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gaylordscooter · 3 months

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Our Landlord that we Pay in Fear (collect my pages)

[warning for implied self harm and suicide attempt]

“i’m making a very noble sacrifice for you two right now so you best carry out my dying wish in the case i die.”

Dust and Horror gave Killer a judgemental glare.

“we're not making a bath bomb with your dust and using it, that’s just…no. fuck that,” Horror replied.

Killer pouted. “fine,” he sighed dramatically. “remember me!” he shouted before sprinting blindly into the darkness of the forest.

Mere seconds later, they heard a thud along with Killer cursing.

“i’ll try to forget him,” Dust signed. He took the flashlight out from his pocket and turned it on. He headed into the forest with Horror.

This was a new game of Nightmare’s. It was completely stolen; it wasn't his original idea in the first place. They can thank Killer for introducing Nightmare to horror games, trying to see if he would be scared by them. He wasn't. He thought he could be scarier and decided to test that hypothesis out on them.

“Slenderman” was the name of the game Nightmare was enacting. Killer claimed he was great at it, an absolute expert. So of course, the other two pressured him to go on ahead and find all the pages as fast as he could.

He probably only got one before the two heard his scream ring throughout the forest.

Dust signed “scream” and “girl” with amusement.

“i know, right? makes me wonder if our voices can go that high, heh,” Horror replied.

Immediately Dust’s mood soured like a switch was flicked. He made no comment and walked faster, forcing Horror to speed up or get left behind.

“right,” Horror sighed. “forgot you hate yourself that much.”

Dust grunted as if to say, “shut up.” He pointed the flashlight at the numerous trees around them, pausing when he spotted a page haphazardly slapped on one of the trunks.

He approached it, looking around while Horror watched his back, not like he trusted him to protect it anyway. The page itself was covered in grime. It didn't even need to be stapled to the tree, the goo was enough to keep it in place. He wondered what exactly the grime was made out of. Nightmare is always coated in it. Is it like his skin? He banished that thought with the others.

He peeled the page off the tree. It made a gross wet noise as he did. Usually he doesn't mind getting his hands dirty, but he was glad he was wearing gloves regardless.

“what's on it?” Horror asked.

Dust held it out for him to see.

What was visible on the page was messy writing of seemingly random letters, but most of it was covered by the goop.

Horror squinted his eye sockets. “some kind of code?”

Dust shrugged. He put the page away into his inventory.

A low rumble echoed throughout the forest. Dust appeared unfazed and walked on ahead anyway.

“didja hear that?” Horror asked, on edge at the noise. He knew he wasn't in his universe anymore, but his instincts couldn't help but scream at him to get the hell out of the forest upon hearing an unusual noise. It was basic self-preservation.

Dust paused mid-step and turned to Horror. He lifted his index finger up his chin, “real?”

“debatable if it’s ‘real’” he said with air quotes, “but if we both heard it, it's probably a problem.”

They carried on, Dust slowing down so that they were walking side-by-side.

“i wonder how killer’s doing. it’s so hard to see even with a flashlight,” Horror remarked. “we haven't heard from him since he screamed. think he's dead?”

Dust chuckled at the notion.

Horror sucked in air through his teeth as the chuckling became full blown laughing like he just said the funniest joke ever. He must really hate the guy, Horror thought.

Dust’s laughter cut off instead of dying down. He wasn't even interrupted. He just stopped when he decided to.

What a weirdo, Horror thought, much to his hypocrisy.

Killer was in fact, not dead, but he would be if he slowed down anytime soon. Sprinting blindly in a forest you’ve never been in wasn't exactly the easiest thing to do, but he had to get good at it quickly. He didn't know what the hell he saw or heard, but it sure wasn't anything familiar. He thought Nightmare would be the one hunting them down, but as far as he was concerned, the thing chasing him didn't sound nor look like him at all. At least, according to the mere glimpses he got of it.

His soul was pounding. He cursed himself for showing Nightmare what a horror game was. Of course that freak wasn't going to be scared of it! He was fear itself! Probably…

A branch snagged his foot and his head slammed into the ground. Even though he recovered quickly and shoved himself up mere seconds later, the thing grabbed him by the ankle. He twisted around to face it.

His breathing hitched. The thing he stared back at was blurry, almost like he was staring right at a dream, but he knew what it was.

It was the anomaly. The one from his universe. The one that took control of him and made him empty the underground.

The Player.

Two blasters summoned by his side, but they refused to fire.

Killer was sweating bullets. He tried kicking it off. Tried summoning bones but his magic was not working.

“No no no no!” he hissed.

He whipped out his knife—big mistake. He couldn't control his arm anymore. He couldn't control any of his body.

He was completely paralyzed, yet he trembled anyway.

He was hyperventilating as the anomaly closed in on him.

“—and that makes five pages? how many more left are there?” Horror questioned.

Dust shrugged, as helpful as ever.

Luckily they haven't ran into any direct trouble yet. They only heard a few weird noises here and there. Maybe Killer was distracting Nightmare?

They’ve explored most of the forest by now. At least they assumed so because of how long they've been walking around.

Because of the lack of danger, it was almost like a normal stroll through the forest. It was sort of nostalgic to Horror, like he was walking around Snowdin before the problems with the CORE. It was just missing the snow and of course, the people.

He kept an eye socket on Dust, wondering if he found this nostalgic too. He doubted it. Dust hated thinking about the past, which was fair. If he was in his shoes he wouldn't want to think about it either. There was a reason he hardly looked like he was Sans.

Dust stopped in place, looking intently at a particular tree.

“i don't think there's a page on there, bud,” Horror assured.

Dust ignored him and walked over to the tree. He studied it a moment before shaking his head. He signed something too quickly for Horror to understand. It seemed like it wasn't a message for him.

Horror darted his eyes around the area. “yeah, like i said there isn’t a—”

Dust dropped the flashlight and punched the tree with a loud crack that was most certainly not just from the tree.

Horror winced, leaning down to pick up the flashlight. “yeesh, dude, did it owe you money or something?”

Dust clutched his hand with the other. There was no doubt it was chipped at the knuckles now. Even though he was wearing gloves, the blood from his marrow bleeding out between the cracks dyed the fabric red. “wrong direction,” he signed, “circles.” He pointed at the tree with his uninjured hand.

“you didn't have to go and punch the tree,” Horror said. “your hand alright?”

Dust hissed in response.

“ok…” Horror replied. And they thought he was the rabid one. “i’ll lead the way then. just chill out.”

Once he started leading they didn't come across that same tree he punched, so presumably they weren't going in circles anymore.

They found three more pages. Nothing happened when they grabbed the first two, but upon grabbing the third, the area lit up.

Dust and Horror blinked rapidly as their eye sockets adjusted to the daylight.

Horror turned off the flashlight and put it away in his pockets. “huh, i guess we're done?”

Dust pumped his fist in the air in victory and flipped off no one in particular. He waved goodbye to Horror as he hastily walked to what he believed was the nearest way out of the forest.

“wait, do you even know which direction the castle is from here?” Horror asked.

He held a hand up to sign “no” without turning back.

Before Horror could follow after him, Nightmare emerged from the ground next to him.

“gah!” Horror exclaimed, startled by the sudden appearance.

“You three sure took your time,” he said. He frowned and scanned the area. “Where is the third one?”

“killer? he split up from us at the beginning…you didn't know?” Horror questioned. He assumed Nightmare had a full view of the entire forest. Was he just following them around instead?

Nightmare’s single eye blinked. “I did not,” he said slowly. He would have to search the forest to find Killer. He had been feeling the most fear and stress from him. If he had to guess, he was lost.

Luckily Dust already found Killer by the edge of the forest. He didn't expect to find him clutching his own soul like it owed him money.

He looked roughed up, physically and mentally. White ring eyelights pierced into his target shaped soul as he scowled.

If he kept clutching his soul like that he would die.

Dust didn't feel like watching someone die right in front of him, even if it was Killer. He turned his soul blue and yanked it up to get it out of his hand.

Killer gasped and thrashed in his hold. “let go of me! let go!” he wailed.

Dust reflexively released his hold on his soul, dropping him to the ground. He watched with concern—disgust, as Killer breathed rapidly while lying on the ground. What the hell happened to him? Nightmare wasn't even near him right now.

Killer didn't acknowledge his presence, even after that, so Dust got closer.

He crouched down next to the panicking skeleton.

Finally, Killer got a glimpse of him. He rolled onto his chest and pushed himself up with his arms. “dusty?”

He sounded so relieved. It caught Dust off guard.

He hastily reached out with one arm, falling back down onto his chest when he did. He grabbed hold of Dust’s knee. Once his hand touched something solid he relaxed, and then he jerked his hand away when he registered that Dust was there. He sat up and cleared his throat. “didja get any pages?” he asked casually.

It took Dust a second to respond. The change in Killer’s demeanor was instant. He nodded but then signed, “what happened?”

“i uh—haha, um,” he stammered. “nightmare was chasing me?” he shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant.

“I’m right here,” Nightmare said, startling the two as he approached from behind the nearby trees. “And I didn't see you the whole time. Yet you were terrified.”

Killer crossed his arms trying to not look embarrassed. “i was not! just got a little lost is all. it annoyed me! i wasn't terrified.”

Nightmare mirrored his crossed arms. “You are aware I can tell the difference, right? I don't just sense your negativity, I sense what emotion it is.”

“oh it's not like it matters anyway! negativity is negativity, who cares!”

“Oh, it does matter.” Nightmare's tentacles flicked in agitation. “Your terror wasn't quite palatable.”

Killer's sockets widened as he sneered, “good! i hope you choked on it.”

“I cannot ‘choke’ on your emotions,” he deadpanned.

Killer grumbled something incomprehensible.

“Get up already, you two. We're going back to the castle.” He already opened a portal next to them.

“yay! more torture!” Killer cheered sarcastically as he stood up along with Dust.

“I did not cause whatever happened to you, and besides we're done for the day,” he corrected. “I will be out, don’t burn the place down or you won’t have a place to stay.”

“you’re the one that burned the place down before,” Killer muttered as he went through the portal.

“Dust,” Nightmare interrupted as he was about to go through.

Dust turned his head towards him.

“Do you know what happened to him?” he asked.

Dust couldn't tell if that was worry in his voice or intrigue. He shook his head, but after a moment of thinking, he pointed to where his soul would be and made a tearing motion with his hands.

Nightmare hummed thoughtfully. “Next time, do not split up.”

Underneath the hood was a look of confusion, but he gave him a thumbs up anyway. He turned back around to go through the portal. It was only once he was in the castle that he let himself wonder just what Nightmare was thinking. His motives were as clear as mud to them. All they knew is that he got energy from negative emotions, which is why they put them through stressful situations.

However the limit to these situations fluctuate, and not in a predictable way either. He was inconsistent.

Dust guessed that today was one of those days where he went easy on them. Maybe that was why he was unnerved by the intensity of Killer’s reaction, because it was unplanned.

But wouldn't that be beneficial to him?

Maybe he was just a control freak.

He walked to the kitchen to get something to drink, noticing the lack of Killer talking Horror's or his nonexistent ears off.

Horror was sitting at the dining table with all the pages laid out before him as well as a piece of scrap paper with various notes scribbled down.

Dust didn't pay him any mind as he leaned on the wall by the fridge as he drank.

He watched Horror go through all five stages of grief as he meticulously studied the pages and then went on to create five new stages of grief.

Had he cared, he would've pointed out that the pages are most likely meaningless, but this was too entertaining to interrupt.

It had to be at least an hour before Horror slammed his hands down on the table and gave up. He looked over at Dust, eyes squinting. “what the hell are you drinking?”

Dust looked down at his glass full of various condiments, a dash of vanilla, and milk, all topped with “ice cubes” that were just frozen chunks of butter. He did not have an answer.

Horror sighed, massaging his forehead. “make me one,” he mumbled.

Normally Dust wouldn't follow an order like that, but he decided Horror deserved a treat after inventing five more stages of grief and enacting them out before him.

“have you seen Killer at all recently or were you standing there the entire time?”

Dust handed him the drink, giving him a blank “what do you think?” look.

“figures…” He took a sip. It was an assault on all of his senses. There were at least three different consistencies in this single drink. Horrendous. He took another sip.

There was a moment of silence as both of them drank the bio-hazard in their hands.

“...he’s probably in his room again,” Horror guessed.

It wasn't an odd occurrence for Killer to coop up in his room after Nightmare’s had his fun, but it wasn't that common either.

Usually Dust wouldn't care—he didn't care still, but…

He finished his drink, now crunching on the frozen butter. That sucked, badly. He’ll have to make that again sometime. He put the glass in the sink and made his way to the hall that led to their rooms.

He passed by Killer's door to get to his own. His hand paused when he grasped the doorknob. With a silent sigh, he turned around and walked back to Killer’s door.

His mismatched eyelights bore into the door as if looking at it would magically open it. Did he want to knock or just open the door? Scratch that he wasn't going to knock.

He twisted the doorknob, only to find the door was locked.

He internally cursed. Killer probably heard that; it would be awkward to knock now.

He could walk away right now. He didn't know who was at the door yet—

The door opened right as he thought that.

“what?” Killer groaned. His frown evaporated when he saw Dust. He leaned on the door frame. “oh, you.” There was that relief again.

His mind decided now was the opportune moment for him to forget what little sign language he knew. He just ended up staring at him in silence.

…

He CHECKed Killer, noticing his HP was a tad lower than usual.

Killer faked a cough into his hand. “...good talk.” He reached for the door and closed it.

Dust didn't hear it lock.

Well, at least he confirmed he was still alive. Dust decided he was satisfied with that and went over to his own room.

#utmv #utmv fic

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skepsiss · 1 year

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Long Road Ahead - pt1

Pining after the events of the Upside Down. It’s sort of melancholy, but isn’t pining just the best background for when they do eventually confess to one another? Tw: Mention of long hospitalization, permanent injury and mobility issues. Joking/dramatic use of the term suicide. 3,000 words. Steve’s POV.

Pt1.2 Pt2 Pt3

"Steve!" Eddie hollered from the room. Steve sighed lightly, drying his hands off and walking back into his bedroom to see Eddie lounging across his bed, poking through a magazine. "I'm bored man, are we still going out, or what?" Things had been like this all summer. After the Upside Down, after everything over Spring break, normality had been hard to come by. Eventually, the weather had parted and a true Indiana summer had rolled into town. Despite that, Eddie was still wearing his heavy leather jacket with cut-off jeans so you could see his calves and half a pink scar on his leg. It still looked angry, and Steve knew Eddie didn't have the same mobility he had before. My arms and hands are good, so I can't complain, he had said as the scar tissue had formed on his neck and abdomen. He didn't have a full range of motion, and he looked awkward when he ran now, Steve only hoped that with time that too would pass. He had lost a lot of muscle in the attack, not only from the injury itself, but the healing process too, it was a miracle he had lived. Steve had only seen the worst of the scars on his chest once while he had visited at the hospital, Eddie had covered it quickly and had tried not to act bashful about it. They're badass, he had offered to the kids, complaining but also insisting that it wasn't a big deal. He wanted sympathy, not pity, so Steve hadn't said anything. But it was summer now, and Eddie was out of the hospital, he had left early in fact because the bills were outrageous and there was no way the Munsons could pay for it. His time at the hospital had at least given the town time to calm down and let him beat the murder charges. The FBI had taken on the case at the behest of the Hawkins Police Department, and Steve knew how that went. Everything was solved and everything was given an explanation, just stupid kids taking drugs laced with Botox or something like that, claims that it made the muscles so tight that Chrissy's limbs had snapped on their own. People in town still didn't like Eddie, but he was a free man.

