#but she actually is not that stiff and controlled she tends to let her emotions get the best of her esp when stuff gets happening

[yuulina-vre]

Fear - Chapter five

Summary: Y/N lives the life she always dreamed about. a job she loves, a fiancé that does everything for her, and a house she dreamed of. There are hiccups on the way, but Y/N's still pretty satisfied with where she stands in life. Though a word can be powerful, especially if it's said to the wrong person. Y/N would never have thought that she ever gets to experience how bad it can turn out. For her and the loved ones around her.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: none

Series Masterlist // Masterlist

“Sweetheart. Doll, it's all right. I’m here." His hands keep their motions on my back, one coming up to run over my hair, softly pressing my head firmer against his chest to provide more comfort and possibly make me feel as safe as he can in that particular moment. He comforts me just like a child who had fallen off a bicycle, rocking back and forth, and strangely enough, I don’t mind one bit. I soak up every bit of him, every word, every touch, every smell, but I still can't calm down as much as I want.

It's impossible.

I’m too upset. The shock and fear swirl in my brain, letting no room for any other emotion or feeling. It’s as if a wall blocks my mind, impossible to climb or break down. Even though he’s here, reassuring me of my safety, the sounds are still running amok in my head, and thoughts circle back and forth without me being able to catch them. Dark eyes, whispering voices, looming footsteps. Flashes of knives in the moonlight.

Bucky’s voice is worried, strained, trying to sound calm for me, though I know he is anything else but calm. He probably is pretty upset, not really grasping how to help me. And maybe he’s feeling afraid himself, though for a whole other reason. He tends to panic when I do, but he’s better at masking it and calming down. His body is rigid and stiff with tension, yet his hands are gently against my body and skin. He smells so typically Bucky, woodsy with a mix of his deo and aftershave. Sweat mixes in from a long day at the precinct. The slightest smell of gunpowder comes to my mind.

Bucky pulls me even closer to his chest, hugging me tightly and pressing his lips to my temple. I don't let go of him, not even for a second, clinging to his shirt as if my life depends on it. And at the moment, it feels like it.

Somehow, I actually feel like a child, when he’s holding me like this, softly rocking back and forth, kissing my temple now and then, or stroking my hair. Given my profession as a therapist, you'd think I'd be more in control, but somehow, I seem to have a blockage. Getting so attached to Bucky is the only way for me to get some kind of peace and deal with the demon in my mind.

His hands slowly loosen from my body to slowly come up and cup my face. I whine as he leans back a bit, holding my face softly. He is careful as he lifts it from his chest so that I look at him. My vision is blurred with tears, making him a swimming mess. His thumbs gently perform a comforting dance over my cheeks, brushing tear tracks away. That gesture makes me feel a little better the longer he continues doing it. “Y/N. Look at me. I'm here. It's all right. Sam’s looking around, but so far, no one’s in the house. I still asked him to triple-check. Okay?” His eyes stay on my face, staring intently at me until I nod the smallest one I ever did. “Do you think it could have been a false alarm this time?” His eyes are gentle, knowing of the loaded question he asked. He never puts my feelings into question, and he doesn’t want now, I know that. But he needs to make sure every possibility is looked at. I can understand that. It still stings.

I stare into his eyes, hypnotized by their worried blue for a second. I hesitate for a moment, thinking about his question and what he said. It could actually have been a false alarm. At least I didn't hear anything suspicious in the house. Nothing I know doesn’t belong. Sure, there were the typical sounds of houses. Setting wood, crackling of devices, and so on. Well… I know that there was something unusual, like eyes watching me from somewhere, but there was nothing that indicated a difference. I nod timidly, still sniffling, before shrugging. The feeling from earlier is still there. I can feel eyes on me, mustering every inch of my body, as if it’s looking into my soul.

