#this is for ed ofc always and forever <3

[titansarmy]

stain them, i don’t care.

the sun and the star, rick riordan and mark oshiro // trista mateer // queen charlotte: a bridgerton story (dir. tom verica) // the archer, taylor swift // unknown // the sun and the star, rick riordan and mark oshiro // skam (dir. julie andem) // guillermo del toro (in article by scott huver) // herakles, anne carson

[taintedcigs]

eddie w tattoo artist reader..... trying SO hard to seem like he's not dying from pain while she tattoos his chest, bc he's trying to impress her. she's the coolest girl he's ever seen and the fact that her art is on him forever makes him so giddy and happy, almost as happy as getting her number

call me if you need a groupie — e.m.

yes yes yes yes yes. a thousand times yes to this. thank u for this request omg i looooove lovesick cutie eddie soooooo much. this was meant to be a blurb but now its a 2.8k+ fic oops. idk if there were exclusive shirts ok i tried to do my research but this is the best i could get and idk how tattoo processes are so take everything i wrote w a grain of salt !! not proofread as always so ignore any mistakes and also idk why but i looved writing for this dynamic and if anyone would be interested i could write a pt.2 for some smut !! (maybe sub!eddie or switch!eddie? 👀)

pairing: eddie munson x fem!tattoo artist!reader (wc: 2.8k+)

warnings: MINORS DNI w any of my works!!. just pure fluff!! maybe the teeniest tiniest angst, eddie is kinda insecure <3, eddie is a lovesick cutie honey pie !! and swearing? oh also tattooing ofc (needles n stuff)

He doesn't mean to flinch, he doesn't mean to show you how stressed he is, but you can sense it.

Each time the needle presses against his skin, he hisses, mouth biting onto his lips, harsh enough to draw blood.

But Eddie doesn’t care, you—the hottest and coolest girl—that has ever graced the hellhole that was Hawkins was tattooing him, and Eddie couldn’t afford to look like a coward.

So with everything in him, he shut his lips, biting on them, becoming accustomed to the metallic taste because it didn’t matter, not when you looked so fucking pretty when cooing him and your free hand squeezed his biceps for reassurance.

He didn’t know what to admire first, the way your lips quirked sweetly when you answered his dumb questions, the way you looked so focused with your lip between your teeth, trying to tattoo him, or the fact that you were wearing an Anthrax shirt, and not just any regular Anthrax shirt that you could find at those regular shops, it was an exclusive shirt that was only sold at the concerts, and he had to gulp physically at that.

You were a tattoo artist… and a metal fan? How perfect could you get?

Before his questions were answered, the needle pricked at his skin again, he cursed out, and instead of screaming in his mind, he whimpered out loud this time.

Your head perked up quickly and Eddie was now cursing himself, for being a fucking idiot, for looking like a coward in front of you.

“I can slow down if you want to,” You said with a smile, a sweet smile that adorned your perfectly red lips, they looked so fucking kissable.

“N–no!” He stuttered, but you gave him a huff. “C’mon Eds, you’re doing good… better than anyone I’ve ever tattooed has, we can slow down a bit.” You reassured.

His eyes lit up like a child, Eds? His new acquired nickname rolled off your tongue so sweetly, your words dripped in honey. And Eddie decided he would do anything to hear you call him that again.

Not only did you call him Eds, but you also said he was better than the others, and the childish grin on Eddie’s lips was quick to grow again, his entire body relaxing as he almost melted into you.

“You think so?” He asked, tone giddy and all sweet, causing a pretty giggle to escape your lips.

“I know so!” You hummed. “Tattooed a guy yesterday. He was tall. Like really fucking tall, and he had this long beard and tattoos everywhere!” You exaggerated, watching Eddie’s eyes widen. “He cried like a baby the second that needle prickled his skin!”

“And look at you, taking everything I’m giving you like a champ,” You winked.

If only you knew the affect you had on him, Eddie’s entire face grew red at that, he would, without hesitation take anything you gave him.

He tried, so fucking hard not to think about it, but now his mind was filled with the images of you, sitting on his faze, your pretty cunt glistening as he lapped away at your juices.

He imagined those pretty manicured fingers discarding his hair, ruffling while those pretty little lips were hung open, chanting his name. Your whines and whimpers would fill the room as he begged for you to cum in his mouth. He wouldn’t stop until you smothered him.

Until all he could taste was you.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, because the blood was quick to rush to his cock, and he didn’t want to have his bulge hardening against his tight pants anymore than he needed to, you were inches away from him and he wanted to seem cool–so fucking badly.

“Really?” He asked, and you nodded swiftly. “So brave for me.” You coo, lips lightly brushing against his cheek, as you plant a little kiss.

And Eddie was sure this was heaven now, he blinked quickly to make sure he wasn't dreaming, the light kiss you left on his cheeks lingered, and he could feel it burn.

His cheeks were purely crimson red now, he couldn't fucking help it. He ached for you, ached to have you close to him, ached to feel your touch, and everything you did was enough to drive him crazy, make him feel out of his fucking mind.

He was putty in your hands and you had no fucking idea.

His mouth stood agape, a dumbfounded look overtaking his features for too fucking long until the soft buzz of the machine brought him back again, the needle quick to puncture the skin's surface again, causing Eddie to squeeze his eyes shut as he tried his best not to fucking scream.

Be cool, be cool, be fucking cool Edward Munson.

He repeated it like a mantra in his head, and he was glad you were focusing on tattooing the cute sketch you made for him, and not his actual face that probably looked straight out of a horror movie.

“So—uh... c—cool shirt,” Eddie muttered, voice so low that he was surprised when you hummed back at him.

“Oh, yeah,” You muttered.

“You listen to Anthrax?” You asked with a beaming smile, gaze still focused on Eddie's arm.

Eddie huffed painfully but realized quickly that the nervousness of talking to you was overpowering the pain of the tattoo gun drilling into his skin.

“Are you kidding? Anthrax, Judas Priest, Black Sabbath... Megadeth! You name it I probably listen to it,” He hummed, and your eyes glimmered, causing Eddie's breath to hitch and his wavering nervousness to appear again. “Metal is my jam, baby!” He exclaimed, not too loud to disturb your tattooing process but loud enough to cause a giggle out of you.

Metal is my jam? Baby? Who the fuck says that?

Eddie was afraid to look into your eyes now, afraid to see the gaze everyone gives him.

Like he's an outsider like he's a freak.

But when he hears that pretty giggle of yours again, comfort takes over him, nervousness dissipating quickly when he sees the gentle look you give him.

Almost as if to let him know that you also love those bands. Almost as if to let him know that he wasn't an outsider because you were just like him.

“Dio?” You asked with a curious gaze, face beaming up when Eddie nodded furiously.

“Fuckin' love Dio,” He muttered, barely realizing the needle on his skin now, all thanks to you.

“Uhh—how did you even get that shirt?” Eddie asked, almost shyly, admiring the way you were neatly tattooing him.

“I wanted to go to that concert so badly but the tickets were sold out so quickly.” He added.

“Oh! I was Belladonna's groupie,” You muttered mindlessly, the pain as you prickled the needle was an afterthought to Eddie now, almost forgetting how to breathe, he coughed, quite loudly, causing you to look up at him and see the bewildered look on his face.

You stopped the machine when you chuckled lightly, "Oh, Eds!"

There it was, that nickname again, god you were dizzying his mind.

“I was just joking,” You smiled at him, and he wanted to melt, right then and there. "Needed to go a little bit deeper so I thought I'd distract you," You shrugged, and Eddie returned the smile.

He liked the feeling of having someone care about him, he liked talking to you, and he sure as hell enjoyed being with someone so similar to him—someone so fucking cool.

“Though I did go to that concert in 1987.” You could feel Eddie’s curious gaze on you

“My friend knew their manager,” You murmured again.

"Really?!? How was it?" He asked, face beaming again.

“So fucking cool.” You gushed as you started talking about their set list, how the first punch you ever threw was at that concert, and you enthusiastically animated Donais' guitar riff, earning a hearty chuckle from Eddie. He loved every bit of your story, listening attentively as your exaggerations enticed him more and more.

The longer you tattooed him, the more comfortable Eddie got, pain was no longer his main concern when all he wanted to do was make you laugh, hear that sweet giggle escaping from your lips, admire the way your eyes crinkle when you smile at him so sugary.

Minutes stretched into hours as you focused on his tattoo, each pass of the needle causing a smile on your face as the sketch you made became more intricate and alluring on his bare skin.

“All done!” You exclaimed with a smile when you finally finished tattooing him, a sigh of relief escaping your lips when the buzz of the machine was finally replaced with silence.

You couldn't help but trace every part of his face now, you wanted to see if he liked it, anxiety bubbling up in your stomach as you couldn't read Eddie's expressions.

“Oh my god,” Was all that left Eddie's lips, and your lips almost started to tremble.

Jesus fucking Christ, how bad did you fuck up?

“Oh my fucking god,” He repeated again, this time his head tilted upward to your direction, almost snapping as you looked at him with scared eyes.

But your gaze eased the second you saw the admiration in Eddie's gaze. “This is a fucking masterpiece!” He beamed, causing a smile on your lips, so fucking big and pretty that he wished he could have that tattooed instead.

“It's fucking perfect,” He muttered again, shaking his head in disbelief when he looked at the tattoo on his forearm.

“I mean when I saw that sketch, I knew you were good to , but holy shit,” He praised again, causing heat to grow in your cheeks, he had no idea how much it meant to you, to have someone appreciating your art, to have people walk around in the sketches you did, indelible on their skin. It felt so fucking good.

“It's...perfect.”

“Really?”

“Of fucking course,” He gushed. “You're so fuckin' talented it's crazy,” He muttered, fingertips gentle as they avoided glazing through the tattoo, but around it.

You were so fucking perfect it was killing him, and he couldn't help the giddy feeling inside of him knowing that your art would be etched into his skin, forever.

You couldn't shake off the thoughts in your head, swirling when Eddie uttered those compliments to you.

Your cheeks grew hot so quickly that you felt the need to turn around, trying to think of something to say to him so that you wouldn't look like a fucking idiot.

Eddie turned around to face you, the smile that brought out his dimples apparent in his face as he watched you scrabble something on a business card.

“Thank you,” You muttered when you turned around, hands almost shaking as you extended your arm to give Eddie the card.

He scrambled it into his back pocket, not caring when you were this close to him, but you frowned at that. “No, thank you, for this masterpiece” He winked, pointing toward his forearm.

He didn't even know where he got the confidence to even be able to wink at you, and his coolness wore off the second he exited the shop, a silent shrieking scream exited his mouth as he freaked out.

Your sketch. On his arm.

You. Tattoo artist. Metal fan.

You, kissing him on the cheek, talking to him for hours, laughing at his idiotic jokes.

You.

Eddie was sure he lost his mind, hands shaking as he reached for the card in his back pocket.

The card was black and the title on it was dripping with blood. He whined.

How much cooler were you going to get?

He gulped when he looked back, seeing you toward the clear glass door, and he knew.

He knew that if he didn't do it now, he could never do it, this was his only fucking chance, and he couldn't be a coward, not now, not when you were this close to him.

Eddie entered back into the shop in a frenzy, causing your head to pop up swiftly as you looked at him dumbfounded.

God, you were so gorgeous he could feel his heart skip a beat.

“C—can I ask you something?” He cleared his throat to not appear nervous, and you nodded, furiously.

“Look, I know this is weird and all... but... uhm, I really feel like we connected,” He muttered, fingers tapping against the glass counter that you were standing behind in.

“And I thought maybe... uhhh... I could like—get your number or somethin'?” He uttered anxiously, tilting his head slightly to the side, and you couldn't help the giggle that escaped your lips.

And even though why you laughed was reasonable, it was the worst fucking thing you could have done to Eddie.

Especially when your laugh seemed so mocking, almost different than the ones you gave him earlier before. Jogging deep into this memory of the countless times when Eddie tried to pluck up the courage to ask girls in his class out, only to be laughed in his face, or to have them insult him.

But this was more than that, it pained him.

It pained him to think that you thought of him like the others did. Like you saw him as an outsider, too.

His bubble of confidence that was already wavering was even quicker to fizzle out, he could feel that familiar lump in his throat, shoulders slumping as his gaze was quick to show his emotions.

He was hurt. And he was sure this hurt much more than a thousand needles breaking the barriers of his skin, “Uhhh,” He gave you a bitter chuckle. “Just.... never mind” He added, defeatedly turning back around to exit the shop once again as he ignored you calling out for him.

“Wait!” You yelled out after him, but Eddie started walking faster.

“Shit shit shit!” You cursed yourself for your little joke.

“Eds, please!” You called out again, this time effective enough to make Eddie stop in his tracks.

Eds. Oh you knew how to get him hooked, how to get him right where you wanted him.

And he hated himself for being this weak for you, someone he met, just recently.

“What?” He answered coldly, glaring at you with bitterness that made you want to hide out, that gentle soul in him disappearing in mere seconds.

And you sighed, hating that he could ever see you as someone that would make fun of him.

“Flip the card,” Your gaze on him was intense, cheeks growing hot again knowing that you were going to see his reaction to your stupid note.

“I don't have time for your bullshit” He spat, almost on his feet to leave.

You sighed. “Eds, just... will you just please flip the card?” You asked, all prettily that Eddie couldn't help but oblige, but be gentle with you again because he couldn't resist it. He couldn't resist you.

He huffed as he plucked the card out of the back pocket of his jeans, turning it over in one swift motion.

'CALL ME IF U NEED A GROUPIE' and your digits were attached right below it.

His gaze softened immediately, head drooping further as he huffed at himself.

He felt stupid, so fucking stupid.

Why did he ever think you would treat him like the others?

His chest expanded with hope when he looked back up at you, a soft smile graced his lips.

“Oh,” He muttered, not able to help the childish grin that was now stuck to his lips.

“Shut up,” You giggled, nudging him slightly.

“You owe me,” You narrowed your eyes sarcastically, causing his brows to quip.