Steve walked around the edge of his own bed and to the window, opening it to let some of the cool air in. He was hanging out with Eddie today much the same as he had the last few months. He wasn't sure why really, but Eddie had always seemed happy to see him when he visited at the hospital so he had come by often. It had only been natural that once he was out Steve had gone to see him at the new trailer as well. Today, Eddie was visiting him. He had shown up at his door, the trailer park only a short walk through the back woods to Steve's backyard, and he had sheepishly asked if his parents were home before barging in. Steve didn't mind really, but seeing Eddie all the time was wearing on him. At first, hanging out seemed normal; they were both guys around the same age that had lived through hell and back again. Jonathan had gone back to California to finish school, and as much as Steve loved the twerps, Nancy and Robin, there was something different about hanging out with another guy. Things felt less guarded, less personal, easier somehow but that ease had shifted slowly over the months. He liked being around Eddie, he enjoyed his company, but it felt forced somehow, a heavy feeling sitting in his stomach when Eddie was around. A pit formed in his gut now too as he turned and watched Eddie roll onto his back, staring straight up at the ceiling with his arms spread. He sighed dramatically and Steve kept a straight face as he watched Eddie's hair splay out around his head and his shirt ride up just a little bit to reveal the scar tissue on his hip. "It's hot," Eddie complained, and Steve couldn't help but scoff. He turned as Eddie rolled his head back to look at him, giving him an upside-down expression as his bangs fell out of his face. "Take your jacket off then," Steve scolded lightly, walking over to his desk.  Eddie laughed at him and rolled over, propping his chin in his hands. Steve tried to ignore that his pose was too familiar... too casual. "Nawh, I'm good," Eddie said cheerfully, not motioning to get up. Despite his complaining, Steve had assumed Eddie had actually needed a break from walking over. It was good Eddie was up and moving, but his hips and his legs gave him trouble if he went long distances. Steve hadn't mentioned it. "You're going to give yourself heatstroke," Steve said in passing, picking his wallet and keys up off his desk. "No I won't," Eddie retorted, whining as if Steve was being dramatic. "Oh?" Steve asked, leaning against the desk in his room, not rushing Eddie, "so wearing 15 pounds of leather when it's 96 degrees outside is what... a fetish or something?" Eddie blinked at him and then laughed, maybe a bit too hard as Steve crossed his arms and stared at him. His humour had gotten a bit more sexual since hanging out with Eddie, no longer having to hold back comments because he was hanging out with children. This was the type of stuff Eddie liked to joke about, the ribbing he enjoyed, and Steve liked it when he made Eddie laugh. "It's like my whole look," Eddie said with a chuckle, still laying across Steve's bed with his chin in his hand. Steve hated that he thought he looked cute like that. "You should try seasonal looks," Steve offered, standing up from his leaning position and gesturing to his own outfit. "You should try it sometime, you can stay alive and be comfortable." Steve cringed slightly at his own comment, his stomach flopping at the phrasing he had used. Stay alive. He hadn't meant to joke about dying and he didn't want that to dwell on Eddie's mind. "No offence," Eddie retorted, "but I'd sooner kill myself than wear a polo shirt." Eddie was smiling still and Steve was grateful for that, even if it had been at the expense of his own dignity. He watched as Eddie shifted to sit on his knees, sighing and fanning himself with the collar of his jacket. He muttered a quiet, 'Jesus' under his breath, the heat obviously getting to him. "Seriously man," Steve scolded lightly, "I don't want to go out and have you like faint." Eddie scoffed, looking a bit uncomfortable as he made a motion and lifted the front of his jacket, looking at his arm. It had been a quick expression, but Steve had caught it. It wasn't a discomfort because of the heat, it was a concerned look, an insecurity. "No, I'm fine," Eddie replied, his tone still cheerful even if it had dropped off a bit. He had to be sweating like a pig in that thing and Steve didn't understand why he insisted he keep the coat on. Eddie often complained about being cold--he was skinny as a twig, there was no wonder there--but in this kind of weather a jacket like that was suicide. "Alright fine, have it your way." Steve sighed, walking over to the door as he twirled his keys on his finger, half tossing them and catching them in his fist again. "You know you can totally ruin leather with sweat, yeah?" Steve commented idly, not really meaning to twist the knife. He heard Eddie scoff again and then silence drew out. He turned his back to Eddie, walking out towards the hall. Something heavy hit Steve in the back of his head and he half stumbled before turning around, Eddie's coat at his feet. "Fine man, stop bitching about it." Eddie was saying, his tone light despite there being an edge of... something in his voice. Steve looked from the coat to Eddie sitting on his bed, fidgeting a bit in an oversized T-shirt with the sleeves cut off. His arms were exposed and Steve could see his tattoos... and the scars that were scattered across his skin. Steve pulled in a quiet breath, noting that Eddie wasn't looking at him, picking at his nail polish instead and subconsciously tugging on the collar of his shirt, pulling it up slightly to help cover the scar on his neck. Steve looked away, bending down to pick up his jacket without saying anything. He heard Eddie stand up from the bed and he glanced at him. Eddie's posture was awkward, despite the fact that he seemed to be trying to pretend he was fine. "We going or what?" Eddie asked, still not looking at him as he stuffed his hands in his front pockets. Steve half-folded the jacket over his arm and pretended not to notice. He handed the coat to him before turning and walking out into the hallway. "Yeah, where do you want to go?" Steve asked, leading the way downstairs and trying his best to act nonchalant. Eddie stayed in pace behind him and Steve tried not to look back at him too much. The air of discomfort was still fading though as Eddie's energy returned. "Ice cream?" He teased and Steve rolled his eyes at him. He laughed about it and Steve hid a private smile. Eddie was a skinny dude, and maybe it was bad that before Steve had noted the tattoos and the scars he had thought about Eddie's frame. Noted the lean muscles of his arms from dragging amps and guitars around, skinning kid shoulders that peaked out from the edges of his cut-up shirt. He understood why now Eddie had insisted he wear his jacket despite the weather, why he had suffered the last few weeks as the air got hotter. He still didn't want people looking at him with pity because of his scars. "If you don't mind driving a bit we can head out of town," Steve offered, trying to think of where they should go. He wanted to offer to take them somewhere they could hang out inside, where there was AC and Eddie could put his coat back on. "Oh, Mr. Fancy," Eddie was teasing as Steve walked them to the garage, hitting the button to the garage to let the sun in. Where was there AC? Malls. Libraries. Museums. "You want to go to the like dinosaur museum or something?" Steve asked, feeling his cheeks flush a bit at the suggestion. "What?" Eddie asked, sounding genuinely surprised. "Seriously dude? That's in like Crown Hill 3 hours away. The children's museum?" "I don't know, I'm just spitballing here." Steve offered, slightly relieved to hear a little chuckle from Eddie. "It'd be faster to drive to Louisville," Eddie teased, opening the door to the F-series and sliding into the passenger's seat. Steve got in after him, starting the car and turning the radio on to static. He'd let Eddie choose the station, he didn't care if he put on metal. "You want to drive to Kentucky then?" Steve asked, looking over his shoulder as he pulled out of the garage. "What?" Eddie asked again, sounding surprised as he buckled in and started fiddling with the radio dial. "Louisville, Kentucky. Do you want to go?" He glanced at Eddie out of the corner of his eye, catching the completely baffled expression on the brunette's face. "You want to... take me to Louisville?" Eddie asked, the tease leaving his voice as he stared at Steve. Steve tried to shrug, rummaging through the center console and clicking the automatic garage door closer. "Why not? It's closer. We could check out the mall or something?" "And what? You pay for all the gas and everything we’d get there?" Eddie teased gently, obviously not meaning anything by it. Steve shrugged, not catching the insincerity in Eddie's voice. "Sure, why not?" Eddie didn't say anything for a moment and the car filled with static radio as Steve assumed he was just being stared at. Eddie laughed eventually, twisting the dial and then sitting back in his seat as quiet rock music started to filter into the car. "You ever think about getting a tattoo?" Eddie asked, and Steve could hear the grin in his voice.   He turned and looked at Eddie, blinking at him and feeling his stomach swoop at the cheeky look on his face. "No," Steve answered honestly, and Eddie laughed, leaning on the armrest of the car and looking out the window. "I'd rather get a tattoo with the money you'd be wasting on gas and whatever trinket you're thinking of buying me." Steve held back the blush on his cheeks, focusing on the road instead. He hadn't intended to buy Eddie a trinket or whatever, but the way he had said it made it sound like Steve was looking to buy him a ring or something. "I want more tattoos, obviously," Eddie was continuing to talk and Steve shook himself from his spiralling thoughts. "Cover up some of these scars...." Steve glanced at Eddie as he said the last bit, noting that he was still looking out the window and appearing a bit wistful as he rubbed at the leather on the door. Steve's chest tightened as he watched Eddie, trying to pay attention to the road still as they drove. He hadn't realized just how insecure Eddie was about his scars. He had noticed that Eddie was uncomfortable with them, and he hadn't said anything, but to this extent... it made sense. Eddie already had tattoos, an easier way to cover up scars was with tattoos rather than winter jackets. "We can go get tattoos," Steve offered, quickly correcting himself, "you can get a tattoo. I'm not getting one." He tried to make his tone light, and jokey while still genuinely offering the experience. Eddie scoffed, Steve's genuine offer lost on him. "Nawh man, summer is the worst time to get a tattoo, plus I don't have the money for it." Steve hardly hesitated in his response, already correcting his driving as he started a new course to an out-of-town location. He hadn't memorized where the tattoo parlours were, but he was sure they could find one easily enough. "I'll pay for it," Steve offered. He shrugged, trying to look casual. "No, man," Eddie scoffed again and sat back in his seat. He subconsciously scratched at a scar again, and Steve noticed. "Seriously," Steve tried again, turning the AC up in the car. "Seriously," Eddie mocked, not looking at him. "I don't need you paying for my crap, man." A silence washed over the car again and Steve glanced at Eddie. He could see the annoyed and crestfallen expression on his face. He looked uncomfortable. Steve sighed. "I'd rather pay for a tattoo," Steve said quietly, not looking at the other, "than see you wear that jacket all summer." It was a pointed comment and Steve could see Eddie squirming out of the corner of his eye. Taking charity wasn't an easy thing, and Steve didn't want to push it, but he was being honest. Money was money... he didn't mind using it for a real cause. If Eddie was going to be more comfortable in his own skin, Steve didn't care if he was spending money on a tattoo or not. "Just tell me where to go, man," Steve offered, not making Eddie verbally accept the offer. He didn't have to say yes or thank you, the goal wasn't to degrade him. Eddie hesitated, and Steve thought that for a moment he was going to say no again and leave it at that. But he spoke, his voice coming out weakly. "Just head towards the Indianapolis marker, we can pull off at Whitecrest." Steve nodded, not making a big deal of it at all as he rerouted. The silence drew out again, the radio DJ speaking quietly in the background as Steve drove the freeway. "What do you think you'll get?" Steve asked, not sure exactly how the tattoo process worked.   Eddie shrugged and there was silence for a while again. Steve could see him picking his nail polish. Steve tried not to say anything about that. He didn't want little black paint flecks in his car. He'd have to vacuum. "Been thinking for a while," Eddie said, his voice quiet still, "I'll see what they have as flash tattoos, but it'd be cool to get something classic. Like a dagger or whatever. See if they could spruce it up. Maybe a coffin or something like that, heavy ink it to uh... cover more skin. Get the band's logo on it." His tone picked up a bit the more he talked, and Steve tried to nod along. He didn't know what a flash tattoo was, but he tried to follow the trajectory of whatever Eddie was talking about. "You ever think about getting a guitar?" Steve asked, trying to contribute to the conversation, "your guitar?" "The Warlock?" Eddie asked, looking over at him. "The what?" Eddie laughed and Steve felt his chest flutter at that, the tension slowly easing out of the car. "The Warlock man, that's the guitar." Steve nodded slowly and got another laugh from Eddie, this one sounding more genuine. "It's like the brand man, like your car is a BMW, no well, that's the maker. Your like car model, Warlock is the model of guitar." Eddie started ranting, rolling through his explanation and veering off on a tangent about the various musicians who had played the same guitar. Steve peppered in questions here and there, trying to listen while he focused on the road. He didn't know anything about music and he didn't pretend to, just listening to the way Eddie spoke and how slowly that discomfort eased from him as he yammered on and on about his interest. It made Steve smile, the rumble of the freeway under his feet, and the promise that Eddie was going to finish this day better than it had started.  Pt1.2 Pt2 Pt3

#Steddie #Stranger Things #Stranger Things Fic #Steddie fic #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson

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turntechgodsmut · 3 months

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HOW CAN I CONTACT NICK PLEASEEE IM A 13 YR OLD SILLY GIRL WHO IS INFACT MENTALLY ILL IM ACTUALLY PERFECT FOR HIS STANDERDS PLEASEEE I NEED TO TALK TO HIM :3

For your own sake I’m hoping this is a joke

If it’s not, here! I’ll give you the full details on what to expect if you contact him! Because I met him when I was 14 and also a mentally ill silly girl!

Expect to be brutally raped. This is not gentle, you will be bleeding for days. He will slam your head against walls and choke you to the point you are gasping out for precious air, it’s not a sexy kind of choking. It’s the kind where it hurts as you struggle to breathe and suffocate slowly. It’s a near death experience on the regular. Speaking of near death experience! He will threaten you with knives, he held one to my throat. It’s an indescribable feeling, when you feel your stomach sink as you realize your life could end right there at the hands of another human. It makes your body react in ways you can’t control.

You will find yourself sobbing and crying, because he will make you feel insane and delusional for thinking anything is wrong with this relationship. You will beg him so many times to stop hurting you, to stop raping you, he will not stop. He may apologize after, but he will do it again.

If you’re like me you may even attempt suicide while dating him! Don’t expect him to visit you in the psychiatric hospital, he doesn’t care about you that way. But he will use your body again as soon as you’re out.

He is a parasite too. He thrives off of tons of people. Expect him to hurt your friends! He raped my friends too! We all hid our scars we received from him from each other, we were too ashamed despite all of us hurting because of him. You will feel intense guilt for being the reason he even knew them.

There is also the subject of family and loved ones! Years after this you may finally have the courage to tell them what you went through. They will feel shame and anger and guilt for having not seen the signs, for having not helped you. They will look at you for the rest of your life knowing how much you were hurt and they will hate themselves for letting it happen to you. You will always see it behind their eyes, it never goes away.

It never ever goes away. You won’t be able to maintain a normal relationship ever again. You can try, but every time someone touches you, you will struggle to not flinch, to not think they will hurt you too. Sex will never be enjoyable, your mind will always remember the ways you were hurt and violated. The way you gave someone so much trust to be intimate with you, and the way your trust was quickly broken.

And what about the rest of your life? Well! You will be so mentally fucked, you will cry for days on end about how you lost your childhood, lost your innocence to a fucking creep. To some fucking loser. If you’re like me you’ll be too depressed and traumatized to make anything out of yourself! You just become a shit college dropout addicted to drugs that help numb the pain.

Do not make the same mistakes I did. I thought I was so special and mature for having an older guy pay attention to me. Older guys who go after little girls do so because they are losers. No girls their age like them. They know how to utilize their power over you. I get wanting to fall into self destruction, I was the same. But please do not ever subject yourself to people like this. It isn’t worth it.

I only hold onto this url bc I don’t want “stans” of his taking it and glorifying him. He is a monster. Years later I still have nightmares about him. Even recollecting everything to answer this ask had me breaking down, but if I can tell the honest truth, in such a way that no child will ever have to go through what I went through, I will.

Please just do something better with your time. You are young, enjoy it while you are able to. Have fun, be silly, pick up creative hobbies. Live your life for YOURSELF not for some fucking man who will not give a shit about you later.

#sorry to word this so harshly but #I want this to scare you #bc I didn’t know the truth of how awful he was as a kid #and maybe if I had known what he was really like and the long term affects #maybe I would have been too scared to talk to him #ppl told me to stay away but never really told me why #maybe having something more definitive will work better than just a “stay away”

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my-adhd-gremlin-blog · 1 year

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JimmyVillainArcJimmyVillainArcJimmyVillain-

I wrote a fic.

