#also so strange that dude got so pissed over people thinking they are ace before they are gay or whatever like

[oliviayamaoka]

The Distraction (Danny Johnson / Jed Olsen / Ghostface x Reader)

Y/N encounters Ghostface, a snarky and creepy silent killer. However, he isn’t as silent as he is made out to be when you hit him with your toolbox in defense. To stall time for your survival and the progression of other generators, you decide to humor him and distract him for a long amount of time for the others.

Possible Warning: Sexual tension, slight blood, slight violence, and Danny having perverted thoughts (up to your interpretation on what he’s thinking)

You slowly vaulted over a wooden structure within Autohaven Wreckers. The green atmosphere felt very chilling and eerie, you didn’t like doing your trials in this realm. Your eyes averted to an untouched generator. Thank the Entity you didn’t hear a chainsaw revving or the menacing lullaby sung by the Huntress. Y/N kneeled down and began to work on the generator, putting their toolbox to the side. Who knew you’d become a mechanic of some sort within the Fog. 

“Shit.” You mumble as you cut your arm slightly on something within it. For a moment you had considered using your toolbox but it was better to just save it for another time.

Y/N sighed and pulled down a lever before reattaching some wires. The generators always confused you. Not in a way where you didn’t know how to fix them but how the hell did they power up the exit gates? Oh well, it didn’t matter at that point. You were forced to do this by a literal god. 

You suddenly gasped when you felt a firm grip pry you away from your generator. It must’ve been the killer. Y/N aggressively fought back and wiggled with desperate grunts and yells. You somehow managed to escape his grip, how the hell didn’t you hear him? You shoved him away but he grabbed your wrist tightly.

“Let go!” You yelled, hitting him as hard as you could since he seemed to have dropped his knife. You recognized the killer as Ghostface. He didn’t seem to think that you’d be able to get away the first time. Y/N’s eyes widened in shock and curiosity when she heard him darkly chuckle in amusement

“You’re like that bastard King.” He said to you as you both struggled. David was always verbal when ”fighting” the killers. He grunted as you kicked at his thigh, desperately trying to rip your arm away from him. 

“Since when did you start talking?” You asked him, humoring him in pure panic. Ghostface was a bit thrown off that you even responded instead of screaming at the top of your lungs. In fact, he doesn’t recall anybody saying anything back to him other than David King or Yui Kimura saying something snarky after a successful vault.

“You’d be surprised--agh!” He grunted as you smashed your toolbox into his face as hard as you could. This definitely threw him off since it hurt just as much as the pallet stuns did. Was that even allowed? He adjusted his mask to keep it from falling off. His chin sure as hell hurt.

“Sorry.” Y/N said to him almost immediately, stopping for a moment. You weren’t sure why you felt sorry for the bastard in that moment. You once did something similar with the Trapper when he accidentally stepped in his own trap, there was a moment of silence between the two of you as you both stared.

“What do you mean sorry?!” He asked you angrily but he didn’t lunge or hit you. He seemed just as confused and caught up in the moment as you. You threw your arms up in defense, it was a psychological thing.

“It was instinctual! What was I supposed to do, let you stab and hook me?” You said to him as he stood up. Ghostface was much taller up close, it was strange.

“Well, yeah. You’re only supposed to fucken wiggle or try get off of the hook. It said those were the rules.” He argued as you turned your head to the side in disbelief at his behavior. 

“Since when did you start abiding by the rules? Aren’t you supposed to be a serial killer or something?” Y/N questioned him.

“Uhhh, since that thing started torturing the other people who got trapped here. You think I wanna look like that fuckface with the chainsaw?” He said aggressively but you didn’t seem to back down at all. He was referring to the Hillbilly.

“He already looked like that, dumbass.” You say to him as he paused.

“Oh.” Ghostface responded before shaking his head to knock some sense into himself and began to try grab your wrist again. he tugged you closer when he did rather aggressively.

“What the fuck am I doing arguing with my prey.” He muttered as you pulled away again, taking a few steps back.

Ghostface, from your observation, was easily confused when talking to people. You figured it was normal since, well, when the hell did a psycho like him have time to talk to people? You recalled a conversation with Ace when you were upset due to one of your first trials. He had been previously married and referred to himself as a ladykiller, humoring the idea of trying to flirt with the Huntress. He was a wise dude despite being on the run from guys he owed money to, overall he made a good replacement father figure for a moment.

Clearly it was a bad idea but maybe instead of getting hooked or hurt, you could do what Ace jokingly suggested. It’d also be a funny story to tell some of your friends when this trial was over but it was scary thinking this could make him even more mad or aggressive. Oh, well, anything not to go through the pain again.

“Has anybody ever told you you’re handsome?” You asked, cringing at yourself for such a poor choice of wording.

“You don’t even know how I look.” He said, somewhat annoyed but loosened his grip slightly as you put your hand softly over his.

“That doesn’t matter. I feel like we could get to know eachother. I’m Y/N, by the way.” You say to him as he stopped completely, baffled even.

“What?” He asked in confusion.

“Think about it, if we have a nice little chat then I’m sure the Entity wouldn’t mind. And don’t get me wrong, I’ve been curious about your artwork. Or I guess you can say photography. I’m sure you have a collection.” You said.

“Right, like a puny thing like you would even understand what I do.” Ghostface said to you, crossing his arms. Admittedly, he seemed to slowly forget his objective when he began to even talk to you. Even he didn’t know why he kept responding to you.

“A puny thing like me? Oh, please. I’ve seen my fair share of blood and gore on the internet. I bet your photos wouldn’t even make me budge.” Y/N said.

“Really, now? I have a collection of photos of you and your little friends.” He said, getting rather defensive. Such a fragile ego, you thought.

“Oh, so you take photos of me?” You asked, pulling him closer. He seemed to freeze up when he was inches away from your face. Despite wearing the mask, he felt vulnerable. Why? You were just a survivor meant to be slaughtered.

“I don’t mean it like that.” He said firmly, although, it wouldn’t be a bad idea since you were rather attractive to him. Both physically and personality-wise. The thought amused him but he shook his head slightly.

“Shame. I could’ve offered you a special photoshoot.” Y/N said, enjoying getting into character at this point since all the generators should be done soon.

“A what?” He said, finally flustered. You couldn’t blame him. A survivor was practically seducing him. A part of him wanted to give in since he already wasted so much time just talking to you. There were, of course, other needs he needed satisfied. The idea of him showing no mercy on you got him hot and bothered.

“A special photoshoot. Just me and you, uhh... Ghostface?” You said to him, resting your eyes. 

“It’s Danny--I mean, Jed.” He said to you. You raised your eyebrows in surprise that he even told you his name, you could even swear your cheeks warmed up for a second. No. no, you thought. Do not get distracted.

“Jed, huh? Sounds easy to yell.” You responded with a smirk. 

At this point, Ghostface decided he definitely wanted you. He quickly gave into his desire since he had his own desires and fantasies he wanted to put at ease. Plus, a survivor like you giving yourself to him? It sounded too good to be true in his own dirty, messed up standards. He silently smirked behind his mask. Hooking and killing wasn’t the only way he wanted to hurt you now. He saw this as a way to properly get back at you for hitting him with your toolbox.

What did you get yourself into, he thought menacingly. Unbeknownst to him, you were already one step ahead of him. Ghostface wrapped his hands around your waist and brought you closer to him. Y/N froze for a moment but brushed her knee against his upper thigh in a rather suggestive manner. She didn’t think it would work yet it did.

“So, when do you want to do this, baby?” He asked you in a lower tone. You felt your cheeks flush and your heartrate beginning to increase but you had to stand your ground for a few more seconds. You looked away for a moment with an unimpressed stare.

“You’re such a gentlemen.” You said sarcastically, pushing away from him by his chest. The feeling of his leather and fabric was firm, you kinda liked that.

“Now what?” He asked in frustration. Your eyes averted towards the tools spread out on the ground from the box. Y/N came up with an idea.

“Pick my stuff up for me and maybe we can do something... quick.” You said, tugging your shirt downwards suggestively. 

“Okay, okay. Fine.” Ghostface responded to you sarcastically.

He turned to look at the tools on the ground. Kneeling down, he set the toolbox upright and began to put the tools back. Ghostface found it interesting how such small tools can play a big part in fixing the generators faster. He’d be pissed off if some random fucker like the Clown came and busted it up after long, hard work. You watched him actually do as you asked. It was somewhat heartwarming. No, actually, it wasn’t. You didn’t wanna catch feelings for him.

Y/N looked around, inhaling quietly. He seemed focused on picking up the smaller tools. You weren’t sure when to make your move. Suddenly, a horn blasted. A feeling of relief washed through your body. His head popped up as you quickly sprinted away from him. Ghostface whipped his head around. 

“Shit, fuck...!” He muttered. It was at this point where he realized what you did. He felt angry at himself for giving into his urges instead of just hooking you and killing you and your little friends. Ghostface smashed your toolbox against the generator in anger.

Standing up, he put his knife away. Despite being furious, he still found you attractive and confident for even trying that with him. It fueled a different urge within him. Oh, he would definitely make you pay. Not from the hooks, of course. He smirked at the idea of it and began to walk off to the other door once he began to calm down.

Y/N, he thought. 

#ghostface #ghostface x reader #danny johnson #jed olsen #jed olsen x reader #danny johnson x reader #dead by daylight fanfic #dead by daylight #dead by daylight x reader #dbd x reader

[leviskokoro]

Mari In Twisted Wonderland | Abridged Version | Savanaclaw

Chapter 2

Days after the Overblot Incident and Revenge Unbirthday Party, Mari gets another dream and this time it’s about the furries-- I mean, animals. She didn’t really get what it meant.

Lunch happened and Ruggie stole Grim’s lunch. Mari was confused but then they were called to the Headmaster’s office so she couldn’t question it. 

Crowley explained shit to the shared brain cell trio and Mari. Blah blah blah. Grim got upset that he can’t play magift and show off. Mari rationalized with him that he won’t be able to show off if he’s only a beginner and that she’ll treat him to canned tuna to cheer him up. He seemed to be having a terrible day, getting his lunch stolen and then being told he can’t participate in a sports event. 

She asked Crowley if he was searching for a way home but quickly realizes that he didn’t seem to be doing it. Though, she didn’t really say anything about it since the demon brothers were probably looking for a way to get her back. 

Then they got back to their dorms later but Crowley came to visit and explained that students were getting injured and shit was real sus since there were a lot of them. Grim told him that he didn’t want to help but he pretty much just forced them by saying the Ramshackle Dorm wasn’t free. He also bribed Grim by saying he’d let him participate in the magift tournament. Though, Mari was aware that he was lying through his teeth. However, she said nothing since she didn’t want to break Grim’s spirit again. Plus, she was going to help regardless of the situation. Might as well be helpful while she’s stuck in there. 

So the investigation started. They looked in the infirmary and Mari noticed that there were no Savanaclaw students that were injured but figured that maybe the culprit hasn’t got to them yet. Then they interrogated two injured students from Heartslabyul and they didn’t get any helpful answers so they tried looking for more clues. Only to fail and go back to the Ramshackle Dorm. 

Ace visited and they explained the situation to him. But then Deuce ran in and yelled about how Trey got injured too. So they ran to the Heartslabyul dorm and saw him. 

Mari was genuinely proud of Grim for being nice enough to give Trey the can of tuna she bought for him earlier in order to cheer him up. 

Riddle came by to check on Trey and then explained how he got injured. Then Cater pulled everyone excluding Trey to a different room and let Mari tell them about the other injured students. 

So, the Heartslabyul gang + Grim and Mari went to investigate together and saw the Pomefiore Dorm, which was probably Mari’s favorite dorm so far. It was certainly pretty. 

And now for Mari’s first impression of Rook: “Dang he kinda hot” 

Rook will remember that

Then the rest of the gang decided that he didn’t look strong enough so the culprit probably wouldn’t wanna target him, then went on to Octavinelle to see the tweels. 

First impression of the tweels as she and the rest ran for their dear lives: “Jesus fuck they’re creepy” 

They escaped and Mari finally remembered what she noticed about the injured students again. “Savanaclaw might be the next targets since there weren’t any injured students from there” 

So they got to the Savanaclaw Dorm and met Jack. She was like “oh you’re the hot furry” and he was like “excuse me?” Then he tells them that he won’t be targetted and that they should fuck off. 

Then they got in trouble with Savanaclaw delinquents and Leona and Ruggie came. Leona recognized Mari as the herbivore that stepped on his tail. The delinquents get angry but he still drinks respecc women juice and just challenges the gang to magift. Since Mari had no magic, she had to sit this one out. 

She goes home and sleeps, but then realizes she can’t and decides to have a midnight walk because she hasn’t seen enough horror movies to know that’s not the best idea. Then she meets Malleus. Probably thinks he’s the hottest guy she’s seen in NRC besides Leona and Jamil. 

“Oh, you are a child of man” “And you’re a man with horns”

She isn’t particularly intimidated by him. Like— She’s met Lucifer and has been nearly killed by him twice. Some strange dude with horns got nothin’ on him. Mari asked who he is and he seemed to be surprised by that, then he smirked. 

Dude said it would be better if she didn’t know and let her call him whatever she wanted. She was like “Aight” then he left. 

Mari goes to sleep and has another dream. She wonders why she’s having another dream about animals and why does the lion look familiar. Then she woke up, wondering what it meant. Barbatos was rather vague when he gave her his parting gift. 

On the way to school with Grim, she told him about the Tall handsome dude with horns. He dubbed him “Tsunotarou”. She liked the name a lot and decided to use it. 

They meet up with Cater and Riddle, who tell them that Jamil got injured. So they go meet him. 

‘Ah fuck his voice is hot too’ Mari thought when she met him. It seemed that she was right about Kalim, he was quite friendly. 

So they finally found out about Ruggie but couldn’t catch him. Then Jack appeared again. He’s like “Why are you working so hard for other people’s sake?” 

Ace is like “Lmao we just wanna get picked for the magift tournament and show off. We don’t give a shit about these guys.”

Mari sighed and said, “Why is literally everyone in this school so selfish?” And Jack questions her as to her reason for doing it. Then she replies with “Well-- Crowley kinda said that living in the Ramshackle Dorm wasn’t free. Though, he didn’t really have to force me since I would’ve helped regardless because I just like feeling helpful.”

Then Jack told the shared braincell trio that they’re worse than he thought. Though, he also mentioned that he didn’t trust Mari’s type. As in, “Guys that just do things for others” 

Ace was like “no u” 

Then Jack was like “Fight me bitch. If you want me to spill my guts, you gotta defeat me”

Deuce went bad boy like “fuck yeah lets go dude” and they fight

And they win. The rest of the guys are surprised that Mari knows how to fight. She’s like “The Future King of Hell taught me martial arts for like a year” and they’re not sure whether she’s being serious or if she’s crazy. 

And then Jack went into this whole spiel about how cowardly tricks make him nauseous and how he wanted to use his own power to claim victory at the top. Then he finally spills the beans on what Ruggie’s unique magic is and how Savanaclaw is in on the plan. 

“Why would they?” “How well you do in the magift tournament can have a big impact on your future, right? So I can’t say I don’t understand their feelings” 

“GRRRRRRRRRRRR” 

Mari is like “Dude, chill. Understanding someone doesn’t mean you agree with them.” 

Jack replied with “The now comes before the future! Show what you can do now!” 

Then goes onto yet another spiel about how he can’t stand Leona and how that guy is amazing but never gives his full effort. 

Ace whispers to Mari like “Damn he tsundere for his own dorm leader” 

And Jack tells them that Savanaclaw is going to target the dorm leader of Diasomnia, Malleus Draconia during the day of the magift tournament. 

Riddle and Cater come by like “Lol thanks for telling us” Then Riddle was going to tell them the plan but Jack was like “bitch im not gonna help. Im gonna do this shit myself. Bye” 

Mari countered with “What have you accomplished on your own?” 

He’s just >:(

“Smart wolves hunt as a pack” “Ugh fine. But if your plan sucks, I’m leaving.” 

So after hearing Riddle out, he’s like “Aight I’ll help.” 

Everyone came to an agreement and went to their respective dorms. Mari has another dream, then thought “Bruh he really wanted to be king then when he became king, he didn’t even do it right.”

“Oi, wake up.” 

Mari felt someone shake her awake. She groaned and swatted away the hands, wanting to sleep more. It didn’t quite register in her mind that someone broke into her room. It was only until her blanket was tugged away from her. The cool air hit her bare body. She shuddered and her eyes finally fluttered open to see Jack with a flustered expression before he threw the blanket over her body. 

“WHY THE HELL ARE YOU NAKED?!” 

“WHY ARE YOU IN MY ROOM?!” 

“Tch.” He looked away and rubbed his neck. “I came from my morning run to wake you up early. I couldn’t let you oversleep on the day of the tournament. S-Sorry for breaking into your room…”

Grim perked up and was motivated to go immediately so that he could collect his reward to play in the tournament. “Come on! Let’s go already!” 