“Oh, yeah? Like what?” He asked, a newfound confidence washing him over when you were so easy to talk to.

“A date,” You beamed, scrunching your nose.

“Okay.” The words left his lips quickly, too quickly that it had you feeling giddy inside.

“How about tomorrow?” He didn't even know how he managed to get those words out without stuttering.

“Uhm—sure.” You were the one stuttering now, cheeks burning up as you could barely look at him. His grin was sickly inviting.

“I'll pick you up at 8?” You nodded so quickly that you were sure your head was about to fall off.

“See you tomorrow,” His voice was sultry as he winked again, making you almost melt, looking cool on the surface when all he wanted to do was go home, freak the fuck out, tell Wayne all about the cool girl who tattooed him, and not be able to sleep until your date tomorrow.

[urlocalmentallyunstablegal]

long rant incoming, i’ll be talking abt therapy, ed relapse mainly (i may get side tracked lol) really just talking to myself publicly.

so, my therapist is taking a break and i haven’t seen her since last month. she told me to text her if i need support or if i’m in crisis but we all know i’m not gonna do it bc i don’t wanna bother her. last month i managed to reach 3 months without counting calories and stepping on the scale. honestly i was so proud of myself for this. ofc i gained weight but i was finally healthier, i was not just a shell of a human being. i was actually alive. but since i stopped restricting my anxiety become terrible to the point where i can’t go out by myself without headphones. i started getting more frequent panic attacks (which are honestly both physically and mentally draining). i feel like im trapped in a cycle - i manage my depression and anxiety, then i relapse in my ed, i work on my ed, my anxiety gets worse, i use all kinds of relief techniques, nothing helps, so i relapse again to numb my emotions. the day of my last therapy session i had to go to my hometown bc we had to do some renovations for the apartment we’re giving out for rent. we had to stay in a family friend’s house. i love her but she’s just so insensitive to me and my struggles. like she’d constantly say things like “oh your hygiene is terrible” “oh are you really eating this”. of course she had to make comments about my body and how i’ve gained weight, she also asked what happened with the diets i was doing. while we were there we met with my dad’s aunt and she also made comments about my body and how i’ve gained weight. and the thing is i was having pretty bad time with my body without all these comments from my relatives. i genuinely felt so uncomfortable about the weight gain. the day after we got back home i relapsed. i’m counting calories again, i’m avoiding high cal foods, fear foods start to appear again. i was in denial about my relapse but now i have to admit it - i’m relapsing and i hate myself even more. i genuinely feel like i’m such a failure. i’ve spent over 2 years in therapy and it’s all the same cycle over and over. i’m forever grateful for my current therapist bc she saved me from the darkest times of my life. i was actively suicidal and she was the only one who agreed to work with me despite my resistance to get better. i don’t remember much of this time period but she has told me that she was worrying about me in between sessions and every time i was 5 mins late she thought of the worse situation possible. anyways. now i just feel like i’m wasting my time and her time. what am i even doing? will things ever get better? and the thing is i want to recover at some point. this lifestyle is not sustainable. the health complications are not a joke. i’ve ruined so many relationships bc of my mental illness. i’m missing out on so many things. but i’m just terrified of letting it all go. i can’t deal with the weight gain. i can’t deal with all the emotions. what’s the point of even trying to recover when i’ll always end up in the exact same shitty situation?

[guessimabasicnerdgirlnow]

I haven’t sync-ed my music library to my phone in ages because my library is huge and I haven’t had storage to spare until I bought this new phone. So my music was only on my ipod (and computer ofc but this isn’t relevant). But since a few months ago I started getting lazy to keep my ipod charged, and since we have a subscription to apple music with that online library thing they do and my new phone has storage, I tried to access my music on my phone

I realized that it plays the same songs all the time but that’s okay, shuffle doesn’t always works as we want it to. And a lot of the songs I like are…. let’s be real it’s pirated and not from existing cds. Or by obscure artists that apparently never released their stuff outside their country. Or old telenovela soundtracks that predate internet streaming. A lot of my library isn’t on apple music (or spotify or deezer or any streaming service I have tried so far) so I knew some songs wouldn’t appear in the online library, but I just found out the situation is worse than I thought. I think less than 1/3 of my library is available for me to listen, and some of my fav artists are not included

The depressing part is that I do own physical copies of a lot of it, of the ones that come from actual cds. I do have all the files and backups and if the rules haven’t changed I can upload them but it will take forever and I hate itunes and last I checked I needed to manually redo my playlists every time I uploaded something

Anyway, I had completely forgotten how much harder this stuff that is supposed to make listening to music easier makes my life. My music taste isn’t even that obscure, I just like mainly pop and soundtracks. The world just hates me in particular

[sunshinereddie]

what made you ship reddie? and do you have any other non-canon ships like stozier, bichie (lmfao that ship name always gets me), etc.?

when i read the book i just really liked richie's and eddie's interactions, and i was always drawn to their relationship!! i mean the amount of times richie called eddie cute, the teasing of each other as kids, the way they comfort each other as adults, the entire thing with "eds", aahh it just gets me !!! there's this one line from the book that i always think about: "i hate it when you call me eds." "i know," richie said, hugging him tightly, "but somebody has to toughen you up." i literally have this quote page tabbed in my copy of the book bc aahh i just love it <3 anyways, i also ofc shipped them when i watched the movies. i just loved their dynamic in ch1, and because i wasn't in the fandom before ch2 came out i had no idea about any of the richie's sexuality/R+E teasers they had been putting out, so watching richie's experience and his story in that movie was just an unexpected, big ol' bucket of emotions for me, it really hit me hard, and i think that's also a big reason why reddie means so much to me. R+E will live in my heart forever <3

and no, i don't have any other ships for either richie or eddie! i have no problem with any of those ships, i actually think a lot of them are really cute, but reddie will always be soulmates to me and own my full heart :)

[bodyimstuckin]

DNI + BYF/BYI + About Me!

dni if ur anti-self diagnosers, some people cant afford it, etc.

I'm ok with 18-19 y/o but no older plz!! (unless i follow you first ofc and plz don't be weird!)

Super chill about people into cutegore just as long as itz fake gore!

Fine with ppl into true crime just don't idolize, glorify, etc. killers. 

I don't support weird ass ships, especially comshippers, proshippers, im alright with ships that are between two ADULT fictional characters that ISNT heavily problematic.

following up on the last part, for eg; sangwoo x yoonbum is heavily problematic for various of reasons. but im okay if you just ship to adults that have a regular relationship in the show or something, oh yeah and only if theyre fictional characters. following up on the last part, for eg; sangwoo x yoonbum is heavily problematic for various of reasons. but im okay if you just ship to adults that have a regular relationship in the show or something, oh yeah and only if theyre fictional characters.

Before you friend/interact + who i want to interact

Im a-okay with neo pronounz I dont quite understand 'em but I fully accept them!

a bit sensitive toward the mha fandom (as a fan of the show) as long as you dont support Horikoshi ur prob ok :)

dreamsmp fandom is okay as long as ur not the toxic side of it.

I'm all for furries/therians, i may not understand it but i accept :)

if I EVER do anything wrong please tell me or dm me and be nice i never mean to hurt anyone.

fictionkins are fine as long as you arent taking it too far (as someone with fictionkins)

I accept ALL religions i genuinely dont care as long as ur a good person

I'm quite triggered by the topic of sh

I vent at times so if ur uncomfy with that yk !I PUT WARNINGS DW!

More About Me!

I have around 17 animals at my home. My favorite animals, are mice, rats, ferrets, cats, but I also really like marine life like great white sharks, basking sharks, megamouth sharks, tiger sharks, and megalodons. My special interests are, the characters tomura shigaraki and dabi, their lore is fantastic, i also love fyodor, dazai, nikolai, and sigma, i could ramble about these characters all day.

I'm extremely childish and still like childish things and will forever probably look at baby sensory toys in stores. I'm planning to go to college for criminology and criminal psychology, the psychology behind criminals really interests me, again this is something i could forever ramble about, but fuck tcc honestly. I'm homeschooled but i'm going to public school for high school, so i'm basically online all the time.

Despite me being online all the time, I don't make many bulletins, I apologize in advance but I will try my best to interact with my moots! I'm quite triggered by the topic of sh. 

I vent at times so if ur uncomfy with that yk be safe i always give warnings when I do.

I use tone indicators! super chill if you don't, just please don't be rude about it. I have a huge fear of confrontation just be aware of that, I will not argue with people on here unless it is absolutely necessary.

I have an ed and talk about it sometimes.

i slightly age regress (baby talk, acting childish, expressing my love for baby/little kids toys and clothes, etc.) i use a lot of my interests (mostly styles and subcultures) as coping mechanisms, especially yamikawaii, menhera, or gurokawaii. 

I talk about topics that r very mature at times, I grew up at a young age so I'm quite mature, but at the same time, I'm desperately trying to relive my childhood. I have my IMs off because I can't talk to people without having a panic attack, I'm trying my best to socialize. Despite me being mature, I still am a teenager, I'm still gonna be somewhat immature.

I may not respond to comments or I fail to interact, I am HORRIBLE at socialization, and I don't exactly know what to say. But i will always look at peoples post :3

[golbrocklovely]

The idea of caring who is a fan of who is realy funny considering the fact that nobody is a fucking angel

Idk hbu, but I laugh whenever I see people getting pressed over who some random on the Internet stan and comments like “embarrassing of you” , “ew” , “🤢🤢” or my favorite “anyway. Stan *inserts name*”.

I don’t know where tf those stupid people bought their brain, but it’s clearly not working at all.

You wanna tell someone who they should or should not stan, because you find their fav “problematic”, “embarrassing” or just something else and think you have the right to either make fun of that person for stanning this celebrity and drag their fav celebrity, but what you don’t reAlise is the sad fact that your fav done something problematic too and ain’t fucking perfect human being. Wake up!

I am just so done with those accounts who think they are being “funny” , “cool” or whatever, when they make fun of someone for stanning someone who they consider as problematic. LOOK at YOUR OWN FAVS HONEY. Because everyone had done something “problematic” in their life, even you. Me and anybody else. ( don’t worry I am not talking to you as you, just you like these people who act like this)

Even snc had done some bad “problematic” stuff in the past. But does this mean that they are immediately bad people , should be cancelled, made fun of, along with their fans? Jesus no! Everyone makes mistakes and forever will make em. We are all humans. This is a normal thing. Something that happened/happens for all of us. It’s so SO hypocritical to be mad at someone for making a mistake, when all of us make em. Is so hypocritical to make fun of someone for stanning someone, when you yourself do the same thing and till today I did not meet a single celebrity/influencer that has literally a white card and never did anything that can be considered as “problematic”. Yes, even Harry Styles has done multiple problematic things in the past when he was younger.

If someone who makes such comments and make fun of people regardless of who do they stan is reading this :

1. First of all: FUCK YOU

2. Get a life

3. Stop, just stop ! You stan people as well and being big ass hypocrite for acting this way

Ofc criminals are not included in this discussion ( as people who r*ped , abu*ed , SA someone… )

i think the issue is, there is always a competition going on between every creator or celeb, no matter what. and it's usually made from the fans. like one artist against another, one creator compared to another creator, ect. and i think that competition causes fans to try and see who can one up the other constantly. so, when one fav faulters, or makes a mistake, everyone's able to run and say "omg you stan them? gross. could never be me" and shit like that.

and what's funny is their favs are just… existing. they aren't even comparing themselves to these other ppl as much as their fans (and other fans) are. so this is all caused by fans creating a problem that just realisticially isn't there.

i also think when it comes to "problematic" things someone can do (and i'm not talking about actual serious problems ppl have done, just the more light-hearted ones that still get ppl in trouble), the reason why fans come for their throats is bc they're upset. they want to see someone pay for the harm, so they'll take down whoever they can. when in reality, one person being "called out" for something they did 10 years ago really isn't helping the current situation at hand. and i also think ppl don't want to see others get better and grow. they want to keep them in a box and have them stay the same, that way they judge them eternally for the shit they do wrong, regardless of the fact they aren't like that anymore.

when someone does something wrong, they should apologize for it. but to hold it against them, especially when it isn't a pattern, is ridiculous to me.

[ratboyray]

BRO I'M SO GLAD YOU'RE BACK!!!!!!!!!!!! literally made my night with your presence ngl. i hope everything went okay. aaaaaaaaaaa i could've just sent this in a dm but like! i'm so happy to see you dude! was kinda worried about you, but i'm really glad to see you're alive :D oh! i got a job at my local library and god their manga collection is a mess,,,,every time i go to shelve stuff, it's always out of order. but! they have a nice selection and i still love it there tho. i'm also starting college in like less than two weeks and i am Not Ready. at least i got tons of bubble tea shops to keep me going. sorry for this long ramble, just really, really happy to see you post again. :D also, how have you not finished run with the wind? please ray. please finish the Very Good Running series,,,,,

AAAAA HEY BRO IM GLAD TO BE BACK😭😭😭😭😭 and yeah honestly I really was like hoping people didnt thik I yknow dazai-ed or somethhjshdjfohgawd but yooooooo library job??? im so jealous i've always loved shelving sm that's gotta be such a nice place to work🤧🤧

and ofc wishing you The Most Luck starting college bro !!! deadass the thing keeping me from freaking out abt it was getting all-pink dorm stuff hfjhsjdf are you moving into your college?? I had been considering staying home for a while but yeah😭😭

okAY AND LISTEN--- in my defense I havent finished ANY anime in llike Forever bc my focus has genuinely become shite on a stick💀💀but I WILL do it just you wait <3

[crybaby-caregiver-03]

Hii im new to tumblr but im looking for friends and maybe a cg/little ! So heres a little about me, pls follow and dont be afraid to send me a message ♡

About big me (pictures below) :

Clingy but scared of bothering people so im a very bad texter, stoner, chaos witch, tarot reader, way too into astrology, leo sun cancer moon virgo rising! I babysit an actual three year old irl! I lovee cooking and baking, will share recipes with you ♡ i will make you a playlist and fall asleep on the phone everyday :)

Little me:

Clingy as heck, will spam, super needy, cartoons, painting, cuddles, super hyper and loud or non verbal..rarely in between. Needs constant reassurance and quality time. But most importantly need LOTS of communication!! I do want/need rules bc i suck at time management and taking care of myself. Loves phone calls but gets anxious on camera so pls be patient. If you sing or read to me i will love you forever. Also a pet regressor with a puppy and dragon space heheh

Basic:

Name: aggie chase c. Age: 18 Little age: 3-6

Birthday: July 27 Job: babysitter

I lovee doing stuff to my hair is currently pink :p favorite colors are blue, purple, black and silver. Comfort foods are mac n cheese and veggiesss ♡ loves pacis and sippy cups! And my stuffies ofc.