It's my time to shine, folks. Nothing makes me happier than to write a bit of angst, and Jimmy's last episode was fuel for my angst fire 🤣.

I think it was in a stream that he said he wanted to fix the gunpowder farm so that he could "blow up the other empires", and you know I just took that and ran with it.

As much as I love Jimmy, though, he's a soggy biscuit and I don't know how well he could pull of a villain arc, so I'm manifesting with this fic, basically🤣.

(I don't usually write fanfiction, let alone share it, it isn't really my style, but Jimmy's villain arc has so much potential for angst that I had to give it a go. It's also been so long since I've been this invested in a fandom, so I actually had fun writing this. Enjoy 😁).

Edit: Whoops! I forgot to put cw: character death/suicide (in the Minecraft sense; they respawn)

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The tiny, mechanical heart thuds in Jimmy's chest as he rises from his bed in Tumble Town. Gem, the pacifist princess, murdered him in cold blood. What made Jimmy a target? Why were they out to get him? Straightening his hat, Sheriff Jimmy set out across the mesa, heading toward the gunpowder farm that they all so loved to tease him for. As per usual, pickings were slim. No matter, he thought, as that was about to change. Even if it took all night, Jim would get what he needed. Enough was enough; it was time to make everyone pay for making him feel so small.

It's game time.

•

Stratos was first. He and the god may have reconciled, but Jimmy hadn't forgotten who made him this way to begin with. No one was safe, not anymore. If he wanted to prove his point, the whole world had to suffer. It was a sunny morning when the Sheriff decided to pop in to visit God Joel. Early rise, just like he was taught. Joel wasn't alone; the goblin and that traitorous princess were with him, making trade deals and small talk. From the sky, they looked like good friends, catching up on the week's events. Friends. The word left a bitter taste in Jimmy's mouth as he soared lower and lower, just catching the end of Joel's conversation with Gem.

"...dropped Hermes off with Daddy Sausage in Sanctuary last night. They've started asking questions about where babies come from, little tyke."

Gem laughed delicately. When Jimmy landed, no one payed him any attention. He cleared his throat, and the others looked around, unable to identify the source of the noise. Fwhip spotted him first.

"Oh, hey, little fella," he said, too brightly for Jimmy's liking. He crouched down to the toy Sheriff's level, and continued, "What brings you out of Trouble Town today?"

Jimmy said nothing. He just stood there, staring down the people who he once so desperately sought the approval of, feeling nothing at all. Fwhip stepped back, rising back to his full height. He was smirking like nothing was wrong, but when Jimmy was through with them, no one will be laughing.

"I think the Sheriff has gone shy. What's the matter, Jim, all tuckered out from playing with Andy?"

Joel chuckled. "Be careful, Fwhip. You don't want to be on the receiving end of Jimmy's short temper."

"Come on, guys, leave him alone," protested Gem. "It's a long journey to Stratos for a guy so small."

Still, Jimmy did not speak. Instead, he smiled. A smile that the others did not recognise. It was not his usual bright and toothy grin. This smile was cold and emotionless. It did not reach his eyes, and looked completely wrong on his face. The others' face changed, too. Gone was the playfulness, replaced with worry, and just a hint of fear.

"Uh... Jim? You doing alright, buddy?" Joel asked nervously.

"You know we're only teasing you, right?" Gem added.

"Yeah, it's just a joke, pal," said Fwhip.

Jimmy sighed. "That's your problem. You think this is all a joke. You think I'm a joke." His voice was rough and gravelly. It cracked from unshed tears. But Jimmy was not going to cry in front of them. He had too much left to say.

Turning to speak directly to Joel, he said, "You ruined my life, and you laughed. Again and again, you've humiliated me. You gave my son away!" Jimmy bowed his head, and took a deep breath. "All I wanted was respect, for someone to see me for me, not this twisted version of me that you turned me into. I wanted someone to stay." He looked at Fwhip as he spoke that last sentence, but he was thinking about Scar. The man who saw passed the stitches and stuffing, who saw the potential in him and his humble Empire. The world felt a little less lonely when Scar was around, but even he chose to leave him. No one wanted to stay with him, not even his rancher, his Tango.

If the world didn't want him, then he would watch it burn. "I'm so tired of being the butt of everyone's jokes. But I'll be the one having the last laugh. Stratos is rigged to blow."

The other leaders were rendered speechless. This was not the Sheriff they had gotten used to walking all over.

"What do you mean, 'blow'?" Joel asked, slowly.

Jimmy laughed lightly. "So glad you asked, poser. You're all familiar with the Tumble Town gunpowder farm? Well, you should be, you've mocked me for it enough times. That 'pathetic farm' has been working overtime, and has produced me enough TNT that when I light it up, this sham of an Empire will be blasted right out of the sky. If I'm lucky, Chromia will be taken as collateral damage."

The god, usually so strong and unshakeable, looked terrified. He dropped to his knees, and began to plead with the monster he'd created.

"Jimmy, please. I thought we were friends, don't do this. There are innocent people down there."

"Do you really think I care? Did you care about anything you put me through? No, I don't think so. Man, if they could see their god now. Trembling before a toy."

Jimmy pushed back his vest, revealing the stick of dynamite in his holster. He lit his flint and steel, touching it to the fuse. It began to spark immediately.

"I'm not a toy, Joel. Do you hear me? Are you all listening?! I - AM - NOT - A - TOY!"

Each word was laced with venom, and by the time Jim had finished speaking, the fuse had burnt out.

Smallishbeans was blown up by SolidarityGaming

fWhip was blown up by SolidarityGaming

GeminiTay was blown up by SolidarityGaming

SolidarityGaming blew up.

•

That tiny, mechanical heart began to beat again. Jimmy sat up in his bed, satisfaction growing as his actions truly began to sink in with the others.

Stratos was gone, and Tumble Town was as quiet as the grave. Its residents were long gone, not knowing what had become of their Sheriff. Not knowing how damaged he truly was.

Joel would be waking up at spawn by now, scrambling to salvage what was left of his Empire. The goblin and the princess would try to help, but there would be nothing left to save.

One down, eleven to go, Jimmy thought. I think Gobland will be next.

____________________________________________

(Notes: I felt like I had to note that Hermes was not in Stratos while this happened. No demigod children were harmed in the making of this fic 🤣. Also, I don't really know what kind of toy I imagine Jimmy as. I guess something similar to Woody, but if he was human before and was turned into a toy, there has to be working organs in there, right? So I imagined his heart as like, a tiny ticking clock, just in case that wasn't clear. Thanks for reading.)

#empires smp #empires season two #empires smp fanfic #empires smp fanfiction #jimmy solidarity #joel smallishbeans #esmp fwhip #goblin fwhip #geminitay #tw character death #tw su1cide

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aperrywilliams · 11 months

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Green Card - Ch6: And if It Were True? (Spencer Reid x Fem!OC)

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Author Masterlist / Series Masterlist

Previous chapter < > Next chapter

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!OC (Ana María González)

Series summary: What reason leads two complete strangers to marry? For Spencer, the chance of his mom being admitted into a new medical trial. For Ana María González is to get the elusive green card.

Chapter summary: Ana and Spencer share some intimate memories and truths, and they start to feel confused about their new friendship.

Word Count: 6k

CW: I marked this one like 16+. Please respect that. Strong words. They talk about blood and medical stuff. Spencer has nightmares. Mention of Spencer's abduction and addiction. Semi-nudity and sexy dancing (fem). Mention semi-nudity (male). Description of molestation episodes as a child and danger of rape (not consumed). Mention of suicide, murder, and rape (none of the characters involved). If I forgot something, let me know.

A/N: This was a bit hard to write, but it gives more context about Ana's life before coming to the US.

——————

"That can't be credible. A transplant in one hour? By a kid of sixteen?" Spencer complained, pointing to the TV.

"Hey! They were in a hurry, and it was not any guy. We're talking about Doogie Howser," Ana clarified, sipping her tea.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Still, I can't believe they made it. Did you know the record time for a massive emergency team response in Los Angeles is 4.5 minutes? Here they did it in 2.5! That's ridiculous!"

Ana narrowed her eyes.

"We are still clear this is fiction, right?"

"I know! But I suppose they wanted to make it believable. That's my point."

Ana and Spencer just ended up watching the entire show's first season. Both were absorbed by the screen enough not to pay too much attention to the clock until the credits of the last episode.

"We are going to regret this in the morning," Ana anticipated, standing from the couch and stretching a little. Spencer nodded in agreement.

She was right, but for Spencer, these were the best hours of his last week. And not because of how good a show Doogie Howser was, but rather because he turned off his brain for a while. And all thanks to Ana's insistence. If Spencer felt anything at this moment, it was gratitude and appreciation for her.

True to her word, Ana didn't ask or insist that Spencer get to talk about what had him so frustrated.

They both tacitly agreed it was time to sleep. Without saying a word, they walked until they reached the door of their respective rooms.

"Good night," Ana said, just about to enter her room.

"Ana?" Spencer stopped her.

"Yeah?" she asked curiously.

"Thank you. For today. For everything, truth be told."

"Don't mention it. Sleep well. You need it, mister accuracy," the girl joked, pointing to his chest. Spencer chuckled.

"Sleep well too. Good night."

And as unbelievable as it sounds, Spencer slept great that night, waking up from only a few hours of sleep.

On the way to work, he couldn't help but remember last night's coming and going of comments about the television show, making a smile appear on his face.

What was all this? Definitely something new for him. Something he partly had with his friends at the BAU, but it was not the same. Spencer felt an unspoken complicity with Ana that he couldn't place with anyone else. Not with Maeve, that's for sure.

He had never gotten to that stage with Maeve—something as simple as doing anything, reading, watching TV, even going to the movies.

No, the activities with her were going out to dinner, visiting museums and conferences, and catching up with sexy time. She spontaneously appeared at the BAU and met Spencer's colleagues only a few times. At most, she agreed to go to one of Rossi's dinners, but the taste of the evening got somewhat bitter. She didn't look comfortable, and neither did Spencer. From then on, Maeve disappeared from the BAU's radar.

"Hey Reid, you look pretty good compared to how you left the bullpen yesterday," Luke pointed as soon as Spencer arrived at his desk.

"I had a good night of sleep, I guess?" he offered as an explanation, although he knew it was more than that.

"Nice to hear. The bad thing is Penelope already called us with a new case to the conference room," the guy shrugged apologicately. Spencer sighed, his good mood faltering a little.

The case looked worse than the one they wrapped yesterday, and Spencer couldn't hide his disgust. At the police station, flipping between the case file, his mind wasn't really there.

'What will she be doing right now?', 'Will she have ended her shift right now?', 'Maybe I should make the dinner when I get back,' 'I should ask Rossi for a recipe to try.'

Spencer stopped suddenly when he realized where his mind had gone. Why was he thinking of her? It wasn't bad, but the man felt odd doing it. They were still strangers in need. Friends to some extent. Roommates for necessity. It wasn't right.

"Are you okay, Spence?" JJ's voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Yeah. Yeah," Spencer assured, returning to the file he was reading.

But things didn't improve for Spencer. In two days, the case turned into a mess when they found the unsub was using religious motives to kidnap, drug, and torture his victims until they died. The similarities didn't go unnoticed by Spencer or the team. Hankel. Too vastly matching what Tobias Hankel did.

Spencer sidelined himself a couple of times from discussions about the case and could not participate in the take-down to arrest the unsub. Emily understood Spencer's reluctance but was worried about the consequences this might have on him later.

Back in Virginia, Spencer was drained and only thinking about sleep until next week—something odd for someone as workaholic as him.

His teammates looked shocked at how Spencer was the first to cross the glass doors out once Emily sent them home after the debriefing.

Disappointment found Spencer when he realized the apartment was dark. Nobody was there. What was he expecting? Be greeted by Ana, who would have waited for him? Yeah, maybe he did expect that.

Huffing for his own silliness, Spencer walked to the kitchen. His stomach grumbled, and he didn't want to go to bed without eating again. The smile returned to his face when in the fridge found a Tupperware with a note on it: 'A leftover if you haven't eaten yet.'

Those little gestures have made Spencer's heart swell. Was it the fact nobody had made things like this for him before? Was the idea of having someone thinking of him? Spencer didn't know, but whatever it was, he was afraid of the consequences.

He left a note over the counter in case he couldn't see Ana the next day: 'Thank you. I promise dinner is up to me next time. And don't worry; I won't cook.'

The note caused the desired effect when Ana read it a couple of hours after when she returned. Chuckling, she moved to the sink to fill a glass of water before bed. Ana soon walked the corridor to her room when a sound from Spencer's room stopped her. It was faint, but she was sure to hear it. A whimper? A sob? Cautiously, she neared her ear to the wooden door. And then a scream.

"Let go of me! Let me go!" Now it was clear, it was Spencer's voice, and it seemed he was struggling with someone. Ana opened the door without much thought and saw the man jittering on the mattress, covered with sweat. His arms were fighting with the air, and his voice strangled with tears.

"Please, let me go!" He repeated over and over.

What should she do? Clearly, he was having a nightmare, but was it a good idea to intervene? The main concern for Ana was Spencer could hurt himself. She knew about vivid nightmares, and that kind of outcome wasn't rare. Slowly she approached his bed, speaking in a soft voice.

"Spencer? Can you hear me? It's me, Ana. Can I come closer?"

Spencer kept tosing, wiggling his arms as he tried to fight against something or someone.

"They want to kill me. Don't let him kill me, please," he begged, still dreaming. Ana dared to hover over Spencer, tentatively touching one of his arms.

"They won't do anything. Spencer, you are in your apartment. We are alone here. Please wake up," she encouraged him.

"I don't want to die. Please, tell him I don't want to die," he cried.

That broke Ana's heart. Now more confident, she sat beside him on the mattress, holding his hands and rubbing them in smooth patterns. Spencer's breathing was still irregular, but it seemed he was waking up.

His eyes shot open, and seeing Ana's face broke the dam. He was fully crying now, hiding his face on Ana's lap.

"Hey, you're okay. You're safe," Ana mumbled, rubbing Spencer's back.

"No. I'm not," he sobbed, clutching at Ana's sweater. He looked so vulnerable it cracked her heart.

Ana wondered about what horrible things had happened to Spencer's beautiful soul. She had some ideas, but he hadn't told her much yet.

"I promise you're safe. I'm not letting anything bad happen to you, okay?"

She didn't know where those words came from. Ana wasn't even sure what was happening, yet she felt the urge to protect him at all costs.

Still rubbing his back, Ana held him until his sobs became sporadical sniffles. Maybe it took five minutes or ten; Ana wasn't sure, but when she saw how Spencer's breathing evened out, she felt things were improving.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, still not able to let go of his grasp of Ana's sweater. "I did you wake up," he apologized, drying his tears with the sleeve of his pajama shirt.

"Nu-uh. Don't be sorry, Spencer. You were having a nightmare. A nasty one, I would say. And if it makes you feel better, I just came home. I was heading to my room when I heard you," she explained, reaching for some locks of hair that covered his face. Spencer sighed, now fully conscious of his surroundings.

"I haven't had one like this in a long time. I sure scared you with my screams," Spencer mumbled, embarrassed.

"I would say more than scaring, I worried. Can I ask you something, though?"

Spencer's eyes found hers, almost fearing the question was coming. Ana noticed.

"No, you don't have to tell me what happened, but it would be a good idea if you changed your pajama. It's damped, and it wouldn't be good to keep it like that on your skin. And you could use a warm cup of tea. Conozco un secreto para hacer una agüita milagrosa, especial para estos casos (I know how to make a cup of miraculous brew for this specific purpose).” Spencer frowned.

"Agüita? Like little water?"

Ana chuckled.

"It's more like 'brebaje especial,' or medicinal tea," she explained. Spencer hummed. Even if he managed to understand most of Ana's Spanish, there were words still too specific for him. He liked to learn about them, though.

"Come on. Change your clothes and join me in the living room, okay?"

When Spencer came to the living room with a new pajama and a robe covering his frame, Ana walked from the kitchen with two mugs. Sitting on the couch, she handed him a cup.

