged arm, the name ‘Sam’ and the words ‘my brother’ resounding in your head, “Wait a second- there’s no way… you’re not… the Winchesters, are you? Sam and… Dean?”

“The one and only, sweetheart.” He sends you a dazzling smile that is as perfect as you’d expect, but within his eyes is an underlying poignancy that you recognize as clear as day: an indication of a traumatic past and a lifetime spent plastering on tough veneers. You notice as well how gentle his touch is and how his stitches are practiced and prudent. Perhaps you had judged him too hastily.

Through an incredulous chuckle, you retort, “Well I can’t say I didn’t expect more from you, but at least this’ll get me a free round of drinks at the hunters’ pub tonight.”

Dean laughs with you before sobering at the thought of how his baby brother must be feeling, “Hey listen, take it easy on Sammy, alright? I don’t know what’s gotten into him today but he’s not usually like this. He’s actually the smart one, believe it or not.”

Scoffing, you can’t help but smile back at Dean and soon find an easy rhythm with the older Winchester, despite your awkward introduction.

From several yards away, however, Sam looks wistfully back to see you smiling lightheartedly at something Dean’s said, the two of you huddled in close proximity as his brother’s hands drift across your bare skin. Something akin to envy bubbles within his chest although he’s aware it makes no sense, so with a frown, Sam does his best to shake it off and get back to work.

But it’s not easy to forget you. And just as Sam is beginning to think he’s rid that awful day from his memory, you pop back into his life three months down the line.

“Well, if it isn’t the overgrown hunter extraordinaire Sammy Winchester.” The sarcasm that oozes from your otherwise beguiling voice has him gritting his teeth in no time.

“It’s Sam.”

“So you here to mess up my hunt again, Sam?”

Although he wishes he could have been the bigger man instead of surrendering to the resentment you roused within him, after a couple repeated hatchet burying attempts fall through, Sam just can’t resist the little game you’ve started.

Over the next few months, you and Dean form a fortuitously close bond and the older Winchester develops a habit of calling you up when faced with a troublesome hunt, and vice versa. Despite Sam’s fabricated displeasure, a show he puts on mostly for Dean (since any other emotion would seem illogical given the way you treat him), Sam is peculiarly and begrudgingly excited to see you every time. But the match never ends. In fact, Sam lets it intensify each time you work together, always astounded by how you manage to get him so worked up.

“I’m telling you, it’s a rugaru!”

“Right, because the last time we listened to you, things worked out so well,” you remark sardonically.

“The lore says-“

“Ooh, quoting the lore again now are we, Mr. Know It All?”

At this point, Sam is about as huffy and puffy as the big bad wolf and if he were a cartoon character, there’d surely be steam erupting from his ears. “Look, Y/N, this isn’t about who knows more or who’s right; this is about saving those people’s lives!”

“You think I don’t know that? Was I not the one who saved your life the first time we met?”

“OK, alright, just shut up you two!” Dean finally shouts above you, “Would it kill you to just get along for two seconds?”

“No,” Sam admits.

“Probably,” you say at the same time, causing Sam to shoot you his overly perfected bitch face.

SIX MONTHS LATER

“What the fuck?!” Dean’s booming voice echoes throughout the bunker and moments later you and Sam come flying into the kitchen to answer his call, guns at the ready.

“What? What is it?” you ask while Sam scans the room.

A whimper is the only the way to describe the sound of Dean’s reply, as he points toward an unseen object on the floor. Edging toward him, you lower your gun in the direction of his finger until you discover the source of Dean’s distress.

With a sigh, you look toward Sam who is also exhaling in relief at the sight of the entity in question. The two of you share a moment of wordless conversation before simultaneously dropping your guns with a conclusive nod.

“Why does this feel like déjà vu?” Dean’s tone is still timid and appalled, and you nearly laugh at the idea of a grown-ass man looking so aghast because of a used condom.

“Because it kinda is…” you supply unhelpfully, earning yourself a small glare from the man beside you.

“Dean,” Sam begins with a deep breath, “There’s something we have to tell you… Y/N and I are together.”

The snort that escapes Dean is full-bodied and borderline psychotic, “Yeah, right, and I’m Santa!”

You wait till his snickering subsides, “No, it- it’s true.” Your voice is hesitant yet hopeful, “We’re not joking. We’ve kinda become… a thing.”

“A thing?”

“Yeah, well you know, I don’t wanna have to put a label on it or-“

“Y/N’s my girlfriend,” Sam declares with conviction as he reaches out to curl his long fingers around your waist and lasso you towards him.

“-Buuuut, that is the one I’d use if anyone asks,” you quickly affirm with a stiff pat to your boyfriend’s abdomen, wincing at the unversed attempt of PDA and missing the dimpled grin that crosses Sam’s amused features.

“Well, I don’t buy it. I don’t believe either of you.” Dean’s sturgeon face comes on strong as he shakes his head and points a challenging finger at you, “Kiss him, right now,” he dares with perked brows.

The eye roll you respond with is so dramatic your entire head moves with it. But then, without a moment of pause, you turn your body into Sam’s, reach up to grab the back of his neck and pull him down for a searing kiss. Now this is something you’re well-versed in. The reunion of your lips starts off relatively slow, but it doesn’t take long to escalate into something more fiery that involves tongue, the eager push and pull movements of your bodies, and Sam’s enormous hands cradling your head.

After a moment of shock, Dean objects, “Alright, alright, I get it! That’s enough of that!”

Unwilling to recede just yet, you linger in the kiss for a little longer, delaying your separation by nibbling down on Sam’s lower lip and tugging gently, only releasing it as you pull away torturously slow. When the two of you finally open your languid eyes, it’s to stare into each other’s dilated pupils and ponder the moment for an indiscernible minute.

“What th- I said, I get it! Now could please stop ogling each other before my lunch comes back out the wrong way?!”

But the way Sam’s smiling at you is addictive and you can’t bring yourself to look away until he forces a break by leaning in to plant a tender kiss upon your forehead before tucking you into his side as he faces his brother again.

Dean’s face is covered by his hand, “I’m gonna need a minute. I just-“ His features leap through a range of expressions as he tries to find the right words, “When the hell did this start anyway? I thought you two couldn’t stand each other?”

“Yeahhh, that was mostly an act. Although we bought it at first too,” you explain with a shrug.

“We weren’t pretending the whole time. It just kind of happened and we didn’t really know how else to act around each other by then,” Sam adds.

“Right, basically it turns out there’s a fine line between love and hate... and that line is hardcore yearning.” Your words bring a chuckle to Sam’s lips but his brother still looks out of sorts.

Shaking his head with closed eyes, Dean sighs, “Alright, can someone just explain to me exactly how this happened, because I’m still not computing here. But spare me the details and try to keep it PG-13,” he emphasizes with adamant hand gestures.

“How do you know it’s not PG-13?” you inquire with a held-back laugh.

“Ha. With the way you two were playing tonsil hockey just now, I can tell you’ve been around the bend way more than I wanna know. My little brother doesn’t kiss like that on the first date.”

It’s impossible to hold back a giggle at the memory of your ‘first date’ and the way Sam had kissed you, “OK well, that would be hard, considering the story involves a lot of sex... You wanna give it a go, big guy?” you pass the ball over to Sam with a quirked brow and lowered voice, to which he responds with narrowed eyes and pursed lips, a little warning glance that you’re well aware means ‘save it for the bedroom’ but you simply smirk up at him.  

‘Big guy’ used to be a term you called Sam in contempt, but when the feelings between you evolved and a sexual relationship developed, it became an innuendo, such that calling him ‘big guy’ in front of Dean or in public almost always results in glorious sex. In fact, sometimes you believe the nickname has held a slightly obscene connotation for you since the beginning.

Afterall, your carnal longing for him has been present from day one, although at the time you had believed it to be purely physical. Sure, you had dreams about having him in various positions in your bed, but you figured those were merely betrayals of your subconscious mind. That was until one day, a heated argument in a rare moment alone had ended up in a violent make out session, after which the two of you had just barely gotten the last of your clothes back on before Dean walked in. One look at your worked up and frenetic states alongside the disordered condition of your surroundings, and he immediately assumed you’d been fighting again (which wasn’t terribly far from the truth), chortling as he asked if you would have killed each other had he returned a bit later.

With a clearing of his throat, Sam begins to recount the tale, “Uh, well it started in that motel in South Carolina, while you were out getting food…”

“Look, all I’m saying is there is no way he’s using the hospital as a dump site! It’s just not feasible!”

With complete disregard for the peace and quiet of the other residents within this thin-walled motel, you and Sam once again find yourselves in a shouting match.

“Oh right, I forgot! You’re Sam Winchester! How could you POSSIBLY be wrong?! Mister ‘look at me, my IQ and LSAT score match my fucking height! Oh and I also happen to have the physique of an Adonis without even owning a gym membership!’” you roar bitterly, gesticulating with your hands to help better communicate your pent-up indignation.

“Right and you’re Y/N Y/L/N, so how could YOU possibly be wrong? Miss ‘look at me, I never went to college but I’m a genius AND I can kick ass! Oh and I also happen to look effortlessly stunning through it all!’” Sam suddenly seems bigger than ever as he towers over you, that panty-soaking deep voice emanating from his diaphragm and infusing itself throughout the entire room until all you can see, hear, and breathe is Sam.

The fury takes over and you don’t notice your feet taking you closer to him, “Oh yeah because you don’t make EVERYTHING you do look so unnecessarily hot and make me wanna rip your clothes off all the damn time!”

“Fuck! And you don’t always drive me crazy when we have these stupid arguments and your chest starts heaving and you look so insanely delectable I just wanna pick you up and fuck you against the closest surface!” By now, the distance between you is essentially nonexistent and your brain is no longer run by reason.

“So why don’t you then?” are your famous last words, prompting Sam to grab you wildly by the back of a thigh, lifting slightly and driving you to climb up him like a spider monkey fleeing from a grounded predator, while his other hand pushes your hair aside to gain better access to your face. Your mouths clash in a fierce battle and before you know it, Sam’s huge hands are cupping your ass as your legs wrap around his waist and you rut into him, hands flying from his shoulders to his hair. Those divine chestnut locks that you’ve always dreamed of running your fingers through. They’re somehow even softer than you imagined and the revelation, in conjunction with the way Sam’s tongue is becoming increasingly aggressive causes a fresh surge of libidinous energy to rocket through you. As a result, you give his silky strands an irresistible tug and drink in the moan he makes, the sinful sound reverberating straight down to your core as you clench around nothing.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sam groans as he grudgingly forces himself to pull back as much as he can, “Are you sure? Is this what you want? Cause I can’t- Y/N I won’t be able to stop myself if we keep going.” His eyes squeeze shut as if the notion of stopping or the act of keeping his lips away from yours is causing him genuine pain, and the entire gesture moves you.

“Fuck, you really are the opposite of everything I thought you would be,” you make a quick mental note to apologize later for your initially presumptuous behavior although you can’t find it within yourself to feel any remorse right now, “Yes, please Sam, fuck me. I want you so bad… I think I have since we met and I saw those gorgeous hands of yours,” you confess, biting your lip lightly.

Sam breathes out a low incredulous laugh, “What, these?” he asks, removing one of the aforementioned hands away from your butt to bring it into your line of vision.

“Yes, fuck they’re so big and beautiful and strong and-“

“Alright, I don’t need to know about your weird hand fetish!” Dean hollers abruptly, rubbing his fingers across his eyes as if he could somehow erase the image of you and his brother together out of his retinas. “OK, but that was like… four months ago. You mean you’ve been sneaking around behind my back this whole time?”

“Well at first we didn’t want to tell you because we weren’t even sure what it was ourselves,” you divulge.

“Yeah, we didn’t want to try to explain something that we didn’t understand yet,” Sam supplements, hoping his brother will understand the motive behind your secrecy.

You nod along, “But then… it got a little harder to hide.”

The apprehension behind Dean’s emerald eyes is unmistakable as he reluctantly inquires, “That’s why this felt like déjà vu?”

It’s with a grimace that you reply, hesitantly, “Remember the time you found those panties in the backseat of the Impala?”

Dean’s eyes grow comically wide and Sam ducks his head in preparation of what’s to come.

“Yeah, there’s a story behind that…”

The click of her heels against the porcelain-tiled foyer irritates you as the three of you stride through her front door. You’re posing as detectives sent to question this overdressed young woman about her late husband, but the moment she lays her eyes on Sam, you reckon she’s forgotten her beloved’s damn name.

“Oh my… lord and savior. Well aren’t you a tall drink of water?” she beholds breathlessly with a seductive bite of her painted ruby lips.

You cough loudly and Dean sniggers, thinking you’re annoyed about Sam getting such commendation and attention during a serious case.

“I know this might be the grief talking, but I would climb you like a tree,” she purrs, sauntering up to Sam with an exaggerated sway of her hips. With her half-lidded doe eyes adorned with dark, fluttery lashes and low, sultry voice, you have to admit she’s quite attractive.