Currently in school and working so replies may be slow-ish ! Also im very mentally ill and i sometimes go poof off social media for days at a time so sorry if im ever inactive. If we form a relationship (platonic or otherwise) ill always let you know before i leave and give you a way to contact me !

If you want to be my cg/little:

No rules about eating pls i have an ed

Sometimes i struggle with regressing so i may need help slipping

Pls be 16-21 years old ! Its just the age group im most comfortable with rn.

Dont be guilt trippy ill drop you immediately

I have random triggers just ask before venting ill most likely say yes

Also might be best to contact me on instagram idk how active ill be here ! @/aggiechase

[ashlannaughty]

⌠ DREW RAY TANNER, 24, CISMALE, HE/HIM ⌡ welcome back to gallagher academy, ASHLAN NOTLEY! according to their records, they’re a SECOND year, specializing in DRIVER’S ED + SEDUCTION AND FLIRTATION; and they DID NOT go to a spy prep high school. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of (pristine balenciaga sneakers, an over-sized historical biography & wintergreen tic tacs). when it’s the (aquarius)’s birthday on 2/14/1996, they always request their HONEY GARLIC PORK CHOPS from the school’s chefs. looks like they’re well on their way to graduation.

he’s back and for that...i have no justification. personality-wise nothing has changed, sorries.

here’s a link to his Doc so go nuts!

but also a bad vague tl;dr yet again.

his mother was a spy (a gallagher girl ofc) who married a Civilian and she retired when she got pregnant with ashlan

he’s an only child so his mother never told him about her life as a spy bc she was anti blackthorne (bc she’s smart<3) and she didn’t think he should go to gallagher and she thinks going to school for it before diving in is very important!!!

ashlan’s parents divorced when he was in hs so his mother moved to new york city and he and his father stayed in melbourne. he ended up going to university in aus and studied history

he’s a huge history nerd but i am not so let’s just have fun!

one day his mother was like...............you should try to transferring to columbia because what if........you get in and she was bein weird about it but he was like okay lol and he got in because he’s smart (allegedly) and his grades were good but mostly because he knows a few languages and was in 8237846 clubs and is also athletic so they were like?? a one of a kind genius also his mom had gallagher ties to columbia because that sounds........believable......

then ofc gallagher opened up to boys and his mom was like. btw i Actually was a spy, not a microbiologist forever like u thot and you should go train to be a spy and he was like o word? because he likes trying new things clearly (even though highkey history is his one true Passion)

he was here last year so now he’s a second year the end

@gallagherintro

[tozierpunks]

I’m always here for Reddie and stanpat. So. reddie & stanpat Conception AU

ashbot you’re the only one who truly loves me sometimes ❤️just a heads up, it’s a lil nsfw, so dig on this:

the story starts with mike teaching a classroom of 5 year olds, and he wraps up the lesson with, “any questions?” and little 5 year old Elton raises his hand and goes, “where do babies come from?” Mike’s face proceeds to drop to the floor

another little kid, Emmy, goes, “I’ll draw it for you Elton, it’s real weird.” AND NOW MIKE PANICS AND TAKES THE PAPER AND TRIES HIS BEST TO EXPLAIN, “it’s not weird! it’s... normal.” and a third kid (Cher) chimes in: “my daddy said the mommy poops out a baby” and Mike resists the urge to roll his eyes

cue title card and now we cut to our first couple of the story: stan and patty. now they’ve been trying forever to have a baby, but they’re struggling. patty is a doctor and stan is an environmental science teacher, they’re doing well, and now they’re on a special plan to get pregnant bc they’re ready, it’s time

so he comes in with the fertility shot, patty’s leaning against the bed, and he’s clearly nervous but this is his wife, he loves her, he wants this baby too, so he’s gonna help and he says, “i’m really afraid i’m not gonna be good at this.” “i’m afraid of that too babe.”

she instructs him tho, “hold it like a pencil, stick the needle in really quickly- like a dart, check for blood, and if there’s no blood then push the medicine in.”

“... okay but... if there’s blood... i might pass out. Maybe I should put some pillows down like a stuntman-”

“am I just gonna have to do this?” “No!” and she held her hand out to take the needle back but he just high fives her and counts down, “Three, two, two and a half-” “Stan.” AND HE STICKS HER AND SHE STARTS SHOUTING AT HIM

“OW, FUCKER!” “YOU SAID LIKE A DART!” “WELL NOT LIKE A FUCKING JAVELIN!”

stan, perplexed, stands there and patty shouts, “WELL PUSH THE MEDICINE IN.”

stan, still shaken: “OKAY, OKA- CAN YOU BE NICE TO ME?!”

“I HAVE GOT A NEEDLE IN MY ASS RIGHT NOW.”

“Oh babe there’s blood, I’m gonna be sick.”

And Patty is rolling her eyes while Stan needs to take a breather bc he really can’t handle the blood

NOW SCENE CUT TO REDDIE where it’s a little less romantic, a little more Fight Club

richie planned a whole day bc at the end, their surrogate was supposed to call to let them know which designer baby was chosen - so, richie’s spermies for a boy or girl, or eddie’s spermies for a boy or girl

but eddie comes storming into the house to see his boyfriend - not husband, but boyfriend - on the couch, and he marches straight to the bedroom to grab richie’s bat, comes back out, and smashes the tv

“WHOA, EDS, WHAT THE FUCK-” “GET YOUR SHIT OUT!” “YOU JUST SMASHED A THOUSAND DOLLAR TV-” “GET IT OUT, I’M CALLING OUR SURROGATE BEFORE IT’S TOO LATE, JUST GET OUT! IT’S OVER!” he slams the door to his room, leaving richie dumbfounded, but ofc he comes right back out

“you didn’t even ask why i smashed the tv, you just said ‘that was a thousand dollar tv’!” ofc richie’s gonna bite back tho, “okay, fine, let’s ignore the property damage. eddie. what’s wrong?”

“YOU! You took my money-” “our moneY? in OUR bank account?” “and who put that money there? what’d you spend it on, richie? baseball? football? fucking ice skating-” “I’ll get it back-”

“great! mail it to me!” and again, he storms off. so obviously they’re in a pickle but more on that later.

BACK TO STANPAT BEING GREAT, Stan flops on the bed and groans, “this baby making stuff is really hard.”

“yeah but now comes the fun part.” “you’re gonna watch me play video games?” “no, we’re gonna have sex!”

stan doesn’t look as excited as patty hoped and she’s confused as he covers his face and goes, “babe... i kinda did it, with myself, in the bathroom-” “YOU MASTURBATED? WE’RE TRYING TO HAVE A BABY, YOU CAN’T-” “YOU LEFT SOME KIND OF WOMEN’S CATALOG-”

“No, take your clothes off-” “Pat, respectfully, I have to take a raincheck-” “No! Take your frickin clothes off, you’re fucking me!” and ofc stan is pretty turned on by his wife being bossy, he can work up another small soldier in his pants maybe... probably... hopefully

so while they’re waiting for him, patty explains all the stuff he can and can’t do

“you’re gonna need to drink plenty of fluids, cut back on things like flaxseed-” “aw babe, I love flaxseed.” bc stan got jokes and patty just stares at him before adding, “and you gotta switch to boxers, the testicles need less restraint-”

“babe, i know you’re a doctor and you have to say that at the hospital, but when you’re at home, could you call them balls? like, stan your hot sweaty balls aren’t good for making babies-” “babe, i have to fuck you right now, stop.”

their banter is everything, and as they climb into bed, patty stresses that missionary position is more likely to get her pregnant, and stan is skeptical, “that just sounds lazy on your part.” but alright! and they do the do, and eventually patty tells him she orgasmed and stan is AGAIN SKEPTICAL

“what? no! You scream a lot when you orgasm-” “oh that’s just for show”

stan found dead in his bedroom

“this baby making stuff just keeps getting better and better.”

and as patty is lying there, hips elevated to help the spermies flow their little way up the pipes, she looks at stan and smiles, “i know this is a lot babe, i’m sorry. I just really want a baby.” and stan smiles back and kisses her hand, “i know pat. me too.” “will you stay with me?” “of course.” and they get to lie there together and be cute

NOW BACK TO REDDIE WHO ARE CLEARLY HAVING ISSUES BUT, EDDIE COMES OUT AND THREATENS TO CALL THE COPS, BUT RICHIE TAKES HIS PHONE AND ASKS, “WILL YOU JUST TELL ME WHAT STARTED ALL THIS, EDDIE? PLEASE?”

and eddie slumps against the wall and explains, “I thought having a baby would fix things. I thought I could get over your aversion to getting married, but I’m sitting at the stoplight, and I realize... everyone’s going somewhere. Everyone’s moving, but me.”

“Well that’s what you do at a stoplight-”

“Shut up Richie.” and Richie tries to reach out to touch Eddie but Eddie kicks him away and scoots to the other side of the wall, leaving Richie to sit in his spot

now they’ve been together since high school, they’re thirty now, and richie still hasn’t hinted at marriage. Eddie’s been ready since 24, and six years is a long time to wait for someone to mature. He really wants this baby, and he really wants a life with Richie, but he doesn’t know how to stop wanting to get married. If Richie doesn’t want that, where does that leave him? he doesn’t know if he can wait much longer for this man to be ready to grow up and start a life

so Richie sighs and goes, “I didn’t spend the money on sports stuff or gambling.” and he pulls a little velvet box from his pocket and slides it over and Eddie’s eyes widen and all Richie can hear from him is, “ohhh”

“I hate you, Richie.” and Richie snorts bc he loves Eddie so much, he knows that EDDIE KNOWS, he’s in the wrong. not richie. “I’m sorry-” “I love you, Eddie.” “I snapped-” “Clearly.” “That was really extreme-” “You’ve always been extreme. You threw the first rock at Stonewall- I mean, Henry.” “Shut up.”

and they start smooching on this apartment floor, but it quickly turns into a frantic fuck bc MAKE UP SEX!!!! WOO WOO!!!

when richie’s in the tub and eddie’s washing his hair, they get the call and the surrogate tells them she chose one of each bc the doctor said it was a maximum of two, they’ll find out in two weeks if it worked and then later, what they’re having!

cut to a couple months later, patty comes home and slams a sonogram on the table for stan to see, and he’s fighting the biggest goofy grin, “what’s that?” “a tumor.” and ofc he’s :/ “no it’s not.” “no it’s not!”

meanwhile, eddie is pacing in his apartment while richie lies on the floor and the surrogate is on speaker, “I didn’t think both eggs would plant! You guys are sure you can handle two kids?”

NOW, FINALLY, CUT BACK TO MIKE. THE BELL RINGS AND HE BREATHES A HUGE SIGH OF RELIEF. ALL THE KIDS RUN OUT OF THE CLASSROOM TO THEIR PARENTS.

Emmy runs off to meet her mom and dad, Patty and Stan Uris

Elton and Cher are hoisted up by their dads, Richie and Eddie

the four of them wave to their old friend, Mike

the end :3

[baskervilleshund]

4,5 years of Gotham in my life♥

Wow my emotions these last days. I’m not much of a text poster on this site but when Gotham ended I really felt I wanted to write this!

Gotham has been a huge part of my life for so long now. 4 years and 7 months since the first episode aired, that’s some time gosh. And so much has happened during this journey! I just wanna mention some memorable things during these years. Like remember the pre-s02x09 excitement?? And other stuffs, ah here we go!

The first trailer made me SO EXCITE, I had wanted more batman villains content for years since I have always found the batman villains squad so interesting and good and unique characters, there is so much to explore here! And so the Gotham trailer came and I just OH MY GOD this is exactly what I want!! And so it started and it was amazing. My first love was Ed, it took him his first scene in ep1 to make me go totally THIS IS MY FAV! More eps went on and I required more Ed content. But then Oswald slowly grew on me kinda out of nowhere like I wasn’t expecting it. And when amazing ep7 aired it just hit down on me from the sky, like it does when I know I got a new obsession/fandom. Oswald’s amazing scenes in ep7 and I went ”Okay this is it, I’M DEEP INTO THIS NOW AND I LOVE IT!”. In exactly THIS↓ scene/moment I basically said those words out loud and realized this is my life now, ugh also one of my fav looks I miss the bangs:

Shortly after ep7 I started shipping Nygmobblepot, since we knew who these characters were and who they will end up being it made SO much sense in this show, they were like the two familiar main villains in kinda the same age and I also loved them both so I mean it was obvious for me. Man in the beginning we were so very few in the shipping Nygmob pond, in the OCEAN of Gobblepot. It was a bit of a struggle sometimes, ppl wrote hate on my Nygmob posts n stuff shrug. And I just didn’t get how not more ppl could see it? It would make more sense if this were new characters like they hadn’t even met but since we knew this is Riddler and Penguin it just was fate for them to cross paths soon enough! We needed Nygmob content! I started making tons of my own AU:s since if the show wouldn’t give us content I would do it.

BUT we had Robin & Cory with us! Reminder that Cory invented the shipname after 5 minutes and Robin & Cory’s amazing twitter activity during s1 especially I will always remember as a fav. Remember when they we’re so into roleplaying Nygmob and spoke how Ed & Os loved each other and all sorts of things. All about going to The Foxglove together and stuff. Ugh it was amazing, I miss their interactions.  