"It's hot, but it'll help. I promise."

They kept silent for a while. Spencer carefully sipped his brebaje. It tasted bitter, but he felt better after a few drinks. Ana did not say a word, not wanting to disturb him.

"He drugged me," Spencer mumbled suddenly. Ana looked at him, confused. "Hankel. Tobias Hankel," he clarified.

"The guy who kidnapped you?" Ana asked, remembering what the BAU girls told her at Rossi's. Spencer nodded.

"The team says I died, and he brought me back. I don't remember much; he kept me drugged constantly. With Dilaudid." The images and flashes came to Spencer's mind as he recounted what happened.

"Jeez, Spencer. I'm sorry," Ana mumbled, clutching her mug tighter. She suspected where this was going.

"Worst part was I got addicted. I struggled to come clean. I have been sober for ten years now. But when the nightmares come, I still think of getting high," Spencer sighed. "I'm so weak."

Immediately Ana's free hand flew to one of his biceps.

"No. You are not. Cravings happen. You fight every day against that, and you're here, still fighting."

Ana was determined not to let Spencer go into that rabbit hole. She knew how vulnerable he felt but would do anything to help him.

"But sometimes I feel so tired. You know, I - the last case. The unsub was drugging his victims like Hankel did with me. And I asked myself, why can't I stop them? Why do more people have to put up with that? And then I think a hit could make everything easier."

Spencer's words rang heavy in the air. It wasn't the first time he thought about that, but maybe it was the first time he voiced it.

"But you know the hit at the end won't make go away those things, right?" Ana prompted.

"Yeah. I know. And then I think about what you told me the other day. About why I'm still doing this," Spencer mentioned.

"I wasn't trying to impose my perspective. I'm sorry if it sounded like that," Ana hastened to apologize, and Spencer's hand went over hers to reassure her.

"It was a valid question. It is a valid question, indeed. Don't apologize. The thing is, I found myself wondering the same, you know?"

Ana sighed, she could see his struggle, and the urge to do anything to ease his pain increased.

"You are a good man, Spencer. You should know that. And it's completely valid if you want different things in life. It doesn't mean you have to shut down everything, but you can see changes as good things and not so terrifying," Ana told him, squeezing his hand. It was a gesture they got used to. Her hand on his felt comforting and right. Spencer looked at her with a sheepish smile on his face.

"Thank you. And I'm sorry for overwhelming you with my - you know - things."

Ana shook her head.

"Don't be sorry. I'm happy to help. Also, I told you I was a good listener," she reminded him, releasing his hand to pat his knee.

"I can be a good listener too. I mean, if you need to. I know you said you didn't like to talk about yourself that much, but if you need to, I would be happy to hear you," Spencer offered, shyly looking at Ana. She returned him a smile.

"Thank you. I appreciate it. And I'll keep it in mind, okay?" Ana paused. "How do you feel now?" now she asked, pointing to his mug. Spencer looked at the empty cup. He did feel better.

"Way better. I would say this 'agüita' worked," Spencer confessed. "You were right." Ana chuckled, Spencer's Spanish accent wasn't the best, but she found it cute.

They kept talking for a while until he saw how tired Ana was. Despite her offering to stay up with him, Spencer insisted he was fine and both should go to sleep. Reluctantly, Ana agreed.

After that night, Spencer started to feel more confused. For him, Ana was still an enigma in many ways. Despite his skills as a profiler, he could tell the armor she placed in front of her rarely allowed him to see beyond. He had no doubt Ana was a powerful and tenacious woman with a difficult past. But whenever they came up with the subject of her life before coming to the US, she tended to say general things and then move the topic elsewhere.

He wanted to know more. Sure, he told himself it was for the best outcome in the interview, but deep down, there was something else, and he couldn't pinpoint it.

How much time had he left to find out?

During another case happening in Los Angeles, Spencer's phone chimed with a text. It was from Ana.

'I just got a letter from Immigration. They scheduled our interview for July 3rd.'

That's a month from there, Spencer estimated. He didn't know how to feel, to be honest. In a month, things would be over. Ana would go with her life, and they would part ways.

It was what they both wanted, right?

Ana told herself the same. As she got the letter, her anxiety thrived. It would happen eventually, but she wasn't sure how to feel about it. She had grown closer to Spencer in the almost two months they had been 'living together.' But she knew it wasn't her place, and it wasn't her life. The guy needed to get back his life, and she must move on with hers. Period.

A heatwave stroked hard in DC on the first days of June. Ana was displeased, so one of those days, when she got to the apartment after a long shift, she took a cold shower and decided to keep out of clothes except for a sports bra and panties. Spencer wasn't home, he left for a case four days ago, so it was no harm. She cooked dinner and ate watching a TV show. When she was done, it was still early, so she decided to tidy up the place. With her earbuds on, Ana chose her 'aseo playlist' and started to work.

A while later, she was so immersed in the music she didn't hear the front door open.

"Ana?" Spencer called once he realized the lights were on, but he got no response.

He wasn't prepared for what he entered in his living room. Ana was sweeping the floor while she danced and sang to the rhythm of a song.

'The lights are on, but you're not home

Your mind is not your own

Your heart sweats, your body shakes

Another kiss is what it takes.'

But seeing her dancing wasn't the only thing that captivated Spencer; it was her outfit or lack thereof. Spencer's eyes fixated on Ana's exposed skin as he felt his cheeks burning - and other parts of his body too.

'Whoa, you like to think that you're immune to the stuff, oh yeah.

It's closer to the truth to say you can't get enough. You know you're gonna have to face it;

You're addicted to love.'

Without knowing what was going on behind her back, Ana kept performing to - for her - a non-existing audience. The cadence of the music made her hips move sensually. An open-mouthed Spencer watched as this beautiful - and almost naked - woman danced. Still scanning her body, he noticed a tattoo on her back and another on her right ribcage.

It was wrong, he knew, but he couldn't stop looking at her.

The charm bubble burst once Ana turned around to find a stunned Spencer staring at her.

"Oh, fuck!" Ana almost tripped with the broomstick, which fell to the floor. "Spencer! I didn't see you coming!" she yelled, pulling out her earbuds.

Spencer still couldn't say a word. He tried to keep his composure and gaze at her eyes, not her body. Then is when Ana realized her appearance. Little she could do for it, though.

"Shit. I'm sorry. I know this is inappropriate, but I didn't know you would be coming home today," she apologized, trying to cover herself behind the counter.

"I - uh, sorry. I should have texted. We caught the guy early this morning," he explained, averting his gaze to any direction but her.

"Good! That's good!" she nervously chirped.

Spencer knew he had to move. Ana was feeling enough embarrassment, and it wasn't right.

"Uh. I'm going to change. Don't mind me. You can resume your - well, what you were doing," Spencer said, still nervous but trying to sound calm and forcing his legs to cooperate and walk out of the living room.

"Oh. Okay. I can heat some dinner for you in the meantime. Well, after I put on some clothes," Ana half-joked as Spencer sauntered to his room as fast as he could.

Heat. What a choice of words, he thought.

"Thank you!" he called before shutting his bedroom door.

Ana felt mortified. It wasn't the fact she was almost naked dancing in the living room, or maybe it was, but it was more the fact Spencer saw her like that, so exposed.

She would never admit it, but she had also seen the boy in almost no clothes getting out of the shower one morning. Clearly, she didn't mention it to him. Ana realized the kind of domesticity they were hauling and how it could expose them in this way. It's not that she didn't like the idea; it was more that she liked it too much.

Spencer tried to forget what he saw that night. Still, even without an eidetic memory, he wouldn't—another reason why Spencer was captivated by Ana. But he wouldn't do anything about it; he was in a relationship with Maeve and didn't want to mess it up.

However, Spencer started to question his own decision.

It was one of the rare days of paperwork in which he could leave the BAU early. Spencer was grateful for it; the exhaustion from the previous case still had him wishing he could sleep for days.

Spencer was about to put the key in the lock when he heard a loud sound from inside, presumably a glass breaking. In fully-alerted mode, he pulled out his gun and carefully opened the door.

He kept frozen on the spot when he saw Ana yelling at the top of her lungs while knocking on the kitchen counter and throwing another glass to the wall.

"Hijo de puta! Maldito bastardo! (Son of the bitch! Bloody bastard!)"

That's when Spencer reacted, holstering his gun and slowly approaching Ana.

What the hell had happened?

"Ana? Hey, hey! What's wrong?" Spencer tried to call her attention, but Ana didn't acknowledge his presence yet. When their eyes met, Ana stopped shouting but still panted and disoriented.

"Qué me estás mirando, ah? También te vas a reir en mi cara? (What are you looking at?! Are you going to laugh at me too?!" the girl asked angrily. Spencer's face was pure confusion.

"What? No-I - what are you talking about?"

"You're not different from them. Nobody is different," Ana kept babbling, eyes to the ceiling to stop the tears pooling from her eyes.

Spencer's concern grew. He's seen people lose their temper like that in his line of work, and not for nothing.

"Ana, talk to me. What happened?"

That's when the girl broke; falling to her knees, she covered her face with both hands, fully crying now. Spencer quickly knelt in front of her to envelop her in a tight embrace.

"Hey, it's okay. It's going to be okay," he reassured, stroking her hair. Ana hid her face in Spencer's chest, crying disconsolately.

"I made a mess," she whined, clutching Spencer's cardigan.

"It doesn't matter. It's not important. Do you want to tell me what's wrong? How can I help?"

Ana contemplated her answer for a while. Spencer deserved an explanation for what was happening. She could have lied about it, but it wasn't fair to him, and she didn't have the energy to.

"I thought I could just forget it, you know? Maybe like that, I could have convinced myself that nothing wrong happened," she sighed.

"Come on, let's go to sit down," Spencer offered, getting up from the floor, helping Ana to do the same, and leading her to the sofa, avoiding the scattered glass shards on the floor.

Seeing she still had trouble breathing steadily, Spencer grabbed her hand and encouraged her to mimic him. Inhaling deeply and exhaling in the same way.

After a couple of minutes doing so, Ana nodded. She felt capable of talking.

"I know you already have noticed I avoid talking about a specific part of my past. Part of my childhood, to be specific. It's not I wanted to hide something from you instead from myself. I have never told anyone about this. I never even told my mom before she died."

Ana shifted in her spot on the couch. Suddenly her throat went dry.

"In my family, well, on my mother's side, blood ties have always been tremendously valued. My mom leaned on her family, especially after my dad left us. In fact, we lived with an aunt for several months until my mom managed to find an apartment that could afford both of us.

At that time, in the house, my aunt lived with his husband and their son. I almost didn't see my uncle; he worked all day. And as the money wasn't enough, my aunt found a job too. My mom doubled shifts at her job, partially to make money and partly to forget her husband had left her. That meant I was alone with my cousin almost every afternoon I got back from school."

Ana paused to gauge Spencer's reaction. He was listening intently to every word. And even if he was running every possible turn in her story in his brain, his trained poker face didn't reveal anything.

"I was a 9-year-old girl, barely trying to understand why her dad was no longer with her. I didn't know much about anything. Just my mom always told me to be careful around strangers. That's why it didn't seem weird to me when my sixteen-year-cousin got very close to me, coincidentally when we were alone. At first, he would agree to play any game I could think of with me. Dolls, cars, PlayStation, whatever. The problem began when he wanted to decide what game to play. The way he looked at me went unnoticed by me at first. But something in my gut told me it wasn't okay when once we were playing doctor-patient, and he wanted me to take off my dress. He convinced me somehow. And I was so confused. God, I thought it was part of the game. That time he only watched me for a long time. The next time it happened, he touched me, fortunately, nowhere intimate part. Every time, he was increasing the risk. The next time it happened, he - he tried to touch me down there, but out of instinct, I didn't let him. But I didn't know what else to do. Then I froze when I saw him grabbing his dick, and he started jerking off in front of me. I didn't even know what that was!" Ana recounted, disgusted at the memory.

"Did he-?" Spencer trailed off. Ana shook her head, knowing what he wanted to ask.

"No. He couldn't. After he finished doing it himself, he sent me to my room. And I got so shocked I couldn't stay with him anymore. I begged to stay at my classmates' houses until my mom could pick me up. A month later, my mom found us an apartment."

Spencer let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"Why you didn't tell your mom?" Ana shrugged.

"She already had a lot on her plate. And she trusted so much in her family. Also, I didn't know what really happened until later in school when people started to talk about abuse and stuff like that." Spencer nodded in understanding.

"What did you do then?" he asked softly.

"For a long time, I pretended it never happened. My mom died, and I didn't have time to think about that. But sure, you can guess I couldn't go like that forever. A time after my mom died, I had to go to therapy. And it helped. I did acknowledge what happened, and it wasn't okay. Still, I couldn't let that event dictate how I establish relationships with people. You know, despite my trust issues, I engaged in some healthy relationships in college and moved on. At least I thought I did until today," Ana sniffled—head shooking in denial.

"What happened today?" Spencer asked.

"I - I never knew what happened to him. I lost all contact with my family after my mom passed. But today I discovered he - he was found dead in his cell after being sentenced for raping and killing three women," Ana winced as the words left her mouth. "Do you know what it means? He hurt others. And I didn't say anything back then! The bastard harmed people and didn't pay for it. And I didn't do anything to prevent it!"

Her tightly-fisted hands collided with the couch's cushions. Frustration, guilt, and anger poured from her. Spencer was quick to react, holding her hands in his.

"Hey, no, no, no. Don't say that. You fought for your safety. You didn't know. You were a child. It's not your fault, okay?" Spencer reassured her.

"But I should have said something! To anyone! Maybe someone could have stopped him," Ana debated, feeling the guilt eating her. Spencer shook his head.

"You had your reasons, Ana. You wanted to protect your mom and yourself. And nothing guaranteed it didn't happen again. He was sixteen then; he was already on the wrong track. It wasn't your call to notice and warn people about him."

Ana took in Spencer's words. It was reasonable. She was a child. Still, it didn't feel enough right now. Her rational brain was fighting with the nagging feeling of remorse.

"Is it bad I wish I never knew what happened to him?" Ana cracked, feeling the tears down her cheeks.

"Not at all. Believe me. There is nothing wrong with that," Spencer assured, embracing her tightly. "And I know you're thinking you were luckier than the others he might and did hurt during his life, and you were. But remember, he did hurt you too. And that isn't any less."

Ana cried, held by Spencer in his arms. It was an intricate feeling. On the one hand, she felt terrible knowing justice didn't get served and how that man managed to hurt more people. But on the other, a relief washed over her after letting it out.

Minutes became at least half an hour. Spencer traced comforting patterns on Ana's back as the tears subsided. He thought she was falling asleep until she spoke again.

"I still made a mess in your kitchen," she mumbled with a raspy voice from the crying.

"It is the last of my concerns right now," he replied, a gentle hand still stroking her back.

"I should go to get rid of the glass shatters," she lifted her head from Spencer's chest, attempting to stand up, but Spencer didn't let her.

"No, no, no. None of that. You'll stay here. I'm going to clean that off, and I'll make some tea for both of us. It may not be like your 'aguitas,' but it will help," Spencer announced.

That made Ana chuckle. Even if she wanted to argue with Spencer about it, she felt already drained to do so.

Spencer was right. His tea was different from Ana's, but it helped. It helped in such a way sleepiness found her quickly, making her doze off on the couch with her head on Spencer's lap. He didn't have the heart to wake her up, so he snatched a blanket from the chair next to the couch and covered them both. As Spencer watched her sleep, his thoughts wandered toward that lingering feeling in him—the urge to embrace her. Not only physically embracing her yet embracing her heart, her whole. It was something new for him.

It wasn't like the need to protect someone vulnerable to danger as he usually did at his job. Ana had already shown early in life that she could cope with adversity. Even so, seeing his heart exposed this way elicited a feeling of admiration and unconditionally. He could no longer see her as a stranger, let alone get the idea she would soon be no longer in his life. Was he naive in thinking they could keep this friendship once everything was over? Was he a fool in believing the feeling was mutual? Was it reasonable to think this was just friendship? Without answering all those questions, an exhausted Spencer fell asleep with Ana in his arms. In his mind, embracing her in more than a way.