With his thumb, he rubs a tear out of the corner of my eye, and he smiles at me. It has a mix of sadness in it. He leans forward again and hugs me gently, giving me a kiss on the forehead, then on my lips. It’s just a quick peck, there to comfort me and provide a feeling of safety. I let myself fall forward, more into his embrace and his chest. “Okay.” One of my hands loosens its grip on his shirt but doesn’t lose contact altogether. I let it roam around him, coming forward to his chest, resting it between our bodies, right over his heart. His heartbeat is strong under it. I can feel each lub dub. The constant rhythm brings comfort and peace into my body that not even his voice can create. My eyes close on their own accord, and I concentrate solely on feeling him, his heartbeat, his life.

“Tell me what’s going on." His voice is soothing and composed. It seems to have only a slight tone of tension in it, and that makes me a little puzzled.

Why does he sound tense when he thinks it's a false alarm? When he’s sure and checked that no one’s in the house?

Bucky rustles a bit around, lets go of me for a bit to grab the rumpled duvet off the bed, and wraps it around my shoulders. I haven’t noticed that I’m shivering until the sudden warmth envelopes me. His arms come back around me, holding me tenderly. I sigh and put my head on his shoulder as he strokes my back. “I don’t know,” I mumble into his shoulder, way too silent to be heard if it wasn’t for his ear almost directly at my head. My tears finally let up, but I still sniffle now and then. “I-I woke up because… the rain, I think. I don’t… I don’t think there was something else. Maybe the neighbors cat.” My voice is still a bit shaky, but instead of focusing on it and my shivering, the fear still deeply residing in my bones, I try to focus on Bucky’s hands around me. “I turned back around and tried to go back to sleep. I almost drifted off, but... there was, well, how shall I put it? There was just a- a feeling."

“A feeling? What kind of feeling? Threatening?"

“Not really threatening. It was more like... like someone’s watching me. Here. In the bedroom. I don't know. Everything seemed perfectly normal. I couldn't hear or see anything that was somehow different, but… still. I had a feeling something was wrong. It scared me. But I didn't know what it was. I sat up and took a good look around. I even wanted to go through the house, but then I panicked." I take a deep breath. “Feels pathetic now.”

“No. It’s never pathetic to be afraid of something, doll.” Bucky knows that I have strange feelings. Strangely enough, he never seemed to be deterred after I told him, never acted as my ex-boyfriend did. He had portrayed me as crazy and, at some point, threatened to have me committed because the accident and death of my parents had left me with some damage. I still have nightmares about it, but these feelings aren’t a side effect of deep trauma. Bucky never put into questioning that he wants to stay with me. He often even relies on this feeling and always takes it seriously. From time to time, he involves me in his work, which was strictly forbidden, but he doesn’t care, always tells me that no one will ever find out, and if they did, he just puts me down as his therapist, which probably isn’t allowed either. He shrugs it off. Bucky gives me case files and asks me for advice. Mostly, I can tell him if I have a particularly bad feeling about a person or statements in the report, and somehow that seems to help him. I still have no idea how much help this is supposed to be, but he keeps asking me for my advice, so I figure it is enough. Sometimes it feels like I’m just confirming a suspicion he already has. However, when I have strange feelings at home, it is usually nothing serious. We shrug it off and have a good laugh, though before we do, we always investigate. But it was never like this. Never like I’m being watched.

"Okay. So, you looked around, saw nothing, and hid. I assume you called me directly, then? Did anything else happen after that?" His voice keeps gentle, hands continuing their pattern as I hear a door close downstairs and light footsteps on the stone floor. I shake my head and wipe my hair that clings to my tear-stained cheeks off my face. For a moment, we’re just silent, but then I swallow thickly past the lump in my throat and look at Bucky. “Hmm... After I hung up, I-I just sat in the bathtub. I guess I just imagined everything afterward. I thought- I thought I heard noises. Something like... door creaking, rumbling, or footsteps. Now that I think about it, the window looked like there were eyes.” My voice fades, and I see past Bucky into the hallway where Sam has reached our floor to look through the rooms. After a few seconds, I look down at my hand on his chest, where his heartbeat still drums a steady rhythm. "I can't tell you if any of this was real. Now, I doubt it myself." Suddenly the thoughts of my ex-boyfriend come to my mind. My hand on Bucky’s chest instantly tightens into a fist on his shirt, eyes panicky looking into his. My voice is urgent as I speak up next, hurried to get him to believe me and a bit too loud, causing Sam to pause in his steps to glance at us. "Bucky, I'm not crazy. I certainly wasn't imagining the feeling. It may have been delusions in the bathroom, but this," I gestured across the room. “I’m sure I wasn’t imagining it! There was something here.” My voice becomes a little softer and quieter again. He looks at my face and nods. “It’s okay, I believe you." He pauses, pushing me softly off his lap, and just keeps my legs on his thighs. His gaze swiftly flies to the hallway, where Sam waves before he disappears downstairs. Then Bucky directs his gaze back to me, softly takes my face in his hands, and leans forward so our foreheads touch.