In this very smol pond is when one day my shining star @conscience-killer (aka okimi79)  approached me, with this ♥ ”Sometimes I feel we’re the only Nygmobblepot shippers in the world…well apart from Robin and Cory. We should have a secret handshake or something.”

And man did we get a secret handshake! Gosh MY DEAR OKIMI! That I up til this day since then has spoken with like everyday for 4,5 years, you are amazing ♥ And in that time of so few shippers it felt even more special, to have  someone else out there as obsessed as me. I’m so grateful we found each other at exactly that time and we’ve been through so much on this journey ♥.

When Nygmob in spring finally had their first scene it was so amazing and I have no idea how many times I have watched that scene to this day, and also with that the ship grew a bit yas!!

Let’s jump forward a bit. NYC Comic Con 2015 in fall, one of my fav Robin & Cory cons/interview times! Because the legendary ep 2x9 was soon upon us and OMG remember how excite they were in those interviews!?! And THEN, that fkn night THE episode aired. I couldn’t believe it was real, it was EVERYTHING we had dreamed of!!! SO MUCH NYGMOB CONTENT and so in character and gosh. Man their season 2 relationship is just so beautiful and I love it til this day and 2x9 is forever my favorite episode because it meant EVERYTHING for us shippers and more people also started seeing the connection between Nygmob and so more ppl started to make content and join in!

A time after another shining star came into my life, @constant-sinner (aka (riddlelvr) ♥ This amazing person and artist! And together with her and okimi I am part of the best trash family of three and I can’t believe I’ve been a mom (yet i’m the youngest but i’m fashion fur coat mom okay) to these trash sinners for like 4 years. ♥

Okay but remember all INSANE SMAYLOR CONTENT BEFORE SEASON 3!!? Man that was also one of the best times I had during these years. God they were so excite for their relationship in s3 and WEREN’T WE ALL! And omg Comic Con. I had my fkn header for 3 years soon lol, man that moment I remember seeing the signing booth stream all casual and Robin & Cory goes “Smaaylor!! Nygmobblepot!!! ;))” And I’m just wait WHUT omg. Their press tours with Sean is something I’ll miss even more than the episodes, always such a joy seeing those three together!

And when season 3 started it was just insane. To be honest how their relationship grew in s3 that’s how I expected it to grow after their meeting in s1, it made sense already back then. Ed admiring Oswald and sneaking to his club and Oswald would be a huge part of Ed’s journey to become the Riddler but ah well, I did my best with my AU:s back then!

And then s3 came and Gotham EXPLODED and I had no idea where all million ppl suddenly came from lol. It became huge. But since it still feels kinda close to this day (2,5 yrs though man), my most nostalgic feels will always be over s1-2 so I’m not gonna write so much about the season 3-5 times in this text. My closest to heart milestones is during the first years and now that I’ve seen all episodes I still think season 1 is the best overall, except the lack of Nygmob content ofc ;)

I’ve not just felt love for the show ofc, the show isn’t perfect. There has been serious flaws and bad writing and plot drops. Tbh s4 I just felt so NOPE about? 22 eps of waste…Like Ed’s plot for example like he barley had his own plot what happened? And we also have the q*eerbait Nygmob issue obviously. I have also felt the show has been a bit childish being -helloo- GOTHAM city we’re talking about? I think it would have been much better off with a MA-rating tbh to properly tell certain stories. After s4 though I’m glad in s5 Nygmob finally got some proper screen time being together and in character!! Like that’s how their relationship should have been from beginning of season 4, or season 1 if u ask me lol but ya know!

BUT I LOVE THIS SHOW, the amazing actors and characters and scenery and costumes!! Ed, Oswald, Robin & Cory will ofc always have the most special place in my heart ♥ The Nygmob journey in the show has meant so much to me to follow it from day one and I never knew how much this show would mean to me when I started back in the day.

This show. And not just the show itself but my journey and life around it!!? So much has happened. For one example I had made a bit of gifs before but Gotham really got me into gif making, and it’s been a joy sharing content and my Nygmob AU will always be among my most fun things I’ve done, it was like if they ain’t gonna give us enough content I WILL. It’s a fun way of gif making to manip scenes to create something new! And today I still enjoy making gifs, as you probably know heh. Thanks so much for all nice comments and reblogs through all these years ya’ll!! It warms my heart and I love to read reblog tags! 

I have been at con and got to meet Robin, enjoyed so many interviews and promos, chatted with wonderful people. Every Friday night I have been up in my Europe timezone at 2am to live watch the show, the workdays after has been a bit of a struggle of being tired with going to bed like 5am lol but man it’s been so nice to follow it when it airs!

Watching together with my dearest @conscience-killer and @constant-sinner . Two of the best that happened to me during these years. These two people that I’ve spoken with like everyday for 4 years! Through Gotham finding two of my dearest friends in my life. Watching the show together and screaming, crying, laughing during this journey, about not just the show but EVERYTHING in life. They also are amazing writers and artists ♥ And also helped me endless times with gif caption when my non-native brain trying to write gif captions at 3am after the episode lol. All my love to you both ♥

THANKS TO ALL AMAZING PEOPLE that impacted me over these years. The cast and nice fandom people! My dearest @conscience-killer and @constant-sinner. And I also wanna mention dear @millicentcordelia and @selene-volturo that are amazing ppl that have been here with me since the very beginning of season 1. And they have always been so down to earth even during the stormiest periods of this show’s existence ♥ I’m so glad we’ve shared this LONG journey!

And also hugs to my dear mutual fandom friends that I’ve shared hours of conversations with over the years. Some of us maybe don’t speak as much nowadays and some of us have gone separate ways with new interests but I hope you know who you all are, regardless if we spoke yesterday or 2015. You have made my fandom time a joy!

I’m actually okay with the show ending now you know. Ofc it’s a bit sad but as I said I felt s4 was kinda stomping around in the same spot and even s5 had some fillers like they didn’t have more to do to push the story forward? The last ep was a nice easter egg wrap up for this LONG journey. And I mean shows live on with fan content, and who knows maybe it will return somehow? But it feels good they told us it would end so I was prepared for this and to say ”goodbye”. But it’s not goodbye because content will continue on this site and I’ll continue re-enjoy this show!

This is 4,5 years. In 2 pages, I could prob write 20 but ah, but i felt I got to to summary the most important things for me over these years ♥. This show and stuff that came with it will always be such a big part of my life, ALL LOVE AND HUGS!

[obeetlebeetle]

Do all the dnd asks!

1. A favorite character you have played.

done!

2. Your favorite character that someone else has played.

o my god.. this is so hard, my group makes really good characters! for each of them:zach - nickels!! trauma child kenku weirdo who sold their soul to talk.. who grew up to be an angry pirate who adopted a child on impulse.ari - lael, obviously. they have a half-elf complex, a good chunk of their personality is being the kid that catches lizards, and they have a robot arm.lemon - honestly? jj devinyl. i mean, john mulaney as a tiefling cleric who loves his wife and is also going completely insane? yeah.bree - i.. love layla. she’s a good-aligned cleric to an evil god and her and kellan are the cutest couple in dnd tbh.connor - guardian is a robot.

3. Your favorite side quest.

o fuck!! y’all.. it’s bufo. it’s the fact that my talking toad npc was so lovable that they unlocked the quest in which his mother hunts him down and tries to kill him so that she can live forever. they killed her ofc and bufo was untransformed into a handsome.. halfling.

4. Your current campaign.

i’m running a murder mystery set aboard an airship! with strong cosmic horror elements! and i’m playing in a large-scale epic about spies caught up in the very start of a continent-wide war.

5. Favorite NPC.

also a very hard question. on one hand, jean is my actual boyfriend and also a literal angel assassin. on the other hand, nika is a child god trapped in an amulet whose super god power makes people trip which is so fucking funny. back around to the first hand, which is now the third, aengus is so well-done as a villain that he’s almost scared me in my real-life actual heart and yet he’s an a huge loser with breakup trauma, which is objectively also so fucking funny. on my fourth hand, fela is my most important npc who i’m probably in love with and she’s been in every one of my campaigns. on my FIFTH hand--

6. Favorite death (monster, player character, NPC, etc).

done!

7. Your favorite downtime activity.

done!

8. Your favorite fight/encounter.

that time nasuada beat lumley up in her own dumb-ass head, and lumley’s response was to find this super hot.

9. Your favorite thing about D&D.

getting together and spending time with my friends! or maybe that it lets me be creative without the stress writing gives me.

10. Your favorite enemy and the enemy you hate the most.

fav enemy is def aengus!! like wow he’s fucking terrifying!! and i hate yin&yang the most, they were so creepy and cruel and they were never really punished.

11. How often do you play and how often would you ideally like to play?

i dm once a week these days, and i play sporadically. thesis year has been hard on me! but ideally i would love to dm twice a week and play in one or two steady campaigns, or dm once a week with regular one-shot sessions!

12. Your in game inside jokes/memes/catchphrases and where they came from.

o.. there’s a lot?? my favorite is “honeyclaw pissed on lenthol” bc our barbarian thought it would be a good idea to climb into the robot piloted by the “big bad” (or so we thought at the time), and then to sell her bluff that she was looking for the bathroom, she just...... pissed herself >:(

13. Introduce your current party.

as a dm: lael (half-elf magitechnician who bases their mad science off of cool bugs); guardian (robot paladin on his third life, basically robocop with light existential crises); senhora (brash and kind-hearted by turns, an elf who [REDACTED] before becoming a ranger and bonding w a wolf); jj devinyl (a tiefling cleric who does stand-up comedy and loves his wife); and percy (an android with identity issues, driven by curiosity, and love for magic, and literally no qualms about threatening to kill her friends).

as a player:rowan (the last prince of a lost kingdom and also the saddest, gayest boy in town); ko&kokumo (my elf boy whose soul split in two after leaving his warlock patron, driven by nosiness and romance respectively); honeyclaw (a tabaxi pro-wrestler who deserted her life as a child soldier, pissed on lenthol); peitho (the surprisingly wholesome god of sex, was kinda into the tactics of being a spy before he got distracted by p*ssy); and lumley (the dumbest baby lesbian ever o my god, she’s the daughter of a powerful river goddess and she still can’t get a date).

14. Introduce any other parties you have played in or DM-ed.

that would take me one million years.

15. Do you have snacks during game times?

yeah!! traditionally we take a halfway break at 9 and all go get snacks together, it’s great.

16. Do you play online or in person? Which do you prefer?

i prefer in person, but we play online a lot, and we’ll have to be only online once we graduate.

17. What are some house rules that your group has?

we round up score mods from odds and we don’t pay attention to like.. most of the little rules. it’s more abt the storytelling. (which is why we may switch to a different system if i can seduce them away.)

18. Does your party keep any pets?

o yeah, i think almost every group has had an animal companion. and if not, zach always plays a furry.

19. Do you or your party have any dice superstitions?

a lot of us roll specific sets for each character! 

20. How did you get into D&D? How long have you been playing?

i got into dnd in high school bc i liked a boy who watched community, and then i watched community, and the dnd episode fucking rocked. never got past making characters and one botched attempt at a session. then in my first year of college, i joined the dnd club and i’ve been playing since! so like, three years and some change.

21. Have you ever regretted something your character has done?

ya lol i play very much how my character would act and tho that usually goes well for me.. ko wanted to break his pact with aengus despite the Consequences and i didn’t. but overall i think the outcome has been a lot of fun!

22. What color was your first dragon?

silver! just introduced them, actually!

23. Do you use premade modules or original campaigns?

all original, baby.

24. How much planning/preparation do you do for a game?

a ton. as a dm i write........ a lot. i want to have a lot of vivid characters, solid plots, and a huge interwoven world. so my docs are always huge and take me months to finish. 

as a player i do less bc players just inherently have far less to do. but i still try put a ton into really developing my character so i can play them more naturally.

For DMs

25. What have your players done that you never could have planned for?

in my first campaign, i used a lot of weird memory spells to keep characters from remembering the big bad, because him being unremembered was a HUGE plot point for me. i had two different groups playing in the city at the same time, and one of them.... had this dragonborn who just liked to talk to plants and who hated nobles, and who fucking cast MAGIC MOUTH on their FANNY PACK to record that big bad so that it COULDN’T BE FORGOTTEN. MAGIC MOUTH. THAT’S THE SPELL THAT BROKE ME.

26. What was your favorite scene to write and show your characters.

i’ve really liked a couple, but i know i haven’t topped the finale for my first campaign. after finally the groups finally came together and killed Shargaas, the city began to crumble around them, and they all watched me set a ten-minute timer for them to figure out how to get away with their lives.

27. Do you allow homebrew content?

o yea, i adore MFOV particularly.

28. How often do you use NPCs in a party?

o there are always a couple kicking around.

29. Do you prefer RP heavy sessions or combat sessions?

we don’t really.. do... that second thing....

30. Are your players diplomatic or murder hobos?

yes.

For Players

31. What is your favorite class? Favorite race?

o fuck. uh probably wizard. and i love................. half-elves.

32. What role do you like to play the most? (Tank/healer/etc?)

i really like long-distance damage dealers.

33. How do you write your backstory, or do you even write a backstory?

i always start with a concept and then i just write an entire novel ell em ay oh.

34. Do you tend pick weapons/spells for being useful or for flavor?

done!

35. How much roleplay do you like to do?

like, 70% rp, 30% jokes,

[petitesimss]

Get to Know Me Tag

I was tagged by the beautiful @timouke to do this challenge so here we go I guess?!

Rules: Post a pic of your simself with your traits and answer the questions! :)

My Traits: Clumsy, Goofball, and Genius 

(According to other people, I swear I didn't label myself as a genius! xD)

Really quick I would like to go ahead and tag of my FAV simblrs: @mmfinds @stardustsim @blushchat @brindletonsims @mochieo @awsimmer92 @fussysim @simplistic-sims4 @tainoodles and also anyone who wants to do it!