Grinding your teeth as your nails dig into your palms, you glower at the woman unreservedly. She, however, takes no notice, running her hands along Sam’s forearms before gripping at his bicep to lead him toward her living room. “Please, come have a seat, detective. You can ask me whatever you want.” The wink she appends is somehow the final nail in the coffin.

It’s with zero hesitation that you feign the reception of a notification on your phone before declaring, “Oh would you look at that, the uh… Sheriff needs us back at the station, Sam. He says it’s urgent.” You try to keep your tone even, thankful that you all maintained your real first names for these aliases, “Dean, you’re good to conduct this interview on your own, right?” Without waiting for an answer, you trample over to snatch Sam’s other arm and ignoring the horny widow’s gaping mouth, proceed to haul him away.

Dean sends you a strange look but relents, “Uh, yeah I guess, OK.”

As soon as the door closes behind you, your hand shifts down to lace your fingers with Sam’s, marching him towards the Impala with a staunch and mighty purpose. Even Sam’s elongated legs stumble to keep up.

“So uh… when did you give the Sheriff your number?” There’s an edge in his voice that normally disappears when it’s just the two of you.

“Wha- I didn’t. Sam, I just made all that up,” you tell him as you reach the car and open its back door. Pushing Sam inside, you climb in swiftly after him, wasting no time as you straddle his thighs and begin to undress him, only pausing when he looks up at you in adorable, puppy-like confusion.

“Wait, what? Then what are we doing?”

That’s when it finally dawns on you, “Hold on a sec, were you… jealous?” You can’t help but smile, finding it amusing that he’s stewing in his own envy after what you just witnessed.

“No, I just- He was kinda all over you this morning.”

“You mean like the way Mrs. My-Husband-Just-Died-But-I-Wanna-Climb-You-Like-a-Tree was in there?”

“Oh, that’s what this is about?” Sam perks up, the hint of a smug grin ghosting across his lips.

“She was practically holding your hand!”

“That’s what bothered you the most?” He dips his head to catch your eyes and those variegated irises burn into you with an intense, questioning gaze, alight with mischievous curiosity.

“They’re my hands to hold,” you contend with a pout, subconsciously clenching your thighs around his as you seize one of his large hands with two of your much smaller ones, “Just like you’re my tree to climb.”

Sam’s head falls back in bright laughter, “I thought you said they were ‘oversized’ and ‘ungainly’?” he teases, quoting your previous slights.

“You know I only said that cause Dean was there.”

“I’m pretty sure you called them ‘fumbly’ and ‘lumbering’ the first time we met.”

Staring at his fingers as you play with them, you shiver at the memory of how they feel all over you. “That was cause I used to think all hunters with a Y chromosome were cocky, misogynistic assholes who needed to be knocked down a peg or two.”

“But I proved you wrong, right?”

“Fuck yes you did. So, so wrong. And now you’re mine, and I don’t like seeing other people touch what’s mine,” you growl before returning to your earlier task of removing his clothes, pouncing on him when your fingers finally land on bare skin. You kiss him fiercely, swallowing his surprised grunts with glee, and as his hands start travelling from your hips up to your back, holding you tight against him, your lips move down to his pulse point, sucking, licking, and nibbling, “Mine.”

“Fucking Jesus Christ on a cracker! You goddamn rabbits!” Dean squawks in protest as he begins to pace the floor, “Have you no decency?! And in my poor Baby! While I was busy doing all the work, saving lives!”

You roll your eyes at his melodramatics and can feel the tension in Sam’s abdominal muscles as he attempts to restrain his laughter. As if Dean had never taken a break during a case for a stress-relieving quickie before, or hadn’t been at least somewhat grateful to be left alone with a beautiful woman.

His next comment confirms your point, “Although, if I remember correctly that lady was a fox.” After a brief pondering pause and an introspectively appreciative smirk, Dean’s whining resumes, “But seriously! I can’t believe you two! Here I was feeling bad for forcing you to work and live together, hoping you’d eventually learn to get along when this whole time you were shacking up like animals and casually defiling my Baby just because what? Some girl touched Sam’s hand?!”

Feeling emboldened by the catharsis of this long-overdue airing of your dirty laundry, you decide to add to Dean’s exasperation, “Yeah and in the spirit of honesty, that might’ve happened more than once.” Sam tries to hold back his snort as he gives your hip a playful cautionary squeeze while Dean’s feet come to a full stop as he turns to give you a death glare. “Hey, it’s not my fault all the pretty girls like Samuel! And I’m pretty sure we wiped her down after.”

“I don’t even-“ Dean purses his lips and quirks his head with a dynamic expression of unbearable vexation, “You better be getting me pie every day of the week for what you did.“ He takes a deep breath before circling back, “Wait, OK so you’re telling me that a used condom ended up in our kitchen because- what? You two couldn’t keep it in your pants long enough to find a bed? You know what, forget I asked. I don’t wanna know. Did you at least sanitize the place after?? No, of course you didn’t, you left a fucking condom on the floor… I think I’m gonna throw up.”

But you hardly hear Dean’s rambling because you and Sam are far too wrapped up in each other, smiling as you recall the events of that morning.

Your eyes slowly drift open to find the most exalting sight in all the world: Sam Winchester’s sleeping face, blissful and serene. Lifting a hand to gingerly cup his cheek, the corners of your mouth curl up when he leans into your touch. It’s moments like this that make you wish you could wake up next to him every morning.

Only after you’ve traced his every feature and planted a soft kiss where his dimple would be if he were awake and smiling, do you carefully peel yourself from his side, slipping out of his hold as you quietly climb out of bed. Sam rolls over a bit and you freeze with bated breath, watching as his big arm extends out in your direction as if trying to reach for you in his sleep, before stilling again.

Mornings like this are rare and you want him to soak up all the restful sleep he can. Once you’re sure you haven’t woken him, you scan the room for something to cover your naked figure, until your eyes land on the flannel he’d worn the night before. Picking it up, you bring it to your nose and inhale deeply to revel in the residual scent of Sam. Another glimpse at his peaceful, sleeping form has you smiling fondly. God, you are such a goner for that man. It’s becoming hard to reserve your soft looks toward him for private moments alone.

You can barely remember how it happened, but over time, you’d come to learn that Sam is nothing like you originally imagined him to be. He’s kind-hearted and open-minded, the type of soul that can find hope and beauty in even the darkest of places, a far cry from the shallow macho man silhouette you’d expected him to fill. In fact, Sam routinely defies the expectations others have enforced upon him, proving his worth time and time again as he’s persisted through some of what must be the toughest challenges to ever face a single human. Yet through it all, his spirit remains intact, never once yielding to cynicism or resentment or apathy or even the building of walls as you and Dean have resorted to. He is truly the bravest man you know and infinitely more competent than your first fluke of a hunt with him had mistakenly suggested, both in the field and in bed.

Shaking the thoughts from your head, you wrap yourself in plaid and head out the door. Dean never questions your use of Sam’s shirts because ever since Sam firmly insisted on giving you his flannel after your second encounter with them resulted in Dean cutting your own top apart, you’ve grown into a habit of borrowing Sam’s clothes. You always claim they’re more comfortable than your own and Sam’s feigned annoyance over you ‘stealing’ his belongings tides Dean right over.

Half an hour passes before Sam approaches the bunker kitchen to find you with your back towards the entrance, busy prepping breakfast in nothing but his plaid. He pauses in the doorway to stare at you for a minute, licking his lips with an irrepressible smile. For some, this may seem like a stereotypical morning after, but for a couple of hunters, it feels like a dream come true.

After finally returning to the bunker last night following the completion of a series of successful hunts, you’ve got no solid obligations and very little on your to-do lists today, although Sam’s got more than a few ideas about how to pass the time, and a couple more come to mind when you stretch up on your toes to reach for something, causing the hem of his shirt to glide up until its corner reveals just slightest hint of your incredible ass. Sam can’t suppress his little grunt of approval, which catches your attention and makes you turn your head, peering back at him over your shoulder.

You smirk at the blessed view of him standing there in nothing but the pair of thin grey sweatpants you’d bought him a month ago when you discovered the viral online phenomenon, “Hey, big guy. You just gonna stand there and gawk or do you wanna make yourself useful and grab another plate from the top shelf?”

Chuckling at your false animosity, Sam stalks toward you, “Good morning to you too.” One of his vast hands falls upon your hip as he presses the maximum possible length of his body into your back side, while his other hand reaches up over your head to snatch the plate you’d asked for.

“Good morning indeed,” you concur with a silent gasp when you feel the generous bulge in his pants.

“Oh that’s not morning, baby girl,” Sam husks into your ear, “That’s all you.” His powerful arms slink around you and his lips find their way down the side of your neck, lingering in that tender spot just behind your ear whilst you tilt your head and close your eyes, contentedly surrendering yourself to the moment. “I ever tell you how good you look in my shirts?”

Wiggling your butt back to tease him a bit, you’re pleased with the hiss it elicits. “No, but you made it very clear how bad I look in Dean’s,” you counter playfully.

The man behind you scoffs, “I didn’t say you looked bad; you could never look bad. I just… don’t like seeing you wear his clothes.”

“Oh, I know,” you turn around in his arms, “I just don’t understand how Dean doesn’t know yet. I mean, I think you’ve been very obvious.”

“And you haven’t?”

“I’m not the one who leaves hickeys in very visible places all over your body!”

Sam’s eyes glaze over in lust, an idea clearly forming in his head as he glances down at you. “Dean’s a hot-blooded guy; he needs to know you’re off-limits,” he alleges before attacking your throat with his mouth.

“So why don’t we just tell him?”

Without pausing his efforts, Sam reminds you, “Because you said you thought it was kinda hot, all the sneaking around. Mmpf, and because you said you wanted to see how long it would take him to figure it out.”

You nod while running your fingers through his silken strands and leaning back to give him more purchase, “That’s true. But in my defence, we always have this conversation when we’re doing stuff like this and I can’t think straight when your hands and mouth are on me.”

“Kinda like how I can’t think straight when you’re wearing nothing but my shirt?” His kisses travel down from your neck to your collarbone and shoulder as he slides his loosely buttoned flannel off to one side, “Fuck, you’ve got me so hard.”

Without warning, Sam seizes your waist and hoists you into the air as if gravity were an absolute joke, before plopping you down on the edge of the steel counter, his thumbs digging lightly into your ribcage.

“Sam! This is where we eat!” you protest with a laugh.

“Exactly. Which is why I’m gonna devour you here.” He dives back into your neck, continuing his work on a little pink mark that’s already beginning to form.

“Oh fuck… Wait, what if Dean walks in?” It’s through a great struggle that you manage to push him back an inch.

“He’s got a date with the Impala. He’ll be in the garage all day, trust me.” Sam’s gaze sweeps over your body suggestively, “Now are you gonna let me taste what’s mine?”

With an equally lewd survey of his extensive frame, you reply, “As long as you let me impale myself on what’s mine later.”

His eyes darken and the way he’s looking at you like you’re the only person he’s ever wanted ignites a confidence within you, so in a rather swift motion, you grasp him by the shaft through his sweatpants – the delicious groan he emits at your touch is enough to turn your pussy into a slip and slide – and pull him back towards you until the clothed length of him is resting against your folds and your noses brush, while his hands settle naturally on your thighs.

Shivering, your breath stutters and for an instant you can do nothing but bask in the closeness of him. Sam seems to enjoy it too because he closes his eyes as he rests his forehead against yours with an elated sigh. For the second time today, you marvel at his beauty, whispering a string of gasping kisses along his lower eye socket and exquisite cheekbone, simply dying to breathe him in. All of him is so immaculate and sublime. Each time the two of you reconvene, you want to savor every fucking inch of him, but there are a lot of inches, so the task often overwhelms you. Still, you must try. Locking your ankles behind him, you use your legs to pull him even further into you and the friction makes you lose your mind.

“Fuck, baby girl, you keep that up I’ll be making a mess in my pants,” Sam grunts with his lips upon your cheek.

Your breathless laughter fills the air, thinking of the stain you've undoubtedly already left on his charming grey sweatpants. Nimble as he is, Sam takes advantage of your open mouth and plunges his tongue inside. After so much preamble, the kiss is heavy and full of need. When the pressure of his lips pushes your head back, your hands fly to his wrists for the sake of your balance.

From there, they journey upward across his vascular forearms to his bulging triceps, fondling his massive shoulders before sliding along his traps and up the gorgeous length of his perfect neck, until you finally reach the treasure trove of his impeccable locks. You tangle your fingers into the lush mane and yank, gently but zealously, making Sam growl into your mouth. His voice is the hottest thing you’ve ever heard and the sounds he makes always drive you insane.