“Just let me get dressed and I’ll be right with you. Be patient.” 

For the rest of that morning, Jack couldn’t look at her directly. When he did, images of that embarrassing situation all came back to his mind 

So they got to the stadium. Shit hit the fan but everything was fine because Heartslabyul revealed their plan. Diasomnia is perfectly alright. 

Leona got pissed and he revealed his unique magic. Sand is everywhere. He’s trying to kill Ruggie. 

Mari is like “Ugh I hate sand” 

Jack also revealed his unique magic and turned into a full furry-- I mean, wolf. This surprised Leona, which gave Riddle the opportunity to collar him. 

Lilia be spittin facts. 

Hearing Leona yell about agony and despair and that things will never change kinda made Mari’s heart hurt because it felt… familiar. How hopeless he seemed to feel. It reminded her of how she was before coming to the Devildom. 

Then he overblotted.

Then they beat the sit out of him. Mari is like “Does this usually happen?” 

So the magift tournament went on and Savanaclaw still got to play because the injured students wanted revenge. Grim also reminded Crowley about his reward so he was allowed to play against Savanaclaw. 

Grim did an oopsie and tried to do a special move but it backfired and hit Mari in the head instead. She had to be rushed to the infirmary. 

She woke up to see the shared braincell trio and the furry boys. Ace told her that she’s been asleep for so long that the closing ceremony was over and they’re dismantling the venue. 

Leona told her that Diasomnia was the champion. 

Ace and Deuce talked about how good Malleus was for a moment. Jack was like “No one can win if they give up before they try.” Mari agreed with him. He then said that he was going to beat Diasomnia fair and square next year. 

Leona was like ““Underhanded tactics” require one’s strength too” and she asked if he even felt bad. He was just like lmao no 

A wild Babie has appeared. Leona went >:0 but introduced Cheka to them. 

Mari squealed at the sight of such an adorable child. Internally she was saying “I’ve seen Cheka for 4 seconds but if anything were ever to happen to him, I’d kill everyone in this room and then myself.”

Jack: So the root of all Leona’s pain is… 

Mari: The cutest lil angel ever! 

Cheka: Are you guys my uncle’s friends? 

Everyone else laughed at Leona except Mari who was busy introducing herself to the lil babie. 

Leona will remember that. 

Timeskip to when Mari went to sleep and saw the creepy shadow in the mirror. She’s lowkey shook but then she woke up. Seeing the time was pretty early in the morning, she decided to have a lil stroll to see the sun rise. 

She found a good spot and sat down, singing lightly to herself. 

The sound of leaves being crushed under one’s feet reached her ears from behind her. Mari didn’t bother looking up at the source, being too enamored with seeing the sky as its hues morph from navy to a golden yellow. The dark clouds turned into tangerine and peach ones. She gave a dreamy sigh. 

“Oi, Mari.” She heard the gruff voice of Jack. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh you know, just… Watching that gorgeous sunrise. I’ve lived in a land with no sun for a year so seeing it like this is quite the blessing,” She responded, still not looking up. 

“Seriously? I’ve never heard of a place like that.” Jack sat beside her. 

“Yeah. Living in Hell was quite the experience but it was fun.” Mari chuckled lightly. 

Her words caused him to furrow his eyebrows, wondering if she was kidding or not. He shook his head, deciding that it wasn’t important. He turned to her. 

“So… about that time…” 

“Hm? What time?” Mari finally looked at him, confusion swirling in her pools of chocolate. She tilted her head. 

His face felt warm as the blood rose to his tanned cheeks. “Y-You know what I’m talking about!”

Upon seeing his flustered expression, she finally remembered what he meant. Her mouth formed an ‘o’. What could he possibly gain from bringing that up now? 

“I wanted to apologize properly…” He spoke up again, rubbing the back of his neck. “I shouldn’t have violated your privacy like that and broke into your room.” He finally had the courage to look back into her eyes. Golden hues meeting chocolate. 

“How can I make it up to you?” 

Mari saw this opportunity and a smirk crept up onto her lips. “You could make it up to me by letting me pet you.” 

He yelped and his eyes widened to the size of saucers. His ears stood erect. “Wh-What?!” 

She pouted. “I thought you wanted to make it up to me? This is the least I could ask for after you broke into my room and saw me naked!” 

“Okay! Okay! Just don’t yell or someone’s gonna hear you.” 

Mari stopped and looked at him with expectations glinting in her eyes. 

He leaned downward. His head was lowered and ears curled back, anticipating her touch. 

She grinned and laid her hand over his head, caressing it tenderly. “Oh my~ Your hair is quite soft. I see that you groom yourself well, Jack. How nice~” She cooed, continuing to pet him with such pure glee swimming in her chocolate eyes. “How are you liking this? Does it feel nice~?” 

“Tch… Just because I’m letting you do this, doesn’t mean I like it,” He told her. 

“But your tail is wagging.” She pointed out. Blood spurted to his face and he pulled away. 

“Alright, that’s enough!” He exclaimed to her, trying not to show her that he was flustered. “We’re going to be late for school if we don’t hurry.” 

Mari glanced at the sun and nodded. “Oh! You’re right. I’ll go wake up Grim and head to class. Thanks again, Jack.” 

“Don’t expect me to let you do that again. We’re not friends or anything.” He walked away from her. 

A smile graced her lips as she watched him leave with a mirthful gaze. “Alright,” she whispered and made her way to the Ramshackle Dorm.

#mitw : av #twisted wonderland #twst #twst fanfic #twst headcanons

[goldenchildkatsuki]

Teeth

Day 1 of @kacchako-week : New Beginnings

Kacchako Week x JJ’s SIp (Song Inspiration Project)

Writers Note: This is the long awaited Song Inspiration Fic inspired by song Teeth by xxxtentacion. I decided to combine my Song Inspiration Project with (the first day of) Kacchako Week 2018. Enjoy.

I’ve started a new project everyone! I’ve decided to write fics based on my current favortite songs. Music has always inspired me a lot when writing and has cured so many writer blocks. I feel like my writing is just a little bit better when I have a specific song or lyric in mind. Well, now let’s see how this goes.

Teeth by xxxtentacion

I remember your smell when I touched you

How you used to talk to me

It all hurts so much now

Meaning

XXXTENTACION is singing this song about his breakup with his girlfriend, and what he is feeling about relationships.

Word count: 4.642

Beta Reader: @wishgnee

AO3 link: (x)

“Speak up. Speak the fuck up.”

Usually, Bakugou knew how arguments like this would end, but now he didn’t have a single clue. His harsh words didn’t seem to faze her Uraraka. She seemed exhausted. She was pale, with dark circles under her empty eyes.

It had been so long since she had said anything. Uraraka had left Bakugou going off on a rampage, swiping books of his desk and throwing things, all that whilst yelling on top of his lungs.

The silence made Bakugou panic and made him even more frustrated, angrier than he intended to be. He even started to scare himself, not being able to think twice about what he was going to say or do.

If only she just said something.

He was hurting and she didn’t want to see that. She wasn’t allowed to look so sad. She pissed him off, agitated him, annoyed him, pushed his buttons.

“Why can’t you just apologize. For once, don’t make this my fault. Make another broken promise. I will believe them. Kiss me to make everything right. I would kiss you back.” Bakugou thought to himself.

“I’m sorry but I don’t want to do this anymore.” Uraraka said.

Bakugou wished she had stayed silent.

“What did you say?” Bakugou stammered.

“I don’t want to this anymore. You want me to do the impossible.”

“Is taking some distance so hard for you? In what fucking world is not acting so overly friendly with that god damn nerd impossible? Is listening to me, for once, so fucking hard for you? Impossible my fucking ass.”

Bakugou knew it was impossible

“He’s my best friend.”

“Then fucking act like he is.”

“You exhaust me.”

“So do you.”

Bakugou knew deep inside that he shouldn’t start arguing again. Why push her even further away? But at that moment, not being at fault was more important than making her stay.

“Then I suggest we won’t exhaust each other anymore.”

She didn’t apologize. She didn’t promise anything. She didn’t kiss him.

She ended it.

Bakugou was lost for a while. It was hard to remember what he liked to do when he was alone. He didn’t know who to talk to when he wanted to share his thoughts. He didn’t even know where else to look in class.

Each day, he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

She had started to look different, in a good way. She looked healthy again and much more energetic. She didn’t doze off in class anymore. Uraraka actually paid attention and could answer almost every question right she got called out for. She was back in her element.

The world kept turning for her.

For her, everything was back to ‘normal’. She still had things she loved to do, she still had the same friends she could talk to anytime she wanted. The only thing she didn’t have was anything to do with Bakugou and she made that obvious. Uraraka barely looked at him.

Bakugou had tried so hard to accept their situation, despite not wanting to. It had been one of the most difficult things he had ever done.

He was convinced that she still loved him. After all, Uraraka had never said she stopped loving him.

He kept clinging on to the idea that sooner or later her heart will take over her mind and she would come back.

Despite that bit of hope, Bakugou had eventually came to terms with his pain.

Bakugou came to understand himself. In the end, he didn’t blame her for leaving. He knew it was all him. He would like to tell her that. H wouldn’t know how to phrase it, nor did he know if he could ever build up enough courage to look her in the eye again, but he would like to tell her.

But Uraraka wouldn’t let him, and there’s no telling if she ever would.

“Bakugou.”

Bakugou lifted his head from his hand. “Hah?”

Bakugou looked around the classroom. Everyone was staring at him. Not with their usual grin they had on their faces when someone got called out for not paying attention, but with open mouths and wide eyes.

Aizawa sighed. “Can you rephrase that?”

“I wasn’t paying attention Sensei. Sorry?” Bakugou groaned.

Aizawa nodded and looked at his papers. “I assigned you and Uraraka to work on the project together. Now start paying attention.”

Bakugou could feel the wide eyes burning holes in him. He wanted everyone to drop dead right that second. He aware how bad the situation was. It’s not like the words weren’t like a kick in the gut. His whole body was aching.

Bakugou carefully made himself small so less eyes could burn holes in him. Forcing the ache to compress into one center point in his body, he hoped the pain would dissolve into nothingness.

The class was vocal. They all talked like the two people involved weren’t even in the room.

Bakugou gripped the fabric of his pants and dug his nails into his thighs. They were loud. They were so goddamn loud.

“Oi! Is there a problem? If so, then you can each come up and announce it to the rest of the class!” Aizawa raised his voice.

The class fell dead silent.

“Uraraka, are you opposed to working with him?”

Bakugou could feel his heartrate strangely slowing down. His chest became as quiet as the rest of the class. Is this was it felt like to literally die from embarrassment?

“I’m not opposed to working with Bakugou.” Uraraka answered from the other side of the classroom.

Bakugou could hear the tiniest gasps leave the mouths of some of his classmates. He couldn’t blame them.

He hadn’t heard her say his name in ages. He imagined hearing it again for the first time right after the words “I love you” had left her mouth. It would sound soft and warm and his name wouldn’t have sounded any better than it did in that moment.

But instead his name sounded like a stranger’s name.

Aizawa turned to Bakugou. “Bakugou, are you opposed to working with Uraraka?”

Bakugou felt his ace to growing back and spreading like a rash. He wished he could hang on to the fact that Uraraka didn’t mind working with him and that there was a chance she wasn’t lying about it.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t stop hearing her say his name in that certain way.

“Sure.”

Aizawa raised an eyebrow. Bakugou sighed and it took all of him to rephrase the sentence.

“I have no problem working with Uraraka.”

The teacher groaned and put his papers on his desk. He picked up his yellow sleeping bag off the ground, stepping in and zipping himself up.

“Now all the partners have been assigned my work here is done. This project is due Monday. I’ll fail you if it’s simple or dull.. Dismissed.” Aizawa slumped on to the floor and closed his eyes, seeming to have fallen asleep way too easily for all the commotion that immersed after his closing words.

Several people in the class stood up and hurried towards their partner, panicking potentially failing the class due to their lack of creativity. Some brainstormed few suggestions, others immediately put their schedules together and made appointments. Everyone was busy, trying to make the most of a project that Bakugou didn’t pay that much attention to, to completely understand.

Through the commotion Bakugou looked over at Uraraka. They were the only ones left in their seats. She was biting on her favorite pen, which meant she was overthinking. At least she had stopped biting her nails.

He thought about how he used to kiss her hands and fingers. How she wouldn’t get embarrassed anymore because she wasn’t ashamed of her short fingernails. The idea alone made him hot in the face.

Just before wanting to avert his gaze, Bakugou noticed Uraraka was looking back at him. She didn’t know what her eyes were saying to him. She’d become harder to read as the days went by. Of course he could clearly tell when she was excited, frustrated or focused. Now, with her reciprocating his gazes, it was hard to tell what she was thinking.

After a while, she blinked away and looked up to the ceiling.

“What the fuck are you doing to me?” Bakugou whispered to himself.

He watched Deku and Iida approach her. Uraraka became all smiles in an instant, happily conversing with them.

It made Bakugou sick, seeing that nerd make her face light up. Deku was a constant reminder of his lack of confidence in himself, and how big of an idiot he was to throw those issues onto his girlfriend.

“Dude, you alright?” Kaminari was leaning against the side of Bakugou’s desk.

Riddled with hate, Bakugou glared at Kaminari and tipped his desk, making him slide off. Kaminari laughed it off and jumped on the desk in front of him.

Bakugou hated to admit it, but he’d actually grown fond of the idiots that kept wanting to be his friend. Kaminari, Kirishima, Sero and Ashido had specialized themselves in translating Bakugou’s raging and cursing into emotions beyond anger. They had been the first ones to witness him rage and curse about not understanding what he felt for Uraraka. And they had also been the first to see Bakugou so distressed about the girl that he was past the point of raging and cursing.  

Bakugou tried to open up to them every once in a while, in his own way. He didn’t like it, but he owed his friends that much for trying to take care of him and worrying so much.

“I’ll live.” He watched Kaminari’s legs dangle off the desk.

“I know you will. It’s just a project. It might kick our grade into an early grave but still; just a project.”

Bakugou smirked. “Speak for yourself. My grade isn’t on life support unlike yours.”

Kaminari gripped his jacket and pretended to collapse backwards on the desk. “I felt that one dude, I felt that one.” He moaned. Very like him, he made himself laugh. Out of breathe, Kaminari pushed himself upwards again and fixed his hair.

“Anyways, we wanted to go to the cafeteria early today so we can get a spot in a less busy area. Are you coming?”

In the corner of his eye Bakugou saw Uraraka stand up from her desk and getting ready to leave the classroom with Deku and Iida.

Bakugou had to say something to her. He couldn’t just sit there like an idiot the whole time whilst everyone else had everything sorted with their partner. He had overthought what to say to her exactly, but nothing sounded right to him. Thinking that Uraraka would give him enough time to think about things like that was foolish in the first place.

Bakugou picked up his bag and stood up. Uraraka was already leaving the classroom.

“I gotta do something.”

Kaminari followed Bakugou’s gaze and nodded. “Right, we’ll save a seat for you, man.”

Bakugou started rushing out the classroom, pushing through his classmates. Bakugou saw the trio walking down the hall, excitedly talking and laughing as they always did.

He needed time to think how he would approach her, but they were almost out of sight. Instinctively, Bakugou started running up to them.

The sudden, fast footfalls made all three of them turn. Deku and Iida frowned when seeing him. For the first time Uraraka had a distinctive expression on her face when seeing him. She seemed a little surprised.

“You guys can go ahead, I’ll catch up with you later, okay?”

Deku leaned in. “Are you sure, Uraraka?”

Bakugou couldn’t help but grit his teeth. He hated how Deku made him feel like the bad guy with the blandest comments. What could he possibly do or say to her now to hurt her? Bakugou’s aware he’s done that enough.

They were just partners, working on a stupid project. That’s all that it was about. Bakugou aimed that thought at Deku, but also at himself, trying to calm down.

Uraraka waved her hand in front of them and smiled. “Of course! In a bit okay?”

Iida and Deku smiled endearingly back at her and continued walking to the cafeteria.

Uraraka tucked strands of hair behind both of her ears and stared into Bakugou’s eyes.

He felt like combusting right on the spot. She was waiting on him to speak but he lost every single opener he had thought of. He was started to feel more choked up by the minute, as the hallway had started to fill up with people. People started to bump into him and push past him.

“The project. When do you…When are we going to work on it…you know, the project?”

Uraraka spun a ring around her pinky finger with her thumb. She spun it around her finger four times before answering him.“Tomorrow morning, 10:30, at your room, I’ll bring supplies. See you then.”

She turned around and left without any confirmation, merging with the mass in the hallway. She left Bakugou standing there like an idiot, with a blank face and the corners of his mouth left twitching upwards.

The rest of the day Bakugou kept mouthing the words ‘ten thirty’ to himself, not knowing he was scaring everybody around him. He made mental to-do lists, trying to remember what he needed to put away, or what he should get before she would enter his room again after a month or so.