1. What is your full name? Megan :)

2. What is your nickname? Meg (Omg so basic)

3. When is your birthday? October 7th

4. Favorite book series? ‘ARRY POTTER!

5. Do you believe in aliens or ghosts? Uhm not aliens but I think some form of ghosts exist. Not necessarily the scary ones xD

6. Favorite author? John Green

7. Favorite Radio Station? I don’t listen to the radio oof

8. What is your favorite flavor of everything? Chocolate or Strawberry!! Mmmm

9. What word will you often use to describe something great or wonderful? Amazing or just a *gasp* noise

10. What is your current favorite song? Nancy Mulligan by Ed Sheeran

11. Favorite word? oof

12. What was the last song you listened to? Currently listening to Pentatonix’s cover of Hallelujah

13. What TV show do you recommend? I am currently obsessed with Vampire Diaries

14. Favorite movie to watch when you’re upset? Omg this is weird but those classic like 2005 Barbie movies always cheer me up

15. Do you play video games? Not really other than sims ofc :P

16. Biggest Fear? Dark Bathrooms (especially the mirrors, its a long story)

17. What is your best quality, in your opinion? My drive to work hard or maybe just my general compassion for everyone

18. What is your worst quality, in your opinion? LAZINESS

19. Cats or dogs? CATS I HAVE THREE

20. Favorite season? Fall because of sweaters and moderately cool weather

21. Are you in a relationship? Oui!

22. Something you miss from your childhood? Barbie Movies

23. Best friend? My boyfriend xD

24. Eye color? Chocolate brown

25. Hair color? Dark brown, black at the roots

26. Who is someone you love? My mother xD

27. Who is someone you trust? My mother

28. Who is someone you think about often? My boyfriend (These answers are so basic oof)

29. Are you currently excited about/for something? IM SEEING THE CRIMES OF GRINDLEWALD TOMORROW

30. Biggest obsession? Cats

31. Favorite TV show as a kid? Probably I-Carly or Hannah Montana

32. Who of the opposite gender can you tell anything to, if anyone? My boyfriend

33. Are you superstitious? Unintentionally yes

34. Any unusual phobias? Dark bathrooms xD

35. In front of the camera or behind it? Both

36. Favorite Hobby? Sims eek

37. Last book your read? Idk why but I stopped reading and so I have no idea

38. Last movie you watched? Not all of it but some of Pitch Perfect (I’ve already seen the whole thing don't worry)

39. Play an instrument? My voice and also a bit of the keyboard

40. Favorite Animal? Cat.

41. Top five tumblr blogs you follow? ALL OF THEM DANG IT

42. What superpower do you wish you had? Flight!

43. Where and when do you feel the most at peace? At home, sleeping in my bed

44. What makes you smile? Literally life

45. What sports do you play, if any? I’ve been in dance for 13 years

46. Favorite drink? Coca-Cola

47. Last time you wrote a handwritten note or letter to someone? This week actually!

48. Afraid of heights? DUH

49. Biggest pet peeve? SLOW WALKERS JUST WALK PLEASE

50. Ever been to a concert? Yep and I’ve been in several local ones

51. Vegan or Vegetarian? Heck no 

52. What did you want to be when you were little? A pop star xD

53. What fictional world would you like to live in? Just. Hogwarts. Always.

54. What is something you worry about? If I am actually liked by people

55. Scared of the dark? Only in bathrooms dude

56. Do you like to sing? YES (Soprano 1 - Mezzo)

57. Ever skipped school? Nope, I’m a good bean

58. Favorite place on the planet? Bed.

59. Where would you like to live? New York or Paris

60. Have any pets? 3 cats (Bella, Possum, and Ty) and also a fish whose name I don't remember

61. Early bird or Night owl? NIGHT OWL

62. Sunrises or Sunsets? I’m gonna go with sunsets

63. Do you know how to drive? I should but I don't xD

64. Earbuds or headphones? Earbuds but not the ones you get with an iPhone, those suck!

65. Ever had braces? Three years I think total, and I just had to get a 6 week retainer set to close a small gap that came back :(

66. Favorite genre of music? Pop I guess xD Or musical theater!

67. Who is your hero? My stepdad

68. Do you read comic books? No but my stepdad did xD

69. What makes you the most angry? When people make jokes about things like cancer or diabetes (THEY ARENT FUNNY)

70. Do you prefer to read on an electronic device or with a real book? Definitely a real book, My eyes don't hurt as much plus they smellll soooo goooodd

71. Favorite Subject? English or Science

72. Any siblings? So this is complicated but I have one half brother, a half-step brother, and a half-step sister

73. The last thing you bought? I bought a journal and some bath salts for my friend’s birthday

74. How tall are you? So I used to be 5′2 but every time I go to the doctor they measure me at like 5′1 and I am confusion

75. Can you cook? Yes but I prefer baking

76. Three things you love? My family, my friends, and food (Omg I typed foot at first EEK)

77. Three things you hate? I LITERALLY DONT HATE ANYTHING IM SORRY

78. Do you have more female friends or male friends? Female oof

79. Sexual orientation? Straight But why did you need to know??

80. Where do you currently live? Louisiana OOOF

81. Last person you texted? My boyfriend, specifically “hehehe yess”

82. Last time you cried? Watching “A Walk to Remember” a few weeks ago

83. Favorite youtuber? All of them, rip

84. Do you like to take selfies? Yes but only because I don't like the pictures other people take of me xD

85. Favorite app? BUZZFEED or maybe netflix

86. What is your relationship with your parent(s) like? I love my mom and we are close but me and my biological dad don't talk

87. Favorite foreign accent? FRENCH OR BRITISH

88. Place you’ve never been to but want to visit? Hawaii or Paris

89. Favorite number? 2 but also literally any even number

90. Can you juggle? Who on here can actually juggle cause I want to be your best friend please (so no)

91. Are you religious? I’m supposed to be catholic but I haven't been to church in a while

92. Is outer space or the deep ocean more interesting? The deep ocean because I want to be a mermaid

93. Do you consider yourself a daredevil? No I am the opposite oof

94. Are you allergic to anything? Cats and dogs, pollen, grass, apparently something in the meningitis vaccine (ITS A LONG STORY)

95. Can you curl your tongue? YOU BET I CAN

96. Can you wiggle your ears? No but I can shake my eyes

97. How often do you admit that you’re wrong about something? I am never wrong, ever.

98. The forest or the beach? The beach cause mermaids

99. What is your favorite piece of advice that anyone has ever given to you? Do what you love, don’t work for money.

100. Are you a good liar? I am a TERRIBLE liar

101. Hogwarts house? Gryffindor but my hybrid house is Gryffinpuff soooo...

102. Do you talk to yourself? I used to tbh but now I usually just sing to myself

103. Introvert of Extrovert? Extrovert but I love me time

104. Do you keep a journal/diary? No I just deal with my thoughts

105. Do you believe in second chances? Absolutely

106. If you found a wallet full of money on the ground, what would you do? Look for identification in it so I can return it to it’s owner

107. Do you believe that people are capable of change? Of course!

108 Are you ticklish? VERY

109. Have you ever been on a plane? Yes, I was on one last weekend

110. Any piercings? Only my basic ear piercings

111. What fictional character do you wish was real? Ronald Weasley

112. Any tattoos? No but I wanna get a few small ones later in life

113. Best decision you’ve made in your life so far? Care for others is far more rewarding than wallowing in sadness

114. Do you believe in karma? It depends, really

115. Do you wear glasses or contacts? I used to wear glasses but since one of my eyes is near sighted and the other is far sighted they balance each other out enough so that I don’t necessarily need them anymore

116. Do you want children? YES LIKE 3-5

117. Who is the smartest person you know? My stepdad

118. Most embarrassing moment? That time I asked my bestfriend at the time’s sister if I could wear a pad on a water slide (IT WAS MY FIRST PERIOD OKAY?)

119. Ever pulled an all-nighter? I’ve made it to 6 am xD

120. What color are most of your clothes? Yellow or pink :P

121. Do you like adventures? PLANNED adventures, yes

122. Ever been on tv? A few times

123. How old are you? 16

124. Favorite quote? But without the dark, we’d never see the stars

125. Sweet or savory foods? SWEEETTT

OML THIS TOOK FOREVER RIP

[severalsmallbeans]

くコ:彡

rules: answer 21 questions then tag 21 people

tagged by: @rule-the-court <3

name: SeveralSmallBeans

nickname: Beans (y’all didn’t think you were getting my real name did you?)

gender: f

star sign: Hmmmm Sagitarius. What does that mean for me???

height: 169, a powerful number

current time: 12.37pm (don’t tell my boss)

fave artists: Ask me in a month and it’ll be different but right now... Sufjan Stevens, Pet Shop Boys, Zbigniew Preisner, Frank Ocean, Solange, Aphex Twin, David Bowie, Princess Nokia, Esquivel, Harvey Sutherland, Janelle Monae, Kendrick Lamar, Nina Kravitz, the list goes on...

song stuck in my head: Dies irae, Zbigniew Preisner. Powerful song

last movie i saw: Suspiria. Completely amazing remake of the 1977 film of the same name by Dario Argento. More of a retelling than a remake. I’m OBSESSED with this movie. Watch if you love witches.

last thing i googled: "manga how to draw rain” it wasn’t a fruitful search.

other blogs: … @somemorebeans, I reblog stuff there to keep my main blog clean. I’m not as active there as I used to be, since I moved to full time work, but I should be around more after December!

do i get asks: I never used to but I had a few recently and they make me so happy T^T I love knowing that people like my work enough to actually send me a message

reason for url: The “Several Small” is a joke in my family, like “what’s in your pocket” “hmmm...several small paperclips”. My sister calls me Beans. Smash em together! It wasn’t until I’d been using the url for a few months that I learned about the whole “smol beans uwu” thingo.

following: ~ 700+ but my feed is getting kinda unmanageable

average sleep:  8 hours, 10pm-6am

lucky number: 3 feels good, but 9/10 for my favourites ofc

currently wearing: cream velvet t-shirt, long shirred tube maxi dress with large brown and black floral print, and these amazing green faux snakeskin sneakers I bought years ago.

dream job: architect yo, academic, comic writer. Watch me, I’m going to do all of that.

dream trip: one that never ends, I want to study and travel forever

fave foods: kakuni pork, chickpea chorizo salad, lemon tart, 

instruments: classical flute. I played Flight of the Bumblebee correctly ONCE and never again

fave song(s):  Right now? Dies Irae - Zbigniew Preisner, Pleader - Alt-j, I’m Every Woman - Chaka Khan, Waterfalls - TLC, The Only Thing - Sufjan Stevens, The Koln Concert - Keith Jarrett. Also my shameful playlist of moe anime opening songs...

hair color: brown

favorite fruit: Cara Cara oranges and cherries

favorite season: summer, gimme that 45*C. Also I want snow? Make it happen!

favorite animal: parrots. I want to draw an OC parrot Haikyuu!! team...

favorite fictional character: Literally everyone in Haikyuu, but Hinata and Kageyama are <3 Also, Bakugo and Kirishima, natch. And I’m always happy to see Bokut and Kuroo and Kenma, and Nishinoya and Tanaka...

favorite TV show(s):  Haikyuu!!, BNHA, Sayonara Zetsubo Sensei, ACCA, Evangelion, My So Called Life, Adventure Time, South Park, Daria, plus I watch a ton of documentary series

cat or dog: dogs for sure

favourite colour: hot orange and salmon pink and teal

do you have a crush on tumblr: nope!

play(ed) any sports?: softball in high school, but now I just swim and do yoga for exercise. My joints are a bit shitty so high impact sports are pretty rough :/

language(s) you speak:  English, I’ve just started Japanese prior to my exchange next year, and I can read basic German. I also studied Mandarin in highschool and retained NONE of it.

random fact: I can lick my elbows

describe yourself in aesthetic: uh awkward architect chic? 

tagging: ooooo i always feel awkward tagging people. @majesticartax @sagechan @manggssi 

[deanssweetheart23]

All My Love

Title: All My Love

Summary: When Dean Winchester is six years old, he makes a fool of himself in front of a girl with the brightest smile he’s ever seen. And, despite the fact he is only supposed to stay in Sioux Falls for a couple of weeks, she manages to become his best friend. So, she sticks by him through thick and thin and he promises himself he will love her forever. Maybe even longer.

Author: deanssweetheart23

Characters: Dean Winchester x reader, Sam Winchester, John Winchester, Bobby Singer (all mentioned), Mark (OMC), Rose (OFC, mentioned)

Word count: 9118 (I know, I know, it’s a monster, but it’s worth it)

Warnings: Fluff. Angst. Some language. Implied smut. Parental loss. References to death, grief and Alzheimer’s disease.

Author’s Notes: This is my submission for @kathaswings Chiliad. Lina, thank you so much for letting me participate, I loved working on this one.  

Special thank you to @trexrambling aka the brightest sunflower on Earth for being my amazing beta. This wouldn’t be the same without her.

My prompt is “So, you got a little thing for me, huh?” “No. Big thing.” and it’s been included in bold in the fic below. A line from SPN has also been included in italics. Highly inspired by Castle On The Hill by Ed (Awesome) Sheeran. Side note: Bluebells are actually symbols of “constancy, gratitude and everlasting love" (I swear there’s a reason I’m leaving this here, I’m not crazy)

Thank you for bearing with me, y’all. Enjoy <3 

Dean is six years old and he’s alone for the first time in months.

He’s not sure he likes being alone, because everything seems quieter and lonelier than before and he’s a bit worried about his kid brother, but, like grown-ups say all the time, he knows it’s what he needs today, and so he just keeps pushing his football towards the clearing of the hill he had the chance to explore the last time he and Sammy visited Uncle Bobby.

And he has to admit, despite how afraid Dean was the first time he saw him, he really likes Uncle Bobby. Granted, he can be kind of grumpy sometimes, and he drinks a lot and knows a lot of bad words, but he’s always nice to Sammy and lets Dean eat as much as he wants and, just the other day, he bought him a pair of brand new shoes because his old ones were worn out.