"Okay, babydoll.” He leans back and presses a soft kiss on my forehead. The softness and warmth of his lips let me shudder a bit, and my eyes close on their own accord. “How about you get comfy on the bed, hm? Maybe snuggle up into my shirt or something and try to sleep. I'm going downstairs with Sam to talk about what to do now. I’ll be quick and bring some tea back up." For a second, I just stare shocked at him. Did he just suggest leaving me alone again?

Instantly my head shakes as vehemently as I can. I can feel a crack in my neck, but I don’t pay it any attention as panic floods me yet again, and I try to cling to Bucky again. “Sweetheart, I understand that you don’t want to be alone. But I need to talk with Sam.”

“No… please…” Bucky takes a deep sigh, his hands still cupping my face, staring at me as if he’s able to look into my soul. Sometimes I think he actually can. His deep blue eyes turn soft then, and he just takes me into his arms, swaying me from side to side, while pressing kisses all over my face. “All right, doll. Want to come downstairs, too, then? Just promise that you rest on the couch for a bit. I’ll make some tea and talk to Sam in the kitchen.” His head ducks a bit to have a better view of my face. “That way, I’m just a few feet away.” Tentatively, I nod, knowing that it’s a better option than staying upstairs all alone. The feeling still hasn’t left me, but the adrenaline is slowly fading, leaving me tired and exhausted.

He pushes my legs off him and stands up, immediately reaching for my hand, but I pull it back for a moment. "D-don't you want to look around, too?"

“What for? I already did when we arrived, doll. And I was in this room the whole time, with you. There's no one here. Besides, we would give Sam the impression we don’t trust him, and I really don’t want to make him cry now." A snort leaves me. It's unexpected but welcome because I actually feel a little light afterward. Bucky’s grin is indication enough that he’s pleased with his joke, so he leans forward to press a kiss to the corner of my mouth. I let my gaze wander through the room for a moment, then I, too, get up and finally take the hand he holds out for me. “We probably should get your robe, yeah? Won’t show Sam what he’s not supposed to see!” Bucky smirks and another small smile slips on my lips. It feels like it’s the first time in years. His hands gently pull the duvet off me, before he quickly runs into the bathroom to grab my robe. He helps me slip it on and carefully closes it before tying a small bow with its ribbon. A small giggle leaves me as his fingers tickle my sides, and as I look at Bucky, I can see happiness in his eyes, indicating that he’s incredibly relieved to see me smile again.Despite the summer heat, I grab the duvet again to take with me. I still feel some kind of cold with the adrenaline leaving, and the tiredness sinking in. The throw blanket on our couch won’t do anything to keep me warm. He holds my hand tightly as he guides me downstairs and to our couch in the living room, passing Sam, who waves with a small smile.

Bucky’s grip on my hand is not as tight to hurt, but still tight enough, so I can see how tense he is, even if he tries to hide it.

Immediately an alarm bell rings in my head, and my feeling tells me he knows something he isn't telling me. But I feel too tired to investigate. It probably can wait a bit.

Taglist:

@cjand10

#Bucky Branes #Bucky x Reader #Reader insert #Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky Barnes x Female Reader #yuulina writes #Fear

[fishklok]

How about ideal date for Magnus, Charles, Satenik, and Seonag? (Gointothevvater 🖤)

Magnus

When they discover they’re got a crush:

Charles: Suppress that shit! You're a 40 year old man with a JD and the 8th largest economy resting on your shoulders, you shouldn't be having "crushes".