More than a month ago, his room had turned into their room. Uraraka left her sweaters, books, earrings, gum, nail polish, scrunchies and 60 cents in his room. He still hadn’t cleaned up what she hadn’t collected. Everything had stayed exactly as she left it.

He couldn’t put her things away. He tried to, several times. But his room looked a empty without all her junk. So he chose to casually avoid every penny, scrunchy and bottle of nail polish he had found, pretending that it was supposed to be there, and not in a box.

He had thought about Uraraka every single day, but he only allowed himself to think about her five times a day.

That day, he thought about her seventeen times.

He reminisced the past and panicked about what was to come. And what was about to come was getting scarily close.

Fourteen hours before she would come see him again, he tried to sleep.

Eleven hours before she would come and see him he woke up from a bit of sleep drowned in a cold sweat.

Six hours before she would come and see him, he gave up on getting a decent amount of rest.

Three hours before she would come over, he started checking things of his to-do lists.

Two hours before she would come over, Bakugou had already thought eight times about her.

Thirty minutes before she would come over, he heard a knock on his door.

Bakugou lifted his head from math textbook where he had been staring into for too long. He had tried to get ahead on his homework, but his eyes kept lingering on the questions, reading them but not understanding them.

Another knock, this time more impatient, sent Bakugou flying off his chair and towards the door.

Bakugou looked back on his clock. Uraraka was early as per usual. She was early for everything, barely looking at the clock when preparing to go somewhere. It’s like she felt the time. Bakugou had always found it annoying, but then he couldn’t help but smile.

A mixture of excitement and nerves filled his body and made him feel nauseous. In his head he drew character for courage and paid attention to his breathing, trying to control his heartrate.

“Bakugou?” a muffled sound came from the other end of the door.

One more time he drew the character of courage before opening the door.

When seeing her standing there in front of him, Bakugou realized that no matter how many times he drew the character for courage, her presence would leave him stunned to the core. Losing the ability to speak up or move.

Uraraka looked lovely. The color of her hoodie suited her. Her skirt was flirty and flowy and she wore pink socks that were decorated with lace. She had her hair in a bun, something she had started to do more often. Her heavily stuffed, pink schoolbag was held in one hand, thumb spinning her ring around the finger of her other hand.

“You’re early.” Bakugou thought to say.

“Am I?” Uraraka tried to look over Bakugou’s shoulder to check the time.

Bakugou stepped aside and gestured for her to enter his room. Uraraka entered inspecting the place. He knew that she was looking for things that had changed since the last time she had been there. Nothing was different, the room was just less messy. It was more or less the way she left it. He hoped she would feel familiar again and feel comfortable in an unusual situation.

“You are. I’m not surprised though. You used to be late to everythi-“

“-I’ve got everything you could possibly find in a supply store; markers, glue, glitter, you name it.” Uraraka started unpacking her back and laying everything out on his floor.

Bakugou wanted to put his head between the door and smack the door closed. How has he managed to make her feel awkward so early on?

The one thing he wanted to refrain from; was bringing up the past. This was a perfect opportunity to tell her that he had come to terms with the past, saw his mistakes, adjusted, and that he knew it was all him.

He couldn’t do that if he kept opening old wounds. Uraraka would feel uncomfortable, close off completely and no matter what he would say, it wouldn’t reach her. She wouldn’t want to hear it, or she wouldn’t believe it.

“Right.” Bakugou closed the door and kneeled down on the opposite side of Uraraka, the supplies she laid out creating a distance between them.

Uraraka glanced up for a second and then went on with arranging her supplies in satisfactory positions. In complete silence Bakugou watched her opening marker cases and trying to wipe glitter off her hands.

“Maybe you should start coming up with a few key points for the essay.” Uraraka broke the silence.

She didn’t even look at him.

Bakugou nodded, grabbed his notebook of his desk and took a pen from Uraraka’s pencil case.

Of course the pen was chewed on. Bakugou clicked the pen several times before pressing it down on his paper, then he realized he didn’t have a single clue what they were supposed to do.

Uraraka sat with a leg propped up and her head laying on her hands that were resting on her knee. Her eyes went back and forth, from her pen to Bakugou’s face.

“You have no idea what we’re supposed to do, do you?”

“How the hell can you tell?”

“Because if you knew what we were doing you would’ve had about ten things written down by now. I think.”

Bakugou got flustered, throwing down his notebook and pen.

Uraraka sighed and a she let a small smile creep up on her face. “Sensei wants us to work on analyzing, giving feedback and reflecting. He wants us to make a poster of each other in hero costume.

“In the poster you need to explain why you think your partner has added particular things to their hero costume. That’s the analyzing part. You also need to write a two page essay where you mention your partner strengths, weak points and tell them how to tackle their weak points. That’s the feedback part. Lastly you also describe the last time you’ve worked together, how you handled your partners weak points and what you would do differently when handling them. That’s the reflection part. That also needs part of the two page essay.”

Bakugou brought his index finger and thumb to his chin. Being creative was not going to be that big of a problem. Besides that, he knew Uraraka quite well, as a person and as a heroine. The project itself wasn’t going to be much of a struggle, but Bakugou wasn’t prepared to be confronted by someone whose opinion he valued very highly.

“Do you understand the project?” Uraraka asked whilst getting out her own notebook. “To be honest, I don’t think we have to be together for this one. I think you could’ve easily done this on your own. Maybe it’s so we don’t get the costumes wrong or to discuss some things, like the last time we worked together, I don’t know. I actually have a hard time thinking of the last time we worked together, maybe that one time where…I’m sorry, I’m rambling.” She started scribbling down things in her notebook.

“If you didn’t think it was necessary to be in one room for this one, then why are you here?” Bakugou’s curiosity took over and it didn’t make him think twice about asking things that would make her feel uneasy.

Uraraka leaned her head closer on her notebook, her nose almost against the paper, making it hard for her to continue writing.

“You can’t draw, and you often forget to take your notes out of your essays. I figured I had to help you with that.” Uraraka mumbled.

Bakugou was ready to feel offended, ready to tell her that he knew he wasn’t Picasso but he could sure could draw. But he started to realize that he should probably stay silent, considering the fact Uraraka had basically buried her face in her notebook.

He took one of the large pieces of paper Uraraka brought and traded Uraraka’s pen for a pencil. He wanted to start with her face.

Every single line he drew didn’t feel good. Bakugou had to look at her, after deciding that his memories weren’t accurate enough. But he didn’t dare ask her to look up for him. He was convinced his heart would skip too many beats and would eventually stop.

So much for ‘courage’.

Bakugou blinked, feeling himself getting cross eyed staring at the paper for so long.

“I can’t fucking draw.”

“I know.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Bakugou asked, getting slightly frustrated.

“I’m not looking at you so I can imagine it’s hard for you to draw me. I’m sorry but I really want to write down these key points for the essay. I suggest you do the same for now and when I’m finished we can start working on the posters.”

Again, it was like she was in Bakugou’s head. It was unfair, that she could read him like a book and that to him her whole face was a mystery. It was unfair that she was handling this situation very well. It was unfair that she had the obvious upper hand here and what seemed to be an opening was starting to look like another closed door.

Bakugou picked up his notebook. He split the page in half, writing ‘strengths’ and ‘weaknesses’ above the page. His pencil hovered under the word ‘strengths’ for a while, after some thinking he finally started writing down words. It didn’t take him long to stop thinking actively. The words flowed out of his pencil he had written it down before. Like he was writing down a story he heard a million times before. The one half of the page was filling up quickly, words gradually getting smaller to fit everything in on one page.

“I can’t write.” Uraraka said after a while.

“I know.” Bakugou smirked.

Uraraka stuck her pen in her messy bun and shifted towards Bakugou.

“What did you write?”

Bakugou closed his notebook. “I don’t think we’re meant to share that with each other.”

Uraraka bit her lip and looked off to the side. “I’ll get to read it sooner or later. Also, I hate the fact that you have written so much down whilst I can’t word anything right. So therefore, I want to know what you wrote.”

She was still as honest and direct as she always was. He still admired that about her. With her curious eyes and because she was so close, she could still make him do anything she wanted.

Bakugou opened his notebook.

“Strengths: The biggest strength of Uraraka Ochako is her cooperativeness. She’s a hero that is willing to and actually can work with anyone who she’s assigned to. She’s kind to everyone, but doesn’t let her kindness get in the way of her professionality.

“Uraraka has become very goal-oriented over these past months. She doesn’t lack motivation, and she’s also very good at motivating others. She’s always ready to improve and try new things. She’s confident, even when it comes to things outside her comfort zone. She shows a lot of empathy which is a good trait to have when trying to calm down citizens in a time of crisis.

“Over these past few months she has also managed to stay focused for long periods of time. Now she’s very good at paying attention to her surroundings and predicting the next move of the enemy. She’s always tries to go beyond her limit, and that might also be one of her weaknesses. But still, she’s an excellent hero.”

When Bakugou finished reading Uraraka had turned her face away. Her cheeks had turned from rosy to bright red. A hand covered her obvious smile.

She still didn’t know how to take compliments.

“Thanks.” She mumbled from behind her hand.

Bakugou looked at the other half of his page. It was blank. But he continued. He had to take his chance. She was finally listening.

“Weaknesses.” Bakugou hesitantly continued. “Uraraka Ochako only has a few weaknesses. First of all, she isn’t always honest with herself and others. I’m convinced she’s still in love with me, but she won’t tell me. This is like torture. I recommend her telling me if I’m right.

Second of all, her face might not be easy to read but her body language and mannerisms are not too hard to read. That’s why I’m convinced she’s still in love with me, because she still spins her ring around her finger when you’re talking to me. That’s exactly what she did every time she told me she loved me. I would recommend she becomes aware of this.

Bakugou glances at her before he concludes his list.

“Lastly, you close yourself off. You haven’t given me the chance to tell you that I understand you. Completely. I understand that I was an ass, an unreasonable ass that was tiring you out. I only have my own lack in confidence to blame for what happened between us. I understand now. I promise I do. I would recommend letting me tell you that sooner. That’s all I got.”

Bakugou threw his notebook and pencil on the ground. This was the best thing he could’ve done. His body seemed to think otherwise. His heart wanted to jump out of his chest. His body temperature raising to what felt like a dangerous level. His hands didn’t know what to do, where they should be placed.

“Damn it.” Uraraka chuckled.

“Damn it.” She repeated. Her chuckle turning into a soft cry. She turned back to face Bakugou properly.

Bakugou didn’t know what to do. All the alarms in his body were going off and stopped him from moving.

‘Get closer to her!’

‘Comfort her!’

‘Do something you fucking idiot!’

Bakugou thought to himself.

“You’re really good at this.” Uraraka smiled through her tears. With her thumb she pushed the silver band around her pinky once more. “I’ll have to take your feedback to heart.”

#kacchako week #kacchako week 2018 #kacchako week day 1 #kacchako week day 1: new beginnings #kacchako #kacchako fic #kacchako fanfic #kacchako fanfiction #bakuraka #katsuocha #bakugou #bakugou katsuki #uraraka #uraraka ochako #bnha #boku no hero #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #jj writes #JJs SIP

[the-voice-of-hell]

Rent is Theft, part 20

Read from the beginning here, read the previous chapter here.  Note:  My MC is a Filipina trans woman and I am not.  If you have notes on that or anything else, hit me up.

                                                        ***

      It was taking longer than it should.  Tall as the building was, a guy in each stairwell going floor to floor could get through the whole mess quickly enough.  If Mike took some elevators and skipped them, a few repeats still wouldn’t take all that long, and they’d catch up to him.  Still, it was close to eleven o’clock by the time they came back.

      Grime and Richie were worn out, but more than that, weirded out.  Mike was super energetic, eyes bugged out, acting wired.  Wasn’t his drug of choice heroin?  Marcie got up to take his arm.

      “Mikey, are you OK?  Come sit down.”

      “Hey, we got the werewolf,” he said, beaming at Knobby as he let Marcie sit him down.  “I’m great, Marce.  We got snacks, great!”  As soon as his butt hit the couch, he lurched forward and started throwing back handfuls of chex mix.

      “Take it easy, Mikey!  You aren’t high, are you?”

      “Yeah, dude,” Knobby said.  “You look like you’re gonna explode.”

      “What, what, what?”  He looked around at people, saw how they were regarding him, and leaned back with arms folded.  “I’m clean, I swear it.  Just feel excited about the exorcism is all.  You know I like The Exorcist, right Marce?”

      “Yeah, I know it.”

      “Well I don’t wanna start up until, say, five minutes to midnight, so relax, Mike.”  I picked up some three by five cards and started passing them out to people.  “Everybody has to read part of the spell, and do some things. I'm going to tell everybody what to do or to read and when. Some of you only have one card, some of you have a few. I'll let you know what card to read off of and when, but it's a good idea to look at the cards now and let me know if you'll have trouble reading any of the words on them."

      "Scorg?," Olivia asked herself.

      "I think it's pronounced sour," Knobby said.  He did not have any cards to read himself, but was trying to help her.

      Leimomi leaned over and softly said to me, "I can't read any of this.  It's too hard."

      I put a reassuring hand on her arm, but was too distracted to speak when Mike stood up and started for the living room.  "Hold that thought, sweetie.  Mike, where are you going?"

      "Gonna check out the magical stuff.  I'm so excited!"  He was already around the corner and I jumped up to follow him.

      In the living room he stood still at the edge of the circle, body language tense, twitchy, unnatural.  A few people had followed me out and were standing behind me, but I couldn't pay them any mind.  Mike had my full attention.

      "Argh OOgha!," he grunted.  He doubled forward at the waist, began to transform.  A million hair-like tendrils sprouted through the back of his polo shirt, and where his skin was visible it was likewise soon consumed with green fur.  Amid the fur, tiny leaves blossomed like chia sprouts and some of those thickened growing into small oak leaves.  "It's all mine," he groaned in a strangely lecherous tone.

      He began to piss into my magic circle.  The fucking nerve on that guy!

      "Holy shit," Knobby yelped. "He's got it too!"

      "Nuh-uh," said Olivia, "It was always just him."

      "Shit," I said, "I'm sorry, Knobby."  Mike started to lunge forward, and I grabbed him around the waist.  I didn't like the feeling of his slippery wet monster ***** against my wrists.

      He was too powerful and began to jerk free of my grasp, when another set of arms joined mine on the left, another on the right.  In a chaotic press of flesh, the crowd managed to wrangle him into the kitchenette.

      Somehow in the ruckus I ended up on the far side of the kitchenette, and could see my comrades in the melee.  They were scrawny Olivia and Knobby, Momi, Marcie, and Richie.  These are not the fighters I would have chosen, but were clearly the only people able to get in behind me easily within the small confines of the apartment.

      I also had a full look at transformed Mike.  There was something familiar in his appearance, his twisted gargoyle form.  I had seen statues, or drawings perhaps, of club wielding wild men clad in ivy.  He bore that likeness, but the leaves grew straight from his body clustered in areas where his own natural hair would be the longest - top of head, beard, chest belly and crotch.  Weirdly his clothing were mostly intact, the tendrils having grown through the fabric before the leaves blossomed on them.  Some buttons had burst to accommodate his increased strength and, disgustingly, increased virility.  The leaves on his belly mercifully obscured the contours of his exposed ******.  The Jolly Green Giant wouldn't do this to us, I thought.

      We were treating him with kid gloves, to be honest.  It was less out of mercy and affection for the man, as much as we did have that, then it was out of revulsion for his lurid condition.  Nobody wanted to accidentally get a fistful of that wobbly green thing.

      Momi, of course, was our ace in the hole.  She easily gripped him around the chest in her strong arms and dragged him around the corner towards the living room.

      "Hold him right there," I said, "Don't mess up the symbols in the triangle!  Olivia, I got some rope in the bathroom.  Go grab it, quick!"

      The hog tying was about as difficult as one would expect.  I was glad we hadn't needed to do this to the frail boy, but Mike didn't really deserve this either, the poor weirdo.  Marcie, of course, was his best friend in the building, and lamented his sorry state.

      "Oh, Mikey, what are we going to do with you?"

      "We're going to exorcise his ass," I said.

      Sadly we had about an hour left until midnight, so we had to hold him there like that.  It was arduous and disgusting, but Leimomi and the floories got through it together - while I reheated the blood and magic brew.

      "Do we know his whole name?"

      "No," said Marcie, "We were in Narcotics Anonymous."

      "Then Michael it is."  It was time.  "Patrick, pass me the wands. Momi, Olivia, Marcie, you're with me."

     We got Mike into place tied to a chair in the middle of the triangle and I stood above him imperiously.  I got the wands and handed one to Olivia and one to Marcie.  I gently directed Momi and them into positions, then turned my attention back to the green man, holding my wand high.

      “In the name of Our Blessed Lady I command thee to depart from Michael.  Evil green devil from Hell, begone!  Begone!  Again I say, begone!”  I gestured for assist and Grime reached in to pass me a Garfield mug of the magic potion.