Never breaking the kiss, Sam’s colossal moose paws roam up to your back as he slowly lays you down on the counter, his member somehow still notched at your entrance and the new angle rousing a quiet moan from you. When he ultimately pulls away, you pitch forward to chase after his lips, but Sam only grants you a devilish grin and a quick peck to the corner of your mouth before moving down to your jaw and neck. While one palm kneads at your breast through his shirt, the other begins pushing and pulling at fabric to uncover more of your skin for his wandering lips.

“Sam! Augh!” you cry out as your head falls back.

“I got you, baby. I’m all yours. Gonna make you feel so good.” As if to attest his words, he rolls his hips into yours and a needy whimper escapes you. With your fingers still twisted in his hair, Sam leaves no part of you untouched as his mouth travels down your body. But upon reaching your navel, he pauses, those vivid, color-changing eyes peeping up at you to check for any signs of discomfort or objection. Finding none, his thick tongue pokes out to lick a deliriously winding path from your belly button to your exposed clit. Then, pushing down tenderly on the insides of your knees to open you up to him, Sam directs you one last look that is both hungry and reverent, “I still can’t believe this is mine.”

Dean had stopped you halfway through your recollection, but it appears that was still too much for him, “What did I do to deserve this?! I feel like I need to go bathe in holy water for a week.”

You and Sam both open your mouths to respond but Dean cuts you off vehemently, “Ba-da-da-da!” His vocalized outcry is complete with animated gestures featuring an accusing index finger. “OK, before you two tell me another traumatizing story, that’s enough of the who, what, when, where, and how… I just need to know why. I mean, is this- are you- …?”

Sensing the protective wheels turning in his head, you decide to put Dean out his misery, “I’m not just with Sam because he’s an incredible lay if that’s what you’re wondering. We can skip the fatherly ‘what are your intentions’ talk. Yes, Dean, I am in love with your little brother… although ‘little’ is not exactly the word I’d use to describe him.”

“Sammy, could you please control your woman?”

“My woman?” Sam sounds mostly amused but you’re almost certain you can hear a hint of pride in his voice.

“Yeah, I admit I’m surprised I didn’t see it until now. You two are kinda oddly perfect for each other, you know, in a weird, kinky way.”

“To be honest, we’re pretty surprised too. I mean, he doesn’t look it but this guy is kind of territorial,” you quip whilst cocking a thumb in Sam’s direction.

“I don’t need to- Wait a minute, so all those bruises you told me were from hunts?” Dean’s eyebrows soar towards his hairline.

Chewing on your lip, you confirm his hypothesis with a miniscule nod.

“Yeah well that time you saw my back,” Sam chimes in vengefully, casting you a handsome grin full of mischief as he reveals, “that wasn’t a werewolf, that was Y/N.”

With eyes as round as dinner plates, Dean frantically shuts you both down, “OK, that’s it. Torture Dean time is over. I don’t wanna hear any more about your depraved sex lives! Look, I guess I’m happy for you guys, although mostly cause I don’t have to play referee anymore, but I’m gonna need you to follow some ground rules around here. Like rule number one! No sex in public places!” he starts counting with his fingers, “Always put a sock on it when you’re busy! And most importantly, no sex in Baby!”

Your laughter follows Dean as he wearily saunters out of the kitchen, an exhausted expression on his face. Turning to your newly outed boyfriend, you petition excitedly, “Does this mean we can have shower sex now?”

“Not while I’m around!” comes Dean’s snappy answer.

In contrast, Sam gives you the same look he did on that dreamy morning, “Oh trust me baby girl, I’m gonna get you wet somehow.”

“Still within hearing distance! I think I liked it better when you guys were at each other’s throats.”

As you’re giggling, Sam leans down to whisper in your ear, “For the record, I’m in love with you too.” And just like that, you’re tempted to re-enact your previous kitchen escapades.

TEAM IDJITS: @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @carryonmywaywardbucky​ @swiftlymoniquesblog​ @moosewinchester​ @sams-sass​ @thinkinghardhardlythinking​ @jotink78​ @winifrede​ @writingforthelonelysoul​ @turtletaylor98​ @lyarr24​ @deanwanddamons​ @peridottea91​ @tvdspngirl314​

TEAM MOOSE: @paulaern​

if you’d like to be added (or removed) please let me know!

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Tongue Tied (M)

Genre: SMUT, fluff, crack, demon au (sort of), idol verse, established relationship au, pwp with a side of minor relationship angst

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Word Count:12k

Warnings: explicit sexual content, oral sex, orgasm denial, masturbation, squirting, sex toys, dirty talk, degradation, bladder desperation and brainwashing

A/N: So… this is porn. Apologies to everyone, especially Park Jimin. Blame my anons who goaded me into it. Love you all! Stay hydrated.

Jimin's tongue trails a warm circle around your erect nipple.

"Stop teasing," you groan, threading your fingers through his dark hair and tugging him closer to you.

Jimin obliges, spreading his tongue across the perky bud, sucking it into his mouth, massaging with his lips. Flames of arousal rush through you. His fingers move from your hip to your lower folds, dipping into you, checking how wet you are. He releases your breast and smirks, holding up his fingers to show you the translucent strings stretching between them. "So eager.”

He laves kisses across your throat. His tongue alternates between firm and soft, sucking just to the point of pain, then soothing it away. He moves downward, sliding you up the bed as he works his way toward your swollen center. Every place his tongue touches burns with desire.

Your core throbs as he draws closer and closer to it. Despite dating for six months, Jimin has never gone down on you. The place you most want his talented tongue is the one place it has never been. In the beginning of your relationship, you had assumed oral sex was something he had accidentally overlooked. But now it was starting to seem deliberate.

Jimin sucks a hard kiss onto your hip as he slips his finger back between your folds, spreading your arousal up to your clitoris. He draws a slow circle around the sensitive nub, laughing softly against your belly when you moan out loud.

The closer he gets, the more your desperation builds. You tighten your fingers in his hair to coax him farther down. He pushes your folds apart with his hand, bringing his face in close to inspect your swollen cunt, chuckling as it clenches. Your clit pulses as you wait for him to bring his mouth to it.

But then he's pulling away from you, sitting back on his heels. "I'm going to fuck you now.” He holds you open with one hand and strokes his dick with the other. You bite your lip to hide your disappointment and nod.

There's nothing disappointing about Jimin's dick though. He knows how to use it well. It's not until you're both sweaty, sated and lying in each other's arms that you remember your earlier disappointment.

"Jimin?" You trail a finger over his chest. "Can I ask you a question?"

He gives a soft murmur of assent as he presses a contented kiss to your forehead. His hand strokes lazily up and down your arm.

"Why do you never go down on me?"

His hand stops moving.

You press on. "I blow you all the time, but you never go down on me."

"I don't know.” He shifts underneath you, his eyes not meeting your gaze. "Just like other stuff better."

"Well, sure," you reply, kissing his chest. It had never been your favorite activity either, always making you a bit self-conscious. But it was quickly becoming the thing you most wanted, simply because he wouldn't let you have it. "But it's always fun to try new things."

He continues to duck your gaze as he unwraps his arm from you and scoots away from you over to his side of the bed.

Maybe he was insecure about this particular activity?  You slide in next to him and kiss his shoulder. "I bet you'd be really good at it.”

He shifts away from you again, frowning as you continue to chase him across the bed. "I just don't like it, okay?"

Your mouth falls open in shock. It’s such an un-Jimin-like reaction. He's always so generous with everything in your relationship.

"Why?" Did he have some terrible previous experience he didn't want to discuss? What kind of traumatic cunnilingus backstory would leave him this turned off?

"I don't know." He rolls over so his back is to you. "Can't you drop it?"

"No, I'm not going to drop it!" You sit up and nudge his shoulder. "Are you saying you'll never do it?"

He turns back over to face you, licking his lips. "Would you break up with me if I was?"

"What?"

"How big of a deal is it?"

"I don't know." It never occurred to you that you might face a relationship ultimatum over oral sex. You’re madly in love with Jimin. He’s the man you want to spend the rest of your life with. Surely that matters more than how much time he spends between your legs.  

"Is there something wrong with me?" you ask. Did you taste bad? Smell funky?

“No!" Jimin's eyes widen and he shakes his head. “No, no, it’s just...” He sits up, sighing as he leans back against the headboard. "I was waiting to tell you this until we'd been together a bit longer." He runs a hand through his hair as he gathers his thoughts.  

What secret has your boyfriend been keeping from you all this time? Does he have some weird STD that is only spread through oral? Is he allergic to vagina?

"My tongue is cursed." He rubs the back of his neck, sighing as if relieved of some terrible burden.

You laugh out loud. Of all the explanations you had concocted, none were as ludicrous as this.

"Don't laugh." Jimin frowns, kicking the bed.

"Your tongue is cursed?" It's impossible to not laugh when you say it out loud. "Like by a witch?"

"No, not by a witch, don't be absurd." He squirms and pulls his knees up to his chest. "I'm part demon."

You snort in laughter again. But Jimin looks so hurt by the sound that you bite your tongue.

"My great-grandfather on my father's side was a demon,” Jimin elaborates, staring down at his hands.

“Wait, are you serious?” You arch an eyebrow, afraid of appearing to actually believe him just for him to tease you.

Jimin groans in frustration, twisting the bedsheets in his hands. "I didn't believe my mom when she told me either. But it's true. My grandmother swore it was true."

"Let me get this straight." You sit up a bit straighter, eyeing him skeptically. "The reason you won't go down on me is that you are one-eighth demon, and your tongue is cursed."

He bites his lip and nods.

"Jimin, that's ridiculous."

His shoulders slump as he curls in on himself. You're still waiting for the "gotcha!" you think is coming, but he looks sad and embarrassed.

"Fine," you sigh, willing to hear him out. "What kind of demon?"

He picks his head up and licks his lips. "An incubus."

"Your great-grandfather devoured the souls of women through sex?"

Jimin shifts back and forth, rubbing his hands up and down his legs. "Grandma said he was very handsome."

Your boyfriend is very handsome too. But that doesn't mean he's part demon.

"He didn't hurt anyone." Jimin tries to defend his clearly fictional demon great-grandfather. "He just, you know, hooked up with a lot of women."

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. "So which parts of you are demon then?"

"Just my tongue."

"Be serious."

"I am being serious! Look!" He sticks his tongue out as far as it will go. It's very long, reaching all the way to his chin. And it's pointy. But it seems to be a perfectly normal tongue.

"It doesn't look cursed to me."

"It's so long though," he mumbles, having difficulty pronouncing the words with his tongue hanging out of his mouth.

"Yeah, but not like supernaturally long." You argue, leaning in closer to inspect the potentially cursed muscle. He wiggles it back and forth as if that will convince you there's something unusual about it. "What does that even mean, a cursed tongue?"

Jimin draws in a deep breath, as if about to reveal a deep, dark secret.

"Any girl that I get off with my tongue…“ He pauses for dramatic effect, narrowing his eyes, “can never come again."

His proclamation hangs in the air of your bedroom, as he waits for you to gasp in shock. You raise an eyebrow instead. "Ever?"

"Except!" He holds up a finger. "On my tongue."

You can't hold back the laughter this time. "So is there some horde of perpetually horny women out there, dying to experience your tongue again?"

He shakes his head and chews on his lower lip. "I've never done it with anyone before." He begins twisting the bedsheets in his hands again. "I didn't want to risk it being true. My mom was really serious when she explained it."

"That's an awkward conversation to have with your mother."

Jimin finally laughs. "Yes, yes it was."

His change in demeanor brings you some relief. But it can't be true. There's no such thing as demons.

"You sure you're not making up excuses to not reciprocate?"

"I'm not making it up!" Jimin smacks the bed in emphasis. "I'm dying to go down on you!"

"You are?" Your earlier arousal knocks between your legs again.

"Yes!" He pushes his hair off his forehead. "Every time I get down there, all I want to do is suck on your needy little clit." Your core clenches and you squirm on the bed next to him. He eyes you up and down and smirks. "To make you fall apart with my tongue." He wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you in close enough to whisper in your ear. "To be surrounded by you as you come on my face."

"Would it be so bad if we tried it?" you ask, squeezing your thighs together to cope with the tension building between them.

"You'd want that?" His eyes widen and he licks his lips in excitement. "Even if the curse is real?"

"Yes, I'd want that." He's so excited that you don't have the heart to tell him that there's no way the curse is real.

Jimin giggles with delight, gathering your hands into his. "You know I love you right?" He kisses each of your hands. "I love you so much."

"I love you too Jimin," you reply and he pulls you in for a long kiss. His reaction would make you think he'd asked you to marry him.

"We can't do it tonight though," he mutters, frowning. “I’m leaving tomorrow."

Shit. The boys are leaving for their world tour tomorrow. A fact that has slipped your mind in the whole your-boyfriend-might-be-a-demon discussion.

"What better way to say goodbye?" You whisper, leaning in and planting light kisses up and down his neck. You're not going to let some weird family legend stand in the way of your boyfriend getting you off one more time before he disappears for a month.

"You sure?" Jimin raises an eyebrow. "A month is a long time to go."