Smiling to himself at the thought, Dean throws his football, aiming at the willow tree that’s supposed to be the end-zone for his touch-down, but he misses, and the ball –his favorite football- starts rolling down the cliff.

So, he chases after it immediately, but his right leg decides to give out after the first ten steps and then he’s falling, falling, falling, until he halts to a stop in the steep middle of the mountain hill.

Covered in mud and grass.

With his ball nowhere in sight.

With no one nowhere in sight.

Yeah.

His dad’s definitely going to kill him.

With a deep breath, he tries to sit up straight, but his leg hurts so much that, for a second, he thinks about muttering one of those bad words Uncle Bobby loves to use under his breath.

He casts a tentative glance at it.

It’s red and swollen.

“Son of a-”

“I think you broke that,” a small voice mumbles from behind and, before he knows it, Dean is craning his neck over his shoulder, brows knitted together in puzzlement.

A little girl with messy Y/H/C hair is standing there, staring at him in concern while her tiny arms are clutching at the oval-shaped cause of his torment.

She’s wearing a long, white dress that reminds him of his mom and has a single blue flower etched behind her ear –one of those flowers with petals that look like bells- and, even though Dean believes girls are the worst, he has to admit…she looks kind of cute.

She smiles at him. “This is yours, right?”

A nod.

“I figured. We saw you rolling down the hill.” She smooths down her dress, smiles at him a bit. “It looked cool. Like in the movies.”

“Uh,” Dean scratches the back of his neck, “thanks.” He lets her words sink in for a second and then, “Hey.” He licks his lips, “Who’s we?”

The girl pushes some hair off her face. “Rose and I,” she explains, matter of fact.

Dean squints at her.

“She’s my friend. She went to get help.” A step towards him. “Does it hurt?”

God, yes.

It hurts so much that Dean actually wants to cry, but he can’t just tell her that. Not now that she said it looked cool.

So, he clears his throat.

“A little.”

She hums, furrowing her brows.

“What’s your name?”

“Dean.”

“I’m Y/N. I saw you with Mr. Singer in town the other day.”

“Yeah, I-”

“Your Batman costume was awesome.”

Despite the pain, he smiles.

“Thanks.”

Nodding, she takes a seat right next to him, dirt staining the whiteness of her dress.

She doesn’t seem to mind.

“Uh… How long do you think it’s going to take? Until they get here, I mean.”

“Not too long. Rose lives a few blocks away and her mum’s a nurse.”

He hums in response, wiping some sweat off his forehead, and for a while none of them say anything.

Until-

“Hey, Dean?”

“Hmmm?”

Her hand reaches out for his.

“Hold my hand,” she whispers, fingers brushing up against his. “It’ll be okay.”

And Dean wants to tell her that nothing is going to be okay because Uncle Bobby will be mad he hurt himself, and his mum’s still dead and his dad still disappears for days and leaves them with people he barely knows. But then he sees the way the sunshine dances across her face like a halo and remembers all the things his mum used to tell him about angels and how they’d always be watching over him.

So, he believes her.

Dean is ten years old and he’s already hunting monsters.

It’s something he’s not supposed to talk about, though it has already left its marks on him in the shape of tiny scars that litter his skin, and Sam doesn’t exactly like it, but he thinks it’s cool, how he and his family help others, how they save people’s lives without expecting anything in return.

He wishes someone could have done the same thing for his mum.

“D.,” Y/N’s tiny voice pulls him out of his thoughts as she tugs at his hand, “hey, D.”

Blinking his eyes open, Dean sees her laying on that blanket her mum laid out for them on the grass a while ago, one of the Gummy Bears they’ve been sharing squeezed between her fingers.

“Hmmm?”

“I’ve been talking to you for five minutes now, you doofus.” She giggles, turning on her side to face him. “What were you thinking about?”

“Dad,” he blows a raspberry, “he’s coming over tonight.”

She nods, like she’s trying to process this new information.

“So, does that,” she licks her lips, “does that mean you’re leaving again?”

And the way she juts her chin and bites on her bottom lip are enough to tell Dean she already knows the answer to that question, but he replies anyway.

“Uh-huh. He called us this morning.”

“But you just got here last week.”

“I know, Y/N. But that’s just how Dad’s job is.”

Y/N sighs.

She does know what John’s job is like. No matter how much Dean tried to keep it from her –and he really did- in the end, it had been impossible.

He still doesn’t know whether the way her eyes grew dark and pleading and her forehead puckered in the cutest way possible every time he told her he had to go had anything to do with it, or whether he’d just gotten tired of trying to come up with convincing excuses to her smart questions, or if, simply, a part of him just wanted her to know about the things that go bump in the night so she could protect herself, but he’d eventually caved, told her everything she needed to know.

“Do you think,” she pauses and pushes some hair off her face, “do you think I can come with you this time?”

Dean’s brows shoot up.

His jaw almost drops to the floor.

“Come with us?”

“Yeah. To help you with, uh-” she glances around to make sure no one’s listening, then lowers her voice- “you know, monsters.”

Dean’s throat tightens a little, shoulders tensing like they always do when he hears weird noises in the house late at night.

“Um, no.”

“Why not?”

He sits up, folds his arms in front of his chest. “Because I said so.”

Y/N rolls her eyes so hard that Dean thinks they’ll get stuck like that.

She gets on her feet, “That’s not an answer.”

“I don’t care. It’s dangerous.”

“But you go,” she deadpans, hands on her hips.

He grits his teeth, balls his hands into fists. “That’s different.”

“Why? Because I’m a girl?”

“No. Because you’re-”

“Liar,” she screeches, throwing a Gummy Bear square on his forehead. “You’re a liar and I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”

She takes off then, and Dean races to catch up after her.

“Y/N, wait!” he shouts.

His fingers wrap around her arm, and he tugs.

“Wait,” he says again, and she looks up, lashes wet and bottom lip wobbling.

“Y/N-”

“I just,” she sniffles a little, “I don’t want the monsters to get you.”

Dean lets out a deep breath and takes a step closer to her.

“Bluebell, that will never happen. My dad’s a hero.” A small smile plays at the corner of his lips. “He’ll never let them get to me.”

She shakes her head, a little whimper escaping her.

“But he might take you away for months. And when…” A pause. Eyes that look anywhere but him. “When my daddy left, he forgot about me. What if-””

“Y/N, your dad was an idiot.” Dean reaches out for her hand, an all too serious expression etched on his features. “I’m not.”

She perks up a little at his words, rubs at her eyes furiously. “So, you won’t forget about me?”

“No.”

“Promise?”

And Dean knows he’s only supposed to make promises he’s sure he can keep, and that the rest of his life is going to be a long time, but he really wants to be her friend forever because Y/N’s the coolest person he knows.

So-

“Promise,” he whispers, intertwining his pinky with hers, and she smiles with a smile that makes the back of his neck turn pink as he leans in to kiss his cheek.

Yeah.

He’ll always come back to her.

Dean’s fifteen years old and he doesn’t really have a home.

The absence of it had always been an earmark of his, one of those things that set him apart from others and came tumbling out of people’s mouths when they were trying hard to find something that would faze him, would manage to split his walls wide open, pierce through the perfect façade of the rambunctious teenager he’d spent years of his life building.

And yet, he never minded.

Well.

Never until now anyway.

Because as he runs towards the clearing of the hill that has become a shelter for him through the years, calloused fingers soundly interlocked with Y/N’s soft ones, while her laughter seeps into his soul, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, having a home here wouldn��t be such a bad thing.

“Oh my God,” Y/N gasps when they finally come to a stop, “I can’t believe we just did that.”

He chuckles, wipes some sweat off his forehead. “You alright, Bluebell?”

Taking a deep breath, she plops down on the grass right next to where he’s standing.

“Yeah, I think so.” A glance that’s all mischief and amusement. “Just remind me to never get in a car with you again.”

“Oh, please. M’ an awesome driver.”

“Wanna tell that to Bobby’s pick-up truck?”

“Shut up.” He takes a seat next to her, scoots as close as he can until their knees are touching. “Just don’t tell him anything.”

“D.,” she rubs at her forehead, “the cops will tell him. About that and the spirits.”

He shifts, grins a half-grin as she lays on her back, then does the same.

“Yeah, he’ll kill us.”

“Well, at least I won’t have to go to work tomorrow.”

A snort.

Lips curled up in a soft smile as he looks at her.

“How is that going, by the way?”

“S’ okay.” She stares at the endless blue sky above her, at the sun that’s about to set. “I mean, Mr. De Niro is kind of an ass, and I barely have time to study on weekends, but-” the tips of her fingers brush up against his- “it pays well.”

He hums and the muscles in his jaw twitch, because he knows exactly what she means, knows what it’s like to have to worry about money more than she does –more than he hopes she will ever have to- and he’s so furious that her father, her so called father, walked out of her life when she was still a little kid and never looked back.

He’s furious because his absence forced Y/N to grow up too soon, forced her mother to work weird jobs just to get by, because no one wanted to hire a single mum that had dropped out of high school, and he’s furious because Y/N shares so many of his own scars, even though she deserves so much better.

His grip tightens around her hand.

“How’s your mum?”

She moves, crawls a bit closer to him and nestles against his side.

“Tired.” Deep breath. “She’s been working double shifts at the coffee shop since you left and it’s just… too much, you know?” She presses her forehead against his chest. “Last Friday, she was so exhausted she couldn’t even remember how to turn the microwave on and I can’t –I don’t know what else to do, D.”

He nods, plucking a strand of grass from her hair.

“You’re doing it already, Bluebell. Your mum knows that.”

She holds her breath for a second, fights with herself like she’s going to say something she’s not supposed to but-

“Yeah,” she nuzzles his collarbone, “yeah, you’re right. Anyway,” she smiles, but he knows it’s all smoke and mirrors, “enough about me.”

“Um, no.” He lifts his leg over hers, pokes her ribs with his finger. “You haven’t told me what’s up with whatshisface yet.”

“His name is Mark, Dean.” Her nose scrunches up in indignation. “And nothing is up.”

“Y/N.”

“Dean.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

Letting out a loud groan, she half-sits up. “He just… Ugh. He found out you won’t be here for the spring dance, so he wants me to go with him.”

“Okay,” Dean props himself on his elbows, lets his eyes flicker over her, “but that’s a good thing, right?”

“No.” Her forehead puckers, hair still disheveled. “No, Dean, it’s goddamn awful. It’s the worst thing that has ever happened to me.”

He waits for a further explanation, but nothing comes.

“Alright, yeah, I’m officially confused. I thought you liked Mark.”

“I did. I do.”

“Then why are you making such a big deal out of this?”

A frustrated sigh.

Eyes rolled skywards like it’s his fault she’s not making any sense.

“What if he tries to kiss me?”

A smirk tugs at his lips.

“Well, then you kiss him back, Sherlock. Wait,” he scratches the back of his neck, takes in her wide eyes, the look of pure horror floating across her face “you haven’t –really?”

“Dean, if you make fun of me, I swear to God-”

“Hey, no,” he holds his hands up, “I wouldn’t make fun of you about that, Bluebell. I just –if you really like him, and you trust him, you should just… go.”

“But what if,” she casts her eyes downwards, juts her chin a bit, “what if I’m a terrible kisser?”

He chuckles.

He really can’t help it.

“I seriously doubt that.”

“He’d never talk to me again,” she mumbles to herself, like she hasn’t heard a word he just said.

“Then, he’d be an idiot.”

“Not if I’m a terrible kisser,” she whines, rubbing at her temples. “Oh God. He’ll tell everyone about it. The entire school will know I’m an awful kisser and then… And then no one will ever want to kiss me again.”

He barely manages to stifle his laughter this time.

“Don’t you think you’re maybe going a bit too far with this?”

“No.”

He sighs, lets himself think about everything she told him the past few minutes, about how well he knows her.

“No matter what I say, you’re still gonna worry about this, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Okay then. Do you trust me?”

She furrows her brow, cocks her head to the side. “Why would you ask me that?”

“Bluebell,” he says again, clasping a hand on the side of her face, “do you trust me?”

She smiles then, a smile that’s all sunshine and love. “Of course I do, D. You know that.”

He nods, like he’s heard something else entirely, and gives her one, two, three long seconds to see if she’s going to pull away, if she wants to stop this, but she just leans in, just keeps staring into his eyes.

Dean’s never kissed anyone before, of course, but he pretends that he has, pretends that he knows exactly what he’s doing, that he’s not absolutely terrified, and lets his mouth brush up against hers and, for a second, he almost forgets how to breathe, because her lips are so sweet and gentle and soft against his own.

The kiss is short-lived and unsure and just a tad sloppy, but Dean knows, knows with a certainty that reaches his very marrow, that nothing has ever felt better.

He pulls away seconds later, lets his eyes dart up to take in her bright Y/E/C ones, her flushed cheeks and her leather jacket, his leather jacket that’s meant to keep her warm.

He vaguely wonders whether she can see the tips of his ears going pink.

“There,” he smiles, “you don’t have to worry about it now.”

“Yeah, but was it,” she lets out a nervous laugh, gnaws on her bottom lip, “was that okay?”

“Yeah.” He thinks about the way her warm lips felt on his, how they tasted like strawberries, how he never wants the memory to fade. “Yeah, that was good.”

He wishes he could kiss her like that again.

Dean’s twenty years old and he’s lost to her already.

It’s always been there, he supposes, hidden in lingering smiles and whispered touches that grew more meaningful over the years, in nights spent on the hood of the Impala and evenings filled with sunsets and laughter and that quiet realization that he’ll always have a place, a person, that keeps parts of him alive.

It grows intense as he grows older, hits him in waves every time he sees her again and realizes that, despite the days or weeks or months spent apart, despite their arguments and the way they’ve changed through the years, what they have, the way she loves him, that never changes.

He turns around to look at her, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

They’re in the middle of a fun-fair, pushing through the crowds to get to the stalls with the homemade pies she swears he’s going to love, and she’s holding his hand soundly in hers, like it’s the only thing she knows how to do.

“Are you sure you still want to do the Ferris Wheel?” she implores, eyes drifting to meet his. “I know it’s…high.”