      Mike looked up at me in wonderment, goggle eyes and fuzzleaf brow.  What did he think was about to happen?

      I slapped him across the cheek with the wand and he barked in surprise, then I splashed him with the hot magic potion from the other side.  Some went in his mouth.  I hoped it wasn’t too poisonous, but I tried to stay in the zone.

      “I command thee to depart and free Michael’s soul.  Evil green devil from Hell, begone!  Begone!  Again I say, begone!”

      “Garrggh-ooo!”  He was making very wolfy faces for a plant-themed monster man.  I smacked him on the other cheek, splashed him again.  With all the bargling, his mouth was open and caught more of the potion than I would have preferred.

      “I command thee to depart and free Michael’s soul.  Evil green devil from Hell, begone!  Begone!  Again, begone!”  Slash, splash.  My mug was empty, dripping.  I handed my wand to Momi and stepped back to the kitchenette.  I fished out my three by five cards.  Had to do things a little different.  “Alright, ladies.  You repeat after me, whack him one time, then walk to the triangle corner to your left.”

      “I don’t wanna whack Mikey!,” Marcie said.

      “Mine!  Hoogha hoogha!”  Mike was writhing.

      “We should whack Mike, Marcie,” Momi said.

      “OK.”

      I read, “Green spirit, ugly spirit, old spirit.”  They repeated the lines.  I’d swapped out references to wolves, tried to make it relevant.  “Do as you are told, leave this man, fly away,” they monotonously repeated, “To where it is night and never day!”

      Richie helped me fill three mugs with the reheated blood sauce.  I brought the steaming mugs over to the ladies and passed them around.  “Whack him one time and then splash some of this on him.  Not all of it at once, you wanna be able to do it two more times, OK?”

      Marcie frowned deeply, Momi looked weirded out, and Olivia was her usual tightlipped sphynx self.  I offered sympathetic looks and went back to the kitchenette.  “Whack away!  When you’re done, corner to the left.”  I waited for them to do their bits, then repeated the spell.  “Green spirit, ugly spirit, old spirit...”

      While they whacked and doused him again, I asked Grime to pass me a bottle of rum.  “Magical reasons, I swear!”  This needed to feel more magical.  After a deep swig, I looked out over the scene.  My ladies were ready for the last round of their part, and beyond them on the far side of the circle, the rest of the floories watched with trepidation.  Come on guys, it’s magic!  Swig.

      “Green spirit, ugly spirit, old spirit,” I went through my paces and they mumbled through their own.  “Now whack him again and then pour out the last of your cups on him!”  I reluctantly released my grip on the rum and used a mug to scoop more of the magic potion from the giant pasta pot serving as one of my cauldrons.  Then I waved for the ladies to come back to the kitchenette.  I took Momi’s wand off her hands.  It felt a little slippery, the end was slick with the blood sauce.

      I went out to see our monster man, did a little clumsy twirl on the floor along the way, then stood before him.  “Michael!  Michael!  Michael!”

      He looked up at me, shaking ill ingredients out of his eyes like a wet dog.  He was still green like the Hulk.  I smacked his stupid face.

      “Go, fly away to the sky, green devil thee I defy.  Out, out, with a howl and a yell, It will carry thee faster and surer to Hell!”  I smacked him with the wand again, then poured the steaming magic potion over his head.  It washed away much of the bloody mess, and a few of his beard leaves fell away.  Progress?

      I turned to the rest of the floories.  “All of you, come to the kitchenette, get a cup of the potion, and walk with me in a circle around the guy.  Repeat the spell after me!”  I waved the wand to stir them into motion.  Knobby went first, then Patrick dragged Perry.

      I waved the wand like a conductor until I had enough floories in motion, then led them, marching in a circle around Mike.  “Repeat after me!  Away, away, shoo!  Think we care for you?  You’ll feel our whips crack.  We’ll beat you blue-black!  Foolish green spirit, we have you at last!  Back to thy Hell home, fly out of him fast!”

      It was a weird, sad, and wearying protest march.  Hell no, we won’t go?  I grabbed the rum bottle on one of my rotations past the counter, tucking my wand into my head wrap, so I could hold my card in one hand and dook with the other.

      We couldn’t keep it together - not all of us.  Perry quickly became unmanageable, which meant Patrick had to take care of him.  We managed to at least keep them in the same room.  I felt it was important for us all to participate as best we could.

      We quickly ran out of magic potion to slosh on him.  I was bumping into people out of drunkenness, they were bumping into each other out of weariness.  Our breath vapor collected on the windows and surfaces, the mess on the floor was spread under our feet.  The chalk joined the fluids in muddy, gritty clumps that made walking even more treacherous.  I looked at the wall clock whenever I passed it, waiting for one AM to draw close.  Walking in circles for even ten minutes seems like forever.  This was some number of forevers.

      We were mumbling zombies, taking half-assed slaps at Mike, slipping, losing our place in the spell and starting over again.  I almost forgot to call an end to our torments, one time on the clock looking the same as another to me by then.

      “Everybody, back to the circle!”  I waved them back and they complied, leaving me with Mike.  I pulled out my wand.

      The green man looked at me with his head lolling on his shoulders, his eyes rolling in their sockets.  Could he even see me, or was his head coincidentally pointed my way?  He groaned, “I liked The Exorcist.”

      “Green spirit, from Michael you flee!  Michael, come correct and be free!”  I kicked him in the stomach.

      Instantly, he vomited green stuff Exorcist-style all the hell over me.  I was lucky it didn’t reach above my breast level or get both of my arms, but the rest of my body was awash in sick.  He was thrashing and spewing and thrashing some more.

      More from a sense of insult than a magical imperative, I started smacking him about the face with my wand again.  “Come on!  Come ON!  Ugh!”

      The fountain ran dry and he slumped in the chair.  I tried to step back, slipped, and landed on my ass in the green.  “AugH!”  A few other people were barfing now too.  I kept it together, pinching my nose and making my breaths shallow.

      Grime came up with a pitcher of water and poured it out on me.  “You alright?”

      “Eh. Ugh. Wait.  Hose Mike down!  We gotta see if he’s green!”

      Grime looked at the guy - he was less drenched than I was - then pulled out his cellphone.  He turned it on flashlight mode and tilted Mike’s head back to look.  “He’s pink like a salmon filet, Courtney!”

      Knobby clapped excitedly.  “Wooo!”  Richie joined in, but on the whole, the excitement was muted.

      Grime helped me to my feet, giving up on any idea that he could remain clean.  I looked at Mike’s beaten body,  I looked at all my people.

      “Good job, everybody.  Maybe we call it a night, see if this’ll work on the rest of us later, alright?”  I joined Grime in checking out our freshly re-pinked man.  Marcie budged in as well.  It seemed the three of us had all resisted the compulsion to vomit.  Natural born leaders, haha.

      “Mikey, talk to us, Mikey.”  Marcie held a disposable red cup of water vaguely under his head, hoping he’d stir and give it a sip.

      Grime didn’t say anything but tried to prop up his head in his hands, gently.  For a man with no background in medicine, he seemed very comfortable helping a man out physically - unusual in our homophobic place in the world.  Point Grime.

      I reached in as well, opened his mouth to see if his air passages were open, tried to feel for breath with the back of my least slimy hand.  He started to spit and twitch at the feel of my fingers on his mouth, and his big eyes dimly stirred.

      “Mikey, hey.  Gotta wake up, enough to get a drink, hon.  Take a sip for me.”

      “Maybe he could use some air,” Deandre suggested on his way past.

      “Yeah,” Grime said.  He tried to get him untied - hard to find the ends at first.

      “Graeme,” I said, “Thanks, but I’d like you to go make sure everyone else is OK.  Me and Marcie got this.”

      “Good thinking.  I’ll see you later.”

      Leimomi joined us, which was crucial because Marcie and I did not have the strength to move Mike at that late hour.  Everybody else filed out of the horrible ruins of my apartment pretty quickly, and the three of us hauled the man into my bathroom, sat him on the toilet.  After we got him to drink some water, Marcie tried to get him cleaned up.  Momi helped me with my own hideous state, everybody taking turns at the sink.

      Marcie and Leimomi got him back to his apartment, where Marcie said she’d stay and watch over him for a while, then Momi came back to me.  My place was a disaster and we were too worn out to do more than stopgap cleanup, with her doing most of the labor.

      Come three in the morning, we had me at least clean enough to stop dripping horror slime everywhere I went, and decided to spend the remains of the night at her place.  I grabbed a few things for the stay.

      Leimomi turned on the lights and walked me straight to her bathroom.  “First thing, you gotta take a quick shower.  Then you gotta wash your hair and wrap it with somethin’ clean.”  She started taking off my clothes completely unromantically, which made me a little sad but was the most sensible way to go.  Mike’s vomit smelled like that stuff usually does, with a strange vegetable undertone, as if he’d been pounding concentrated celery extract.  My nasty clothes went into a trash bag for now.  I could see if there was any way to salvage any of them later.

      She tried to help me into the bathtub, but I resisted.  Still enough strength to hold myself up.  I kissed her on the shoulder and hoped it wouldn’t be too disgusting.  As I lifted my head to turn around, she caught me for a little kiss on the lips.  I smiled and drew the shower curtain.

      A while later, my body was squeaky clean, which left one terrible task to contend with.  I braced myself and removed the head wrap.  Immediately, Reverse Courtney started in on me.

      “You know you can’t do me like you did the green man, right?  You’re the witch here, you’d need somebody else to do the magic on you, can’t do it on yourself.”

      “Bullshit, I can teach somebody.  Not like I knew that was going to work anyway.”

      “Hey, maybe it didn’t work.  Maybe green man comes back in the night, attacks Marcie.”

      “Go to Hell.”

      “Maybe he gives her the high hard--”

      “Shoulda held your breath, bitch.”  The back of my head coughed and sputtered as she was blasted by the shower head.  “Don’t bite me or you’ll never get clean, OK?  You like tasting dirty hair all day?”

      I dipped to get some shampoo in my hand and she broke free of the torrent of water.  “I’ll kill ya!  I’ll kill ya!  You’re going down, bitch!  They’ll put you in man prison!  You’ll get AIDS and--”  She choked and sputtered again as I ran shampoo through my hair, and quickly got it back under water.

      Unfortunately, she did bite at me.  I was getting practiced at minimizing the damage - no blood drawn.  I muffled her with a towel at the end of my maneuvers, put on a clean bathrobe, and came out into Leimomi’s boudoir.

      “I’m sorry,” she said, sitting in near total darkness.  “I heard that stuff.”

      “It’s OK.  But I wonder.  You never told me how you wash your hair.  Does it try to kill you, or is it just annoying?”

      “Just annoying.  It doesn’t try to kill me, but I don’t know what it would do to somebody else.  I hafta do it alone.”  She stood up.  I guess she’d worked up a sweat too, even if she didn’t get hosed with celery puke.

      “OK babe.”  I stepped close to give her a kiss.  Her lips tasted saltier than I remembered, probably in noticing a contrast where before we’d been equally sweaty.  She gently pushed me away.

      “I’ll see you when I’m done, Courtney.”

      She left me to get cleaned up, and I carefully laid myself out on her bed.  I was fully intending to stay awake, but the rum and exertion had other plans.  I passed out well before she returned.

                                                        ***

   Read next chapter here.

#Rent is Theft #part 20 #nanowrimo july 2021

[junker-town]

Secret Base Hall of Fame: Casey Fossum

Photo by Andy Lyons /Getty Images

One day fifteen years ago, this man ruined me.

“Eephus” is a stupid-looking name for a stupid-looking pitch. Only a few players across Major League Baseball history have regularly thrown it, and Casey Fossum is one of them.

Many of the greatest pitchers of all time have found success mostly by changing speeds. If you can throw 95 miles per hour one minute and 77 the next, you make it tough for the batter to lock in and time it right. This only really works if you can make it look like either one might be coming out of your hand. You can’t tip off the batter. Your delivery needs to look the same.

If you wanted to right now, you could give yourself an oversimplified demonstration of how high of an art this is. Wad up a paper ball or something. Throw it as hard as you can, paying close attention to how your arm and your body moves when you throw it. Now mimic that same throwing motion, but only throw it half as hard. You’ll then have some iota of how difficult this is to do with a baseball from 60 feet away.

But the eephus? That only hits the mitt at 55, 50, even 45 miles per hour. Here is what Fossum’s looked like.

Some GIFs make a sound, and this one sounds like a slide whistle. It’s cartoonish in appearance, and it can work if it’s deployed smartly — in one newspaper report, teammates noted that he only threw about three eephus pitches per game. Deploy it too often, and they’ll catch on to you. You have to keep it a weird, sad surprise, like a cigarette butt in a load of laundry.

I don’t know why the 25 or so notable eephus pitchers in baseball history picked up that pitch, but greatness is not the common denominator. Casey Fossum was not at all a great pitcher by Major League Baseball standards; in fact, among pitchers to make at least 100 starts, Fossum finished with one of the worst ERAs of all time. But you will not hear me denigrate his abilities for two reasons: first, he was, of course good enough to stick around and make those 100-plus starts in the first place.

And second, the video game version of Casey Fossum inflicted upon me a great and terrible humiliation. One that made me swear off baseball video games forever. To this day, I have not returned.

It’s 2006, I’m 23 years old, and we’re in my apartment. This story is about Casey Fossum and not me, so I’ll only pull the curtain back a little.

If you look to the left of the TV, you’ll see a weight bench. I have a friend who likes to drive around and pick up random junk that people have left on the curb. One day he stopped by unannounced, back when people just did that, with the weight bench in the back of his truck. “You want this? I’ve already got one.” Sure.

We lugged it up to my place, and it wasn’t until a couple days later that I tried to use it, stood up, took a close look at it, and realized that it was a child-sized weight bench. This possibility never occurred to me because I didn’t realize such a thing existed. Was I mistaken here? Another friend stopped by. “No, yeah, dude, this thing is for kids. It’s gotta be.” I’m too lazy to try to sell, it, and I’m certainly not going to pay a junk hauler to drive it away, because I don’t have the kind of money you need to do … anything, really. So it’s sat there for a year. It doesn’t do anything and it isn’t going anywhere. Takes one to know one, pal.

If we can direct our attention back to the right, I’m firing up Major League Baseball 2K6 on my Xbox. I don’t know why! I don’t even like playing this game! I felt, and still feel, that realistic baseball video games are a bad idea. They should either be oversimplified like the R.B.I. Baseball series, or off-the-wall lunacy like Mario Superstar Baseball. The art of getting good wood on the ball can’t possibly be simulated by a single button-press, but that’s what this game has stuck you with, so batting really feels more like bet-placing than anything.

I’m in the lobby of this game I suck at and don’t enjoy, waiting for an online match. This is only gonna piss me off, because even by 2006 standards, my internet connection is terrible. I’ve lost Yahoo! Chess matches due to lag, that’s how bad it is. I get matched up, and as the loading screen appears, I hear some kid’s voice crackle through the mic. He probably isn’t older than 12.

Online gaming with kids is a pretty weird experience that we all just kind of have to get used to. You’ve been robbed of your superior social standing. You’re not any more dignified than they are. This is not a friendly game of Mario Kart with your youngest sibling, and you can’t laugh it off as a friendly match that’s all in fun. That’s not why people play online games. We play to win, not to have fun. Who took the time to upload a custom avi? Who carefully monitors their rating? Who patiently waited in the lobby for five minutes to find a ranked match? You did, dummy, just like they did. You’re taking this equally seriously and you cannot even try to pretend otherwise.

I’m beginning to think I might collect my first-ever win when I see that he’s chosen the Tampa Bay Devil Rays, one of the worst teams in baseball. The only real draw for selecting this team lies in Scott Kazmir, their young ace with a high-90s fastball and a terrific slider. I’m further amused when this kid doesn’t even start him.

He starts Casey Fossum.

At this time, I have no idea Fossum has an eephus pitch, or what an eephus even is. Unlike the real-life Fossum, the kid throws this thing so often that his fastball is actually the off-speed pitch. It goes something like eephus, fastball, eephus, eephus, fastball, eephus. When he strikes out the side in the first inning, all I can really do is laugh. I’ve never seen a pitch that looked like that. It moves like the clay pigeons in Duck Hunt. But it’s fine, I’ll figure it out.

He strikes out the side in the second as well. I just cannot figure this guy out. The eephus is such a strange pitch that even when I guess correctly that an eephus is coming, I still miss somehow. I can’t even make contact. Worst of all, I can’t even work the count, because the vast majority of his pitches are landing over the plate.

Around batter number five, I hear him over the mic:

What, lil’ bitch

What what, lil’ bitch

What, lil’ bitch

What what, lil’ bitch

This will continue throughout the rest of the game. He doesn’t stop.