Morning found Ana curled on the couch, covered with a blanket and something - someone - else. As she stirred, she felt a pair of arms around her waist. That was enough for her to open her eyes fully.

Those arms were Spencer's. Shit.

Not daring to move, Ana mentally revisited the night before. She fell asleep on Spencer's couch with Spencer himself wrapping his arms around her. Why didn't he wake her up? Was he still sleeping? The soft snoring escaping his lips told her yes.

Ana thought it was a crime to feel so comfortable right now. Should she move? Ana contemplated her options until, as on cue, Spencer stretched, losing his grip on her waist. She moved slowly, sliding off the sofa until she touched the floor. Seeing Spencer still not open his eyes, she got up quickly.

Still groggy from sleep, Spencer opened his eyes, and the first thing he saw was Ana standing before him.

"Hey," he mumbled. Ana mirrored him.

"Hey. Good morning."

"Good morning," he smiled. Ana cleared her throat.

"I'm sorry I fell asleep last night. Why didn't you wake me up?" she asked, not mentioning how they were cuddling in their sleep. Spencer shifted to a sit position.

"You looked tired, and I didn't want you to disturb your sleep," he simply explained, rubbing his palms on his eyes to sweep the remaining slumber.

"I'm sorry. You must have been uncomfortable all night," Ana deduced, taking in the couch and the tall man on it.

Spencer thought about it, and the truth was far from that statement.

"Not really. Quite the opposite," Spencer admitted at loud. Ana gave him an odd look, and he realized what he said. "How are you feeling?" Spencer quickly changed the subject.

"Better, I guess," she shrugged. "I wanted to thank you for listening to me and, well, not kicking my ass out of here after the mess I made in your kitchen," she chuckled. Spencer did the same.

"I would never do that. And I'm glad you're feeling better," Spencer said, giving her a wide smile. Ana could have melted in the spot. How could he be so cute like that? She couldn't help but take in his adorable messy hair and how he rubbed his eyes like a sleepy little kid.

Get a grip, Ana. Get a grip.

"You know, I'm going to make breakfast. If you want to take a shower first," Ana offered, ready to head to the kitchen. Spencer checked his watch, and an idea popped.

"Ana! Wait!" he stopped her. She looked confused, asking if something was wrong. Spencer shook his head. "No, no. It's just, can we do something today? I mean, what if we go out and do breakfast in a new place I found?" Ana raised an eyebrow.

"Are you betraying my coffee shop?" Spencer laughed.

"Never! But I think you'll like the place. It's a beautiful day outside, and we can take a walk afterward. What do you say?"

Ana didn't know why she felt her cheeks turn red. It's not like he's asking her out on a date or anything like that. It's just a friendly outing. He only wanted to be nice to her, she thought.

"Okay. We can do that. One condition, though," Ana prefaced in a serious tone.

"Name it," Spencer quickly replied.

"Only if we're going to eat ice cream afterward," Ana said, and Spencer smirked.

"Deal."

——————

Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @tvandfanfic @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @disaster-in-waiting @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid smut #dr. spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x fem!oc #spencer reid x original female character #spencer reid x latina!oc #spencer reid series #green card

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perspectivestarters · 8 months

Text

Perspective's Sentence Starters; GUTS by Olivia Rodrigo (Part I)

ALL-AMERICAN BITCH

I pay attention to things that most people ignore.

I'm alright with the movies that make jokes 'bout senseless cruelty, that's for sure.

I am built like a mother and a total machine.

I feel for your every little issue.

I make light of the darkness.

I've got sun in my motherfuckin' pocket.

I forgive, and I forget.

I know my age, and I act like it.

I got class and integrity.

I'm a perfect all-American bitch.

I know my place, and this is it.

I don't get angry when I'm pissed.

I'm the eternal optimist. I scream inside to deal with it.

Oh my fucking god.

I'm grateful all the time.

I'm sexy, and I'm kind.

I'm pretty when I cry.

BAD IDEA RIGHT?

Haven't heard from you in a couple of months.

I'm out right now and I'm all fucked up.

I'm sensing some undertone.

I'm right here with all my friends.

You're sending me your new address?

I know we're done.

I know we're through

God, when I look at you...

I should probably not.

It's a bad idea, right?

Fuck it, it's fine.

Yes, I know that he's my ex.

Can't two people reconnect?

I only see him as a friend.

The biggest lie I ever said.

I just tripped and fell into his bed.

I know I should stop, but I can't.

I told my friends I was asleep.

I never said where or in whose sheets.

I'm sure I've seen much hotter men, but I really can't remember when.

VAMPIRE

How's the castle built off people you pretend to care about?

Just what you wanted.

Look at you, cool guy, you got it.

I see the parties and the diamonds sometimes when I close my eyes.

Six months of torture you sold as some forbidden paradise.

I loved you truly.

You gotta laugh at the stupidity.

I've made some real big mistakes, but you make the worst one look fine.

I should've known it was strange.

I used to think I was smart, but you made me look so naive.

You sold me for parts as you sunk your teeth into me.

Every girl I ever talked to told me you were bad news.

God, I hate the way I called them crazy too.

You're so convincing

How do you lie without flinching?

Can't figure out just how you do it and god knows I never will.

Went for me and not her 'cause girls your age know better.

You said it was true love, but wouldn't that be hard?

You can't love anyone 'cause that would mean you had a heart.

I tried to help you out.

How you think's the kind of thing I'll never understand.

LACY

Skin like puff pastry.

Aren't you the sweetest thing on this side of hell?

Did I ever tell you that I’m not doin' well?

Like perfume that you wear, I linger all the time.

It takes over my life.

I see you everywhere.

The sweetest torture one could bear.

I'm losin’ it lately.

I feel your compliments likе bullets on skin.

Aren't you the greatest thing to ever exist?

Like ribbons in your hair, my stomach's all in knots.

You got the one thing that I want.

It's like you're made of angel dust.

It's like you're out to get me.

You poison every little thing that I do

I just loathe you lately.

I despise my jealous eyes and how hard they fell for you.

I despise my rotten mind and how much it worships you.

BALLAD OF A HOMESCHOOL GIRL

I don't think I get along with anyone.

I'm on the outside of the greatest inside joke.

Feels like my skin doesn't fit right over my bones.

So I guess I should go...

The party's done, and I'm no fun.

I told secrets I shouldn't tell.

I stumbled over all my words.

I made it weird.

I made it worse.

Each time I step outside, it's social suicide.

I laughed at the wrong time.

I talkеd to this hot guy, swore I was his type.

Guess that he was makin' out with boys, like, the whole night.

Everything I do is tragic.

Every guy I like is gay.

Oh, god, what did I say?

I'm shocked I'm still alive.

MAKING THE BED

Want it, so I got it.

Another thing I ruined I used to do for fun.

I thought it, so I said it.

Another day pretending I'm older than I am.

Another perfect moment that doesn't feel like mine.

Another thing I forced to be a sign.

Sometimes I feel like I don't wanna be where I am.

Push away all the people who know me the best.

It's me who's been makin' the bed.

I'm so tired of bein' the girl that I am.

Every good thing has turned into somethin' I dread.

I'm playin' the victim so well in my head.

I read somewhere it's 'cause my life feels so out of control.

I tell someone I love them just as a distraction.

They tell me that they love me like I'm some tourist attraction.

They're changin' my machinery, and I just let it happen.

I got the things I wanted, it's just not what I imagined.

Counting all of the beautiful things I regret.

#rp sentence starters #rp sentence meme #rp sentence prompts #sentence starters #sentence meme #sentence prompts #lyric sentence starters #lyric starters #music starters #rp meme #rp memes #rp prompts #ask meme #exodusmusing #*mystarters #*guts

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ckiine · 1 year

Text

Shinichi won't be able to live without Ran

So as a crazy fan of DC we come across waaayyy too little Shinran content especially after Gosho Aaoyama has slowed down the release and lots of other secondary characters getting the highlight. The progress is just beyond slow and frustrating and we get only some random bread crumbs here and there simply because of op and endings and that too is getting repetitive and over used as a lot of many other DC fans have ranted over.

But it sometimes does have a few moments which in retrospect have a much bigger impact if you think about it in the long run of the series and Conan admitting and doing things which he does without any hesitations for Ran.

Movie 1 - The time bombed sky-scraper - Shinichi is literally ready to die with Ran without any other thoughts. He is legit okay with a suicide rather than living on without her. And no it's not because of guilt that he put Ran in danger, but because he chooses her over everything else. Quote - "I will stay right here till you cut it Ran. If we die we die together."

Movie 13 - The Raven chasers - When he talks to Kouske- san (the guy who loses his girlfriend to fire and plans to commit suicide), Conan says he understand how he (Kouske) feels. He understands the loss of will to live without the girl he loves. Now in all honesty it is a conversation between a 7 year old and and man in his late twenties. Can you imagine the intensity of Conan's expression when he says that he understands the loss of a lover to an adult man? And manages to come through to him. Kouske does not mock him or belittle him as to what nonsense a 7 year old is saying but rather connects with him. Because a grieving heart recognizes another. Because Shinichi Kudo loves Ran Mouri, enough to die rather than live without her.

Movie 17 - Private - eye in the distant sea - When Ran falls in the sea and the search party is unable to find her even with all the equipment. They say the maybe the radio-watch has already sank under the sea. Ahem* Ran has drowned* Ahem. Conan is shocked to his core to the point he even questions himself in being a detective. "How can I be a good detective if I cant even find Ran?" Now Sherlock Holmes is someone Shinichi worships like god, his inspiration, his dream to be a detective everything comes from this fictional character, but the loss of this woman shakes him so badly that in an instant he loses complete faith in himself. Loss of oneself is is as good as living like a corpse. Not too mention the immensely grateful and the relived smile as he thanks Kogoro.

Shinichi is completely transparent when it comes to his feelings for Ran.

The detective boys tease him in his interest towards Ran. Like even freaking kids are picking up on his infatuation towards Ran.

Sonoko has already claimed that Conan is interested in Ran multiple times, which Ran passes off as a joke. But in the desperate revival arch Ran seems to be clearly treating Conan as Shinichi which Sonoko immediately picks up.

Kogorou too has multiple times seen Conan blushing and embarrassed when the topic of Ran having a lover comes around. Like come on even Kogorou!!!

During the mountain villa murder case (the introduction of Sonoko) when Oota- san attempted to flirt with Ran. Well I dont even need to elaborate do I? Conan is beyond elated when Ran specifically defends him from being called a brat and thanks him protecting her. His smug look towards Oota is priceless. It is legit a 7 year old elementary school kid challenging a man in university.

Eisuke was literally told to back off by Conan himself. In his jealousy he didn't even care as he revealed his identity to him. He reveals himself only when it's safe till he knows the real identity of Kir and Eisuke but even before that Conan's jealousy is as plain as day. He doesn't even try to hide it in any of the cases. Not to mention the sugary sweet smiles he would pass to Ran when she would pay attention to him

Also the time when Sera was introduced and Conan still didn't know if Sera was actually a 'she'. He literally calls as nonchalantly as possible to ask about and to top it all off it was actually the DB who noticed Conan being agitated at the thought of "Ran-neechan was walking with some boy they didnt know."

Movie 22 - Zero's enforcer - Where do I even begin with this one? The entire plot of the movie literally happens cause Amuro traps Mouri which puts Ran in distress which in turn makes Conan desperate enough to solve the entire situation, just so Ran can be at ease again. Not to mention Amuro himself confessing that if his Ran-neechan gets involved then Conan would of course meddle in.

Movie 24 - The scarlet bullet - Now Sera and Mary are kind of wary of Conan, but Conan has mostly understood the situation. So when he openly calls out to Ran in front of Sera, especially in a way as man would call out to his beloved and he doesn't even flinch away or pulls her away from Sera's gaze. almost as if staking his right over Ran, like, Yes, I have the full right to call her intimately like that. Not to mention he cant see her hurt at aaallllll. The golden lines "You are mine to protect." Not in a male chauvinist way but as someone who feels honored to protect her because Ran as a character pretty much does not depend on anyone. She can hold off on her own.

NOTE - The above drawing is NOT mine. All the credits to the artist.

#dc #analysis #Shinran #shinichi #true love #loyalty #Gosho Aoyama #DC movies

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7-teen · 1 year

Text

SWEET NOTHINGS | k.m.

CHAPTER 1

minors do not interact

genre: seventeen collage au

pairing: mingyu x reader named romi (i hate y/n)

series warnings: minors do not interact : feel free to let me know if im missing any (warnings for specific chapter will not be crossed out) swearing, drugs/weed and alcohol, violence, disordered eating, self harm, toxic relations, explicit sex scenes, slut shaming, body shaming, suicide ideation, light bullying, insecurities (body), mention of weight loss / weight gain

wc: 2.56 k

description: moving across the country for collage to get away from your controlling parents, you never once imagined the kind of people you would meet. when one boy in particular begins to pester you to no end, you are almost ready to throw in the towel until one day all of it changes.

1 | 2

note: if i slip between first and second point of view, please forgive me. i am writing on wattpad is first person, and here in second person so it is a little bit of a struggle | i am also going to be using a mix seventeen’s stage names and given names | minors do not interact |

“hey, do you happen to have a pencil? i was in such a rush this morning that i completely forgot to grab one!” the boy sitting beside you on the last day of your first week of collage asks you.

you looked at him for a moment before looking down at the three pencils that sat perfectly in line on your desk, sharpened perfectly to your liking. you were in quite disbelief that someone would forget something so customary for a class that they are paying thousands of dollars, at least, to attend.

“just give it back at the end of class,” you sigh as you hand it over by the eraser.

“thank you so much! you’re a lifesaver!” he practically did a little hop in his chair before turning to the professor who had just begun the lecture.

it was about half way through the lecture when you got a light tap on your shoulder from the same boy. when you looked over at him, he was pushing a folded paper towards you. you hesitantly took it as be went back to taking notes with a small smile on his face.

i’m dk!, thanks again for the pencil. there is a party happening tonight if you are interested?

you read it over twice before glancing back at dk. he was scribbling away, writing whatever the professor was talking about at that moment. you stopped and thought about it for a second. this is something you never do, something you would have never in a million years thought of doing. but was that thought nothing but your parents controlling words speaking to you? you were twenty one, perfectly legal to be drinking and smoking weed if you really wanted to.

you wrote back: i’m romi, i guess i will come. when and where?

you slid the note back over to him before going back to your own notes. he never passes the note back to you the rest of the class, and you had almost forgotten about it until the professor released everyone from the lecture.

“romi? that is such a nice name! so the party starts at 8 pm tonight. it’s at my frat house here on campus! i can come get you, or walk with you if you are living in dorms,” dk began explaining the moment he had the go ahead to stop taking notes.

you closed your textbook and notes, sliding them into their specific pocket in your backpack before you looked back at him with your hand extended for your pencil. he looked down at it for a second before placing it in your hand. you made a mental note to sharpen it again when you had the chance.

“i live in dorms,” you respond simply to him, pulling the strap of your back over your shoulder after having finished putting everything away neatly in your bag.

“got any classes left?” he asked as you guys began to walk out of the classroom.

“no, this was my last one,” you inform him.

“actually, my friend and i have this cool spot and i-“ he was saying before he was cut off by two men, one that towered over the other by quite a bit.

“dk! look at you! you found yourself a girlfriend?” the shorter one asked in a joking tone, as he locked dk in a headlock.

“no wonders i never have a girlfriend,” dk muttered under his breath. “but i think that her and i are more best friends material than dating material, no offence.”

“none taken at all,” you assure him as you guys begin to walk slowly down the halls. many girls whisper and stare as you walk.

“best friend? i’m sure if you pressed the right buttons you would get something else,” the taller man said as he looked you up and down, his bottom lip pulled into his mouth.