A groan.

Eyes narrowed the size of half-dollars.

“Y/N, for the millionth time, I’m not afraid of heights.”

“Course you’re not. M’ just saying,” she slants her brows, “I still remember that time you almost cried in the Sky Swing.”

“You know… I don’t even know why I’m still hanging out with you.”

She laughs, and it’s the sound that makes the stars dance at nights.

“Oh, please,” she brings their joined hands to her mouth, drops a sweet kiss on his knuckles, “you’d be lost without me.”

Drawing in a deep breath, he looks at her with a look of delighted frustration, head tilted to the left.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“I know.”

Brat.

He wraps his arm around her then, pushes her close and presses a noisy kiss on her temple, laughing at her annoyed screeching.

A moment passes, and then-

“Do you think Sammy will be okay tonight?”

She huffs air through her nose, but keeps herself pressed up against him, rests her head on his shoulder.

“D., that kid fights monsters for a living. I think he can handle a first date.”

“But what if-”

“Daphne is a shapeshifter?” she asks, mischief dancing in her eyes. “Then he can stab her with that silver knife you gave him. Or, I dunno, exorcize her.”

“You only exorcize demons, Y/N.”

She rolls her eyes, unimpressed. “And you are just missing the entire point here.”

“Which is?”

“The worst thing that could possibly happen to Sam tonight is to have that girl play footsie with him under the table.”

“Ew, Y/N, c’mon” he whines, eyes squeezed shut and lips pursed like he’d been chewing a lemon, “that’s my kid brother you’re talking about.”

“Well, stop worrying about it and I’ll stop grossing you out.”

“Smartass,” he grumbles.

She smiles at the words though, all warmth and depth and softness, and, for a moment, Dean allows himself to imagine what it would be like to kiss her again, run his fingers through her hair, trace her collarbone with his lips and-

“Well, well, well.” A hoarse voice pierces through his thoughts, and Dean turns around only to find whatshisface glaring daggers at them, an empty bottle of vodka in hand. “If it isn’t the town’s favorite duo.”

Y/N shuffles closer to him, almost absentmindedly.

He can’t really blame her.

Even though she never told him exactly why she and that complete douchewad had broken up –she always insisted it was just another argument gone wrong- Dean’s pretty sure the separation wasn’t amicable.

His grip around Y/N’s waist tightens.

“Mark,” he says, his voice almost a snarl, “s’ good to see you, man.”

“Yeah, right,” the man runs his fingers through his hair, “did she tell you to say that?”

“Mark,” Y/N sighs, something pleading.

“I was so damn right about him, wasn’t I, Y/N?” Mark laughs bitterly, dark eyes locked on that spot Dean’s fingers were digging into Y/N’s hip.

“Right about me? What did you,” he turns to Y/N, who’s gone pale, “what did he say about me?”

Y/N juts her chin, bites on her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.

“Mark, can we please not-”

“We broke up because of you,” Mark spats, and the words are like a bullet that goes straight to his heart. “Because I couldn’t stand watching my girlfriend run after you like a lap dog every time you were in town. Because I could see how pathetically in love with her you are. I could always see it, Dean.”

Dean’s hand balls into a fist, eyes burning with fury.

He clenches his jaw almost painfully.

“Dean,” she breathes out, but he’s not listening.

“You never really liked me,” Mark carries on, brows furrowed into a scowl, “never really thought I was good enough for her. Everyone told me you were just being protective, just being the good ole Dean, but I knew.” He takes a step closer to them, jabs a finger at his direction. “You just wanted her for yourself.” A drunken laugh. Empty eyes staring into nothing. “You know what? She’s all yours. Never had a worse lay, anyway.”

Dean growls then, the sound slicing its way out from somewhere deep within him, and launches forward, his fist connecting with Mark’s jaw.

The sound is sickening, and his knuckles are hurting, but he doesn’t care. He just leans down to get to Mark’s face, meets his gaze, calm and collected.

“You ever talk about her like that again, I’ll break your face,” he grounds out. “And she won’t be there to stop me.”

The words echo as they leave his lips, brisk and gruff and loaded with fury, and Mark nods furiously and holds his hands up in surrender, tears dancing at the edges of his eyes.

“Dean,” Y/N calls, and he glances away from the terrified man in front of him and back at her, at the way she’s holding out a hand for him, the way her eyes are begging him to please let it go.

And so, he does.

It’s all a blur of bemused whispers and narrowed glances after that, people pointing at them or just muttering under their breaths, but he ignores them and lets Y/N lead him out of the crowds and into the parking lot where Baby is waiting for them.

“Okay, c’mon,” he runs a hand over his face, takes a deep breath, “let’s hear it.”

She shakes her head, pushes some hair off her face.

“Let me see your hand.”

“Kid, you don’t have to-”

“Dean,” she grits, brows furrowed in a scowl, “your hand.”

With a –quite dramatic– roll of his eyes, he does as she asks and watches while she inspects it meticulously, taking in the swollen skin.

“That was beyond stupid,” she says.

“I know.”

“And unnecessary. I could have handled myself.”

“I know that, too.”

“Good. On that note-” she lets her fingers brush over his wounded knuckles, just a breath of a touch- “thank you.”

She beams at him as she whispers the words, and he wishes, for her sake, he wishes that he could turn back time right before they’d ran into Mark, wishes that everything he always knew to be true but was too afraid to admit out loud hadn’t just tumbled out in the crisp night air for him to see.

“Y/N,” he sighs, “about those things Mark said…”

“Don’t,” she cuts him off, leaning against his car, “Mark’s being paranoid.”

“But he isn’t. Not entirely,” he whispers, looking down at his hand. “I can’t just keep leaving and expect you to-”

“Hey,” she places her hand over his, pulls him a bit closer, “I’m not here because that’s what you’re expecting from me.”

He looks up at her and she smiles, a soft, gentle smile that lights up her face.

“I’m here because I want to.” Her arms winds around his waist, her head pressed against his shoulder. “You’re my best friend, D. And if someone can’t accept that, that’s their problem, not ours.”

A smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

He kisses her hair, and swears he can feel her words, feel them engraving themselves deep into his bones.

So-

“Can I tell you something, Bluebell?”

She hums, lets her eyes dart up to meet his.

“I know… I know how all of this ends for me. And I’m okay with that. But when,” he braces his forehead against hers, “when I do picture myself happy, it’s with you.”

She’s close now, so close that he can see the specks of colors in her irises, can feel her heartbeat in his veins, feel it whispering secrets with its uneven pace, like this isn’t all just inside his head.

Like he’s not the only one wanting this.

His eyes drop to her lips.

“D.,”

“Tell me to stop, kid,” he pleads, and it’s absolutely wrecked, “tell me to stop and I will.”

She nods, but only tips forward, fingers tracing his jawline.

“I love you,” she whispers.

And they might be just three little words, shaky and timid and rickety, but it’s all he needs to hear, it’s all he’s ever needed to hear, and so he leans in and lets his lips slide against hers in a kiss that’s gentle and fragile, a kiss that turns everything into dust until the only thing left in the world is Y/N and her taste and her scent and her.

He pulls back seconds later, lets her smile ground him back to Earth.

“D., I-”

“Ssssh.” He runs his thumb over her bottom lip, keeps her from saying anything and just looks at her, looks at her like he’s just found the one thing he’s always wanted, like she’s a dream come true.

“So,” she nuzzles her nose against his, eyes bright and lively, “you got a little thing for me, huh?”

“No.” He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Big thing.”

She smiles, and it’s a smile that could cut him wide open and he wouldn’t even complain.

Maybe, just this once, he can let himself be happy.

Dean’s twenty-four years old and he’s tired.

It’s funny, really, how he is so young, yet feels so old, how others feel like life’s just starting out for them and he waits for his to be over because that’s just how things are in his line of work.

It’s almost as if every hunt, every time he’s killed a monster, or something, someone was taken away from him because of what he does, has left a scar that’s never going to heal quite right, right there in the middle of his heart.

And it’s ridiculous because he didn’t use to mind; his brother and his father and Y/N were always there to make the burden more bearable.

He belonged.

And then, his brother went away, and everything went to hell.

Watching the water pour into the shower’s drain, Dean reaches out for a towel and wraps it around his middle, his mind drifting to Y/N and how he has to leave her again in a couple of days.

It’s a weird system, the one they have going on, and it often leaves him feeling guilty and broken when he has to drive off, but it’s the only way for them to be together.

He’d taught her how to hunt, of course, trained her just in case, but, no matter how much she tried to convince him that she could join him and John on the road, her mum’s illness –she was diagnosed with Alzheimer just a little over a year ago - ruined all the plans she’d made.

So now, Dean stays with her between hunts, and every time he sees her eyes darkening and her smile fading when he talks about dirty motel rooms and greasy diners, he tells her, with his forehead braced against hers and his heart dancing in his eyes, he tells her that she has him, has all of him, and there’s no one else he could ever be with.

And that promise is the only thing he actually can give her, that promise and those lingering kisses that are flooded with things left unsaid, the intertwined fingers and the hushed laughs in the middle of bookstores and his love, all of his love.

He just wishes those things are enough.

Running a hand over his face, he enters their bedroom and finds her tangled in the sheets, clad in one of his old AC/DC T-shirts, a dog-eared copy of Winnie the Pooh in hand.

“You know,” he says, smirking when he remembers how he’d gotten that for her birthday over ten years ago, “I can’t believe you still have that.”

Her eyes dart up to meet his.

“Are you kidding?” She holds up the book as he reaches her side. “This book is the book of the gods.”

“Yeah,” Dean kisses the tip of her nose, “if the gods are five years old.”

A groan.

Warm fingers that smack his hand away.

“Funny, because I seem to remember a certain green-eyed boy-” she lets her eyes drift to his lips, fingers threading through his short hair- “reading this to his brother when he was like, uh, I dunno, twelve?”

And he knows she’s only teasing, knows she hasn’t even thought of the words until they leave her mouth, but they still cut through him like broken glass.

Sighing heavily, he pulls away and rubs at his forehead, watching her frown out of the corner of his eye.

“D., I didn’t mean-”

“S’ okay,” he whispers, squeezing her thigh.

One, two, three long seconds of uncomfortable silence pass and then-

“So,” he claps his hands together, “what do you want me to make for dinner?”

“Dean-”

“I’m thinking bacon cheeseburgers. We could probably use the energy after, ya know, everything.” He smirks, but she doesn’t roll her eyes like he expects her to, doesn’t groan or blush or laugh.

Instead, she just stares at him, and it’s that same look that’s there every time she wants him to know that she’s not buying into any of his lies, that he can wear an armor and put on walls and wrap himself up in a devil-may-care attitude as much as he wants, but she sees him, sees through him.

It’s a look that scares him sometimes because he’s not used to it, not used to people taking him in, accepting him for all he is.

It’s a look he loves.

“Baby, you can’t just pretend he doesn’t exist every time someone brings him up.”

Her words go straight into his heart, slice his wounds wide open.

He clenches his jaw.

“Yeah, well, he seems to be pretty good at it.”

He tastes the bitterness on his tongue, before he even speaks the words, and she can, too, because she reaches out for him, all gentleness and concern.

He walks away from the bed though, leans against the wall because it’s easier that way, it’s easier if he puts some distance between them.

“D., you know it’s not like that.”

“He’s been gone for months, Y/N.” He cracks his knuckles absentmindedly. “And he never called. Not once. Not even you.”

Deep breath.

Fingers that run through her hair.

“Maybe he’s just scared,” she whispers and walks up next to him, wrapping her arms around him from behind. “The night he went away, the way you two left things... It was awful. Maybe he’s scared no one will pick up.”

“And I’m not?” He turns around to face her. “Y/N, Sammy is… I spent my entire life looking after him, and if I call and he doesn’t pick up, I don’t think I can…”

The rest of the words are swallowed by her lips as she presses them against his own in a kiss that’s all determination and purpose and love, a love that tastes like salted caramel, a love that’s real and hard and there, that seeps into him and makes him feel whole again.

When they break apart, she stays close, nose nuzzling his.

“I don’t want you to call. Not if you’re not ready. I just… You’re the best man I know, D.” She cups his chin. “And I love you. So much.”

He presses a kiss on the side of her head.

“I know, Bluebell.”

They don’t say anything else.

They just stand there for a few seconds, holding each other, breathing in heartbeats and heat and closeness.

“Okay,” she says after a few minutes, lacing her fingers with his, “enough with all those sappy touchy-feely stuff, yeah?”

He chuckles, broken but thankful.

“What do you have in mind, kid?”

She smiles at him, and it’s all mischief and playfulness.

“M’ so glad you asked because I-” her lips brush against his knuckles- “am about to let you in on one of my darkest secrets.”

He leans forward, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

“You’re actually into some kinky shit when it comes to sex, aren’t you? Because I can definitely-”

“Dean, for the love of everything that is holy, shut up,” she groans and, despite the narrowed eyes, her smile is radiant.

“Yes, ma’am.”

A snort.

Brows raised in frustration.

“Back when we were kids, I wasn’t... I knew you had to travel a lot and I had accepted it almost from the start, but... There were days when I just missed you, you know? I mean, something awesome would happen at school or a friend of mine would do something absolutely stupid and I’d want to tell you so bad, but you weren’t there.”

He nods, nuzzles the top of her head.

“So, my mum came up with a system to cheer me up.” She pauses, looks up to face him. “Every time she could see I was getting lost inside my head, she’d just turn on the radio and make me sing the song that was playing at the top of my lungs.”

He grins at her words, tries to picture a seven-year old Y/N, dressed in one of those fuzzy bunny hoodies of hers, dancing around the house like a crazy person.

“And that,” she mumbles as she pulls away and reaches for the stereo, “is what we’re about to do now.”

“Nope. No way.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“Kid-”

“Sssh,” she points to the stereo. “Oh my God, this is Tiny Dancer.”

“No way. No frigging way,” Dean grumbles, taking a step backwards, but her eyes widen, and her bottom lip sticks out in that adorable pout that never fails to remind him that he is, indeed, a hot-blooded man.