Heading into the third inning, I talk myself through a strategy: listen, if he’s going to keep throwing the eephus, just assume he’s throwing one every single time. If I’m late on a fastball, I’m late. Just hit the eephus. If I time it right, I could hit that thing 500 feet.

He then strikes me out on three straight fastballs, all of which I am comically late on. I immediately abandon this strategy.

What, lil’ bitch

Lil’ stupid-ass bitch

What, lil’ bitch

What what, lil’ bitch

I don’t have a mic, and thank God for that.

Beyond completely destroying the opponent’s sense of timing — a thing already compromised by the lag — there’s another special utility to the eephus as deployed against you in an online game. It makes you look like a total idiot. You’re finished with your swing before the ball is even halfway to the plate. If you bet the other way and guess wrong, you don’t even begin to swing until the ball’s basically in the mitt. Video Game Fossum doesn’t even have to fool you with pitch placement. Every ball goes over the plate. He’s attacking your your ability to time, sense, react. He’s directly attacking your intellect.

Nothing will tilt an online gamer quite like being obviously and repeatedly outsmarted and made to look like a dummy. Someone will find out you’re susceptible to one particular parlor trick and beat you to death with it. There’s the phase in which you recognize what’s being done, how it’s happening, and what you need to do to counteract it. What comes after is the phase in which you realize that there’s nothing you can do. Your opponent has run this playbook a hundred times against a hundred clueless marks. You’re next on this merry-go-round, and you’re here to lose.

Hey lil’ bitch

What’s up lil’ bitch

What lil’ bitch

What what lil’ bitch

It’s the fourth inning. 12 up, 12 down, all strikeouts. This is a perfectly-targeted attack on my ego.

I think I’m smart. I think I’m an excellent tactician when it comes to video games, my abilities forged in the fires of Madden ‘93, Perfect Dark, and Rainbow Six, but also informed by the dark arts of weird old DOS strategy games. Games like Warlords and Nobunaga’s Ambition that required mastery of troops and economies to conduct campaigns of great conquest. Games this kid is too young to have a clue about.

I also think I know a lot about baseball. I watch it constantly. Even in 2006, I’m poring through Baseball-Reference every day. I want to write for a living someday, and if it can ever somehow happen, it feels like baseball is my ticket in. I’m a professional baseball writer in training. I should know what an eephus pitch is.

I think I’m a pretty laid-back guy. I don’t get angry easily. I’m really easygoing. I get along well with people. At the tech-support call center I work at, my supervisor notes in my reviews that I’m very good at de-escalating, which is to say that when mad people call me, I’m good at helping them feel more understood and less mad.

All these things mean a lot to me. They’re the basis of my ego. Hey, look at that guy. You know, he doesn’t have his shit together at all and is actually kind of a doofus, but hey, he’s a smart guy who knows stuff and is good with people. That’s something.

All those pillars are shaking. I’m a shiftless bum who can’t hit a 55-MPH pitch to save my life because I don’t know anything about baseball, and on top of that, I’m being absolutely driven up the wall by a Video Game Casey Fossum and some random 12-year-old who’s outsmarting me every chance he gets.

He is way better than me at everything I thought I was good at. My self-esteem is being annihilated.

Lil’ old bitch

What what, lil’ bitch

Lil’ old bitch

What what, lil’ bitch

One thing that to this day makes me an absolute loser is that I take online gaming etiquette very seriously. I never abandon a match, no matter how badly I’m getting destroyed. Someone can say incredibly cutting things to me and I’ll say “Thanks!” and pretend I’m not mad, that this doesn’t matter to me. Kill ‘em with kindness, you know? I’m above this. I’m better than this.

When you’re 23 years old and nothing feels like it’s breaking the right way, if it’s even breaking any way at all, it’s a lot more difficult to feel that way. But I try, I really do. I refuse to abandon the match. I am determined to solve this puzzle. This can only last for so long. Even if I can’t win this game, I can at least light him up a little bit, proving to both of us that, yes, I figured him out.

What, lil’ bitch

What what, lil’ bitch

Lil’ old bitch

What what, lil’ bitch

Imagine the experience of losing 50 consecutive rounds of rock-paper-scissors, and you might have a sense of what this is like. I’ve fouled off a handful of pitches, but I haven’t put a single ball into play. This kid is a genius, but it’s not really about that anymore, it’s about how fundamentally bad at this I am. Can I at least be okay at a video game? We’ve settled that I’m a stupid baby who doesn’t know anything and gets mad at things that don’t matter. Can I have this, at least? No.

I hope this kid thinks I’m someone his age. I hope it never occurs to him that he’s thoroughly embarrassing a grown man so badly that he’ll write about it a decade and a half later.

And I’d like Casey Fossum to know that for one day, on two televisions, he was a god.

Having surrendered every other claim I thought I had, my sense of honor is the last thing to go. Somewhere around the seventh inning, I disconnect. I don’t have time to navigate through the menus. I have run out of oxygen. I unplug the console from the wall. It was a tornado, for all that kid knows. I never play an online baseball game again.

[impala-dreamer]

Back In Black

SPN FanFic

~ The Winchesters travel to Louisiana to help out an old friend and Dean gets a moment of happiness before the walls come crashing back down.~

Dean x Reader, Sam

4,803 Words

Warnings: Possible tiny spoiler for 12x12. Blood. Angst. Pain. Sad. Also happiness, romance, implications of activities sexual in nature. Everything but the kitchen sink. 

A/N: This is for my dear buddy Meg, @megansescape for her 300 followers celebration. My song prompt was “Back in Black” by AC/DC. I didn’t use it how you might think ;) Huge thank you to my poodle @idreamofhazel for reading this over and for helping save the entire thing from being tossed into the shredder. Hope you enjoy! Let me know whatcha think! 

Blood. There was so much blood. Her blood. It poured from her mouth, her sides, the cuts on her arms, the hole in her chest. It coated Dean’s hands and dripped down his shirt as he cradled her in his arms. She was gone.

“Dean!” Sam’s voice boomed throughout the room but Dean could barely hear him. It was muted and distant; nothing could break through the cloud of pain and grief that surrounded Dean as he lay on the cold ground rocking her to his chest. Sam knelt down, falling to his knees next to Y/N’s limp form, tears filling his eyes. “Dean, what did you do?”

They were back on the road where they belonged. Witches, demons, it didn’t much matter what lie ahead; Dean was happy to put the Big Bad aside for a while and focus on the small stuff. Mary had disappeared again after the crap with Ramiel, and frankly he was glad to see her go. She’d put them all in danger, hell, Cas had almost died, and he couldn’t stand to look her in the eye after.

When Y/N had called, asking for help on a case, he’d been more than happy to load up the car and take the thirteen hour drive to Louisiana. The wind and the road helped clear his head, helped him push away the questions and distrust that bloomed in his gut.

Sam tried to get him to talk about it, to verbally work through the issue, but each time he opened his mouth, Dean turned the radio up a little higher until Sam got the message. AC/DC blasted from the speakers and filled the car. Dean sang along, tapping his hands against the wheel, letting the song sweep him away. It was his theme song today, his entrance music into the next story. He was back in action; back in black, back to the old days before things got complicated and everything was shades of gray. Back when bad guys were bad guys, people were good, and Dean could tell the difference.

They pulled into the Sunrise Motel and Dean cut the engine. Before Sam could ask which room was hers, a door a few rooms down swung open and Y/N stepped out into the sunshine. She leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed casually across her chest, but her smile betrayed her excitement. It’d been at least three years since she’d see the boys, and her heart raced with anticipation.

The doors creaked loudly as the Winchesters exited the Impala, and Y/N started towards them, meeting Dean halfway and jumping into his outstretched arms. Her legs wrapped around his waist as his hands gripped her back and thighs and they fell into a kiss as if no time had ever passed. Sam stood by, rolling his eyes, but secretly enjoying the smile that filled his brother’s face. Dean was do for some unadulterated attention, and he knew how much Y/N cared for him.

They broke away after a long minute and she climbed down, adjusting her tight green shirt and turning towards Sam. She smiled broadly and opened her arms. “Sam! I missed you so much,” she said as her hands locked around his shoulders and forced him down to her level.

He hugged her tightly and laughed, “It’s good to see you too Y/N.”

“So, what’s got you stumped Princess?” Dean wiped at the corners of his mouth with one hand as he watched her attack his brother.

Y/N stepped away and took a deep breath. “Demons, dude.” She shrugged, “at least I’m pretty sure.” She shoved her hands into the back pockets of her jeans and rocked on her heels, looking back and forth between the two hunters. “Man, it’s good to see you guys. Ya’ll wanna get a drink or just get down to it?”

They replied in tandem but with different answers, Sam opting to get down to business while Dean took the leisurely approach.

Y/N laughed, “Lucky for you, we can do both.”

The bar was just down the street and mostly empty since it was two o’clock on a Tuesday. The trio piled into a booth, Y/N sliding in next to Dean, his arm falling around her shoulder naturally. They looked good together, Sam thought. She was good for him: tough, charming, smart and caring. But she was also fiercely independent and stubborn, which worried Sam and made him nervous about the case. If she was asking for help, she really needed it. She would never use something like this as an excuse just to cozy up to his brother.

Two rounds of beer and three years worth of catch up stories later, they finally got down to business.

“I know it sounds stupid, but I’m really stuck. I’ve never seen demons work like this. I was almost sure for a while it was witches, but the evidence is pushing me away from all that.” Y/N leaned her elbows on the table, picking at the label on her empty bottle as she spoke. “It presents as murder/suicides. married couples literally ripping each other apart. They’re found beaten and bloody, seemingly by each other’s hands. One of them kills the other, then offs themselves right after. Three couples in the last two weeks. I’ve checked for everything, hex bags, cursed objects, ties to any suspicious people; nothing pans out.”

“So you think they’re being possessed?” Sam asked, leaning forward in his seat.

Y/N shook her head, “No. That’s the other thing; no sulfur. No strange behavior leading up to it. No witnesses. No nothing.”

“What makes you think it’s a demon then?” Dean turned, leaning on the table to get a better look at Y/N. He rested his cheek on his hand and drew his bottom lip through his teeth as he stared at her.

Y/N took a deep breath, her shoulders falling as she exhaled, looking worn and defeated. “Honestly, I don’t know. What else could it be?”

Sam’s eyes raised towards the dim ceiling, his lips turning down at the corners as he thought. “Maybe some pissed off god, or a rogue cupid?”

Y/N laughed solemnly, “Cupid?”

“Don’t laugh, those guys are…” Dean shivered, remembering the naked hugger from years ago. “Anyway, don’t worry Y/N. We’ll figure this out and get you back on the road in no time.” He smiled, flashing his pearly whites at her.

She turned, adopting his pose, her head resting on her hand as she returned the smile. “Hopefully not too soon,” she said, placing her free hand on his thigh and squeezing gently. “We have some more catching up to do, don’tcha think?”

Dean’s eyes grew wide and he licked his lip, his body reacting quickly to her flirtatious touch. Across the table, Sam coughed in annoyance, attempting to break apart their foreplay. Dean looked away, clearing his throat and raising a hand towards the bar, “Check please!”

The motel was thankfully empty and Sam snagged a room across the parking lot from Y/N’s. He set to work right away, pouring over the Men of Letter’s files on his tablet, trying to keep his mind off the debauchery surely taking place across the way.

By sunrise, he had narrowed his search down to two possibilities, and he shut his eyes, allowing himself a few moments to recharge before the day truly began. Kicking off his shoes, he collapsed onto the closest bed and stretched out, hanging his long limbs off the sides, letting his fingers rest midair. Just as sleep tugged at his eyes, a fist began pounding upon his door.

“Go away!” he mumbled and turned his face away, retracting his arms and gathering up the pillow beneath his head. He buried his face in the synthetic down and curled into it, hoping the disturbance outside would leave him be.

“Sammy! Move your ass!” Dean bellowed from beyond the door, his fist connecting with the thin barrier once again.

With a heavy groan, Sam lifted himself from the mattress and unlocked the door, returning almost immediately to his pillow. Dean walked in, a tray of coffee cups in his hand and Y/N bouncing behind him.

They were wide awake, relaxed and happy; sappy smiles filling their faces as they took seats across from each other at the little round table by the door. Dean pulled a cup from the paper tray and held it out towards Sam. “Drink up Sleeping Beauty, we’ve got work to do.”

Y/N laughed quietly at the sneer Sam threw at Dean as he sat up at took the coffee. “Thanks.”

“You look exhausted sweetie,” Y/N teased, taking as sip of her own brew.

“I was up all night doing research while you two were…” Sam paused, waving a hand in their direction. “Whatever.”

“Oh it was a little more than ‘whatever’,” she said with a wink. Dean’s hand fell to the table, brushing against hers and she lifted it up, lacing their fingers together. Dean sighed and they fell into staring again, quite content to let their eyes do the talking. Dean’s thumb traced her lifeline, running gently across the crease in her palm. She held his gaze, her cheeks taking on a rosy glow under his inspection.

“Anyone want to know what I found out?” Sam’s hands and brows were raised in question, annoyed that they had woken him up just to ignore him.

Dean mumbled in response, a barely audible “Sure” passing his lips.

Y/N blushed and looked away, finally turning her attention to Sam, “What’dja find Big Guy?”

“Arawyn of Llangollen,” he said, wiping a hand down his tired face.

“A what of a who?” Dean asked, dropping Y/N’s hand as he turned towards Sam.

“Actually a who of a where,” Sam corrected. “Just, read it, it’s right there.” he put his coffee on the nightstand and laid back down, covering his eyes with one arm slung over his face.

Y/N shrugged and picked up the tablet, scrolling through Sam’s notes, getting the gist of the information.

“Arawyn of Llangollen was a powerful witch who terrorized the Welsh village back in the 1100s,” she spoke quickly and without emotion as she read, almost robotically absorbing the information. “She cursed happy couples to incite discourse, often ending in…ah.”

“Ah?” Dean lifted his eyes up from her lips where they had been stationed, watching with unabashed hunger as she spoke.

“The couples fought until they killed each other. Like, gruesomely killed each other. Eww, there’s sketches…” Y/N tilted the screen so Dean could see a rather crude drawing of a man ripping his wife’s head off of her shoulders.

Dean’s eyebrows raised and he frowned, “Hmm. So this is good, how do we kill her?”

Sam piped up from the bed, “There’s nothing to kill. She’s been dead for almost a century; the files are very clear that the case is closed. She was dealt with. Permanently.”

“So why are we talking about her?”

“Copycat or something?” Y/N put the computer down and looked over at sleepy Sam, waiting for an answer.

He huffed and sat up, pushing his pillow away. “Or something I guess. Haven’t quite worked that out yet.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Dean stood up and moved around his chair, leaning his hands on the back, “Let’s get moving!”

“There’s nowhere to go Dean, dead end.” Sam was up, rocking on his feet, his frustration evident on throughout his features. He ran a hand through his long chestnut hair and sighed as it came to rest on the back of his neck. “We just have to… wait and see what happens.”

“I told ya I was stuck,” Y/N sat back, slapping her hands on her denim clad thighs. “What’d you think I called you for?”

Dean laughed, the relaxed smile pulling at his face, lifting his lips and crinkling the delicate skin around his eyes. “I just figured you missed me,” Dean winked.

Y/N pursed her lips and blew him a kiss, “You know it baby.”

Sam growled and threw himself back down on the bed. “Could you two take your flirting someplace else so I can take take a nap please?”

They left Sam alone and went out for a walk. It wasn’t a very Dean thing to do, and actually wasn’t a very Y/N thing either. Still, they spent the rest of the morning walking hand in hand through the town, occasionally stopping to linger near a shop window or settle on a bench, content to sit in the warm sunshine and watch the townsfolk shuffle about their day.

It was strange, taking time like this in the middle of a case, but truly there was nothing to be done but wait. Y/N had done all the legwork the week before, visited all the victim’s families, interviewed every witness, examined every crime scene. All they could do was wait.

While it was unusual, Dean kind of liked it. He liked how easy it was to relax with Y/N, how naturally their footfalls fell into sync, how warm and peaceful it felt when her head rested on his shoulder. He found it so relaxing Dean had to remind himself not to get used to it. In the end they’d wrap the case and take off down different highways once again.

They enjoyed a late lunch at Mabel’s Diner when Dean’s stomach growled a bit more than could be ignored. Bacon cheeseburgers and milkshakes; solidifying the day as one for a 1950’s dating manual.

When they ran out of Main Street, they kept on walking, soon finding themselves in a grove of pecan trees. Golden and orange light filtered through the pale green leaves, reminding the couple just how long they’d been out. Even with sunset approaching, neither was quite ready to get back to the real world. The day had been too perfect, too lovely, too free of monsters and blood. A little vacation of the mind where they could allow themselves to dream of something better.

“We should probably get back,” Y/N said sadly, pausing in the aisle of trees, looking over her shoulder at the town they’d left behind. “Sam might need us.”