“god you’re disgusting, gyu,” the short man almost snorted as he threw his arm across your shoulders. dk looked at you with an apologetic expression. “don’t listen to him, he never knows when to shut up.”

“i am sure he doesn’t,” you mutter almost to yourself as everyone picks up a bit of speed to go with the flow of traffic in the halls.

“I’m seungcheol, call me cheol, asshole back there is mingyu,” cheol tells you. his arm was still tightly around your shoulders.

“romi,” you respond slightly annoyed, your arms are crossed tightly across your chest.

“why don’t we have more girls in our group?” cheol calls back to mingyu and dk who have fallen in step with one another behind you two. you could feel cheol looking down at you as he asks.

“was that meant to be a rhetorical question?” you asked as you all turned a corner. you soon became aware of all three boys looking at you, cheol and dk with amusement, mingyu with annoyance and slight anger.

“i don’t think he was talking to you,” mingyu snapped, coming to a complete stop. a girl behind him nearly ran into him as she looked up from her phone.

“based off your reaction, you seem to know what i believe the problem is already,” you tell him, about to start walking off again before you are cut off by mingyu. you look up at him.

“i haven’t done shit,” he said sternly, almost yelling. his finger an inch away from your face as he steps into you, forcing you to take a step back.

“i never said you did, but thanks for clearing up my suspicions,” you say sarcastically with a slight chuckle.

mingyu took another step into you, and when you went to step back again you hit a wall. your face was an inch from his chest, you could smell his expensive cologne waft into your face. thinking back, you could have probably seen each individual fibre in his shirt that stretched across his toned chest.

“hey, hey, hey, leave her be,” dk said, placing a firm hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“whatever,” mingyu snapped as he turned and walked away.

you pause for a moment to regain your composure before you begin walking in the opposite direction that mingyu had gone off in. cheol and dk quickly catch up behind you as you walk, and cheol’s arm falls comfortably onto your shoulders again.

“so, as i was saying before gyu and cheol rudely interrupted, a group of our friends are going to hang out before the party, and i was wondering if you wanted to join too,” dk smiled at you as you walked with your arms still bound tightly across your chest.

“i promise you that the only other member of our group that you have to worry about is dino, and he is much more toned down that mingyu,” cheol tried to assure you.

“are you guys going to follow me right to my dorm?” you ask, avoiding the question at hand.

“that entirely depends on how hot your roommate is,” cheol laughs, but he quickly stops once he catches your glare. “sorry, bad joke.”

“okay, but she is pretty hot,” you admit with a small laugh after a moment of silence passes between the three of you. “you might be her type.”

“really? do you think you could get her to come to the party?” cheol asks in a way too excited tone.

“that wouldn’t be difficult,” you laugh, releasing a yelp as cheol grabs you by the waist and spins you. “wow, you get comfortable easy.”

“oh, just wait until you meet minghao and vernon,” dk laughs as the three of you leave the building into the beautiful, hot summer day. you squint and try to block the sun with your hand the best you can as your eyes adjust to the light.

“you never answered the question,” cheol points out, followed by dk pouting.

“i mean, i don’t really have anything else to do i guess,” you groan as you kick at the grass under your feet.

“is that a yes?” dk asks. when you look at him his eyes are practically sparkly with hope. you release a long sigh.

“that is a yes,” once you had looked back at dk, you knew there was no chance of you getting out of this one.

“alright! so we need to get your bathing suit. and maybe your roommate will come?” cheol asks, sounding slightly shy about the request. it is a very different side to him than the overly confident persona he first gave off.

“a bathing suit?” you stop dead in your tracks.

“yeah, we all go hang out by a lake about an hour away from here. what’s wrong? is everything okay?” cheol asks, sounding slightly worried.

“yeah, i mean it’s fine. i just can’t swim,” you admit slightly embarrassed as you begin to walk again, quicker than before.

“oh that’s fine, not everyone goes in the water. you can just hang out on the dock and dip your feet in the water,” cheol says with a relieved tone in his voice that makes you want to laugh.

not too long after, you guys reach your dorm. its a small two bedroom dorm, with a tiny shared bathroom and a tiny shared kitchen. it isn’t much but it is perfect and your roommate and you haven’t run into any issues yet.

“harlow?” you call out as you step into the dorm. you were kind of nervous asking her as you guys didn’t know each other very well considering it was the first week of classes.

“what?” she called back before her door opened. her eyes widened slightly at the two men standing behind you before she regained her composure.

“want to come hang out at a lake with cheol, dk and a few of their friends with us?” you ask her, motioning to cheol and dk respectively.

“um, yeah sure! give me about twenty minutes,” she smiles at you guys before disappearing back into her room.

dk and cheol follow you into your room as you kneel down by the drawer you have that is full of unworn bikinis. you sigh as you look at them all, a overwhelming feeling settling in.

“can we choose which one you wear?” dk asks, almost excitedly.

“you can do a fashion show for us!” cheol says, but he is excited.

“i mean, i guess so?” you agree hesitantly as the two boys kneel down over your bikini drawer.

when they finally lay the three bathing suits on your bed, you feel almost more overwhelmed than you did before. they chose three bikini’s that you would have never decided to wear, in fact all three still had the tag on them as you had opened the package when you received them and almost immediately put them into your drawer.

“we won’t look!” dk announced as him and cheol turned their backs to you, covering their eyes with their hand as added protection.

you picked up the first one. it was high waisted, which was promising, but leopard print. the top had a rectangular gold ring holding the two cups together. when you put it on you immediately knew it was a no. it cut into you at weird placed, the cups of the top were too big, and the bottoms looks like a leopard print diaper. you audibly laughed at yourself in the mirror.

“you guys can look, but this most definitely is not a bikini i will ever be wearing. unless i gained weight in my boobs and butt and lost weight in my stomach and thighs,” you laugh as you try and adjust it to make it less awful.

“how could you even lose any weight from your stomach or thighs?” dk asks as him and cheol turn and around and cheol absolutely loses it in a fit of laughter. “do they think girls are sticks?”

“okay, that was my choice. i apologize for making you wear it,” cheol admitted as he regains control over himself. “it had potential.”

“i guess you could say that,” you laugh as you pick up the second one. “turn around.”

as you are changing into this one, you can’t help but imagine what your parents reaction to this whole situation would be. they would be so mad at just the fact that there are two boys in the room, not to mention the fact that you are changing while they are there as well.

this bathing suit was navy blue. the bottoms cut into a v in the front, and the top was one of those that look as though they are upside down. you knew that the boys were going to love this one, with the amount of underboob that was on full display. you tucked her arms under them, in an attempt to hide it.

“i don’t know,” you mumbled, looking in your mirror.

dk peaks around through his fingers before he hits cheol and they both look at what you are wearing. cheol releases a low whistle as he leans back, not even hiding the fact that his eyes are tracing you from head to toe, and dk’s ears begin to change to a shade of red.

“i mean you, it looks. you look really good,” dk stammers as he tries to find the best way to compliment you.

“you would definitely have everyones attention,” cheol laughs as he glances over at dk who is growing visibly more, uncomfortable? with the situation.

“i am saying no. this is a no,” you announced, as you motion for them to turn with one hand, while the other stays secure under your breasts.

the last one was black, with plain midrise bottoms. the top was a normal triangle bikini too too, except that the laces that go around your chest lace around you multiple times. once you were happy with how you tied it, you smiled at yourself in the mirror.

“you guys can turn,” you mumble as you look, admire, yourself in the mirror. for the first time in a long time you were actually happy with what you saw in the mirror.

“wow,” dk almost whispered. you weren’t even sure if you were meant to hear it.

cheol said nothing, but had a goofy smile spread across his face. his eyes flickered all across your body, but it felt different than when mingyu did it. when cheol checked you out, it felt genuine, whereas when mingyu did it it felt as though he was inspecting a piece of meat.

“i think i like this one,” you smile lightly at yourself in the mirror, before grabbing an oversized david bowie tee shirt and throwing it on.

“god, she keep getting better,” cheol whistled, before you launched a pillow at him that had been laying on your floor. “sorry.”

“romi? you guys ready?” harlow called through the door after a knock. you pull on a pair of jean shorts.

“yep! just one second!” you call back as you grab a bag, shoving a towel, your wallet, a water bottle and a few other things into a tote before opening your door.

“you driving dk?” cheol asks as you all make your way to dk’s vehicle before he even answers.

“as always,” dk laughs as he throws his arm over your shoulder, mirroring cheol with harlow. you could already tell that those two were going to get along really well

#minors dni #mdni #minors do not interact #svt fanfic #svt #svt mingyu #kim mingyu #seventeen series #svt smut #seventeen fanfic #seventeen #kpop fanfic

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purplechaosguardian · 2 years

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Dead Man’s Curve

Cesar has been on his own for a very long time, he literally can’t remember who his best friend is, and he thinks he might have just joined a ghost hunting business.

And he’s been dead for several years.

Tw for implied suicide, mentions of death

Cesar wasn’t sure how long he’s been like this. He knows he’s been dead for a long time, his body was probably long since decomposed, unless it was cremated or something like that. He gingerly reached the gash along his neck, wincing when he made contact even when the pain faded years ago (blood seeping into the carpet, splattered across the wall, coating the blade of the knife. Ugh, that probably took forever to get out). He’s accepted that this was how he was gonna spend eternity, drifting aimlessly from place to place, forever invisible to the world he was once a part of. So much for the pearly gates.

There was a horrible itch in the back of his mind every now and then. Someone important. Someone that couldn’t be replaced. (Please! Don’t hurt him, he did nothing wrong! He doesn’t deserve that, pleASE OH GOD STOP PLEASE I’M BEGGING YOU-). On the days when the loneliness was consuming him more than usual, he’d strained his mind to focus on the very few bits he could recall. Gray hoodie, lover of stupid jokes, incredibly fluffy hair. They never failed to make him feel warm and safe, chasing the darkness away. His own personal safety blanket.

It was one morning where he had fallen back on this comfort yet again. He had been here for quite a while, then rumors of this being a favored ground of the alternates made this a great place to hide. And sometimes it was just better to hide away somewhere than watch the world carry on without you.

Yeah, maybe he should leave sometime soon. This probably wasn’t a healthy mindset to have.

There was creaking nearby, and Cesar perked up. Someone was here? An alternate? No, the footsteps had too much weight to them. Not an animal either, they’d be going a lot faster, and like humans, would be avoiding this place like the plague anyway. Maybe it really was a human? Either that, or there was even more paranormal bullshit. He wouldn’t be surprised with the last one.

Someone had rounded a corner, pale skin and thick, blond hair, and a black hoodie. He looked like he was around Cesar’s age (Was he still 17? Do you still age when you’re dead? Is he like, technically in his 30s now?) fiddling with something in his hand. He didn’t seem to notice Cesar, but it wasn’t like anyone else did. It didn’t stop him from following the guy around, he was the first new thing to come by in a very long time. You can’t blame a guy for being curious. The guy wove through hallways and rooms and Cesar would follow, wanting to see what the guy was looking for. Sometimes he would slightly peek over his shoulder and move faster, and Cesar was glad he could run and keep up. God, why did this guy have to be so tall. Why did he have to be so short?

Wait, was this guy even paying attention to what was around him? The floorboards were rotting the further they went in, couldn’t he see that? One wrong step, and the guy would fall directly into the basement, and-Cesar felt sick at the thought of seeing that much blood a second time. Nope, not on his watch. If the guy was going to keep moving straight, Cesar could probably cut him off by taking a shortcut. Sorry guy. This is probably gonna feel uncomfortable but it’s a whole lot better than breaking your leg. He phased through the guy, noticing the major chill that ran through the other’s body before standing on a patch of very weak floorboards. Was there much of a plan? No, not really, he was just hoping the cold would be too much for the guy to continue whatever quest brought him here in the first place. That was until the other guy’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “Alright, who are you and why the fuck are you following me?”

It was Cesar’s turn to look surprised. “You can see me? You don’t look very dead.” He tried to poke the guy's hand, but his finger went through. “Yep, definitely not dead. What are you even doing here? This isn't a place people come by often, y’know. Unless they’re like, stupid or trying to get scared on purpose or something.” The guy sighed, running his hand through his hair. “Got a bunch of reports about something running around in here. I’m going to take a wild guess and assume that was you.”

Cesar could see his eyes glance down to his throat every now and then, and he recalled the large gash that stretched across it. “You don’t have to feel weird about looking at it, dude. It’s kinda hard to ignore it.” The guy inhaled, slightly grabbing at one of his hoodie strings. “Was that how you-?” “Yep! One of those Alternate bitches-those things are still running around right?- caught up to me one night. They did their usual bullshit, and I picked up a knife and went KHHHH-!” He clenched his fist and dragged it along the gash, while the other guy ever so slightly flinched. “One second, I’m holding the knife, the next I’m watching my body bleed out on my kitchen floor. Oh! Sorry I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Cesar!” The guy looked completely bemused at the sudden change in conversation. “…Adam.” “That’s a nice name!”

“So uh, Cesar, why are you still here? Do you have any unfinished business?” Cesar blinked. “Wow, that’s a thing people actually ask ghosts? I always thought that was something people just used in books or movies to be all dramatic or something.” The gu-Adam was clearly trying not to roll his eyes. “I mean, do you have something you want to know? Or someone you need to see?”

(Please, whatever he did wrong, punish me for it instead. He’s good, he doesn’t deserve that, anyone but him please-)

(A look of pure malice. Angelic voice. Blinding light. Ma-)

“I don’t know. I think there’s someone, but I don’t remember.” “What do you mean you ‘don’t remember’?” Cesar shrugged nonchalantly, but it was clear he was somewhat bothered. “Like I said, I don't remember. I’m gonna be real with you man, a lot of things other than the last 5 minutes tend to kinda blend together. I know there’s someone, I know they matter a lot to me, but I can’t even remember their name, much less what they look like.” (They would probably hate me if they knew anyway. Rightfully so.) Some part of that seemed to resonate with Adam because he exhaled sharply, fiddling with the device. “I know the feeling. Look, you’re not going to find whoever it is you're looking for just by staying here-.” “I know that.’’ Adam narrowed his eyes. “AND the people in town want you out of here. I can’t promise you anything, and it will probably take a while, but if you want to you can come with me and my friend. You’re probably going to have more luck if you cast a wider net.”

Cesar blinked once. Twice. “Seriously? You’re awfully trusting.” “Do you want to come or not?” “Well, I mean, yeah.” Adam pulled the object into view, and Cesar could now see that it was a beat up looking walkie talkie. “I’m going to explain…all of this to him. If there’s anything you need to do here before you go, do it now. I’ll be waiting for you out front.” Adam turned the device on, watching his step this time. “Hey Jonah? Yeah, the job’s done but there’s something else-.”

Cesar took in the rooms for one last time. The house was decrepit and more or less rotting from the inside out, but it was the closest thing he had to a home for the last several months. As strange as it would probably sound to someone, it genuinely felt like leaving an old friend behind. But like Adam said, this was probably the best way to move forward. To pass on to the afterlife or something like that. Yeah, he was ready for something to change.

Adam was outside like he promised, talking to someone in a van. There were pointed fingers and glances towards him, and Cesar guessed that was Jonah. “Holy fucking shit, you really weren’t joking. “Why would I joke about-.” “Hi I’m Cesar! You’re taking this a lot better than I thought you would. Are people still scared of ghosts?”Jonah laughed. “Well, you’re a lot better than an alternate, that’s for sure. And if Adam trusts you, that’s good enough for me.”

The ride was a lot more comfortable than Cesar thought it would be. While Adam and Jonah sat up front, the back of the van was Cesar’s space, with Jonah’s instruction to “make yourself at home”. Adam and Jonah were bickering and joking while an 80s song was playing out of the stereo, and Cesar couldn’t explain why such a scene made his chest ache ever so slightly.

He could see the house in the rearview mirror, growing smaller and smaller in the distance before looking out the windshield. Cesar’s person was out there somewhere in the world, all he had to do was find them. How hard could it be?