"I think I'll survive." You've dealt with Jimin's absences before. You don’t like them, but you can’t admit to him how much they bother you. And curses aren't real.

Jimin's whole attitude changes, a dangerous glimmer in his eye. "Yeah?" He kisses your neck as his hand sneaks down between your legs. You're still sensitive and wet and you flinch when he slips his fingers into you, your arms breaking out in goosebumps. "Is this where you want my tongue?" he teases as his index finger brushes against your clitoris.

"Jimin, please," you whine. He pulls his hand back, but you slide your hips forward, chasing after him. You've been waiting for months and all he wants to do is tease.  

"So needy..." The smirk on his lips and predatory gleam in his eyes have you almost believing he is a demon. "It's like you want to give me all your orgasms."

"Curses aren't real," you gasp as he sucks a long kiss into your neck.

"Maybe you don't care if it's real." He trails kisses downward. "Maybe you want me to claim all your pleasure for myself." It's embarrassing the way more arousal drips from you at the idea. "Maybe you want to be alone and desperate, unable to satisfy yourself without me."

It's probably your mind playing tricks on you, but his mouth feels hotter than usual. It burns everywhere he touches you. He pauses his trail downward to suck on your nipple and you arch your back to press into him further.

"I like that idea," he says, releasing your breast and continuing his burning trail downwards. "That no other man will ever be able to satisfy you." He slips his fingers back inside you and you moan. "No toy, no dick, not even your own fingers will be able to bring you relief." His tongue inches downward, interrupted by lingering kisses. Your core is so swollen with arousal, the ache inside you so desperate. He smiles as he curls two fingers upward, so slowly that your thighs begin to tremble. "Every single one of your orgasms will belong to me."

"Please, Jimin." You're going to lose your mind if he keeps teasing like this. You roll your hips against his hand, trying to get his fingers in deeper.

"Is that what you want?" he asks. His mouth is so close you can feel his warm breath on your sensitive swollen skin. "Do you want to give me all your orgasms?"

He looks so serious when he asks, it almost makes you believe. But curses and demons aren't real. It's just a game. A game you’re both enjoying.

"Yes," you whisper. "I want you to have them all, Jimin."

"Good girl." He closes his eyes and exhales, then finally - finally - brings his mouth to your clitoris.

The surge of heat on the swollen bud almost has you coming the moment he takes it into his mouth.

"Holy shit," you groan, rocking your hips upward.

"Easy..." Jimin soothes, placing a firm hand on your hips to hold you down. "I'll take care of you." Then he buries himself between your legs.

His tongue alternates hard and soft as it strokes your clit. Any reservations he had about this have disappeared with the way he relishes you. He slides his fingers inside you and pairs each stroke of his tongue with internal pressure from his fingers. You pulse with arousal inside and out. You wind your fingers through his soft hair and he groans a deep satisfied rumble.

"Please, please," you beg, tugging him against you as you get closer and closer to the edge.

"That's it." He pulls off one last time to catch his breath. "Let me have it." His thumb rolls slowly over your clit as he watches you from between your thighs. "Come for me. Be mine."

He dives back in, the pace of his fingers curling inside you matching the figure-eights his tongue weaves over your clitoris. Heat radiates from his tongue, burning and tingling, so pleasurable it's almost painful. Warmth spreads through you, flowing into you and flooding up your spine and down to your toes. You tug harder on his hair. The groan he releases sends vibrations throughout your core, pushing you over the edge.

"Fuck, Jimin, I'm coming," you gasp. Your muscles clench around his fingers and your hips rock against his face as waves of pleasure cascade through you. It lasts for an eternity as he keeps stroking you, perfectly in time to the rhythms inside you. He keeps at it until you finally whine and squirm away, everything becoming too much.

"That's my girl." He smiles as he places a soft kiss on your inner thigh and chuckles when your skin trembles in response.

Minutes pass as you recover your breath. Jimin's head is still between your legs, trailing soft kisses up and down your inner thigh. It tickles and you try to squirm away, but his grip on your hips is too tight.

"Jimin," you whine, wiggling beneath him.

He ignores you, trailing his wet fingers up and down your leg.

"You know," he says, resting his chin on your thigh. "If the curse is real..."

"The curse is not real, Jimin.”

"If the curse is real,” he talks over you, pinching your inner thigh and making you jump, “then that was your last orgasm for a month." He looks so pleased with himself, dark eyes full of mischief. Your skin tingles under his hungry gaze and you begin to heat up again. "Seems a shame to leave it at that."

"Jimin," you sigh. "I'm not sure I have another one in me tonight."

"Oh, come on." He dives back into you, bumping his nose into your clitoris and causing your whole body to jolt. "I can't leave you with just one." He nuzzles against you. "How will you manage?"

A slight pang of pain hits you that he’s going to be gone for so long. But you don’t want him to see it, so you play sarcastic. "I have a vibrator."

"You do?"

"How else do you think I deal with your touring schedule?"

"Dirty girl..." He nips playfully at your inner thigh. "Where is it?"

You blush. "Under the bed."

"What?" His eyes widen in surprise. He swings his head over the side of the bed, inspecting underneath it. "There's nothing but shoes down here," he says as he hangs upside-down searching for your vibrator.

"In the Adidas box." You hide your face behind your hands as he climbs off the bed.

"Look at you," he teases. "Hiding sex toys in shoeboxes. You are dirty." He laughs a delighted laugh when he opens the correct box and you curl in on yourself further. He climbs back on top of you, pulling your hands away from your face.

You laugh when you see him, a small bullet vibrator hanging by its cord from between his teeth.

"I want to see it," he says as he drops the vibrator into your hands. "Show me how you get yourself off, if I'm not around to do it."

You laugh, rolling your eyes. "Two is kind of my max. I don't know if I can."

"I believe in you, sweetheart." Jimin sits back on his heels to watch you, keeping his hand on the controller connected to the vibrator in your hand.

Your heart beats faster as he stares at you. His semi-erect dick dangles between his spread knees.

"Go on," he encourages, turning the vibrator on.

You move the vibrator down between your legs. It makes a spluttering sound as it encounters your wet folds.

"Listen to that." Jimin smiles and scoots forward on his knees, licking his lips. "Listen to how wet you are. I bet you can come again."

The vibrator does feel good against your sensitive skin and watching him watch you fills you with an arousing mix of embarrassment and confidence. The pleasure builds quickly, everything still wound up from your previous orgasm.

He increases the speed on the vibrator. "Are you getting close?" he asks, his own erection rising as he watches you.

You groan and nod, rolling the vibrator in circles across your palm, grinding it into your clitoris. The sounds of the vibrator, the sloppy wetness of your arousal, and your panting breaths fill the room as Jimin waits to watch you come.

But the closer the edge of your pleasure gets, the more distracted you become. He's just sitting there waiting, with that smug grin on his face. What if you can't come? What if he thinks this stupid curse is real? You just came, it's perfectly reasonable that you might not be able to come again right now.

The further you get into your own head, the further your climax drifts away.

"It's not working, is it?" He strokes his now fully erect cock and wiggles his eyebrows. "Need some assistance?" He turns up the vibrations to their maximum setting.

The drive to come surges back as you press harder against yourself with the vibrator and watch him stroke himself. He shuffles forward on his knees, until his dick is right next to your face.

"Suck my cock," he urges, nudging your cheek with his erection. "Do a good job and I'll let you come."

You want to roll your eyes at the suggestion that he has any control over whether or not you come, but his erection is too tempting. You sit up slightly and draw him into your mouth.

"That's a good girl," he groans. "My desperate little cockslut."

He's so hard on your tongue. You let go of the vibrator to angle yourself better. He moans when you sink down so far that your nose bumps into his pubic bone.

"Fuck," he exhales and his hands tremble as he caresses your cheek. "You take it so well." He picks the vibrator back up from where you dropped it onto the bedspread and positions it back between your legs. You jolt and moan, sending vibrations through his dick. He threads his fingers into the hair at the back of your neck, easing you up and down his cock.

You hover at the edge of coming, so debauched and needy and desperate to please him. He rolls the vibrator faster around your clitoris and you're so close. "Can you come for me?" he whispers, stroking your hair. "I want to see you come with my cock in your mouth."

You groan and rock your hips back and forth against his hand, chasing the edge as he guides you up and down his dick. But you can't quite get there. Every time you reach the tipping point, his cock bumps into the back of your throat and you gag.

"You can't do it, can you?" he teases, pace increasing as he gets more and more excited. The vibrator drops to the bed as he uses both hands to grip the back of your head. "You're mine now. All your orgasms are mine," he chokes out as he loses control of himself and comes down your throat, holding you to him and forcing you to swallow his whole release.

His thighs tremble as he sinks down onto the bed. "I love you," he says, kissing your cheek. He folds his arms behind his head, closing his eyes and sighing happily. Your core aches, but Jimin looks like he’s about to fall asleep.

“Hey!” You poke him in the ribs. "You can't leave me like this."

He opens one eye and laughs. "You admitting that you need me?"

You pout, not wanting to admit anything, but really wanting to get off one last time before bed. He's leaving tomorrow. Just because you want him right now doesn't mean you're cursed.

"Please, Jimin." You nudge the vibrator back into his hand, core clenching again when he takes it from you. "Help me."

"Of course." He smiles and kisses you again, before scooting down the bed and positioning himself between your legs one last time.

"So wet and swollen," he teases, as he traces a finger up and down your labia, chuckling as it twitches.

"Quit teasing," you groan, smacking his hand in irritation.

"Yes, dear." He brings the buzzing vibrator back to your clitoris and your hips buck upward to meet him. You're so close to coming you cry out, reaching out for him and grabbing on to whatever you can reach. One hand grips his shoulder as the other tangles into his hair. "That's it," he murmurs. "Come for me."

His warm wet tongue slides in next to the vibrator and you shatter into a million pieces.

Your fragmented mind floats above you as you tense in pleasure, every muscle contracted as it all becomes too much. You sob as your third orgasm of the night is ripped from you. Jimin massages both the vibrator and his tongue against you, pulling every last drop of arousal from you.

You collapse into a pile of jelly. "Fuck," you breathe out. "That was amazing."

"Glad you enjoyed it." Jimin beams from between your legs, giving one small kiss to your pubic mound before sliding back up and cradling you in his arms. "Hope it was worth it," he mumbles, kissing your forehead as you close your eyes.

You nuzzle into his warm, muscular chest. It certainly seems worth it right now. But curses aren't real. It's the last thing you think before you fall into a deep satisfied sleep. Curses aren't real.

______

You roll over the next morning to find Jimin’s side of the bed empty. Running water in the bathroom tells you he’s already up and getting ready to leave.

There’s a tingle between your legs, an echo of the night before. Your legs and crotch are slick with a mix of saliva, arousal and sweat. It should be disgusting, but it makes you smile mischievously. Memories of last night replay in your mind as you slide your hand down between your legs and contemplate how you got so messy.

The bathroom door is closed. You wiggle over to Jimin’s side of the bed and pick up his phone. It’s 5:30 am. Do you have enough time to talk him into coming back to bed? Your core pulses and you run a teasing finger around it. It’s so sore that it almost hurts to touch it. Almost, but not quite enough to stop you. You miss the heat of his mouth, the possessive way he talked, his groans of pleasure as he consumed you.

“Jimin,” you call out, unable to wait for him any longer.

The running water stops. “Yeah?” he calls out, not opening the door.

“Are you almost done in there?”

“One second.” The water switches back on briefly before he shuts it off and opens the door.

Jimin is shirtless, patting his face dry with a towel. You lick your lips at the sight of him, the tingle between your legs escalating to full ache.  He’s dressed in only black slacks, hair wet and tousled from his shower. Your core pulses as you watch a drop of water from his hair drop onto his chest and trail down the muscular planes of his stomach.

His eyes rake over you, making you feel naked despite the covers. You pull your hand away from yourself, embarrassed. Your possibly demonic boyfriend smirks.

“Last night not enough for you?” He crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe, looking all too pleased with himself. “Greedy girl.”

You want to scoff at him, but your pussy clenches traitorously instead. His dark eyes burn even hotter, as if he knows.

He chuckles. “I’d offer to help you out, but I just washed my face.”

You roll your eyes and squirm under the covers. “There are other ways to help me.” You don’t need his tongue. His fingers or his cock would do just as nicely.

“Yeah?” He raises an eyebrow as he walks over to his nightstand and picks up his phone. “I’ve only got ten minutes before the car arrives though.”

The pang of distress at his leaving returns. “Why didn’t you wake me sooner?”

“I thought you could use the rest.” He laughs and kisses you on the forehead. “I didn’t want to wake you earlier than I had to.”

It feels especially hard to say goodbye today. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I bet you will,” he replies, striding across the room to fish a white button-down shirt from the closet, still smirking. “A month is a long time to go.”

“I like more about you than just the sex.” You cross your arms and pout. “Won’t you miss me?”