“Sam would have called.” Dean tugged her hand, pulling her close with the swift motion. She fell against his chest, her hands caught between them, fingers sliding under his shirt to dance over his collarbone. Very slowly Dean dipped his head, capturing her lips in a sweet kiss. His hand found her face, his thumb tracing the hollow of her cheek while they breathed into each other, the fading sunlight bathing them in a fiery glow.

Dean’s arm wrapped around her, his left hand pressing into the curve of her lower back. He walked her slowly backwards, their lips still locked together, his tongue sweeping lovingly over hers. Y/N let out a tiny moan when her back hit the tree trunk, and another as Dean covered her with his body, inch for inch pressing his weight on top of her. She melted against him, giving herself over to his whim, the flames of desire growing hotter inside of her.

Lips moved, hands roamed, hearts pounded; their actions making them both dizzy with passion. Too engrossed in the moment, neither heard the snap of the tree branch in the distance, nor felt the torrent of wind swirl around them; it wasn’t until it was too late that either hunter noticed a shift in the air.

Sam woke around noon, rested and ready to go. He returned to his notes, looking over everything with a fresh eye. As he downed the last dregs of his cold coffee, his vision passed over the crime scene photos once more, this time pulling out the similarity that he and Y/N had overlooked before. In every photo, lying next to the butchered woman, was a small wooden coin; easily passed over if you looked too quickly. Sam recognized it now and his heart stopped. He knew what they were dealing with, and it was no witch from the past.

Dean opened his eyes, squinting as a harsh light burned in the darkness. A single bulb hung from the ceiling above him, and he shielded his eyes, trying to take stock of his surroundings.

His head was swimming as he sat up, a deep ringing filling his ears. He was alone, it seemed, in a damp basement, the smell of mold and ancient dirt drifting through the air. “Y/N?” He climbed to his feet as he called to her, still disoriented from the attack. One moment they were going at it in an orchard, and the next he was waking up concussed in a windowless pit.

“Dean.”

He spun around, turning towards the sweet voice that spoke his name. Y/N stood calmly at the far end of the room, the dim light barely touching her face. She smiled and stepped forward, her lips pulled back into a malicious grin.

“What happened, where are we?” Dean moved towards her, his legs weak and unsteady. He stumbled forward, his head knocking into the low light, sending it swinging back and forth, casting eerie rays around the muddy walls.

“I got tired of the game Dean, figured it was time to end it.”

Dean shook his head, trying to focus on her face, but his eyes were blurry, almost shaking in his skull. Something was very wrong but he couldn’t pinpoint the source. “What game? What are you-” He froze, looking up at Y/N as she blinked slowly, her eyes opening to reveal total darkness. “No.”

“Oh yes Dean,” she laughed, her voice taking on a dark edge he’d never heard before. “You call yourself a hunter but you had no idea your little girlfriend was a demon, did you?”

He swallowed hard, his head still spinning. “This isn’t real. There’s no way.”

“You’re an idiot Dean. Always have been.” Y/N walked around him slowly, keeping him at arm’s length. “Even Y/N knew that, but she didn’t care. You were just an easy lay when she was bored. That’s not to say she didn’t enjoy herself. God knows I did last night.”

Dean balled his fists, his jaw clenching tightly as the demon taunted him. He shut his eyes tight and took a deep breath, summoning up his courage and pushing away the shock. “Exorcizamus te,” Dean began, speaking low and determined, but his words were cut short as Y/N’s hand gripped his short hair, pulling his head back painfully.

“Don’t you dare,” she hissed, her lips grazing his ear.

“Oh yeah, why not?” Dean scoffed, his attitude surfacing partially beneath the fear and worry flooding through his system.

Y/N released her grip on his head and walked around to face him. She tilted her head and smirked as she lifted her shirt, revealing a gaping wound in her stomach. It oozed fresh blood, dripping down slowly onto her her pants. “If I go, your girl goes. I made sure of that.”

Dean’s heart sank, his shoulders fell and he dropped his head; this was impossible, an insane nightmare made real. He gritted his teeth and looked up, staring hard into black eyes. “Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus-” Dean gasped as Y/N’s fist connected with his jaw, snapping his head back and causing the loud ringing to return to his ears.

“I said,” She struck him again, another fist to his face, this one landing under his left eye. “Don’t,” she clawed at his shirt, pulling him up and striking him a third time. “Do that!” A headbutt sent him flying backwards, the edges of his vision darkening as he collapsed to the ground.

He crawled to his knees, his knuckles pressing into the cold concrete as he panted, trying to catch his breath.

“You should just stay down Dean. Stay down and die like a good boy.” She hovered above, her lips spewing venom down upon him. Dean’s muscles tensed and he shot up, knocking into her with all his strength, sending her backwards into the hard wall. She landed with a huff, all of the air expelling from her lungs.

She laughed. Dean sneered as Y/N’s beautiful face was contorted with the demon’s hateful cackle. He lunged forward, fist aloft, prepared to put an end to the nightmare.

“Dean, it’s not a demon. Where are you?” Sam spoke into his phone as he sped away from the motel; the Impala’s tires screeching and leaving thick black marks on the pavement. He hung up and tossed the phone onto the passenger seat. Neither Dean nor Y/N were answering and he’d left enough voicemails. He’d just have to take care of this himself.

Once he’d figured out what they were after, he’d been able to link everything back to a coven of witches living out by Bell’s Pecan Orchard. If he’d identified the coin correctly, and he was sure he had, they were a coven of Arawyn’s followers; proteges who followed in the witch’s footsteps, passing down her spells through the generations. The coin was their calling card, a talisman left behind as proof of their works. Well, today it would be their undoing.  

Dean’s fist drove into Y/N’s face again and again, pushing blood up from the cuts his knuckles left on her cheekbones and around her eyes. Her nose flowed freely, coating her mouth and neck in the crimson mess. No matter what he did to her, she laughed; black eyes mocking him, making him long for Y/E/C.

“Give it up Dean. You can’t win this. If you kill me, Y/N dies. Then where will you be? All sad and depressed and guilty as always.” She smiled as a glimmer of joy passed over her face. “Oh, you should kill yourself. That would end all that silly little pain. Death would be a blessing to you Dean. Can you picture it?”

“Shut up!” Dean screamed, his hand closing around Y/N’s throat, fingers digging into the soft flesh of her neck. She gasped and clawed at his hand, but the evil smile never left her lips. The black eyes remained fixed on his face.

Sam burst through the house, his gun held high, witch killing bullets loaded and ready. He stalked through the rooms until he found the trio of witches sitting around an altar in the dark. They chanted over candles, an ancient cloth spread over their table, it’s archaic lettering worn and faded with time.

Y/N’s lips were turning blue; her nails scratched at Dean’s arm, desperate to pull him away. He held on, squeezing tighter, feeling her windpipe buckle under his grasp. Suddenly her smile faded away, the clipped laughter ceased, and her eyes returned to their usual sparkling color. Dean gasped and released her, stepping back in shock as Y/N was seemingly returned to him.

“Oh my god, Y/N!” he yelled, his hands falling to her shoulders in an attempt to steady her. She coughed, rubbing at her neck with shaking hands as she caught her breath. “Are you OK? Jesus!”

Y/N brought her hands up quickly, knocking his hands off of her shoulders. She cracked her neck, tipping her head to each side before looking up at Dean, the blackness returning to her eyes. “You really are an idiot, aren’t you? I mean, come on!” She laughed and struck him, hitting the bridge of his nose with her forearm. He doubled over, clutching his face as the blood poured out. “Let’s just finish this.”

Dean bent down and pulled his knife from his boot, gripping the handle tightly as he stood up and drove the blade into Y/N’s chest, piercing her heart.  

Gunshots rang out above Dean’s head followed by the thuds of solid masses hitting the floor. He held Y/N, one hand clutching her shoulder, holding her still as he twisted the knife in her chest. He expected to slow her down, to hold her still so he could continue the exorcism, but something was wrong. The darkness faded from her eyes and she gasped, sucking in a desperate breath of air. The smile fell away and her mouth dropped open in shock. “Dean…”

The fog clouding his mind lifted and Dean blinked furiously, his eyes darting about her face as he realized what was happening. She was no demon, no hellish force was keeping her alive; she was real, she was his, and now…

Y/N’s head fell back and her knees buckled as her body went limp; the blood pumping organ halted forever, stopped mid beat. Her last breath escaped slowly as Dean fell to the ground with her; it passed her lips as a whimper before her voice was no more.

Dean shook, his hands trembling as he ran his fingers down her face, passing over the deep bruises and cuts made by his fists. The blood caked on her skin, standing out in stark contrast as the color left her cheeks and lips, turning her a ghastly gray.

“No. No, no, no.” Quivering lips pleading with no one, begging to the empty air for help. “Y/N please…” He shut his eyes tight, willing himself to wake up, to find this just another one of his horrid dreams, but the feel of her warm blood soaking into his shirt, running down his arm, told him his wish would remain unfulfilled.

Slowly he pulled the blade from her chest, tears spilling freely as a bubble of blood followed the stained metal. He lost it then, raising his face to the rotting ceiling and screaming into the darkness; the vocal manifestation of his pain and guilt filling the dank space.

Sam was checking for a pulse on the body of the last witch when he heard it: his brother’s voice wailing from below. He froze, his muscles tensing as he realized what it could mean. He hadn’t known they were there, hadn’t even thought to look for them.

He flew through the house, finding a stairwell behind a pantry door in the kitchen towards the rear of the house. His long legs carried him quickly down the steep stairs; the moldy wood bowing and creeking under his weight.

Sam found them on the floor against a far wall, the single lightbulb offering a meager beam of illumination. Still, Sam could see clearly the terrible scene before him: Y/N bloody and gone, cradled to Dean’s chest, the knife still clutched in his hand.

“Dean, what did you do?”

They were back on the road again, Sam driving while Dean slept. He’d passed out not long ago, dehydration and exhaustion from his tears getting the best of him. He hadn’t stopped, hadn’t spoken or eaten since they’d burned her body, scattering her ashes amidst the pecan trees.

Curse or no, Sam knew Dean had been broken by this. He had killed the only girl he’d ever really loved; the only woman who could bring him peace in their crazy life. Whether he’d admit it to Sam or even to himself, Dean would be forever haunted by his actions, scarred by the witch’s curse, hating himself for the life he’d taken.

Dean’s eyes fluttered open as the setting sun hit his face; another day gone, another mile driven. He sat up and rubbed a hand down his face, wiping the lingering grains of sleep from his eyes.

“You OK Dean?”

“I’m fine, Sam.” His voice was low and quiet as he turned his attention out the window, not wanting to submit to questioning just yet.

Sam ignored his answer and pressed on, “Dean, you know it wasn’t your fault. The witches… it was a curse; an illusion. It wasn’t-”

“I said I’m fine, Sam,” he snapped, the muscles in his jaw flexing as he grit his teeth.

“You’re not fine, Dean. You need to-”

Dean turned the dial on the radio, drowning Sam’s words under Angus Young’s guitar riff as his song filled the car once again. Dean sighed and pressed his head back against the seat, staring up at the roof, praying the tears would stay down where he put them.

The joy of the song failed to touch him this time; there was no go get ‘em attitude anymore. Just the color that washed over his heart. He was back, back in black. Back in the darkness that never seemed to truly leave him. He didn’t know why he even tried anymore; as soon as he saw the sun, the black would inevitably return.

Forevers: @1-800-misha @amanda-teaches @arryn-nyxx @atc74 @autopistaaningunaparte @ayeeitsemry  @bea789 @because-imma-lady-assface @babypieandwhiskey @blanketmadeofstar @brewsthespirit-blog @britt-spn @buckysmetallicstump @bulletscrossbowpie @charliebradbury1104 @chaos-and-the-calm67 @chelsea072498 @cici0507 @clairese1980 @collectivekiera @cosmicpeanuthologram @createdbybadappreciation @cyrilconnelly @dannnyphantomm @dancingalone21 @deadinside-muser @deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester @demonangelimpala @docharleythegeekqueen @dustycelt @evyiione​ @faithfulpanicmoon @feelmyroarrrr​ @flowermisha​ @freaksforthewin​ @frenchybell @fuckyeahfeysand @gemini75eeyore @ghostkitty1103 @hamartiamacguffin @impalaimagining @im-super-potter-locked @inmysparetime0 @jpadjackles @jotink78 @kristaparadowski @kas-not-cas @katrodriguez99 @lavendellove @love-kittykat21 @luciisthebest @maddieburcham1 @mamaredd123 @mogaruke @megafrontliner311 @megansescape @mija-novella @milkymilky-cocopuff @mogaruke @mrsbatesmotel53 @mrswhozeewhatsis @my-life-is-here-soo @myfand0msandm0re @mysteriouslyme81 @naadestiel @notesfromalabprincess @notnaturalanahi @obi-wan-my-only-ho @pain-of-artifice @percussiongirl2017 @percywinchester27 @petrovadixon @pinknerdpanda @poukothenerd @riddikulus-obsessions @riversong-sam @sam-winchesters-long-locks @sarahgrace-1989 @scxrchy @smoothdogsgirl @spectaculicious @spontaneousam @summer-binging-spn @superbasementflower @supernaturallymarvellous @supernaturalyobessed @tennesseewhiskey-and-pie @thecynicalnerd @the-latina-trickster @therewillbeblood @tom-is-in-my-tardis @typicalweirdbookworm @thegreatficmaster @vine-colored-assbutt @whatareyousearchingfordean @wi-deangirl77 @wvnchxstxr @xxthevampirediariesexpertxx @yearoftheweasley @youtubehelpsmesurvive @yvngkinggchristyy

The Dean’s List:  @anokhi07 @assbutt-fan @bringmesomepie56 @deangirl-withanimpala @delessapeace-blog @ellexirmalfoy @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms @leather-moccasin-hero @msdooos @mskitty416 @ruprecht0420 @soullessbabee  @tmccarney @torn-and-frayed @twoboys-and-afallenangel @vesperlady04

#megansescape 300 challenge #spn fanfic #dean x reader #dean winchester #angst #romance #sam winchester #dean angst #one shot #supernatural fanfiction

[marshmallow-the-vampire-slayer]

MTVS Epic Rewatch #162

VM 3x06 Hi, Infidelity

Stray thoughts

1) Even though there had been some things so far that had bothered me, this right here is probably the hardest pill to swallow for me:

DEAN O'DELL: Yes. We have photos, we have witnesses, we have the boyfriend who helped. There's no question Claire lied about the rape and the Hearst Charter is quite clear about this. You want to challenge the charter, that's fine. We have lawyers too, and they're a lot scarier than you, Mr. Davis. Miss Nordhouse. You're expelled from Hearst College as of this moment, and so is your lawyer. That's all.

In theory, I get what the writers were trying to do. Neptune is corrupted, no one is 100% good or evil, the moral lines are blurred and good people do bad things even if they have good reasons/mean well (Veronica is the prime example of this, btw.) This is, after all, one of the things I love the most about this show, and it’s something I always looked forward to. I would’ve been all for it if it had been any social issue but rape. This is one of the most sensitive social issues, and when you have the feminist group who is demanding action against the serial rapes on campus faking a rape, you’re sending the wrong kind of message. I know that there are “bad seeds” in almost any organization, mostly because there are bad people everywhere. But when you’re working with media, you need to be careful with the kind of message you’re sending. Someone who is not acquainted with the purpose of feminist organizations like Take Back the Night may draw the wrong kind of conclusion about feminism/feminist organizations by watching the show. This episode and the way the Take Back the Night organization was portrayed in season 3 perpetuates the idea that women often, if not always, lie about being raped. It’s a slippery slope from “this one girl lied about being raped” to “every girl lies about being raped, they’re lying/overreacting/playing victim”. It’s especially jarring when you consider this is literally what happened to Veronica on the very first episode of the show. But the real issue here is that writers chose to take a very problematic stance: “rape is bad, but feminist groups protesting against rape are not good either”. NO. Rape is bad. Period. There can’t be a middle ground when it comes to rape, not even in fiction. There is no “but.”

2) Oh, Wallace...

WINKLER: This is hardly the first time we've caught an athlete cheating. With Mr. Fennel, I'll take some of the blame. We usually don't take athletes in the programme, it's just too demanding, especially with standardised test scores as low as his.

He’s pissed that the professor is calling him out on his low grades and making assumptions about his academic potential because he is an athlete, but like, your actions kind of proved him right, Wallace. So, yeah, you lost your rights to complain about his prejudices. 

3) This really doesn’t sound like Veronica?

LANDRY: The whole of human knowledge, right there online, and these papers are thin. Am I crazy to expect better? And if you're confused as to what better is, let me direct you to the front, where I've posted our only example of A-calibre work. Nice job, Miss Mars. VERONICA VOICEOVER: Well, this should make me popular.

A) When has Veronica cared about making friends? B) When has Veronica cared more about being popular than getting good grades? I’m sorry, but did the writers forget how she decided to introduce herself to the whole class on the first episode? By purposefully showing off her smarts and alienating herself from her classmates while pissing off the T.A. at the same time? If anything, Veronica would be 100% proud she aced the essay AND that her classmates hate her for it. She kind of gets off on being hated.