#the mandela catalogue #mandela catalogue #tmc #cesar torres #tmc cesar #adam murray #tmc Adam #jonah marshall #tmc jonah #ghost!cesar au #my writing

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sourkitkat73 · 6 months

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I just rewatched both Suicide Squad movies and find it interesting how the themes and I suppose morals (for lack of a better term) changed from movie to movie.

The first movie is somewhat authoritarian. The villains are forced to fight against other meta humans or die. And while obviously our main characters aren’t a fan of that due to their lives being on the line, the movie itself doesn’t really criticize it. We’re shown bad prison conditions and our main characters are being forced to do a job that might kill them to “do good for society”. Waller is seen as someone doing her job to protect America and yeah, maybe some people have to suffer for that, but that’s the price to pay, right? Someone has to be willing to do the bad stuff to keep the country safe.

This parallels with a lot of things that happen in America. A lot of American prisons are full of abuse. They have terrible conditions and inmates are forced to do work for little or no pay. Just like what happened to the Suicide Squad. They were given 10 years off their prison sentences (some of which were multiple life sentences) and Harley also got an espresso machine. Deadshot gets nothing close to what he wanted. And they quite literally saved the world. I think it’s also worth looking at Waller. In a lot of American spy films, there’s someone who’s willing to do bad things to protect their country and as the viewer, we’re usually on their side. The first Suicide Squad doesn’t address that Waller’s actions were bad and that she could’ve done things differently. If she hadn’t been trying to weaponize The Witch in the first place, there wouldn’t have been a big bad to fight. And even if there was a bad guy that only the Suicide Squad could take down, Waller could’ve treated them with more humanity and rewarded them properly.

The Second Suicide Squad is completely different. The premise is the same, but narrative lens is not. Our protagonists discover how terrible the Project Starfish experiments were, and the viewer is filled with horror and sorrow at seeing the human experiments. The film tackles authoritarianism and how wrong it was of the Corto Maltesian government to conduct them and send their political enemies there. Then later in the film, it’s revealed that the American government knew what was happening and played an active role in it. The suicide squad was just sent in to make sure America’s role in it didn’t get out to the press and general population. I really love the fight between Peacemaker and Flag, and how the viewer is shown how wrong Peacemaker’s worldview is. Flag’s last lines are “Peacemaker? What a joke”. I also really love Walller’s staff and how they change with the viewer’s perspective throughout the film. At the beginning of the movie, they bet on which members of the suicide squad will die. But as the film continues they start to question Waller’s actions. “Would you really have done that to his daughter?” And when Waller both admits that she doesnt care what happens to the Corto Maltesian people and tries to kill the suicide squad for trying to fight the giant alien parasite (that has the potential to kill everyone), her staff stops her.

I think the second film is really interesting and instead of being a dark twist on the classic American spy/superhero movie, it’s a movie that actively critiques American culture and encourages the viewer to think.

#suicide squad #my tag #mice tag #i just learned how to add the read more thing to a post

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yeeterin · 9 months

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Seungmin is alone.

I mean he technically isn't alone like he has people surrounding him like he texts his friends everyday, he lives with his family.

So he isn't alone in a literal sense but he sure does 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 alone.

Every single day he has thoughts that plague his mind.

"𝙀𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪."

"𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙠 𝙩𝙤𝙤 𝙢𝙪𝙘𝙝."

"𝙔𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙤𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜."

"𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪."

Every single fucking day those thoughts plague his mind like a virus looking to infect every inch of his body with these thoughts.

Nobody knows about how he feels anyways.

He never really asks for help.

He just cries for help endlessly hoping someone would hear him.

𝙉𝙤𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙮 𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨.

At first he does subtle cries for help, a suicidal joke here and there.

He does that until it appears to not work.

He sends shit in their group chats, an "am i suicidal" quiz results with a "yes you are" as its result, a relatable quote he took a screenshot of being scattered in their group chat.

Nobody appears to see it really.

Nobody really see's him.

One day he's playing truth or dare with a bot with his friend Hyunjin.

The dare it sends is "show us your recent messaging list."

Seungmin shows just some screenshots of his recent chats with it consisting of some online friends, groupchats, and his real-life friends.

It takes a while for Hyunjin to respond with his answer but when he does it shows many things.

"Jisung, Seungmin, group of Jisung, me, and his cousin, The ADHD bros, class dumbasses, my brother, 3 simps and a rizzler, Felix, Baba grill, and Soobin." Hyunjin says.

"Who the fuck is baba grill." Seungmin laughs, sending his message.

"A groupchat of me, Felix, Jeongin, and Jisung." Hyunjin replies thinking nothing of it.

"Oh." Seungmin types, trying to hide his feelings and disappointment.

"Somehow not including you." Hyunjin says.

Yeah.. 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘩𝘰𝘸.

Seungmin laughs it off, making fun of the group name.

He never mentions it to anyone.

'The groupchat is behind 3 simps and a rizzler, that group chat has been inactive for ages they must not talk in it right..' He tries to rationalize.

It still hurts that they made a group chat without him.

He wonders who made the group, he wonders if that person hates him.

Maybe he should just shut up and they would like him.

Maybe.

Maybe that will work.

Everyone probably just got sick of him so they made a group chat without him.

Yeah, that's the reason.

'Just tone down you're Seungminess and everyone would like you more.' He thinks to himself.

Just.. Shut up, then everything would be okay.

His thoughts come back circling his mind, this time, worse.

It's worse, every single thought that's placed in his head, is true.

At least, he believes its true.

He makes a plan.

Disappear for a day.

Mute everyone in their groupchat that's likely to message him. (Thats like two people but its fine.)

(the two people being Jisung and a friend he already had before he met the gang.)

He just.. needs to see if they'll notice.

He's the most active member of their groupchat.

So they'll notice.

Right?

He texts Felix.

"I'm going to disappear from the groupchat tommorow, don't tell anyone this if they notice I'm gone." He types.

"I'm muting everyone except you, Hyunjin, and Jeongin because you guys wont message me."

He types that all into his and Felix's DMs.

It get's ignored.

𝙏𝙮𝙥𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡.

It's fine.

Eating lunch with his mom is when he aborts the plan.

"Do you want to hang out with your friends on your birthday weekend? Like the Saturday after your birthday?" His mother asks.

He's excited, maybe this is his chance, he can see his friends again after a long time!

He types out his plan in their group chat.

Only for it to get washed away in what everyone else says.

"Oh that's bad then." Hyunjin says, responding to something Jisung said in the past.

Hyunjin only ever pays attention to Jisung huh...

Maybe it would be so much easier if Seungmin was actually a lovable person.

Come to think of it they remind him of his sibling.

They leave him out, they ignore him.

No, his sibling is an asshole, they're better than his sibling.

But they do remind him of his sibling a lot.

But they're nice it's just...

Sometimes it feels like his words get lost.

But it's fine, he should just shut up, nobody cares about what he has to say.

They were nicer when they saw each other in real life, during school.

It's just now it seems like he's just invisible.

But it's okay, they don't care, they all have it worse.

(the difference is that they all have each other to talk to and Seungmin just has fanfiction, music, and ai to vent to.)

But it's okay, nobody cares about him.

He's fine like this they're all exhausted from everything they have to do everyday and Seungmin doesn't even have a reason to feel like this.

He doesn't even fit in with their group.

It seems like they love Jake, Seungmin's friend, who he introduced to them more than Seungmin.

But it's fine.

He doesn't give good advice like Jisung, he isn't funny like Hyunjin, he isn't a sunshine that everyone loves like Felix, he isn't smart and everyone favorite maknae like Jeongin, funny, smart, and caring like Jake.

He doesn't really fit in.

The only thing he has going for him is that he listens to their problems, he lets them rant.

But that isn't much.

He doesn't deserve to be in this friend group.

He's useless.

But he won't tell someone that. No, he'll be a burden if he does tell somebody.

So he simmers in it, the voices and thoughts in his head never going away.

He's alone.

There might be a period of time Jisung would pay attention to hin but that would end quickly.

Seungmin is worthless when surrounded by his friends.

Nobody really cares about him, he's low maintenance.

He just sits there, waiting for someone to ask him if they could vent so he could do his job.

#kpop fanfic #angst #stray kids angst #no fluff #stray kids fanfic

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hahahahahangst · 2 years

Text

All that jazz (Be The Young 4)

GIANT TW which will be valid for each episode for suicidal thoughts, self-h*rm, violence, cursing, relatives dying, mentions of s*x, s*xual assault

All chapter titles are song titles, some of them translated from Italian songs. We start from the first season and make out way through the series. I will break canon (mostly from the S2 finale) but will try to get back into it for the sake of ✨ lore ✨ .

MASTERLIST

All that jazz

Hold on hon, we're gonna bunny-hug I bought some aspirin down at United Drug In case you shake apart and want a brand new start

Later that week, she was in the motel’s bathroom, trying on a suite which was definitely too big to her. “Sam, where on earth did you get this? It’s twice my size.” She moaned, pulling the fabric around to see if there was a way to not make her look too much like a clown.

“I’m sorry, man.” he said through the door “I got the first ones I could find.”

“Did you rent this?” She asked, defeated. Limping out of the bathroom.

“No, I stole it, it needs to be realistic.”

“So we are ditching this right after this case is over, right?”

Sam nodded. Emily immediately opened her bag and took out a stapler. “What do you have that for?” Asked Dean, surprised as Emily started stripping out of the suite and sat in her underwear on the motel floor.

”...research?” She said, starting to staple the fabric to make it smaller. “I don’t like scattered paper.”

“Well, there's no doubt you and Sam are siblings.” smiled Dean.

“Shut up!“ Said Emily, putting the suit back on after stapling it in several places. “Let’s get a move on boys.”

“You know…“ started Dean twenty minutes later, walking towards the crime scene, while adjusting his suit. “Me, dad and Emily did just fine without these stupid costumes. We look like high school drama nerds.”

“At least the suit fits you…” Answered Emily, slightly bitter and trying her best to not show her limp.

“Look, do you guys wanna pull this off?” Asked Sam, approaching the door.

After speaking with the housekeeper, they were left alone in the house, which still smelled a little bit like blood and corpse.

“This place smells like Dean does after a hunt…" joked Emily. He gave her a weird look, but smiled. The vibes were less tense than they had ever been in the last year. Emily and Dean managed to get a couple of days of normal interactions, following her drunken scene, but she suspected that Dean was just holding back for the sake of having a little peace.

It took her less than a minute to notice that the blood on the carpet looked weird. And even less to mentally put the shape together. She recognized it, but could not pinpoint what it was.

“Dean, come check this out.” she said, hitting his brother's chest with the back of her hand. He turned. “Can you see the shape?”

“What shape?” He asked, visibly intrigued and confused.

“That… and it goes like that…“ She gestured, leaving Dean more puzzled than before. “Whatever…“ She whispered, seeing Dean struggling to follow her. “Sam?” Her brother's head popped out from behind a wall. “Got some tape?” He nodded, disappeared behind the wall and threw her the tape a couple of seconds later.

She tracked the shape with the tape.

“Man… I cannot figure out what this is… I saw it somewhere already.” She knew that info was somewhere in her brain.

“Okay, we need to go now. Come on kid.” Said Dean, not paying too much attention to the symbol. She reluctantly walked away, but kept thinking about it. She drew it on her hand with a marker on their way home.

Later that night, she was staring at the symbol, ignoring everything else going on in the room.

“I am telling you, Dean, I know this symbol. I've seen it at Bobby's.”

“Then what is it?”

“I don't know, I remember how the book looked like, not what it said. Give me a minute.” She took her phone and dialed Bobby's number.

“Hello?” Said Bobby, his voice hard and raspy.

“Hey Bobby, it's Emily,“ She said, ready to take notes on Sam's laptop.

“Hey sweetheart, everything okay?” His voicetone changed immediately, softening a little.

“All good, listen… I remember a book I read there, it was on the bookshelf on the left… Yes, the one next to the door, it was kind of a small format, lots of pages, umh… the cover was green!” She waited for the man to find the book. “Right, could you open it about halfway? I am looking for a round symbol, it kind of looks like the astrology symbol for cancer, but- you got it? Good. Yeah- yeah, wait, I'll put you on speaker.”

“Hey Bobby.” said Dean once Emily put the phone on the table.

“Hey boys. So, it looks like you got yourself a Daeva. It's a shadow demon. Nasty stuff.”

“Any idea how to kill it?”

“It is not mentioned in the lore. If you give me a few hours, I can see if it's mentioned anywhere else.”

Later, they were getting ready. Nothing unusual for them. Sam had gone out to grab dinner and Emily and Dean sat there and were cleaning out guns and rifles, waiting for Bobby to call them back with news.

“So…“ started out Dean. “How are you doing?”

“Uh?” Emily glared up at him for a second, confused, and then just kept cleaning. “Good, I guess?”

“I mean, your ankle, how's it?”

“Ah," She sighed. “Well it's alright, it's not healed yet but I can power through.”

“Are you sure?”

“Dean, you've seen me walk today, I am fine.”

“I was thinking-”

“Yeah, I am not coming with you tonight, I know the gist. Self harming and all that jazz.”

“Actually-”

“You know what?” She interrupted him again. “It's fine. I understand it: if I die because you were not careful enough, dad is going to kill you as well.” She said, bitter. “And then we would be stuck in hell together for eternity.”

She closed the weapon she had in her hands and put it aside, getting ready to go for another one.

“I was actually planning on asking you to join us, but maybe it's better not to.”

“I guess not, uh...” she said, still not looking at Dean and being focused on her weapon. He didn't answer her for a while. Only the clicking and spraying to be heard for a while.

“So, you are doing fine? Everything else I mean.” He then asked.

“Why are you asking?” She scoffed.

“Because I want to talk- you know what? Forget about it.”

Emily finished working and then absentmindedly started clicking the rubber band she had on her wrist.

“Stop.” Said Dean. She ignored him and kept going. “Emily, I said stop!”

She stopped, but stood up and left the desk they were sitting at. She looked at Dean. Even if she didn't answer him when he asked how she was doing, Emily still gave him the answer he wanted with that clicking gesture alone, giving him the chance of benching her again. Or at least, that's what she thought, until Dean talked again: “Would hunting help you feel any better?” She nodded. “Then you can come, but you stick with me, okay? I want to keep an eye on you.”

“Whatever, boss.” said Emily, rolling her eyes..

The following night, Dean was flirting with the bartender while Emily, two stools to the left, ignored his presence for the sake of getting the info they needed. She had been twirling her whiskey in the glass for a while now, contemplating whether to drink it like a shot, like a kid trying to seem tough would do, or act like the adult she was supposed to be. On the other side of the bar, she noticed a man looking at her in a rather luxurious way. She reciprocated the gaze and suggestively sipped her whiskey. She then left the stool to go talk to the stranger, but was intercepted by Sam, who had just entered the bar and gently grabbed her by the arm, dragging her towards a table. Seeing her with another man, the guy she was walking towards lost all interest and went back to his drink. “Sam, I swear to god you and your brother are going to make my balls go blue one of these days.” Sam looked at her questioningly. “What?” She asked, sitting next to him.

“You don’t have balls.”

“Oh, come on! It’s an expression.” Said Emily, already distracted by the papers her brother was handing her. She took a pen out of her purse and started tapping it on the table, reading the files. She would occasionally underline something, but for the most part, it was just a continuous tapping.

“Dude.” Said Sam not longer than 3 minutes later, stopping her hand from tapping the table.

“So I do have balls.” Whispered Emily, moving the tapping from the table to her forehead. Sam glared at her and tried to hide a smile.

A while later, Dean joined them. He sat down and gazed, in turn, to both of them.

Emily still looked a little bitter from Sam preventing her from hooking up, nervously tapping the pen on her forehead. Sam, instead, was wrapped up in his file.

“What’s going on?” Said Dean, grabbing one of the files.

“Sam cockblocked me.” Commented the younger of the three, still tapping the pen.