Jimin laughs brightly as he buttons up his shirt. He sits down on the edge of the bed next to you. “Of course, I’ll miss you.” He takes your hands in his, squeezing gently. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” It doesn’t feel like enough to convey how much you’re going to miss him. But you don’t want to be that needy girl who begs her boyfriend to stay.

He smiles and picks up your hands, lifting them to his lips and kissing the back of each. Then he pauses and sniffs. He can smell the arousal on your hand and you are mortified. His eyes flick back up to your blushing face and he cocks an eyebrow, pleased smirk on his lips. "You sure you don't want my assistance one last time?"

You clench your thighs together and squirm under his heated gaze. "I wouldn't want you to be late." You can always get yourself off after he leaves.

"Yeah," he replies, glancing at his watch. "I should get going." He cups your cheek in his palm, tilting your chin up to give him a kiss goodbye.

You pour all your unspoken longing into your last kiss. His mouth is warm, his lips soft, and when his tongue enters your mouth, your whole body breaks out in droplets of sweat. You thread your fingers into his damp hair, pulling him closer as you moan against his lips.

He laughs as he pulls away from you. "So needy," he teases, wiping his lips with his thumb. "I like it." You want to scoff at how patronizing he sounds, but then he places a soft kiss on your forehead. "Be good for me," he whispers and you can't help the whine you emit as he lets go of you.

What is the matter with you? You've always prided yourself on being a mature adult who was respectful of his schedule, not some hormonal teenager who can't live without her boyfriend. You must be horny. As soon as he leaves, you can solve that problem and go about your day as usual.

You watch Jimin leave, admiring the way the tight black pants show off his best assets. "Hurry back!” you call after him. He blows you a kiss, and then he's gone.

The moment he's gone, you feel colder and emptier. You slide back down under the covers, drawing them up over your shoulders, and sighing broken-heartedly. It's dramatic, but no one is around to see you, so you let yourself wallow for a moment.

The tingle between your legs recaptures your attention. You glance over to the nightstand where your vibrator waits. Your pelvic muscles twitch in excitement. You scoop the vibrator up and sneak it under the bed covers.

You take your time easing into your arousal. You're still sore and sensitive from last night, so you don't go straight for the maximum setting. You tease yourself slowly, like Jimin would. His kiss lingers on your lips. Your fingers miss his soft hair. The vibrator echoes the burning, tingling pleasure of his tongue.

Just as you reach your plateau, cranking the vibrator to the highest setting and settling in for the home stretch, your phone buzzes.

Today 10:35 am

Jimin: What are you doing?

You: Nothing...

Jimin: Nothing? You sure about that? You sure you're not fingering that needy clit right now?

You: I am doing no such thing.

Jimin: You've got the vibrator out then.

You: Fuck. How do you know that?

Jimin: You seemed pretty needy when I left. ;)

You: Where are you?

Jimin: Pulling into the airport.

You groan out loud. The idea of him texting you filth while surrounded by his members made you flush with heat. You ignore him for a moment as you ride the wave of pleasure that surges through you at the thought.

Jimin: You going to answer me?

You: I have the vibrator.

Jimin: Dirty girl... Did you cum?

You: No, not yet

Jimin: Can't get it done without me huh?

You: just taking my sweet time. thank you very much. curses aren't real

Jimin: prove me wrong then. cum for me

Your clitoris throbs as you lower the vibrator back to it, buzzing excitedly. The edge of your orgasm hangs just out of reach. You read back Jimin's command and press the vibrator harder against yourself, rocking your pelvis up and down. It's right there. You ride the edge for a moment, then breathe out and let yourself tip over.

Your whole body goes numb. All feeling disappears, as if you are floating in mid-air, all sense of time and place gone and you feel nothing. Your pelvic muscles contract rhythmically, as if you’re having an orgasm, but you can’t feel it. You feel nothing.

Blinding pain rips through you. The vibrator is a curling iron pressed to your clit. The sheets burn everywhere they touch you. You cry out in shock and fling the source of pain away from you. You tear the bedcovers off as the vibrator clatters into the dresser on the far side of the room.

What the fuck just happened? The pain disappears as quickly as it appeared and you are the same, cunt still pulsing with arousal. You lie in a pool of sweat, panting.

You look over at Jimin's message. Should you tell him what just happened? What if he thinks it's the curse?

You shake your head. No. Curses aren't real. It must all be in your head.

Today 10:42 am

You: did it

Jimin: really?

You feel a slight twinge of guilt as you lie to him.

You: really

Jimin: oh...

Is he disappointed? Did he want you to have an ancient demonic curse? He told you to come for him. You watch typing bubbles appear and disappear several times, but no messages come through. You feel overheated and overwhelmed. You get up out of the bed, ignoring the ache between your legs, deciding to have a cold shower instead.

Jimin: getting on the plane now

You: okay, have a safe flight! I love you! Call me when you land!

Jimin: yup, will do

No "I love you too"? Was he mad at you? Upset? You frown as you stand in your bathroom and watch his flight take off on the flight tracker app on your phone.

_____

It’s a long eleven hours as Jimin flies to Los Angeles. Every time you think about him, the slight tingle between your legs returns. You make the shower ten degrees colder to try to calm yourself down, but it provides only temporary relief. You are on edge and restless all day, but too afraid of the strange thing that happened this morning to try masturbating again.

By the time midnight rolls around, you are very tired and very frustrated. You should go to bed and talk to Jimin in the morning. But as you watch the plane get closer and closer to landing, you can’t fall asleep.

His plane lands and you wait for him to text you. Five minutes go by, then ten, with no message. You can’t take it anymore.

Today 12:18 am

You: Did you arrive safely?

Jimin: Just landed

You: Can you talk?

He’s only been gone half a day, but it already feels too long. You’re annoyed with yourself for feeling this needy.

Jimin: Not right now. Maybe in a couple of hours

You: I have to go to bed…

Jimin: You should go to bed then

You frown. Usually he would plead with you to wait a little longer, or ask if he could wake you up when he was free. You’ve had many whispered conversations at 4 am because it was the only time he could talk.

You can’t let on how much you already miss him though. You don’t want to be one of those girls who becomes a burden. This was the trade-off to dating an idol.

You: Okay, good night then

Jimin: good night

You frown at your phone again, before finally giving up and setting it down on the nightstand.

You stare at the dark ceiling of your bedroom wishing he was here with you, instead of halfway around the world. You roll over and hug the pillow next to you. It smells like him. It triggers a deep knock of the same arousal that’s been haunting you all day. Maybe it would help you sleep if you got some relief.

You slip your fingers down into your underwear and find yourself already wet. You trail your fingers through the sticky wetness curiously. You are not usually this wound up so quickly. It’s ridiculous that the smell of him alone can get you this excited.

You bury your face in his pillow and inhale again, amazed as you feel another burst of wetness gush from you. God, you miss him. How do you miss him this much when he’s been gone less than a day? His arms, his hands, his tongue, his lips are all you can think about.

You sigh softly as you trail a damp finger up around your eager clitoris. You close your eyes and imagine the hand belongs to Jimin instead. He’s here with you. His lips on yours, his hand curled into your hair, whispering how you belong to him.

“That’s it, baby girl,” he whispers in your head. “Make yourself wet and desperate for me.” You groan as you pick up the pace of your hand. “Good girl, you’re doing so good.”

“Jimin, please,” you plead into the silence of your empty bedroom.

The Jimin in your head laughs. “You know it’s hopeless right?” he teases, smirking at you in that self-satisfied way where he knows he has you exactly where he wants you. “Every one of your orgasms belongs to me.”

You feel the edge of pleasure begin to slip away. You speed up your hand and chase after it, but it’s no use. The pleasure fades aways and you are left numb, empty and wet.

“Told you I was cursed,” imaginary Jimin teases. You huff in frustration, unwilling to give him the satisfaction, and roll over away from the pillow that smells like him. You shut your eyes tight. Curses aren’t real.

_______

Your dreams are full of Jimin. Jimin’s hands, Jimin’s chest, Jimin’s tongue. Over and over, he teases you toward your climax in your sleep. Always pausing, always stopping before you get to your end. By the time you wake up in the morning, you are swollen and dripping with need.

Your alarm sounds. It’s Monday. Work starts in an hour. You reach down and confirm how wet you are, more wet than you have ever been before. Your thighs slide past each other, slick with arousal. You can’t go to work like this.

It’s time to break out the big guns.

You lean over the side of your bed and fish out the other shoebox. The one you couldn’t tell Jimin about. The one that contains your dildo. Sometimes the vibrator alone wasn’t enough. Sometimes you needed a bit more. Sometimes you needed to be filled.

“Won’t do any good,” imaginary Jimin whispers in your head. You ignore him.

You slide the toy through your folds, slicking it up with your excessive wetness. The sides of your entrance tingle with heat as you stroke over them.

“Imagine it’s me,” Jimin teases. The fake cock heats up in your hands and you can almost believe it's his.

“Please, fuck me, Jimin” you beg, even though Jimin is thousands of miles away.

“Would if I could, sweetheart,” he answers. You picture him running his tongue over his plush lower lip. “But that’s not what you really want.”

“No such thing as curses,” you urge as you slide the dildo into you. “Fuck…”

Being finally filled again scratches an itch you hadn’t been able to before. It’s a pleasure and a relief all at once. The toy slides in easily with how soaking wet you are.

You pull up some porn on your phone and prop it against a pillow before grabbing the vibrator. You’re done fucking around. You need to get off right now and then go to work.

The porn isn’t very interesting though. The only thing you want to think about is Jimin. You close your eyes, listening to the audio but picturing your boyfriend. It doesn’t take long before you feel the pleasure crescendo. You let out a sob. It’s happening, it’s finally happening. You aren’t cursed.

The phone rings.

“Fuck!” You throw the vibrator down in frustration.

It’s Jimin. If it were anyone else, you would let it go to voicemail. But you really want to hear his voice. You turn the vibrator off so he won’t hear it, but keep sliding the silicone cock in and out of you.

“Hey babe,” Jimin’s voice is a little raspy. “I thought I could catch you before work. What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” you lie, sliding the dildo further inside yourself and biting your lip to conceal a groan.

He chuckles. “Nothing?”

“Nothing. Getting ready for work.” You refuse to give him the satisfaction of admitting that you’re actually naked in bed, dripping for him. “What are you doing?”

“Finally made it to the hotel,” he groans. You can picture him stretching his arms over his head as he spreads himself across his big empty bed. “Was thinking about you. Thought you might be thinking of me.”

Does he know? How could he know? Does he have magical “knows when his girlfriend is horny” demon powers”?

Shit. No. Jimin is not a demon. There are no such things as demons.

“Did you just call for phone sex?” You want to sound irritated, but your pelvic muscles clench traitorously around the dildo.

“Can’t stop thinking about yesterday.” His voice gets lower and you can hear the slick sounds of his hand moving over his dick in the background. “You were so needy for me. I liked it.”

A sharp blade of anger slices through your fog of lust.

“Jimin.” You pull the dildo out of you, setting it to the side. “You can’t ignore me all day yesterday and then expect me to talk you off like nothing happened.”

“Aww, come on, we were so busy. I called you as soon as I got here,” he whines. “I’ll make sure you get off too.”

You aren’t sure he can. Not with his voice alone. You need him here with you. But you’re not going to admit that.

“I have to go to work.” You are rapidly running out of time.

“Don’t you miss me?” he asks. You can practically hear his pout through the phone.

“Do you miss me?” You want to know why he hadn’t called earlier, but you don’t want to seem too needy.

“Of course, I do, baby. I love you.”

The tension in you eases slightly. Maybe you had been making things up.

“Miss you so much,” he continues and you can hear the sounds of his jerking off pick up speed. “Miss that sweet little cunt.”

It’s just about sex. He doesn’t miss you, he just wants to get off. “I have to go Jimin.”

“What? No! Don’t go.”

“I’m going to be late for work.” You hang up on him, feeling a vindictive victory. Your core is still wet and aching, but your anger powers you long enough to get you up and into the shower.

______

One cold shower and a hot cup of coffee later and you are on your way to work.

The commute sucks. Your lingering arousal refuses to abate. Your mind dwells on Jimin. Sitting down on the subway has you springing to your feet as the train starts moving, vibrations from the rails threatening to have you soaking through your underwear. Memories of Jimin commanding you to orgasm echo through you as you fight to calm your breathing.

You haven’t heard from real Jimin since you hung up on him. He probably fell asleep.

At work, you shift uncomfortably at your desk. You try to answer some emails, but every few seconds your core pulses, forcing you to reposition yourself. Your clothes itch. Everything is too hot. You shrug off the cardigan that you usually need to cope with the building’s air conditioning system. But then you rush to put it back on when you notice how hard your nipples are, poking through your bra and shirt.

The only thing that can distract from the tingling all over you is the buzz of your phone.

Today 10:22 am

Jimin: I’m sorry :(

You: Go on…

Jimin: I’m sorry I ignored you. This whole thing has me a bit thrown off.