4) Not plot related, but I couldn’t help but notice this continuity error...

next shot:

5) So, when Harmony invites Keith to go out on a date with her, before saying yes, Keith glances over towards Veronica’s room and swallows. He knows exactly what he’s agreeing to and he knows that not only will Veronica not approve, but also she will be extremely disappointed in him.

6) 

VERONICA: There's no way. Someone is trying to screw with me. TIMOTHY: You think it's me? You think I'm trying to get you out of Landry's class because I don't like you? VERONICA: Wait. You don't like me?

She sounds genuinely surprised, she’s not being sarcastic, but why would she be surprised? She hadn’t been trying to be likable or agreeable from day one, so... The real surprise would be if someone actually liked her, am I right?

7) Let’s take a closer look at this exchange, shall we?

PIZ: Hey, Veronica. Can you believe this? Some lady threw her husband out of the house, right, and now she's having a garage sale of all of his stuff. London Calling, vinyl, unscratched, ninety-nine cents. Awesome, right? VERONICA: My would-be mentor/professor just gave me three days to prove I didn't plagiarise a major paper. The universe is currently aligned against me, so nothing's awesome. PIZ: You know what you should do? You should come bowling.

From the get-go, Veronica’s not in a chatty mood, but Piz is too wrapped up in his own stuff to either notice or care. When it’s her turn to talk, Veronica lets him know she’s not having the best day so no, she couldn’t care less about his record or how awesome it is. Instead of showing some sympathy or understanding, he invites her on a date... 

Same, Veronica. SAME. Just remember that you will actually date this prick. 

8) Unpopular opinion: I like Jeff Ratner. I get Jeff Ratner. I would probably be Jeff Ratner if I lived in Neptune.

JEFF: I did it. Jeff Ratner. VERONICA: Ratner. Um, have we met before? JEFF: We have, but you probably don't remember, so...whatever. VERONICA: So, you reported me. Why did you- JEFF: Why? Maybe 'cause I'm a common man kind of guy, and I like it when some teacher's pet who's destroying the curve for everyone, gets exposed as a cheat. Yeah, you cheated. I caught you. Deal with it.

Listen to me, okay? To begin with, he’s one of the few people who doesn’t shake in his boots when confronted by Veronica. He’s not afraid to call her out on her bullshit, and I respect that. Veronica is feared by her enemies, deified by her allies, and respected by both. Jeff Ratner has no time for her bullshit, and I get it. I like the idea that he is not the typical antagonist for Veronica. Instead, he’s just a regular dude - one of hundreds who have come across Veronica while she was doing her thing, and who she didn’t care enough to learn the names of or even to acknowledge their existence and how her actions might affect them. Veronica has met Jeff, as we will learn later on. She has probably seen him tens of times. And yet, she doesn’t even remember seeing his face, let alone his name. In Jeff Ratner’s eyes, Veronica is just another privileged white girl who’s dating the son of a millionaire and who’s a snob that doesn’t care enough to learn the names of the people who serve her. He probably thinks she looks down on people like him, and he has probably seen her getting away with things people like him couldn’t. And that is exactly who Veronica is in his eyes. He’s not seeing her wrong, he’s seeing the parts of her that he’s gotten to see through their interactions. That’s the Veronica that he got to know. 

9) Classic Logan...

PROCTOR: I'm sorry. LOGAN: What about? PROCTOR: I called time and you kept writing. I can't accept your test. LOGAN: Yeah, I was just finishing my- PROCTOR: Time was called. I'm sorry. LOGAN: So you keep saying, dude, but, come on. PROCTOR: Mm-um. LOGAN: Do you have any idea who I am? PROCTOR: I don't and I don't care. Rules are rules for everyone.

I love that at first, it seems he’s trying to use his name to put pressure on the proctor, but in reality, he was just trying to gauge if he could get away with shuffling his test amongst the others. This is the kind of asshole Logan I love.

10) So, Weevil’s the new Wallace?

The upside of landing Weevil the maintenance job? I get to baby-sit his keys while he's away at his cousin's wedding.

11) Good Wallace, proud of you.

WINKLER: Mr. Fennel. I was under the impression you dropped the class. WALLACE: I said I'd think about it. WINKLER: You sure this is a smart choice? WALLACE: Probably not. But you've seen my standardised test scores. I'm not a particularly smart guy, right? I'm taking the zero. There are four more tests. If I average Cs or above on all of them, I'll pass. Even I can do that, man.

12) I’m always here for Jealous Veronica.

13) Come on, Piz, are you really surprised and disappointed that the girl who has a boyfriend shows up with said boyfriend to your fake “group hang”?

Also, Logan 100% knows what’s what.

14) Gosh, Parker, you got it right the first time around, what made you like him after the double date? He was acting like a pissy eunuch. 

PARKER: I can't believe you invite me out for the first time since I was...raped on some cheesy, double date set-up with that Piz guy.

15) See? This is why I like, nay, LOVE Jeff Ratner. 

VERONICA: This is the guy who's trying to get me tossed out of Landry's class. JEFF: You should be. You cheated. VERONICA: Now it turns out you work at the Neptune Grand which happens to be where the fake paper was posted from. Strange, huh, Rory Finch. JEFF: What are you talking about? I don't happen to work here. I've worked here two years. You've seen me a hundred times but you don't notice the little people, 'cause you're too busy lounging with Captain Moneybags, here. LOGAN: That's Admiral Moneybags.

I honestly started laughing my ass off when he calls Logan “Captain Moneybags” and legit had to pause the episode. (and I’ve watched this a ton of times!)

16) THIS,

A) I love how proud of her Logan is. He truly loves her for who she is, and that’s beautiful. B) Oh, Veronica, Veronica. You will never learn, will you? She only has circumstantial evidence against Jeff, and let’s face it, if he had gone to such lengths as to post the fake paper online and then turn her in, why would he own up to accusing her in front of everyone and without any hesitation? Of course, that doesn’t register for Veronica. She thinks he’s guilty, ergo he must be. She just needs to prove it. But before, she needs to get her revenge on. (more on that later...)

17) This moment is so fucking awful and disgusting in hindsight, though... seriously, it creeps me out so much, I hate it.

VERONICA: Parker, are you okay? PARKER: Oh, that guy, Mercer. I, just...his cologne. I smelled it before. VERONICA: Yeah? PARKER: It's like burned into my brain...from the night I was raped. I mean, I-I can't be sure but...oh, I just-I just got the worst- VERONICA: Vibe? Yeah.

She knows, she can feel it, and can you imagine how triggering that moment must have been? This is the first evidence in the episode that points towards Mercer being the rapist. We’ll get ALL the evidence in this episode, which was a really bold move on the part of the writers. They were literally disclosing the identity of the rapist three episodes before the arc was to be solved. But more on this later (probably on my recap for the next episode, I hope I don’t forget!)

And EXHIBIT B:

18) 

VERONICA: I'm here about the rapes at Hearst. LAMB: Already aware of them. Thanks for coming by. I'm real busy. VERONICA: This is sketchy, but- LAMB: If it's Bigfoot, we checked. He's got an alibi. VERONICA: Oh, rape humour. It never gets old.

Well, Veronica, isn’t the pot calling the kettle black? I mean, you sure did find it funny when you were mocking Chip for getting an egg shoved up his ass. 

19) EXHIBIT C:

LAMB: We finally found the stolen cashbox and...along with all the money, we found something interesting. Two vials of GHB, the same date rape drug the rapist used on two of his victims.

(this clearly explains why he was so reluctant to give up the cashbox to the robbers in President Evil, so much so that he even considered letting them kill another kid if that meant they wouldn’t take the cashbox.)

20) Hi, Infidelity #1

21) Hi, Infidelity #2

22) Yes, seeing Keith’s car being hit sure scared the hell out of me. But, like, he literally stopped his car in the middle of the crossroads? So it’s almost like he was looking to get hit and have a near-death experience to give himself an excuse so that going over to Harmony’s would feel okay and right. 

Seriously?! Do you see where he stopped his car?????

And I’m sorry, but almost dying doesn’t make this okay? Like, if you died tomorrow, you still would’ve had an affair with a married woman. The fact that you almost died doesn’t magically excuse your actions. (and this is very very similar to what Veronica did with Duncan in Driver Ed.)

24) Can you really blame Ratner for hating Veronica, though? 

She had set this up BEFORE actually finding out if he was really guilty of framing her or not. Then, she figured out who actually did it, and she COMPLETELY FORGOT SHE HAD DONE THIS TO GET HIM FIRED. Self-involved much? Also, this poor kid clearly needed the job, I don’t care if he’s an asshole who ratted you out, this is so fucking mean.

25) Hi, Infidelity #3

LOGAN: It's Mercer. Lamb just arrested him for the rapes on campus. He didn't do it, okay? You have to help. VERONICA: How do you know he didn't do it? LOGAN: 'Cause I was with him the night of the rape this summer. VERONICA: Where? Doing what? LOGAN: I can't tell you, okay, but you have to trust me. He's innocent.

#Veronica Mars #VM #Kristen Bell #Rob Thomas #Jason Dohring #MTVSepicrewatch #VMrewatch2015 #Hi Infidelity #mine #recap #vmrecap

[fruitsodaren]

Casa de Coches - We Deliver!

This story was originally published on MySpace on January 31, 2006. This story has been edited for clarity and grammar.

As a kid growing up, my dad went through cars like water. 

It didn't help that he always bought used cars, and Black Holes to boot.  They were like Money Sponges, sucking his wallet dry, but he happily paid for them to be fixed. After he was done with them, they were either donated or sold to various members of the family to further suck the savings from their own pockets. 

Not a single car from my childhood and adolescence has made it to the finish line at the Mario House of Cars, except the one I drive now. (*EDIT* - That car was a 1994 Mitsubishi Mirage that was sold to a friend of my dad's in 2008.) The way my dad has functioned with these money sponges could be enough to start his OWN car business -- you know, selling them, buying them, refurbishing, etc. He also fancied spray painting the hub caps black, which I think cheapens the look of the car and affects the resale. But what do I know? I'm his daughter, so I know nothing. 👀 😂 

His most popular choice in vehicle was the STATION WAGON. My high school boyfriend nicknamed it the "Shaggin' Wagon", though we never used it for that purpose. My dad had other cars that my mom and I nicknamed. 

Since I am the youngest daughter and was the one to live at home the longest before starting my adult life, I had an advantage over the rest of my sisters. Papi needed someone to drive these cars in order to monitor how well they did on the road. However, it was drive only -- I would like to reiterate that those vehicles were NOT given to me. 

The very first car I had ever gotten behind the wheel was the Shaggin' Wagon. We had taken my mom the airport and on the way there, I had begged to be allowed to try my hand at driving. My dad pulled over on the side of the road and told me to drive all the way home. I had never driven EVER, so that was fun!  By the time we got back to my parents house, his face was as white as a sheet and he was actually wearing a seatbelt. As a kid, I remember my dad actually cutting the seatbelt out of the car on the driver's side. Now (in 2020), he actually wears a seat belt. 

However, after taking Driver's Ed, the car I was allowed to drive was a 1986 Chevy Celebrity. I drove that car for about 7 months my junior year of high school (1999-2000).  That car is, HANDS DOWN, the MOST GHETTO CAR EVER...but I absolutely LOVED driving it!

*Backstory on the Chevy Celebrity*

My dad had purchased that car when I was in 8th grade. I remember getting a note from the secretary at school stating my dad was going to pick me up from school and not to take the bus. I waited by the side of the road, looking for my dad in the ever-present station wagon, but was surprised when I saw a car flashing its lights at me. Imagine my surprise seeing my dad roll up in a black car and telling me to get it this strange car. 

I hopped in, and he proceeded to tell me happily in his thick Spanish accent, "Look what I got!".  I took a look at the interior of the car. It was cranberry colored, with plush red seats.  The dashboard was cranberry colored, but I immediately noticed a few things. The steering wheel column looked like it had been shattered. The steering wheel was most obviously a replacement as it was smaller in diameter than what the original should have been, and the girth of the steering wheel was really thick. The replacement steering wheel was most obviously a racing steering wheel, but what was even funnier was that horn was something you could literally take out from the middle of the steering wheel. It would bleat like a goat when you pressed on it, and like I mentioned, you could take out the horn mechanism and play with it at the stop light. It honestly reminded me of a clown car steering wheel. 

Only one wiper worked -- the driver's side wiper, thank God! There was a gaping hole where the radio used to be. The ignition was faulty, so you could literally take your key out of the ignition, lock the doors and leave your car running to go inside the store. (GREAT for winter!) The tires were bald, and the HVAC of the car wasn't all that great, either. You'd have to roll the windows down in summer to cool the car down, and then do the same thing in winter to be able to see the road since the windshield would get frosty or icy. I felt like Ace Ventura!

I remember a few times driving on I-35 and the car would suddenly die. I would have to crank it back up mid-drive. Shift into Neutral, then Drive! Fond memories, baby!

On top of that, the first day of my junior year of high school, a classmate of mine backed into my passenger side door while I was looking for a parking spot. I ended up with a huge dent in the door, so of course I wanted it fixed. When I told my dad about it, he got a twinkle in his eye, meaning...

He went to to the junk yard and brought back a door. 

Not just ANY door--a $60 door! (Wow! How's that for a bargain?) As usual, "Look what I got!" with excitement. My dad was like a little boy on Christmas.

I helped him take off the old door where he promptly threw it under the house since they have a crawl space and not a basement. He attached the replacement door, and I realized something. 

This door did not match. This door was blue. 

"Um...Papi? Aren't you going to paint it?" I asked. 

"Es'cue me? What you need to paint eet for?" I explained that while I can show up to school in a clunky car, I can't show up to school with two different colors on my car.

We spent the afternoon spray painting it black so that I could go to school and save face. We also exchanged the blue interior that had come with the replacement door, and switched it out for the familiar cranberry red on the old door. 

After that, my dad strictly told me, "Don't take nobody around!"”

I'm ashamed to say that I disobeyed him. I had a heart for my poor freshman friends. I remember being a poor freshman, wishing people would take me places or give me rides home. So...I piled my friends in my car, and we opened and shut the new door. And opened and shut, until one day...

it fell off. 

I am NOT joking when I say this. It happened one night at a Thursday night band rehearsal and it was the FUNNIEST thing ever. My drumline friends saw it happen, so they all chipped in to help me. We taped my door on the outside with duct tape and secured it on the inside with drummer tape. I had to carefully maneuver my way into the car without trying to get my hair stuck to the tape. I went home and wow...was my dad pissed!  We discovered (rather, *I* discovered) that the lynch pins on the replacement door were smaller than the original door and couldn't support the weight of the door. 

He fixed it and said, "Don't take nobody in your car!"”

However, I still continued to do it, but my friends would have to climb into my car through the driver's side or sit in the back.

Except, there was one time where I had to run an errand for a teacher. I took one of my classmates with me and gave her a quick run down of Renmobile Etiquette. 

First, you slam the door really hard and you lock it!

Second, you wear a seat belt--SAFETY FIRST!!

Third, hand on to the door, just in case. 

So, this girl DID NOT listen. As we left the high school parking lot, making a left onto Metcalf Ave., the door swung open and she almost fell out. I had to grab her and ask, "Look, did you NOT listen to the Three Major Rules of Renmobilism?" 

"Dude... I didn't think you were being serious!" 

I assured her I was. I take safety and that of my passengers very seriously. 

My dad ended up giving the car away to my older sister Sandy. He also gave the second car away to her as well, the Shaggin' Wagon. My third car, the VW Jetta, was one I had actually made payments on to my uncle, he gave away to another relative as well. The fourth car I had, which was my 1994 Mitsubishi Mirage had been purchased brand new by my mother and lasted in the family for 14 years until 2008 when my dad "sold" it to a coworker who flew to Florida to buy it. 

Le sigh...fond memories!

#cars #chevycelebrity #deathtraps #SafetyFirst #shagginwagon

[1nkweaver]

DnD Question Masterpost: Pick

Here we go again 

If your character wasn’t an adventurer, what livelihood would they lead?

Pick really enjoys playing the drums so he would have actually enjoyed being a performer like a bard or part of a band or something. Being a goblin probably makes that kind of hard though.

Who in the party would your character trust the most with their life?

I would say mostly Kai because Kai wouldn’t want anyone in the party to die he’s quite sure, but knows deep down someone like Ida would save him and that pisses him off. He wants to be responsible for himself and not a burden on someone else.

What are your character’s core moral beliefs?

I should help the people that help me, and I want to make sure that what happened to me never happens to anyone else ever again. He’s Chaotic Good I believe, so he’s more inclined to helping people but he’s very ‘do to others as what is done to you.’

What relationship does your character have with their parents and siblings?