“D., please.”

“Don’t gimme that look, Bluebell.”

“But-”

“I ain’t dancing to Elton John,” he groans, but she’s not listening.

She’s just swaying to the rhythm, all carelessness and delight, but her expression is stern as she locks eyes with him and brings her hands in front of her mouth like she’s holding a mic, and then-

“Ballerina, you must have seen her,

Dancing in the sand

And now she’s in me.

Always with me.

Tiny dancer in my hand.”

He laughs.

He really can’t help it.

“You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?” he asks, pulling her to him.

She smiles, and it’s so beautiful it breaks his heart.

He wishes he can always see her smile like that.

“Yes.”

He grins, clasps her hand in his and twirls her around until she’s beaming at him, until her happiness is wrapping around him like a blanket and makes him feel like he’s home.

“But I love you for it,” he whispers when he has her flush against his body again, has her arms wrapped around his middle.

She looks up at him when the words fly out, looks up with eyes that have seen him bleeding and fighting, snapping monsters in two like it’s nothing, eyes that have trailed over him in quiet moments and boisterous nights with awe and tenderness, and squeezes.

And he knows.

She’s more than he’ll ever deserve.

Dean’s twenty-six years old and he has to leave her.

It’s a possibility he’s always considered, a thought that would nag at him at the oddest of moments, in the midst of lazy lovemaking and on sunny mornings with breakfast in bed, or when she was laughing at his jokes in a bathtub full of bubbles, head thrown back in amusement as he tickled her sides and left him feeling bruised and numb because he knew it was more than feasible, knew it was the right thing to do.

His Dad had been right; being with Y/N put a target on her back and, as much as he wants to look past it, he can’t do it. 

Not now that the stakes are running high and his life is about to spiral out of control.

So, he breaks her heart.

“You’re quiet,” she whispers, lips brushing against that soft spot on his neck.

They’re standing on the top of the hill, their hill, arms wrapped around each other so soundly that it feels like they’ll fade into nothing if they don’t hold on tight enough.

Maybe they will.

He hopes he can remember this though, hopes he can remember the warmth of her body right next to him and the way they made love the night before, desperate and ardent and slow, bodies moving together in sync over and over and over again until their limbs were sore and their souls sated.

He hopes he can remember how they got dressed afterwards, amidst crisp kisses and loving glances, and drove to all the places that had become theirs over the year; to that little coffee shop with the best waffles Dean had ever tasted and the lake outside Sioux Falls where they’d gone skinny dipping on the full moon, and that drive-in movie theater she loves so much.

And he hopes he can remember this, how she shines next to him right now, how her hair dances with the wind while she watches the colors paint the sky in oranges and reds and blues.

Letting out a deep breath, he tightens his grip around her waist.

“M’ just thinking,” he smiles, but it’s bittersweet. “Do you remember the first time we watched the sunset here?”

She raises a playful eyebrow. “You mean the first time you kissed me?”

A nod.

The tips of his ears turning pink.

“It’s kind of hard to forget that, D. You were a crappy kisser.” Her eyes burn with mischief. “Still are.”

“Oh yeah?” he smirks, lips millimeters away from hers.

“Hmmm…”

He kisses her then, a deep, thorough kiss that makes him feel alive in ways few things in the world still do.

They break apart moments later, but he keeps her close, keeps his forehead braced against hers.

“You know, we were practically still kids back then, but I,” he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, “I was already so fucking in love with you.”

Her lips curl up in a broken smile.

It tears him apart.

“We wasted so much time, didn’t we?”

“Hey,” he cups her jaw with his large hands, “none of that. No tears, remember?”

“I know,” she nuzzles his palm, “m’ sorry.” She clears her throat, tries to pull herself together a bit. “Are you sure I can’t-”

“Yeah,” he answers, voice wavering a bit, “yeah, kid, you got to take care of your mum. And I can’t…” He wipes away her tears with his thumb. “I can’t risk having your blood on my hands. Not yours.”

She swallows hard.

“Okay, just,” she shakes her head, “I love you. I’m always going to love you.”

His heart clenches.

He doesn’t remember the last time he wanted to cry so much.

“M’ always going to love you, too, Bluebell.” He reaches for her hand, laces their fingers together. “You know that.”

“So, come back,” she whispers, and he can see the tiniest glimpse of hope there, just a shred of it, dancing in her eyes. “When this is all over-”

He wants nothing more than to agree with her, wants nothing more than to tell her what she wants to hear, to make plans and wait and hope, but he can’t.

Hunters don’t get happy endings.

“It’s not that easy, sweetheart. Dad says he’s getting close to finding that thing that killed Mum, but this could still take months. Years even. And I can’t-”

“I don’t want easy,” she tells him, and there’s a fire burning in her eyes that hurts him more than any stab wound ever had. “I want you.”

And he can think of about a million reasons why he shouldn’t say yes to this, but when he looks at her, all he sees is the girl he grew up with, the girl that never gave up on him, the one that waited and prayed and loved, expecting nothing in return, and nothing else matters.

“Okay,” he brings their joined hands to his lips and kisses the back of hers sweetly, “someday then.”

He interlocks their pinkies together.

She smiles.

“Someday,” she says, and he nods and holds her.

He holds her for seconds, then moments, then minutes, holds her until her tears seep into his skin and her warmth becomes part of him, until their edges and curves are so interlocked that he thinks he’ll take her with him if he pulls away.

He holds her until he can’t hold her anymore, hoping the memory of it all will prepare him to live in a world without her.

And then, he lets go.

Dean’s thirty-seven years old and he hasn’t talked to her in eleven years.

He’s never meant for it to happen, never meant to let her drift so far away from him, but after he found his Dad, it became evidently clear that things could never go back to the way they used to be, that he could never go back to the man she’d loved, and staying in touch with her, listening to her voice over the phone and texting her in the middle of the night hurt, made him feel hollow and dazed and broken.

So, he stopped.

He stopped, but he didn’t forget about her.

He never forgets about her.

She’s still there in the few quiet moments he gets to himself, moments when he’s too tired or too drunk to pretend he’s okay.

She’s there when he stumbles across that dog-eared copy of The Cat’s Cradle she bought for him years ago, or when his eyes drift to the elephant hair bracelet she gave him on his birthday. She’s in the car with him when Tiny Dancer starts to play on the radio, and wraps herself around him every time he drives by a field of bluebells.

And he knows, knows it deep within his soul, as he stares at that picture of her he’d always kept hidden in his wallet, while Sam and Rowena and Chuck are waiting for him outside to lead him to his death that, he knows that no matter what he said or did, he spent his entire life being in love with her.

He almost calls her then, almost convinces himself that it’s okay to be selfish just this once, to want to hear her voice one last time, but he soon realizes he can’t, he has no right.

So, instead, he reaches for a small box he keeps hidden in his wardrobe, the one he took from Bobby’s house after he died.

It’s filled with mementos of his and Sam’s childhood, little things Bobby kept around the house without really telling anyone.

He looks inside, finds his first baseball bat and a drawing block Sam used to love when he was a kid, but he ignores them, goes for the photo album that’s there. Before he has the chance to open it though, a manila envelope falls to the floor, catching his attention.

His eyes flicker to the messy scribbles that are sprawled across the middle of it.

For Dean.

He unfolds the letter, jaw painfully clenched.

30 May 2012

D,

It’s been so long since the last time we saw each other, hasn’t it? It still surprises me sometimes, how you’re not an active part of my life anymore, how you’re not the first person I call when something good happens or the one that rushes next to me when things go downhill. I’ve tried to get used to it, but there are moments when I listen to the engine of an Impala rumbling outside my house or hear a guy talking about classic rock music and I turn around, half-expecting to see you there, but it’s not you.

It’s never you.

I miss you. I’ve tried not to, and I know reading this will hurt, but I really do miss you. And I think I’m a little drunk right now, so I have no filter. Try to forgive me, okay?

I visited Bobby today. I’m moving back in my old house and I wanted to see how he’s holding up. He doesn’t seem well. I feel terrible for not visiting him more often. Calling’s just not the same, you know? He was glad to see me though. He’s always been such a teddy bear of a man, our Bobby. I hope he knows how much I love him.

We talked a lot. He���s mad I quit my job at LA, but he’s glad I’m back home. I wanted to ask about you, but I was scared. He told me anyway. Said you’ve been better, but I figured that much when I saw you were wanted for mass murder last week. Still, he promised he’ll give you this letter the next time he sees you.

He also told me about those things –Leviathans? They sound pretty awful. I hope you kick Dick’s ass (yeah, I do realize how ridiculous this sentence sounds).

I’ve started hunting. Please, don’t be mad. I know you’ve never wanted that for me, but it makes me feel good, Dean. It makes me feel like I have a purpose. And you trained me so well. I’m terrific at it.

I don’t know if Bobby told you, but my mum died last year. It was quite peaceful. She fell asleep next to me on the couch and never woke up. Maybe it’s better that way. The disease had turned her into a woman she’d never want to be.

She’d remember you sometimes. When her mind wasn’t so foggy, and the meds were doing their work, she’d ask me where my green-eyed prince was. Can you believe she called you a prince? I think her doctor thought I was involved in a royal love triangle or something. And still, she had the nicest things to say about you. She loved you. Always had. I can’t really blame her. It’s impossible for someone not to love you, D. Which is why I’m writing to you.

Do you remember that last evening we spent on the hill?

It’s been years since then, and I’ve met so many people and my life has changed so incredibly much, but I still love you. More than I’d care to admit. More than I can put into words.

When I tell people about you, they all tell me that what we had wasn’t as strong as I deem it to be; that we were just young and naïve and in love. But it wasn’t like that.

What we had was real because, despite what they choose to believe, you are more than a guy I fell in love with. You are my best friend.

You’re the boy that bought me Hershey kisses every time I was sick, the one that let me sleep with him when I had nightmares and gave me my first beer, my first kiss. You’re the guy I still trust with my life and I hope that, someday, you’ll knock on my door again and we’ll pick up right where we left off, just like you promised.

Until then, take care of yourself, D. And, no matter what happens, with the Leviathans or Bobby or anyone else, please, know that you’re a better man than you give yourself credit for. You’ve always been.

PS. I can’t wait for someday to begin.

All my love,

Bluebell

He lets his fingertips trace across the ink on the page.

He’s never felt more defeated.

Dean’s thirty-eight years old and he’s driving.

It’s such a weird feeling, speeding down old country lanes when just a few days ago he was trapped in the middle of nowhere, interrogated by Secret Service like he was the world’s most dangerous criminal, but, honestly, he can’t bring himself to care.

Turning on the radio, he lets the notes of that Elton John song play out, lets them dance into the car and drinks in the memories they carry with them while his eyes drift to his phone, where dozens of text messages are binging through, all capital letters and exclamation marks to establish what he already suspects; his brother’s worried about him.

He can’t blame him.

Even he can’t believe what he’s about to do.

But the endless hours he’d spent in isolation, tracing scars with his mind, thinking back on all the things he could have done differently, on all the people he could have saved, or the friends he’d loved and lost, made him see the one thing he’d been refusing to acknowledge since he found her letter in Bobby’s box; giving her up, not fighting for her, was one of the worst mistakes he’d ever made.

And he has to fix it.

Parking his car a few blocks away from Bobby’s abandoned scrap yard, he gets out and walks down the empty streets, wrapping his leather jacket tighter around himself.

It’s early morning and, even though the blackness of the sky has long begun to fade, he can still see thick, grey clouds dancing above him, pierced only by a few scattered rays of light.

He wonders whether he’s going to make it in time.

He wonders whether another man will answer the door for her.

It wouldn’t be absurd.

It had been years since she wrote that letter and a lifetime since they last talked, really talked to each other. He’s not the twenty-six-year-old boy she remembers anymore, and, maybe, she’s changed, too. Maybe she’s found someone that gives her everything she deserves, someone that hasn’t failed her like he did.

Maybe she’s given up on him.

Yeah, this was a mistake.

He can clearly see it now and, cursing under his breath, he turns around to leave but stops when he catches sight of her garden, of the bluebell wood that’s planted there.

His stomach churns.

He allows himself to think of her, of her sunshine frosted smile and her sparkling laughter, of how bright and radiant and real she’s always been.

He thinks and thinks and thinks, and, before he knows it, he’s knocking on the door.

One, two, three long minutes pass and then-

“Dean?” an all too familiar voice mutters in disbelief.

God, she’s beautiful.

He’s not sure if it’s because he hasn’t seen her in so long, or because her memory had really started to fade from his mind, like sand slipping through someone’s fingers, but he swears she’s more beautiful than he remembers.

He gives her a small, hesitant smile, lets his eyes flicker over her features, from the messy bun she’s got her hair in to her brilliant, tired eyes and the pair of Mickey Mouse pajamas he’s never seen before.

His throat has gone dry.

He’s pretty sure he’s forgotten how to speak.

“Bluebell,” he swallows, gives her a little nod, “hey.”

He can’t be sure, but he thinks he sees her bottom lip wobbling.

Her brows furrow in a scowl.

“What are you-”

“I know I’m a few years late,” he says, and it’s scraped and brittle and gruff, “and my life’s still fifty shades of crazy, and I’m probably the last person you should get involved with, but I was wondering,” he pauses, lets his eyes lock into hers, “do you want to watch the sunrise?”

The breath hitches in her throat.

When she speaks again, it’s barely above a whisper.

“The sunrise?”

He nods.

“Yeah,” he takes a tentative step forward, “I know the sunset had always been more of our thing, but maybe it’s about time we changed that.”

A moment passes, and nothing happens.

He begins to think that it really is too late, he is too late, but then-

“Yeah.” The most gorgeous smile plays across her face, hopeful and broken and sunny, all at once. “Yeah, I’d love that.”

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

His eyes drift to her hand, to the way it’s reaching out for his own.

And he knows.

He’s a kid with a broken leg, a teenager falling in love, a man with a heart that’s aching for her, and she?

She’s home.

Always.

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