You: How so?

Jimin: I was just so sure that the curse was a real thing, you know? I felt pretty stupid that it wasn’t.

You bite your lip and shift uncomfortably in your seat, pressing your legs together. Should you tell him? No… curses aren’t real. You’re just missing your boyfriend. That’s okay.

You: It’s okay, Jimin. Thank you.

Jimin: Is it bad that I kind of wanted it to be real?

You: You did?

Jimin: Well, it’s pretty sexy right?

Sweat trails from your hairline down your neck.

You: I have to be able to live my life Jimin. Can’t be sitting around waiting for you.

Jimin: I’m sorry we’re gone so much.

Shit. Now you’ve made him feel bad for his work schedule, something you swore you’d never do.

You: It’s okay. I’ll be okay.

I’ll be okay. Curses aren’t real. I’ll be okay. Curses aren’t real.  

You repeat the mantra under your breath until you make it to the end of the work day.

_______

The rest of the work week passes in much the same way, days of jaw clenching and sweating until you can rush home and lie in bed with the vibrator. You edge over and over, afraid of the pain you experienced last time, until you pass out exhausted.

You manage to make it to Friday. There’s a big meeting at nine. Your whole office, crammed into one conference room. At least this way you have an excuse to linger at the edge of the meeting, rather than sit leaking all over an office chair. It’s the first time you’ve had to be around this many other people at once.

“Do you think they can tell?” demon Jimin whispers in your head. “Do they know how wet and desperate you are right now?”  

You teter at the edge of the room. You clench in horror as a drop of something begins running down the inside of your leg. You’re too far gone to tell if it is arousal or sweat.

A colleague next to you leans over to ask you a follow-up question on something your boss just said, but you cannot hear them over the buzzing in your head.  They look at you in confusion. “Are you alright?”

No, you are not alright. You’re becoming dumber with each passing moment. Sweat beads up on the back of your neck. You mutter something about not feeling well and run for the restroom.

You slam the door to the stall behind you, ripping off your cardigan and undoing several buttons of the blouse underneath. You can’t breathe. You need air. You need relief. You slip your hand underneath your skirt. Your fingers are cool against your burning core. It’s a relief to touch yourself again.

“God, you’re a mess.” Jimin whispers in your head. You want to cry from how humiliating this is. “Can you imagine if they knew what you were doing in here?”

“Jimin…” you plead, unable to stop yourself.

“Shhh… ” he chuckles. “Don’t let them hear you.”  

You bang your head back into the stall door in frustration. If you could just come, if you could just get five minutes of relief. Maybe the pain would be better, at least it would be a different sensation. You speed up your hand, chasing any form of relief.

“Such a dirty girl. Getting yourself off in the bathroom to the mere memory of me. What are we going to do with you?”  

Your fingers slurp through the slick leaking from you. The noises fill the small office bathroom. It’s disgusting and debauched and you can’t stop yourself.

“Listen to that.” Jimin whispers. “You’re so hopeless.”

Your orgasm dances tantalizingly near, but your hand is starting to cramp up.

“Don’t stop now.” Jimin urges. “Keep rubbing. That’s it. The more desperate you are, the more control I have.”

“Fuck…” you curse.

The bathroom door opens, noises of chatter and typing pouring in from the larger office. “Everything okay in there?”

Your face burns with humiliation and your back drips with sweat. “I’m okay!” you call out, even though you aren’t, not even a little.

You’ll never get relief here. It takes all your strength to pull your fingers away from your swollen cunt. Especially with Jimin whispering in your ear to keep touching yourself.

You adjust your skirt and rebutton your blouse as best you can.

“Sorry,” you mutter as you emerge from the stall, not looking at the colleague who has come to check on you. “Stomach bug.” You hope your excessive sweating sells the idea that you are actually ill.

“Go home!” your colleague insists, waving their hands at you. “Don’t be spreading your norovirus around here.”

“Yeah, yeah, I think that is a good idea.” You nod, rinsing off your hands and patting a damp cloth on your face.

Imaginary Jimin grins, his dark eyes burning in your mind’s eye at the idea of having you all to himself again. “I think that’s a good idea too.”  

_______

The first thing you do when you get back to your apartment is strip out of your clothes, leaving a trail of sweat-soaked clothing from your front door to the bedroom. You climb back into bed and grab the vibrator, hissing in relief as it clicks on, feeling like you can breathe for a moment.

“You know, you’re only going to make it worse.” Demon Jimin continues to taunt you. “The more you touch yourself, the more you’ll want me.”

“Please, Jimin, please,” you beg, even though there’s nothing your imaginary boyfriend can do for you.

“What will we do with you?” the demon smirks, tutting in mock disapproval. “Can’t even work a full day. How will you keep a job? I’ll have to take you everywhere with me, never too far away. My personal slut.”

“No, Jimin, please…” Everything hurts. Your folds are red and irritated. Your hand cramps from pressing the vibrator into you. But you can’t stop.

“It’s okay, my love. Keep rubbing yourself. Melt your brain away. Be mine. There’s nothing else you need to do. That’s my good girl.”

All conscious thought begins to slip from you. There is only aching burning need. Jimin’s voice echoes in your head, drowning out all your attempts to fight him.

“What an embarrassment you are. So wet and needy. Filthy girl. I won’t be able to take you anywhere. You’ll have to wait around my hotel room, begging me to take pity on you. My own horny little pet.”

Waves of desire roll through you, washing away any other aspirations. Just to be his. To be only his.

“Won’t that be easier? Nothing to worry about. No work, no chores. Your only job will be to stay wet and ready for me. And you’ll be so good at it. I’ll use you when I feel like it and only let you come once I’m satisfied. Every single orgasm will be mine.”

A groan rips from your throat, more animal than human. Tremors run up and down your spine.

“I’ll have to be careful not to let you come too often though,” Jimin teases. “I like you like this. All needy and desperate for me. Want to keep you like this. My brainless little fucktoy.”

You sob. He’s right. It’s all you’re good for now. Nothing but a shivering pile of desperation.

The only thing that saves you from drifting under the demon’s spell is the ring of your phone. Jimin is calling you. Real Jimin. Your only lifeline.

“Hello?” Your voice is raspy and parched. You click off the vibrator so he can’t hear it. But that only makes the need worse, so you replace it with your hand.

“Hello?” Jimin answers. “Are you sleeping?”

“No…” Should you be asleep? You have no idea what time it is.

“You sound weird.”

You switch the phone to speaker and rest it next to your head on the bed so he can’t hear your heavy breathing.  “I’m fine.”

“Are you okay? I haven’t heard from you all week.” He sounds a bit upset, and very far away.

You have no answer. No, things were not okay, but there was nothing he could do about it when he’s thousands of miles away.

“Beg him,” demon Jimin whispers. “Go on, beg him to let you come. It will be funny.”

“I can’t,” you mutter under your breath, groaning in frustration.

“What?” Jimin’s voice calls from the phone. “I can’t hear you. Are you still there?”

“I… I can’t do this right now Jimin.”

“Are you still at work?” His tone has shifted from upset to confused.

“No, no, I went home.”

“Are you sick?” Jimin asks through the phone. “Hello?”

A small sob bubbles its way up out of your throat.

“This conversation is boring,” the Jimin in your head insists. “Turn the vibrator back on.”

“I don’t have time for this right now, Jimin.”

“What are you doing?” Real Jimin sounds worried. “I don’t understand what’s going on.”

“Go on,” the demon whispers. “Tell him you can’t come without him. Tell him you belong to him now. Tell him his pathetic excuse for a girlfriend can’t live without him.”

“Jimin please!” you cry out. “I can’t do it anymore, please!” Tears are rolling down your cheeks. “Please let me come.”

“What? Are you playing with yourself right now?” he asks, incredulous.

Somehow the vibrator has turned back on and you rock against it, even as you wish you could stop. “I can’t help it,” you sob. “I can’t stop Jimin. I can’t stop.” You’re useless and pathetic. He’s going to leave you and you’ll never get relief again. “I’m sorry. Please let me come.”

“You can come! You can come!” he shouts through the phone, but of course, that does nothing to help you.

“I can’t come without you!” you sob. “You were right. The curse is real.”

“Huh? But, but... at the airport, you said you did.”

You groan, still chasing relief that isn’t coming. “I lied, Jimin, I’m sorry.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the phone. “Why would you lie to me?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know. But it’s real and I can’t… I can’t do anything without you. You have to come back.”

“I can’t come back. We have a show tomorrow.”

“ He’s not going to help you.” The demon is still there, waiting for you.

“Please, Jimin, please come home.” you beg. “I need you.”

“This is my job. I can’t leave.”

“What about my job, Jimin? What about my life? You can’t leave me like this!”

“It’s only been a week! Can’t you deal with it for a little longer?”

“Fuck you Park Jimin! You did this to me!”

“You said it wasn’t real!”

“He’s useless,” demon Jimin begins to drown out your boyfriend. “Come back to me. Be mine.”

“I have to go Jimin.”

“No, don’t hang up. We can figure this out.”

“You can’t help me.” You hang up the phone and toss it back onto your nightstand.

“Good girl.” The demon hisses in satisfaction. “Let it all go. Let your mind go.” You cry, still rocking against the vibrator, searching for relief that isn’t coming.

______

Your mind slowly leaves you over the next few days. You can get a few minutes of clarity if you’re willing to push yourself all the way over the edge, the searing pain providing you with enough mental clearness to call in sick to work or order food. But every time you do, it leaves you with even less with even less mental clarity.

At some point, you stop keeping track of the days. You stop sleeping. You stop eating. Eventually, even getting out of bed becomes too much work.

The bed sheets are wet, a mixture of sweat and vaginal secretions. You need to pee.

“God, you’re disgusting.” Demon Jimin laughs in your head. “He’s never going to want you now. Wet yourself like the animal you are and be done with it.”

You whine, hiding your face beneath your pillow and trying to distract yourself with the vibrator from the growing need to urinate.

The phone rings. Jimin is calling. He’s been calling for days, but you can’t answer him. You can’t let him know what you’ve become. He’ll never want you again.

There’s a loud banging on your front door. Who could that be? You haven’t ordered any food in a while, not really sure how long.

“Ignore it,” the demon instructs. “Lie here in this bed and piss yourself.”  

You wrap the pillow around your head, unsure if you are trying to drown out the pounding on the door or the demon whispering in your ear.

“Open the door!” A loud, frantic voice carries through the door and you curl in on yourself. You don’t know who they are, but you can’t let them see. You can’t let them know. The pounding stops, followed by a loud thud that rattles the door on its hinges. “Goddamn it!” The voice shouts. Then, a softer voice calls through the door. “Baby, please open the door. Please, let me in.” It’s Jimin. Real Jimin. He’s here.

The overwhelming drive for him is the only thing that could propel you up and out of the bed. You’re shaky on your feet, a bit dizzy. The world is not entirely stable. But you manage to make it to the door and unlatch the lock before collapsing in a heap next to the entry.

For a second, there’s nothing. The door stays shut and you are worried that you hallucinated the whole thing. Of course he’s not here. He has more important things to be doing than dealing with his pathetic girlfriend.

But then the door bursts open.

“Babe?” Jimin calls for you as he steps into the apartment, kicking off his shoes. He’s wearing the same white dress shirt and black slacks that he left you in. Maybe he’s a figment of your imagination.

“Jimin…” You reach out for him, unable to believe he’s actually here, needing to feel whether or not he is solid.

“Shit.” His eyes widen as he finds you crumpled up and naked on the floor. “Are you okay?” He drops his overnight bag on the threshold and kneels in front of you, cupping your face in his hands. “Tell me what’s happening.”

You don’t know how to answer him. You don’t know what’s happening. But his fingertips are cool against your feverish, sweaty skin. He brushes the hair out of your face so he can look you in the eyes. You only know you need him.

“Jimin, I need you, please.” Your hands reach for him, searching for more of his skin to cool yourself against. You’re untucking his shirt from his pants and trying to undo his belt buckle, but he bats your hands away.

“Woah...” He grabs your hands to stop you as you battle him for his belt. “Babe, slow down, talk to me.”

He doesn’t want you. He’s repulsed by you. The demon was right. He’ll never touch you again. You’re worthless. You’re repulsive. You burst into tears. “Please, Jimin, please, I can’t,” you sob, nearly incomprehensible.

“Shh, shh...” He runs his hands over your shoulders. “Shh… it’s going to be okay. I’m going to take care of you.” He scoops you up into his arms and carries you down the hall, back toward your room. “I was so worried,” he says as he cradles you against him.

You can only respond by nuzzling your face into his chest, the cool cotton of his white shirt absorbing the heat from your skin.

“Your work called and said you haven’t been in since last week.” He kisses the top of your head and inhales the smell of your hair. “Why haven’t you been answering the phone?”

You ought to feel bad, but it was hard to feel too bad when you had what you finally wanted, Jimin back here with you.  