Pick had a lot of siblings in his clan and probably didn’t know who his parents were? I always imagine that Goblins just kinda...breed a whole lot. In a way your whole clan is basically your family, but it’s very competitive, so he probably didn’t care for them really. There was however another goblin he ended up meeting named Sprout who was like a sister to him.

Does your character have any biases for or against certain races?

He has a particular bone to pick with half orcs and elves, and a very complicated view on humanity as they have been both the best and worst to him. Honestly a lot of the more normal races he is inherently...jealous of, I suppose? He likes the freaks, weirdos, or small folk, which thankfully covers most of the party.

What is your character’s opinion on nobility? On authority?

Fuuuuuuck that shit dude. The little people are gunna rise up and tear that shit down.

Describe your character’s current appearance: clothes, armor, scars they’ve picked up along the journey, etc.

Standing at about 3′6′’ Pick has a sort of cloak/jacket with short sleeves and a hood that’s kind of a grayish blue, and then down his arms is various bandage wrappings, then his iconic bright red gloves. Under everything he has his leather armor which is dark blue, almost black, with a few little vials slipped into sleeves.A tunic under the armor which is what he mostly wears when not wearing armor. Handaxes strapped onto the back of his armor in his belt hidden away, a belt, simple tight trousers and little boots with buckles and a dagger in it. 

He has red tinted goggles and a scarf that he uses to hide his face when in town, and a strange big bundled up thing on his back at all times. He has yellowsh green skin, messy dark blue almost black hair, dagger like ears, snarled teeth, and a bat like nose with yellow eyes and red slit pupils. He has four fingers and toes, and a cow-like tail. His face is covered in dark green freckles and his whole body is covered with various scars, mostly on his palms and under arms, but also has a split lip and a large scar on his torso.

What location encountered in the campaign has your character felt the most “at home” in, or just generally liked the most?

I believe he and Anders may have spent some time in the town of Daggerford, or at least a small town near it, which Pick really enjoyed. The environment was nice and being close to the ocean was cool.

What deity, if any, does your character worship? What’s their opinion on other people’s worship?

Pick doesn’t care too much about the worship of gods by other people, but has a specific disdain for clerics and people who use healing magic, refusing to let it be used on him entirely. For himself, he takes a tip from game of thrones, “There is only one god and they are death, and what do we say to death? Not today.” That’s the majority of his faith, but he is at least a little spiritual.

If your character had time to pick up any artisan’s tools, game set, instrument, etc., what would it be?

He really likes his drums so I could see him maybe wanting to learn a new instrument, but he also would really like to take up sketching- not painters tools per se, but like little charcoal drawings perhaps. I think he’s mostly just unaware of what things you can learn otherwise I think he’d want to learn a lot! Music, tinkers tools, thieves tools, smithing? Sewing? He’d find it all interesting in the end.

What is your character’s current goal, summed up in one sentence?

Find him, and find him.

Does your character ever want to “settle down” with a spouse, children, house, etc.?

I think if Pick spent enough time thinking about it he’d realize that he does, but he needs to learn a few things first, he doesn’t know what it’s like to have a spouse and children really, he’d need someone to teach him what that’s like.

Has your character ever been in love?

I think he has but he doesn’t have a frame of reference for what love is.

What battle in the campaign has been most memorable to your character?

His introduction! Being introduced to the campaign as a pit fighter is great because you get to really play up the crowd, which includes your future party- and then I got chased by guards! haha, I’m in danger!

If your character wasn’t whatever class they are, what would they be instead?

Before Pick became a bloodhunter he was a different class! He would have been a Champion Fighter.

What is your character’s favorite season?

He likes the summer, the warmth is nice and it’s just the best choice in his mind out of the four. Spring has too much irritating pollen, winter is too cold, fall feels depressing. I suppose Pick is a sweet summer child.

What would your character’s Zodiac sign be, following stereotypical astrology?

Pick is a cancer

Where in the world does your character most want to visit?

He doesn’t know many places, he’s heard of cities like Waterdeep and Neverwinter which are interesting, and Baldur’s Gate has seemed kind of cool. But where he wants to visit he doesn’t know where it is, he’s looking for it.

What is the biggest mistake your character has ever made?

He wasn’t strong enough.

Does your character have any noticeable scars? If so, what are their stories?

Covered in scars all over his body, like a split lip and various other wounds (probably has torn up ears, etc) but the worthwhile story ones are:

-Cuts on his palms and arms from using his blood rites, and also emotional issues

-Scars on the back of his hands that he wont show anyone

-A wound on his torso from his time with Anders, either a bite mark or puncture wound

What animal best represents your character?

A big cat like a lion or tiger that you would see in the zoo.

If your character could go back in time and change one thing about their life, what would it be?

Not have gotten fucking caught.

Which other player character does your character find themselves having the most in common with?

He see’s a lot of himself in Jin’s personality, and in Ida for other reasons.

Does your character regret any particular choice the party has made?

Haven’t spent much time with the party but he fears staying in Baldur’s Gate for a few extra days might bite them in the ass.

What would your character say their best trait would be?

His tenacity probably. The boy doesn’t know when to quit, in a fight or in other areas, he’ll keep pushing and pushing. If someone is asking him to back off though that’s a different story and he will.

What is your character’s greatest fear? Deep, irrational?

Pick cannot stand silence for too long, especially for sleeping, there needs to be noise, and so he normally absentmindedly is playing his drums in like a stimming way or even like an OCD tendency. He also doesn’t like closed off spaces.

What is currently motivating your character to stay with the party?

He was told to find them, basically, by someone he trusts.

What are your character’s hobbies and interests outside of their class?

He really does enjoy playing his drum, it makes him happy in a way that fighting doesn’t. Even if he’s not an artist he also likes to draw. He also personally loves to collect things like badges and medals, signs of authority. He finds it funny.

What would most people think when they first see your character?

What the fuck is this little angry man (if disguised) or maybe “Oh fuck a goblin?”

What stereotypical group role does your character play in the party? (The Mom, the Mess, the Comic Relief, etc. Optionally: What role would your character play in the “Five Man Band” structure?)

I guess right now he’s the guy that’s...forcing everyone to get their shit out, but he’s also kinda the loose cannon spitfire to accompany Jin.

What is your character the most insecure about?

He knows he’s inherently aggressive and thereby normally unlikable. He’s aware that he like talks to much and is kinda brazen and out there and sometimes he wishes he could like...cool it for a hot second.

What person does your character admire most?

Anders. It’s no question.

Why is your character’s lowest stat their lowest (the in-character reason, not “because there’s no reason for a wizard to have 16 strength, duh”)?

I made Pick’s lowest stat charisma because while I think he has a charismatic way of speaking he’s also meant to come off as kind of graty and annoying because he’s so IN YOUR FACE about things, that and the fact that as a goblin I dont see him as being particularly attractive, and so puts people off just based on his race alone.

What would be your character’s theme song/favorite band/favorite genre of music?

Hard rock or punk music, and anything with some really sick drum riffs. I think he could like anyone from Muse to AC/DC

What stereotypical role would your character play in a high school AU/if they attended a normal high school? (Nerd, jock, bully, goth, etc.)

He’s kind of jocky, like I can see him being sporty but almost...picked on by the other jocks because of his size? He might also be like the “bad boy”

What treasure/item/artifact that your character has collected during the adventure is the most important to them?

The thing on his back for sure, that he keeps all bundled up.

Is there any particular weapon, item, etc. that your character longs to find?

He’d love to find something that could change how he looks like a hat of disguise ( that he doesn’t know the party has) or just something that allows him to...be different visually I guess. In terms of weapons I mean I think he’d love any kind of badass sounding weapon, like a sword that catches on fire. Or a sentient weapon, he’d think that’s SUPER COOL.

Where does your character feel the most at home?

In a tent in the middle of the woods by the campfire with Anders.

Does your character care about how they’re perceived by others? How do they change themselves to fit in with other people?

He both really cares about it and really doesn’t. He used to have some resentment issues of like “I wish I wasn’t a goblin” but Anders tried to squash that feeling in him and it mostly worked. He is trying to love himself but also I think feels he’s incapable of like...getting actual love from someone bc he’s a goblin.

What does your character think is the true meaning of life?

He was asked that a while ago and he’s still trying to figure it out before he meets that person again.

What is your character’s scent? (Bonus points for a description that sounds like it could be from a bad [or awesome] fanfic.)

God he probably smells disgusting. He doesn’t really bathe much and he’s all dirty and covered in dried blood and other shit...he probably smells really bad and smells a lot like gore or blood.

Does your character think more with their heart or their brain?

He would say he thinks with his gut, but with that not an option I’d default to heart.

What is your character’s most recent or frequent nightmare?

Being back in that place again.

What opinion does your character have on [CERTAIN ESTABLISHED GROUPS/AUTHORITIES IN THE GAME WORLD]? (Dragonmarked Houses, royal crown, etc.)

Pick has learned that there are certain power structures that are enjoyed by the elites of society that he really, really hates. They dont stand for good things and only seek to exploit, and he wants that to end, mostly through him committing a lot of violence on some people.

How did your character spend their childhood? Where did they grow up/who were their childhood friends?

Pick grew up in the north with his goblin clan, though most of his memories from that time aren’t super well known. A lot of them were his siblings, cousins etc, and he was regarded with a little respect as he was a bit smarter than the average goblin, so he was good at trapping and hunting. The rest is a blur.

What aspect of your character’s future are they most curious about? (If they could know one thing about the future, what would it be?)

Where the fuck is he.

What colors are associated with your character?

Red red red, and like faded steel grays and blues.

Who in the party would your character prioritize rescuing, in dire circumstances?

Probably Kai or Siril, but more in a stand in between them and an enemy rather than like, pulling them out of a burning building.

Is your character the most swayed by ethos, pathos, or logos?

Somewhere between pathos and ethos but mostly ethos, he wouldn’t really speak on things that weren’t in his knowledge base.

If your character was granted a single use of Wish, what would they use it for?

God I dont know if one use of wish is enough. I suppose he’d get started by using it to finish the task that was given to him.

What is your character’s favorite spell? If they don’t use spells: what is their favorite personal weapon/combat maneuver/skill/etc.?

He only uses it as a last resort, and it hasn’t come to that yet.

How does your character feel about keeping secrets from the rest of the party?

Pick fucking hates secrets. He wants everyone’s shit out and in the open including his own as soon as possible because  he needs to know if they can help him or not.

What type of creature in the world is your character the most intrigued by?

Since his becoming a blood hunter, which he doesn’t really know that’s what he is, he’s found himself drawn to their specific quarries, and he’s curious about why that is. Things like fey, fiends, etc.

When they were a child, what did your character want to be, or think they were going to be, when they grew up?

Pick dreamed of being the “leader” but figured he’d die way before that happened.

The player character to your left admits that they’re passionately in love with your character. How would your character respond?

Doesn’t matter who it is because clearly you’re just making a joke at him.

If somebody (an NPC, someone from their backstory, etc.) your character trusts/loves asked your character to do something against the party’s best interest, who would they side with?

Oh he’d 100% go with the person from his past because he’s only with the party to get back to them. He’s just not been with the party long enough to care.

Does your character value their own best interest more than the party’s?

Most definitely, he just met them and I think unless things get real serious real fast it will be that way for a while.

What decision would the party have to make in order for your character to consider splitting off from the group?

Not respecting the boundaries he set, or doing to someone what was done to him.

How does your character imagine the way they will die?

Right now he’s holding on to the fact that he can’t, and wont, and will go kicking and screaming against a God if he has to to not.

What is your character’s greatest achievement?

Surviving, through everything. Being a champion when he was supposed to be the fodder.

Is your character willing to risk the well-being of others in order to achieve their goal?

Yeah I think he’d consider it the greater good.

What is your character’s opinion on killing others?

There’s some people that really need to die like right now, no issue with killing whatsoever.

What is your character’s favorite food? Beverage?

I think he’d like something savory over something sweet, definitely something nice and buttery like a really good corn on the cob.

How generous is your character? Especially to those they don’t know?

His twitch instinct is to be an asshole, and then immediately feel bad and try to do something nice and be giving. He was told that the thing you do second is who you really are, and your gut reaction is what you were taught. He’s trying to reteach himself.

What is your character the most envious about, regarding anyone in the party?

How someone can have so much more than him and not even understand how good they had it, and then still seem so upset.

The player character to your left and the player character to your right are both telling your character two different versions of the truth. Who does your character believe?

Whatever version of the story is more exciting or funny.

What is your character’s sexuality/relationship with sex?

I think sex to him is a very like...animalistic instinctual thing? Kinda just by nature of being a goblin I think he really feels the need to have sex in that sake. But also I think sex might have been messed up in his brain, and so now he’s just all confused about it. He needs someone to teach him what healthy sexual experiences are. If he explored that he would discover he is probably homosexual. 

What is your character’s biggest pet peeve?

Someone who always thinks they know the best thing to do, a self appointed leader. Someone who writes off others.

Describe how your character feels about the party’s current situation/objective/etc.

What exactly are you all doing?? Do you actually want me here?? Why are you all so dang secretive even with each other, how the fuck is this going to work.

Who in the party would your character trust the most to keep an important secret?

Siril, I think of the percy quote “Your secret is safe with my indifference” and I think that’s just how Siril would treat a secret.

If your character knew that they were going to die in a month, how would they spend the rest of their life?

He’d be doubling down on what he has to do because now theres a time limit put on it. Or he’d have to find someone he trusted real fast to get them to do it. He’d also probably be crying a lot.

What makes your character feel safe?

An open space, being able to choose where he can go at any given moment. 

If your character had the chance to rename the party/give the party a name, no questions asked, what would it be?

The Breakfast Club

What memory does your character want to forget the most?

I think it was too long to be able to forget all of it, but lets go with the first night.

If your character had to multiclass into a class they currently aren’t the next time they level up, what would it be and what reason would they have for doing so?

Fighter, it’s the closest to what he is and it would basically just be a case of “going back to basics” with what he used to know.

What television/book/video game/etc. character would your character be best friends with? (Or: what media character is your character the most influenced by/similar to?

Deadpool

What unusual talents does your character possess?

I always thought his skill with alchemy and the drums would impress people, and I like to think maybe he can do like weird body things like pop a joint out or contort his body in a weird way to freak people out.

How does your character feel about receiving/giving orders? Are they more of a leader, or a follower?

It’s the most complicated thing for him because he’s gone back and forth being in charge and being a follower, and he’s followed good people and bad people. He understands orders are needed but also sometimes someone tells him what to do and it just makes him absolutely snap.

What does your character’s name represent to them? (Or: why as a player did you choose your character’s name?)

“He’s small, green, crunchy and sweet (or sour), he’s Pickle!” sung like a jingle to a commercial.

Is your character more of an introvert, or an extrovert?

I think he’s pretty damn extroverted.

How far is your character willing to go to pursue the “greater good”? Do they believe in a greater good at all?

He’s prepared to go pretty damn far, and that’s also what I think Anders saw in him, because Anders was also just as willing.

What does your character want to be remembered by?

That that stupid little goblin that everyone overlooked fucking won.

What would be your character’s major in college?

Chemistry? Or maybe music, because he likes music a lot. I think he’d honestly maybe just drop out tho lol.

Does your character consider themselves a hero, villain, or something else?

I’d say maybe he’s an Antihero? Or like a vigilante kind of deal? He likes seeing people he hates consider him their own personal villain tho.

What major arcana tarot card best represents your character?

I’ll go with....judgement

Where does your character see themselves in 20 years?

Hopefully with all of this long behind him, everything is solved and he’s got a ton of gold and anything else he wants.

What is your character’s relationship with magic? Are they scared of it, wish to know more about it, indifferent to it?

All magic was made to hurt people.

Who is your character’s biggest rival?

Sebastian.

What is your character’s guiltiest pleasure?

That he enjoys hurting people for money in fighting rings. Like he’s got this weird pleasure with gore and crushing bones and things like that, but then also really hates that he likes it, he thinks he’s fucked up.

What does your character hope for the afterlife?

I think it scares him so he ignores it. I guess he hopes he’s seen as doing what was right.

Who in the party does your character trust the least?

Siril, just because he’s unpredictable.

What is your character’s biggest flaw?

He’s someone that needs help and knows he needs help but he’s both too aggressive and too prideful to ask for it.

How did your character learn the languages that they speak?

Raised knowing goblin and he just knows common otherwise babey.

What is your character’s favorite school of magic/type of weaponry?

He really does take a liking to using his axes, but I think he’s still trying to find the perfect weapon, they’re all interesting. He wishes he could just punch things but he’s not that strong.

What is most important to your character: health, wealth, or happiness?

Happiness, wealth, health. Fuck health it’s always shit.

What advice would your character give to a younger version of themselves?

You are way way stronger than you think you are, fight.

Are there any social or political issues your character feels strongly about?

I think if he learned that theres certain power structures in place in the world that are pseudo-legal he’d get very very upset.

What, currently, is your character the most curious about?

How the fuck do I talk to Ida