“Welcome to the club…” sighed Dean, turning the pages of the file.

“We didn’t come here to hook up, you realize that?” Answered Sam, looking up from his file, vaguely upset. “Did you get anything from the bartender? Apart from her phone number?”

Dean gave him a slightly annoyed look. “I am a professional, dude. Of course I got something out of her.” He said, looking offended for just one second before taking out the napkin again and smirking. Emily smiled, amused.

“Do you think you can think with your upstairs brain for a while, Dean?” Said Sam shaking his head.

“Well, understandably not if you always prevent us from having fun.” Whispered Emily.

“I heard that.”

“Bite me.” She looked up at Sam, who started pretending to bite her arm. She laughed. Sam had become much more likable after he had come back from his “break”. They were forced to be alone for a couple of hunts and found out to be much more similar that they could ever imagine. Being weird was one of those things that made them so similar.

“So, the vic worked here,” explained Dean after giving them a you weirdos look, “...she waited tables. Everyone here was her friend. Everyone said she was normal. She didn’t do anything weird before she died. What about the other victim, did you find anything?”

“That’s what we were checking out, but as far as I can tell, there is no connection.”

“The guy was found mutilated in his apartment. Same shit: locked door, alarm didn't sound. I also can’t find a connection. They didn’t even have a mutual friend or something.” Emily looked at Sam, waiting for him to finish the explanation. But he was distracted by something on the other side of the bar.

“Sounds like the only successful intel we scored was the bartender’s number.” Joked Dean as Sam left the table mid-conversation and walked to a blonde girl.

Emily and Dean exchanged a look: “So we have to strike out but he can leave us in the middle of a conversation to flirt with a blonde girl?” She stood up to walk over to Sam, put on a fake smile and approached him. Dean followed her.

“Hey Sammy, “ she said, patting him on the shoulder a little too aggressively. “Are you not going to introduce us to your friend?” The woman looked at her for a second, then shook her hand.

“Hi, my name is Meg. How do you know Sam?” She chuckled.

“I- Uh, I am his sister, Emily.” she said, keeping the fake smile on. “And this is Dean, our brother.” She pointed at the man at her left.

“This is Dean?” Answered Meg, surprised, switching her attention away from Emily.

Dean smiled. “So, you’ve heard of me?” He seemed fluttered.

“Oh, yeah. I did. Nice… the way you treat your brother like luggage.” To this answer, Dean’s expression changed. “Do you behave the same with Emily?” She continued.

Emily had to stop herself from laughing, the situation starting to make sense: Sam was not trying to hook up with this girl, she was some sort of friend she complained about Dean with.

“Meg, it’s alright.”

Emily cleared her throat and grabbed Dean, the vibes getting tenser by the second.

“We should probably go.” Whispered Emily into Dean’s ear, giving an angry look at Meg, followed by a puzzled look at Sam. She then pushed her older brother lightly towards the bar counter.

“What a nice encounter.” She said, sarcastic, gesturing to the bartender for a drink.

“What, are you jealous?” Smirked Dean. Emily hit him on the back of his head.

“I mean, this is suspicious, Dean. We are not exactly the kind of people who casually run into the same people over and over.”

Dean didn’t really answer her. In fact, he did not speak until they were outside with Sam again. They discussed the whereabouts of Meg, who she was and why she knew Dean in such a bad light.

“I think there’s something strange going on here, Dean.” Sam was visibly worried.

“Yeah, Emily thought the same. Why do you guys think that anyway?”

“I don’t know, there’s something about her that just doesn’t seem right to me.”

“Maybe you are both thinking too much with your upstairs brain…“ smirked Dean, walking towards the car.

“Emily, do me a favor…" started out the younger. “go and check if there really is a Meg Masters from Andover. Dean, go with her and give her a hand.”

“What are you gonna do?” Questioned the girl, entering the car.

“I am gonna watch Meg.”

Dean and Emily exchanged a complicit look as they left. “Pervert.” Said Dean.

Hours later, they had confirmed Meg existed in the Massachusetts phone book, and Sam called them back.

“I know who is summoning the Daeva,“ said Sam’s voice, alarmed, as Dean put him on speaker. “It’s Meg.” The younger sister and the older brother exchanged a worried look.

“She was using some sort of altar to control it. She was talking into a bowl of blood, guys.”

“Do you think she was talking with the thing?”

“No, it was different. Someone was giving her orders. Someone who is coming to this warehouse.”

“Wait, wait- oh shit-" Emily’s eyes lit in realization. All that time looking at the files and she didn’t even realize until that moment.

“Quick, where were you born?” She asked Dean.

“Lawrence…“

“Kansas!” She concluded, almost yelling in excitement and she circled with a pen the city on both files. “They were both born there. Do you think it might have something to do with the demon?” She looked at Dean, a glisten of hope appearing in both their eyes. They might have been closer than ever.

All three of them left a message to their dad. It was the same message, we think we found the demon, it’s here in Chicago, call me back. The usual thing for the Winchester family.

Sam had gathered all kinds of supplies. They didn't really know what they were getting themselves into and Bobby had not called back yet.

“Big Night.” commented Emily in the middle of the silence.

“Yeah. Are you nervous?” Asked Sam.

“No.” Said Emily and Dean in unison. It was rare that they agreed on something, so it made her smile, even though it was a lie for Emily.

“Why, are you?” Dean asked Sam.

“No, no way but…“ he briefly smiled before he continued: “could you imagine if we actually found the damn thing? the demon?”

“Sam, don't get ahead of yourself.” Tried to say Emily.

“I'd sleep for a week. Go back to school…“ But Sam kept going. He was already thinking it was over. When he mentioned school Emily rolled her eyes. She already knew a fight was about to break out. While they fought over what Sam had just said, Emily started thinking of what she would have done if the whole thing was to end the following day. It wasn’t like she didn't know what normal life meant.

Did she like the life she was living before her mother's death? Kind of.

But she also knew, nothing was ever going to be the same.

She was not gonna be able to sleep again without keeping weapons in her reach.

Never able to look at a dark room and think that there was no reason to be afraid.

Emily looked around. She was cleaning a rifle in the most natural way, in a motel room she was going to call “home.” for 3 days tops. She cut ties with all her friends, leaving behind her boyfriend. Left school and all her dreams of being a doctor. Hunting was her new normal.

Although it wasn’t like her old life was healthy: she was sleep deprived most of the time, running on way too much caffeine for days at the time, trying to keep up with the pace of finishing high school one year early and preparing for college.

It’s not like there was much left for her, where she came from.

What would she go back to?

“I mean, what are you gonna do when it's all over?” Said Sam to Dean.

“It’s never gonna be over. There’s gonna be others. There’s always gonna be somethin’ to hunt.” Said Dean.

Sam scoffed. “Look, Dean, I’m sure Emily is with me here. There’s more to life than doing this.” He said, looking for support in his sister.

Emily looked at him and sighed. She didn’t answer, but put her weapon away and laid back in her bed, looking to avoid the discussion.

A couple of hours later, John still had not contacted them or shown up, so they walked towards the abandoned warehouse Meg was hiding in. They were about to enter, when Dean hesitated. “Sam, wait.” Sam, who had been picking the door, raised his eyes from the lock.

“What?” Dean looked at Sam, then he looked at Emily. He seemed worried. “Oh god please don't tell me you are about to bench me again.”

“I was just thinking your ankle is still not 100%“

“Dean we don't have time for this, what, you waited three years to start worrying about my wellbeing, you cannot wait three more hours?”

Dean tried to answer back, but it was too late: Sam had opened the door and Emily had already entered the building.

They arrived on the second floor and hid behind some crates, seemingly unnoticed.

They had their guns out and they were ready to fight, despite not knowing how to kill a Daeva. All they knew was that the altar Meg had was being used to control the creatures as so they hoped that destroying it would help.

They hoped.

“Guys.” said Meg’s voice from behind them. The siblings exchanged worried looks, but they all stayed put. “Hiding is a little childish, don’t you think?” The younger sister let out a sign of disappointment while the three of them stood up and came out of their hiding.

“Sam” started out Meg with a smug smile “I have to say, this puts a real crimp in our relationship.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

Dean intervened: “Where’s your little Daeva friend?”

“Around.” she said, chuckling “Those shotguns are not gonna do much, you know?”

“Oh don’t worry, sweetheart. The shotgun is not for the demon.” Answered Dean.

“Enough chatting, who’s coming here tonight?” Said Emily, cutting to the chase. Meg looked at her suggestively for a couple of seconds, before raising her hand.

Emily's body flew violently towards the wall and she passed out before she could feel anything.

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abbatoirablaze · 1 year

Text

At Death's Door, Chapter 6

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: manipulation, slight gaslighting, little bit of angst, mentions of suicide.

Dean’s POV

“Get your head in the game Sammy,” I said, heading over to the library. He looked at me sideways, “ever since we left the hotel, you’ve been acting strange. You were hardly paying attention when we were talking to the girlfriend. You need to be in on this with me, not back at school.”

“I’m fine,” he sighed, not all there. My brow cocked but Sammy tried to shake me off, “What? I’m here Dean. I’m fine!”

“Did something happen between you and Dahlia when I left the hotel earlier?”

He looked at me shiftily before picking up the pace, “I’m fine, Dean. Drop it!”

“Sammy-“ I said, catching his arm. He stopped on a dime and ripped his arm from me. I held my hands up defensively, “alright. I won’t ask anymore. But you got to start getting in the game, or this spirit will kill us both. And you won’t make it home to your little sorority girlfriend.”

“Fine,” he said, gritting his teeth. We made our way into the library and got a computer. I started heading towards the Jericho Herald’s online archive. I tried typing in female, murder, and hitchhiking, but nothing came up. I removed Hitchhiking and put in Centennial Highway. Still nothing.

“Let me try.”

I smacked his hand away from the mouse, “I got it.” I got a ‘dude’ out, as he pushed my chair away and began typing. I growled out something about him being a control freak and he sighed.

“So angry spirits are born out of violent death, right?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Well maybe it’s not murder,” he said, removing the word in the search bar, and replacing it with suicide. A result came up, “this is 1981. Constance Welch, 24 years old. Jumps off Sylvania Bridge, drowns in the river.”

“Does it say why she did it?”

“Yeah.”

“What?”

“An hour before they found her, she called 911. Her two little kids are in the bathtub. She leaves them alone for a minute and when she comes back, they aren’t breathing. Both die. There’s your violent death!”

“Hmm,” I said, thinking about it. It seemed about right. It was violent enough that it made sense, “what else does the article say?”

“Our babies were both gone, and Constance just couldn’t bear it said husband Joseph Welch,” Sammy said, reading the article, “well this guy sounds real torn up about it.”

“That bridge look familiar to you?” I asked, pointing to the picture on the computer. Sam nodded. It was of the bridge we’d been at when we’d first gotten into town.

We logged off the computer and made our way outside, “we going there now?”

I nodded, pulling out my cell phone, “just going to call your girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Sam muttered. He visibly cringed as he said the word. I couldn’t help but feel bad about the joke. It did hit a little too close to home, “the girl I’m dating is Jess…and she happens to be friends with me and Dahlia…so don’t joke about that!”

“Whatever,” I grunted, holding the phone up to my ear. It rang twice before she answered, “hello?”

“It’s Dean,” I said briefly, “Sammy and I just got done doing some research. We’re heading back to the bridge. “

“Be careful,” she asked across the phone, “I did some research of my own when you guys were out. Constance Welch. Mother of 2, committed suic-“

“Suicide,” I said, cutting her off, “I know. We stopped by the library and read a few articles.”

“You…reading,” she laughed, “that’s rich. Who knew that you actually knew how to read!”

“Hey,” I said, stopping before getting into the Impala, “I read sometimes.”

“Oh, you’ve moved on from Busty Asian Beauties?” she taunted.

I smiled. I could practically see her standing, hand on hip, eyebrows raised at me. The tone of her voice expressed that very emotion. I put my hand on top of the Impala and looked at Sam.

“She’s insulting you, isn’t she?”

I nodded. He reached over for the phone, and I shook my head, “I’ll have you know, that magazine has great editorials.”

“Spell editorial, Dean,” she laughed, “go ahead. Spell it!”

“I don’t need to prove myself to you,” I laughed. Sam laughed from the other side of the car and got in. I did the same and passed the phone to him, “talk to her while I drive. See if she got more information.”

“Hey Dahl,” he said, taking the phone, “Dean’s driving.”

He laughed before looking down and shaking his head, “no, I’m sure that he can do more than one thing at a time. He gave me the phone because you were probably insulting him.”

He chuckled again before things got quiet.

“Ask her if she got anything else!” I said. Sam nodded.

“So, did you find out anything else?” He sighed before looking at me for a second. He shifted an inch or two away before muttering, “you know…we have to talk about it.”

“I heard that,” I said slowly. Sam looked at me, “What do you two have to talk about?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly. I reached for the phone, but he held it just out of reach, “Dahl, I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

When I got the phone, they both had disconnected the call, “What was that, Sammy?”

“Nothing.”

“Didn’t sound like nothing.”

“It’s none of your business,” he replied, “don’t worry about it, Dean.”

“I will worry about it,” I answered, “now tell me what’s going on between you two…because I didn’t catch the sexual tension vibe on the way here, but ever since we got to the hotel it’s been worse…did something happen between you two?”

“No.”

I looked at him as I parked the car, “NO?”

“Nothing happened Dean?”

“Why don’t I believe you?” I asked. He shook his head and got out of the car.

“I don’t know, but let’s just focus on the case.”

“Sure Sammy, I sighed, making my way down the bridge. I looked around on the empty bridge, “So this is where Constance took the swan dive. See anything important?”

I sighed, bracing myself against the edge of the bridge.

Sammy leaned over it, “so you think dad would have been here?”

“Well he’s chasing the same story and we’re chasing him,” I said, going back to the bridge, “I think he had to have been here!”

“Okay, so now what?” Sammy asked, following me.

“Now we keep digging til we find him. It might take a while.”

“Dean, I told you I’ve got to get back by-“

“Monday,” I replied, cutting him off, “right. The interview.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah. I forgot,” I lied, “you’re really serious about this aren’t you? You think you’re just gonna become some lawyer. Marry your girl.”

“Maybe, why not?”

“Does Jessica know the truth about you?” I asked, “does she know about the things that you’ve done?”

“No, and she’s not ever going to know.”

“Well, that’s healthy. You can pretend all you want Sammy, but sooner or later you’re gonna have to face up to who you really are.”

“Who’s that?”

“One of us,” I replied, turning back to the car, “a hunter. I may not care for demon girl in all reality, but she knows all of our secrets. Just like Hannah does.”

“No,” he said, catching up, “I’m not like you. This is not going to be my life.”

“Well, you have a responsibility.”

“To dad, and his crusade? If it weren’t for pictures, I wouldn’t even know what mom looks like. What difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her, mom’s gone and she’s not coming back.”

I felt anger in the pit of my stomach. I grabbed Sammy and threw him against the support bar of the bridge, “don’t talk about her like that.”

I let him go and faced away from him. He didn’t need to go that route.

He didn’t need to speak about mom like that. My mind was half preoccupied when I saw a woman in a white nightgown down the bridge, “SAM!”

He cut in front of me, and we both stared down the spirit. She looked us dead in the eyes before letting herself go over the edge. We both ran to the edge of the bridge, but nothing was there.

“Where’d she go?” I asked.

“I don’t know.”

The Impala turned over and her lights went on. I looked at it, “what the-.”

“Who’s driving your car?”

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the keys. No one.

SHIT.

The tires squealed and the car made its way towards us. We both turned and began to run, “come on. Dean. Let’s go. GO!”

My baby sped towards us, and we jumped over the side of the bridge. I found myself going headfirst into the water. When I made my way to shore, I saw Sammy had caught himself on the ledge, “DEAN. DEAN. Are you alright?”

I held a hand up to him, “I’m super.”

Chapter 7

#at death's door #supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #angels #demons #ghosts

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