“I thought something terrible had happened to you.” He pauses at the door to the bathroom, waiting for an explanation.

“It’s the curse,” you whine, covering your face with your hands. “I’m cursed. You cursed me.”

“I’m so sorry.” He set you down on the toilet, before turning on the shower. “I didn’t know it would be like this.” He places a soft kiss on your forehead and turns to leave the bathroom.

You panic. Where is he going? He can’t leave you like this. “Jimin, no, don’t leave.” You chase him out of the bathroom, catching him around the middle and clinging to his waist. “You can’t leave me.”

“I’m not leaving,” he chuckles, trying to unfasten your arms from around him, but you refuse to let go. “I was just getting undressed.” He sighs, picking you up once again and carrying you back to the bathroom. He tries to set you down again, but you whine, clinging to his neck.

Giving up, he steps directly into the shower, still dressed, cradling you in his arms. The white dress shirt turns translucent as the water hits it, clinging to his skin. The water runs down his torso and thighs and you groan with need. The water is warm, but it feels cool compared to how hot your skin is.

“Jimin, please.” You’re begging again. “I need you.”

“Shh, it’s okay, I’m here,” he answers. Your legs tremble underneath you as he puts you back on your feet.  He grabs the bottle of body wash and squirts out a generous dollop, lathering it up in his hands.  “I’m gonna take care of you.”

It’s all you can do to stay standing as he caresses you. He removes the shower head from its hook so he can follow each soapy caress with water to wash you clean.

He starts with your neck, then your breasts, then your stomach, gentle hands massaging over you. It only makes the ache for him worse.  He reaches the puffy and swollen labia and you gasp, legs trembling.

“Please, Jimin, please,” your endless chant of pleading begins again.

“Shh…. It’s okay. I’ve got you.” He runs the showerhead over your aching core to rinse off the soap and your legs give out entirely. You collapse against the wall behind you, unable to support yourself.  Still dressed in his soaking wet clothes, he kneels in front of you. He spreads your legs, investigating your swollen folds with his soapy hands. Your clitoris throbs, hard and angry and red. You shiver as he runs the water stream over again. “Does it hurt?” he asks, watching your face as he strokes over your tender core with his fingertips.

“No, no,” you shake your head emphatically. “Not anymore.” The only pain now is the distance between you. “Please, please, please…”

He slides closer to you, brushing his dark wet hair back off his forehead and licking his lips. He picks up one of your legs and wraps it over his shoulder, then the other, carrying you on his shoulders as he buries his face in your core. You are so on edge, have been on edge for so long, that you’re already at the peak of your arousal the moment his tongue touches you.

Something monstrous is building inside you. A sensation like nothing you’ve ever felt before moves through you as he moves his tongue in slow broad strokes over your clit. Flames of heat lick at your extremities, beginning in your fingertips and toes and spreading upward. Rising warmth builds in your belly as you ride his face, hips undulating in time with the bobbing of his head. Fear floods you as the memory of the searing pain returns from those moments you’ve gotten this close in the past. You tense up, gripping his shoulders tightly, afraid to let yourself tip over.

“It’s okay,” Jimin whispers, pausing for a second to admire you from between your thighs. “It’s okay to let go.” His warm wet tongue slides over your aching clit as his fingers penetrate you. A massive tremor rolls through you as all the pent of tension releases at once and you’re coming. Every muscle in your body seizes over and over as you grind against his face.

Rhythmic muscle contractions seize you as a rush of fluid shoots out of you, spraying Jimin right in the face. You’re screaming, but not from pain. There is no pain, only release, only relief.

“Woah.” Jimin gapes at you, your release dripping down his face and off his chin. Then he breaks into a huge smile. “That was amazing.”

You laugh out loud, relief washing over you. Your whole body turns to jello and you collapse into his lap.

“Thank goodness we were already in the shower,” he says, wiping his face with his hand and chuckling.

The two of you sit, holding on to each other under the stream of water, laughing. Finally, the mental fog begins to lift from your thoughts.

“How did you get here?” you ask, yawning as you do so.

“On a plane.” He laughs, nuzzling against your neck, arms wrapped around you.

You hit playfully on his chest, still covered in his soaking wet dress shirt. “You know what I mean, what about the tour?” You yawn again.

He mirrors your yawn, stretching his arms and groaning. “I have to go back in the morning. They managed to get me out of the press junkets for today by claiming I was sick, but I have to be back for the concert.”

“Do they know?” Your eyes are already closing as you lean against his warm firm torso.

“About the curse?” Jimin asks. “No…” he laughs. “No, I don’t think they’d let me leave if I told them it was because my girlfriend really needed to ride my face. I told them I had a family emergency.”

“I’m sorry, Jimin.”

He shakes his head. “I’m the one who should be sorry.” He turns your face toward him and kisses you. “It’s my fault. I never should have left you.”

You sigh, head resting on his shoulder. “What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know.” He squeezes your hand where it is entwined with his in your lap. “But we’ll figure something out.” He sighs, leaning back against the wall, finger stroking your arm. “But right now we should get some sleep.”

He turns off the shower, stripping off his wet clothes and leaving them behind before scooping you up. Your head is floaty as he wraps you in a warm towel. You lean against the counter as he strips the sheets from the bed and replaces them with fresh ones, then comes back to lead you back to the bed. The two of you collapse into bed together and sleep overtakes you almost instantly.

______

Your dreams are full of Jimin again. Not teasing demon Jimin, but your warm loving boyfriend, stroking your hair and holding your hand.

You are surprised to wake up and find him watching you.

“I have a solution!” He chirps excitedly.

“You do?”

“Yes! Apparently the curse is in my saliva. So here!” He thrusts the bottle of lube from your nightstand into your hands. You look at it in confusion. “I spit in it!” he proudly declares.

“Um…” You hold the bottle at arm’s length. “Thank you?”

“This way, if I’ve been gone too long, you have a way to get off without me.”

“How do you know it will work?”

He laughs sheepishly. “I, uh, called my mom.”

“Ugh, no…” You hide your head under the covers in embarrassment. “What did you tell her?”

“It was an awkward conversation.” He laughs again. “But I couldn’t let you go through that again. She swears this will work.” He glances down at his watch. “Unfortunately, I don’t have time to test it out with you.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Think you can get it done before I get on my plane?”

“I suppose there’s one way to find out…”

Jimin disappears under the bed and returns with both your vibrator and dildo. “Better get going then,” he teases, before giving you one last kiss. “I’ll text you when I land. I love you.”

You stare at the assortment of sex toys and lube now spread out on your bed. “You’re just going to leave? I don’t have to go with you?”

“Do you want to go with me? I thought you had work.”

“Well, yeah, I mean, I do, but… I thought you were going to make me your personal sex slave.”

“Um, I wasn’t planning on it.” He laughs, then a more mischievous smirk spreads over his face. “Unless you want me to.”

You laugh in relief even as a lick of heat curls in your belly. “Perhaps that’s a game best left for when you are in town.”

He winks. “Looking forward to it.”

[asterekmess]

Did you ever watch Buffy? The first episode where Anya was introduced was titled "The Wish" and all I can think about is if Scott McCall had ever run into a pure Sidhe where they offered him a wish. Instead of, "I wish Buffy had never come to Sunnydale." It would be more, "I wish I was never bitten to become a werewolf." But just like all feaye tricks, the outcome is more, his Dad ended up with primary custody rather than his Mom and he was forced to leave BH. And then Stiles ended up more friends with Heather and others. And while Scott's life is worse, when he tracks down the others he finds all of theirs are greatly improved.

I think about it a lot and how Scott never really dealt with the consequences of any of his actions, everyone else did, and how an episode or mini-arc could have fixed a flaw in the show's design. I mean, we were already dealing with a lot of Celtic lore, why not someone from the Sidhe courts?

I have no idea why this took me so long to answer, so apologies for that. <3 I did watch buffy! I've seen all of it, and all of Angel as well. XD

I remember 'The Wish' episode, and whoooo boy it gave me chills. I loved how big the butterfly effect was, how something that seemed so small, something that Genuinely seemed to be the cause of a lot of problems in Sunnydale, ended up being so important to how things had progressed. Because, yeah, you would think Buffy not coming to Sunnydale would be a Good Thing, right? Sunnydale didn't have all of these insane issues before she arrived. It was quiet, and nothing big or scary ever happened. Her arrival matches perfectly with when everything started going absolutely nuts, so whatever selfish ideas Cordelia had, her thought that Buffy not coming to Sunnydale would be a good thing, makes sense. Except that, as she finds out, she's entirely wrong. Buffy's arrival was a lucky coincidence, or fate, whatever your taste leans toward. She showed up right as things started going nuts, and she kept it from going SO MUCH MORE NUTS.

Now, moving on to TW, it is a fascinating mix of being the Exact same situation, and the exact Opposite. I'll add a Read More, cus' holy god is this a lot of Rambling.

Because Scott wishing not to have been bitten...yeah, the bite Did improve things. But it improved things for him. He would absolutely regret making the wish, just like Cordelia did, because he would realize how many good things the bite had brought with it. BUT, conversely, he would have to realize how many good things the bite had brought for him, not for other people, and how their lives either wouldn't have been affect, or might've even Improved without him being bitten. Without the bite, Scott wouldn't have gotten on first line, period. His health issues made very clear in the five minutes he had them that any kind of stamina based sport was just out of the question for him. If he is unable to walk through the woods at a moderate pace without needing to grab his inhaler and stop against a tree, he just plain cannot play lacrosse for two or three hours of running at high speeds and working a bunch of muscles in his upper body. He likely wouldn't have gone out with Allison, because he would have no convenient way to get her attention. Furthermore, he wouldn't have the extra senses that both impressed her on the lacrosse field, and told him about her 'family dinner' the night of Lydia's party. (I've discussed this before, but... While it's true, Allison would have still brought him the dog; that dog would likely have attacked him, and his chances with her would have been shot in the foot when they both got in massive trouble and he likely had to go to the ER for stitches or something. Without Allison or first line, he wouldn't have started hanging out with the 'cool kids,' and quite frankly, wouldn't have had anyone to help him study for the classes he was struggling with. It's true that he also wouldn't have had werewolf things to worry about, or even a girlfriend to distract him from homework, so maybe that wouldn't have been such a huge issue, but still.

If we look at other people's lives and how They would have been affected by Scott not getting the bite...well, let's talk about that.

Stiles didn't get on first line because of Scott, or because of a werewolf bite. Or even because of the werewolf bullshittery occurring in town. He was put on first line because of his abilities, and even after being taken OFF first line for missing the game, he was put Right onto the field in the next game, chosen OVER other players who were perfectly viable options. Which means, he still would've ended up on first line. Allison wasn't interested in dating before she met Scott, and part of her draw to him was based on how 'different' he was. He knew things she didn't know how he could know, he had a weird ability to calm a furious, injured dog, and he had charisma that was ALSO gained from the bite, since being on first line made Scott Much more self-confident. If she didn't end up dating him, it's likely she wouldn't have dated at all. Which would mean no hiding from her parents, no strange conflicts of interest, AND, interestingly enough --depending on her involvement in the murders, etc that would still be occurring in town--no night in the school that would scare her bad enough to ask Kate for extra help and tip her headfirst into hunter training. AND, even if she DID still end up getting those lessons from Kate? There would be no bitterness to fuel her behavior at the end of season 1.

Allison was Traumatized after Kate showed her Derek on the grate. She was horrified, and didn't know what to do about it, and while we can ramble all we want about the morality of her not confronting her family (whom she's just discovered is willing to electrocute people) about it, the fact is that she pushed the thoughts aside to stop freaking out and went to that dance. Where she found out Scott was a werewolf, and was So fucking Betrayed that she was willing to help Kate catch him and Derek. No Scott, no betrayal, no willingness to help Kate recapture the miserable man who'd been chained up in a basement.

If we go back to that specific night, and try to unfold the events from there if Scott hadn't been bitten, things get a little complicated, but I'll take a few artistic liberties. Scott isn't bitten. Presumably, he just happens to get out of the woods in time, or he gets caught with Stiles by the sheriff, or doesn't go to the woods in the first place. These all change the possible outcomes of that night. If he hadn't gone in the first place, and Stiles went alone, would he have been bitten instead? Would Scott have been dragged into all of this anyway, but without the protection and boost of being a werewolf and cured of his asthma? If he weren't the one bitten, and he saw everything Stiles gained from it, would he still have such a hatred for the bite? Or would he want it, like Erica did, to cure him and make him powerful and cool? But, let's assume Stiles doesn't get bitten either. The second half of Laura's body still hasn't been found, and Stiles has no reason to fear running back into the preserve the next day, and no real punishment from his father as far as we can tell. So, does he go back to look again? If he did, he would run into Derek, because Derek would still be there after retrieving Laura's body himself. He would see Derek and still recognize him, and from there, things might spiral, still involving Stiles in the supernatural, and it's likely Stiles would try to involve Scott, and Again we get hit with "Would Scott want the bite, if he hadn't gotten forcibly bitten in the first place?" The answer is probably yes. He wanted to be cool, and popular, and on the lacrosse team. He wanted everything being a werewolf gave him. BUT if we're looking at this wish as similar to "The Wish," then no matter what, Scott won't be bitten. He'll be transported to a new world where it just never happened, and he'll be human, and forced to watch everyone around him be just plain different. Scott not being bitten would isolate him from Stiles, if Stiles got involved in the spn anyway. We SAW how Stiles cut off his other friends once the spn starting getting in the way. He and Harley? We have no clue how close they were. They were close enough for her to tease him about his crush on Lydia, for her to wander up comfortably to the locker and talk to them. And he cut her off as soon as the werewolf stuff hit. What if he cut Scott off? To protect him, if nothing else, like he did his own father. Once he realized the danger involved, I doubt he would be willing to put Scott in harm's way.

So, Scott would not only lose first line, lose his girlfriend, lose his popularity, lose his health and strength and heightened abilities, lose his 'importance' to the goings-on of Beacon Hills, but he would also lose Stiles, who seems to have been his only friend, unless he also had a relationship with Harley.

Okay, I've rambled enough about the what if's, so let's talk about the Reason why this wish would go so badly for Scott, in such a different way than it went for Cordelia. Cordelia, first off, wished that someone Else would not have/do something, rather than wishing for herself not to have done something. She watches how fucked up the world gets, and how much worse her life is without Buffy around to save the day. Scott wished for Himself not to have done something (even something passive, like 'get bitten') and would have to watch how fucked up his world gets, and how far behind he would fall. The other's lives might not necessarily get better, because Peter is still on the loose, and the hunters are still there, etc etc, but they would still Progress, while Scott would stay stagnant.

And WHY is that? Because Scott isn't important to the story. It DOESN'T start with him. That's the Whole Point of his character. He is supposed to be the 'everyman' who gets dragged into crazy shit and becomes integral to things that he wasn't ever meant to be a part of. The guy who wanders into becoming King or 'The Hero' that will save the world, even though he's just a small lad from a tiny town, whose highest prospects were "get on first line."

He was NEVER supposed to be Buffy, or if he was, it was done Very Badly.

But Beacon Hills WASN'T a quiet town before Scott was bitten; however much he might've said 'nothing ever happens in this town.' It was FULL of bullshittery and magic from the very beginning. There was the fire, and Paige, and the blinding of Deucalion, and the death of Alexander Argent, and the Nogitsune in the internment camp nearby. All of these things were around So much longer than Scott's bite, and they'd been affecting the world that whole time too. Because yes, in Buffy, the master was There before she was, but he was literally rendered inert by the situations he was in. And the things he'd done happened Centuries before, not six years. There is a difference. Sunnydale was Not Known for the insane number of weird deaths. Beacon Hills was. And aside from the Nogitsune, every single fucking thing that happened in Beacon Hills, was attuned to the Hale family in one way or another. Deucalion's blinding occurred during a meeting on Hale land, because Talia was known as a wise leader, etc, in the area and other wolves flocked to her. Deucalion biting Argent seems unrelated (if you even believe Deucalion did that, despite being a fucking pacifist before Gerard blinded him), but again, it occurs just a couple hours away from Beacon Hills, which is Hale Territory. The one who plays the Buffy role here? Who shows up at just the right time, and launches themself against an endless wave of evil, with slightly enhanced senses and a thorough need to do good and not back away from things that 'aren't they're problem'? The actual hero who is somehow tied to everything going on in ways even they don't understand? Was Derek. The guy who entirely unwittingly allowed Julia Baccari to survive, because he was trying to be merciful to his first love. Who entirely unwittingly was manipulated into giving up information that let a hunter kill his family. Who followed his sister back to town after six years of just trying to survive in New York, fell into a fucking tragedy, and decided to stop the bad guys anyway, even though he knew he didn't stand a fucking chance.

And as annoyed as some might get. The 'everyman' who stumbles onto the set and accidentally becomes integral to the saving of the world? The one whose ambitions are small and who expectations are smaller? Who is misunderstood, and has abilities that aren't recognized or appreciated, that doesn't really fit in, but tries their best anyway? The literal Angel to Derek's Buffy?

Is fucking Stiles. The son of the sheriff who just could not let it go when he discovered there was something funky going on. Who hung around on the edges, even though he wasn't really wanted, because he needed to help. Who ended up saving Derek's life over and over, and becoming so important as to be Derek's anchor? Who literally WENT DARKSIDE and HAD TO BE NEARLY KILLED, even though Derek didn't to kill him???

I know how it sounds, but JD SAID he took inspiration from Buffy. The issue is that his parallels are between DEREK AND STILES, and BUFFY AND ANGEL. Respectively.

Derek might act like the broody bad boy, but it is STILES' mentality that matches Angel's behavior, and it's Derek who matches Buffy.

I'm so fucking off track. Scott would be miserable if he ever managed to get a wish and used it to keep from having been bitten. And it would be sad. I would feel bad for him, had I watched something like that happen. Seeing him realize that most of the good things he had, he only got because of the bite. That Stiles would still be on first line, that Lydia and Jackson would still be the popular kids. That Allison wouldn't know he existed, or if she did would avoid him entirely. That Jackson would never have been turned into the kanima in the first place. That everyone else would move on and up in life, and he would still be standing at the bottom step. Because it wasn't his actual limitations that were holding him back, it was his refusal to accept them, to work with them, and to just plain stop Envying Everyone Around him, and start living his own fucking life instead of trying to steal other people's.

Scott wishes he were Cordelia, and I promise that would backfire too.

[shirophantomvox]

Analyzing Illumi Zoldyck's Character

Chrollo Analysis | Hisoka Analysis | Killua Analysis

What’s up y’all! Sorry for being away for the last few days. I needed a break from social media because I am so tired of seeing toxic, self-righteous people on my TL. Anyway, quite a lot of you liked my posts about analyzing HxH characters and somehow comparing them to VLD characters. Today, I’ll be talking about Illumi Zoldyck and I’ll try to compare him to a Voltron character. I know many people have already analyzed this character before, but it wouldn’t hurt to add to the discussion some years later. If you want me to write about anything else, send me an ask! The formatting of this post may be different than the one I wrote about Hisoka Morrow (click his name to view that post).

HERE WE GO!

In the first season, all of the characters are contestants for the Hunter’s Exam. I say contestants because this is a contest to see who can win without any injuries and can keep up with each host. I forget what number stage they were at, but I do know they were at the stage where each opponent has to fight each other. They are declared the winner if their opponent forfeits or gives up mid-match. (Off-topic, but) I am going, to be honest; Gon was my favorite character but his flaws began to show, annoyed me, and later led to his horrific downfall (based from YouTube clips). He didn’t know when to stop and kept pushing himself over the limit. Anyway, Killua and Gittarackur are set to fight. This is when things take a turn for the worse.

Gittarackur is a form of a disguise for Illumi to mask his identity. His face is long; nearly (and reminds me of) in the shape of a Tiki. His face also reminds me of the Witch Doctor mask from Scooby-Doo and Hell-raiser. He has several pins stuck in his face to maintain the facial features of Gittarackur. On the flip side, if he removes the pins, his biological form is revealed. Once he does this, Killua is nearly paralyzed; he cannot believe his eyes and I’m sure the trauma he endured at home hit him like a sack of rocks. Illumi then tells Killua that he wants him to return home, that he cannot maintain a friendship with Gon, stated that he was going to kill Gon, but realizes that if he does so he will be disqualified and will not obtain his Hunter’s license.

I’m assuming the cops aren’t a thing in this reality and the only way for them to “destroy” under the law is by obtaining the license. What do you think? I rarely see police officers; all I see are the Mafia and every they suck compared to the Zoldyck's and the Phantom Troupe. Shit, it seems like they’re the police but have twisted motives.

It doesn’t matter if you’re a fictional character or not, first impressions matter and he bombed this one...even for a villain.

But you did this for what?

How can you hypnotize (by using Nen) your own brother into killing another opponent because he doesn’t want to become an emotionless zombie like you? At least, that’s my perception. Telling your brother to run every time he faces an opponent that he knows he cannot win against is the sickest shit I’ve ever seen. I know I’m jumping around but another thought popped into my head. As the seasons go on, Illumi expresses an odd way of loving his younger brother and to him, that means to make him suffer in the same way he had to. It seems like Illumi is jealous of Gon in a way. (I’ve seen clips on YouTube) Killua takes Alluka to the hospital to heal Gon. Illumi has stated several times to Hisoka that Killua was hiding rules from him and that he still wanted to get rid of Alluka. Although it is clearly stated why he wanted Alluka gone, I still think that Illumi was jealous of Gon simply because his younger brother preferred to be with a friend instead of him. This is why he emphasizes “You cannot have friends. Either they will betray you or you’ll betray them.”

As I read and watched as the seasons went on, I noticed something about Illumi and his family. We all know that the children were raised by their parents. Specifically, their dad is a trained assassin. I can’t remember but I think Zeno is their grandfather who is also an assassin.

I view him as a character that has suffered from abuse and trauma in order to mold him into an assassin. He is emotionless, doesn’t really care for others, has an odd relationship with Killua that he doesn’t have for his other siblings, and is a hypocrite. Killua can’t be friends with Gon but every time the show cuts to him, he’s with Hisoka? Something is fishy there. Are they more than friends? OK, thanks for coming to my Ted Talk. Here's the physical analysis below.

Face

When masquerading as Gittarackur, his face has several pins in them and his hair is in a rock star form of Mohawk that is purple. I’ll give him 10/10 for uniqueness, yet it still reminded me of Hell Raiser.

I’ve noticed that when he is in public he is in costume. Why doesn’t he reveal himself in public? I’ve researched this and no one could answer this question. My guess is that he is a verified hunter and assassin. How can you carry out your missions if everyone knows what you look like? Without the pins in his face, it reverts back to his natural state. To me, his large eyes and long, shiny black hair are his distinguished features. Although he may be my least favorite character, he does have pretty eyes. Haven’t you all heard of “I got lost in his/her eyes”?

Yeah, that can be said about him. Most definitely. He rarely smiles and when he does, something BAD is going to happen. I saw him laugh crazily once Alluka began the healing process, the Nen (I guess) rose from the hospital and got on him. This scene reminds me of how Haggar reacted once the Komar’s quintessence bounced from Voltron and bounced onto her. Wow, these supernatural abilities make y’all feel that good?

Clothes

Gittarackur and Illumi wear the same clothes, which should be a clear giveaway that they are the same. Illumi wears a neural green short jacket that has yellow pins in them, a light green shirt underneath, and green pants. His shoes remind me of loafers with a heel on them, something my grandmother would wear.

I’ve said this before and I’ll say again, these bad-ass men in this show are very stylish and seem to be in shape more than I am. Although Illumi irks me, his fashion is great and this is why people prefer him to be their favorite character. Shows should always produce characters that are memorable; that is the key to a long-lasting fan base.

In conclusion, this anime (for the most part) has well-rounded characters that make the plot interesting and wanting more.

Illumi and Lotor are somewhat similar. They both grew up in abusive households and lost some sense of sensitivity, common sense, and were often “misguided” by their own selfishness. Illumi wants a better life for Killua by constantly brainwashing him into thinking that he cannot have friends and his can only find happiness through killing. Zarkon raises Lotor to be a prince that shouldn't work with planets and should destroy them. This explains why he used deceased Alteans from the colony, drained their quintessence, and didn't give them a proper burial. Lotor IS just like his father but Killua IS NOT like Illumi. Ironic, huh? As we all know by now, Lotor is the son of Honerva (Haggar) and Zarkon. After the rift accident, he became an emotionless, ruthless monster that colonized and destroyed planets just to gain their quintessence. He taught this to his son and once he was old enough to think for himself, he refused to act in such a way. Although he was exiled and said he wasn’t like Zarkon, he was; but worse. Lotor studied and gained knowledge about Altea and its people while using Allura to gain the secrets of Oriande. I say he used her because he knew from the moment he met her that he was harvesting Altean quintessence. While fighting the white lion, he yelled “Victory or Death” which is a common catchphrase the Galra use when they are in battle. In fact, the Galra have been victims of trauma from Zarkon. Zarkon’s ruthless ways of ruling had no other motive except for obtaining quintessence so he could live forever. Silva’s way of raising his children was done to mold them into assassins. Since he was taught this way he did the same thing to his children. Zarkon, Silva, and Zeno think that their ways of parenting are necessary for survive in life when it doesn’t have to be that way. Illumi and Lotor have experienced this horrific parenting and deal with it in different ways. Illumi is oddly obsessive of his younger brother and Lotor is a fucking liar.

This analysis was fun! Next, I’ll be analyzing Killua and Keith Kogane.

If you’d like to see more posts like this, send me an ASK!