Satenik: Tbh she's so repressed she's not able to recognize when she has a crush.

Seonag: Either try to hook up with them if she can, or get drunk while lurking on their social media and groaning in frustration over how attractive they are. How they confess/hint:

Charles: Assuming he'll ever allow himself to, very stiff workplace-friendly compliments that are indistinguishable from normal platonic compliments.

Satenik: She'll give a gift, and end up not confessing/hinting at all.

Seonag:

Big gestures of love:

Charles: Being able to speak his emotions plainly takes a lot from him tbh. Or showing affection in public.

Satenik: Painting someone

Seonag: Taking the time to actually plan a real date. Little gestures of love:

Charles: Helping someone with their finances.

Satenik: Playing with hair.

Seonag: Falling asleep next to each other. How to win their heart:

Charles: Showing any kind of appreciation or gratitude.

Satenik: Promise her an adventure.

Seonag: Make her feel safe or wanted. Also being able to speak Scots is a plus. How to break their heart:

Charles: Leave him doing all of the work in the relationship.

Satenik: Take away her art.

Seonag: Tbh, just wait and her self-sabotage will do that for her. Tiny little turn-ons:

Charles: Leather.

Satenik: Someone placing their jacket on her shoulders.

Seonag: Dirty talk. Big turn-ons:

Charles: Being in control.

Satenik: I think she's too ace for this.

Seonag: Spontaneity Things that make their heart flutter:

Charles: Being offered help.

Satenik: Compliments.

Seonag: Being patted on the head (not many people can reach) Their type:

Charles: I'm trying not to let my biases get in the way so I don't want to just describe Magnus

Satenik: Hot flirty blondes.

Seonag: People who can fuck her up in every way. Ideal date:

Charles: Coffee if the date is taking place before 5 pm. If the date is happening between the hours of 5 and 8, then a nice dinner. No dates after 9.

Satenik: Going to a museum or a movie together and ending the day at a cafe.

Seonag: Just wandering around with no plans, preferably at night. Maybe grabbing snacks at the gas station together idk. Past relationships:

Charles: Had a few boyfriends, but most of his encounters were strictly physical/casual. Complicated relationship with Magnus until he was kicked out of the band. Hasn't sought out companionship since.

Satenik: Married Melik when she was 18 and that didn't go well. Now she's slowly coming to terms with her lesbianism.

Seonag: Used to be a serial dater, but the amount of heartbreak led her to focus more on casual hookups. This didn't stop her from longing. ‘Goals’ in a relationship (marriage, kids, a house, etc):

Charles: No goals He has a history of leaving relationships when he senses that they're starting to get too serious, even if they're going well. Too much pressure that he doesn't need.

Satenik: She did do the marriage + kids thing and that didn't work out. Right now she's focusing on herself.

Seonag: She just wants to be happy. Any other love headcanons:

Charles: People tend to fall for him harder than the other way around.

Satenik: She hates tongue-kissing so much. The first time she did it, she found it so unpleasant that she could no longer watch kiss scenes in movies without feeling grossed out.

Seonag: She has a history of being too quick to say "I love you"

#satenik varoujan #seonag tallach

[goldpilot22]

oh also some mspaint doodles of some ocs. that's specifically tma au sterling, but the others could be that or canon, since i haven't come up with au designs for them yet.

#psii.txt #my art #my ocs #sterling #lyric #lysander #lysterling tma au #you can tell it's tma au sterling bc the going feral thing #lysander's hair is more of a whitish/ash blond but mspaint didn't have a close enough color so i just made the yellow lighter #the yellow blond color rly clashes with his armor lmao #ok to rb #also im Considering changing lysander's hairstyle but idk what to #they wouldn't look right with short hair but they don't like just long hair #and an undercut type thing might be too similar to sterling's hairstyle #or maybe not actually #lys' whole look is kind of.. they look strong n dangerous but in a stiff and controlled way #but she actually is not that stiff and controlled she tends to let her emotions get the best of her esp when stuff gets happening #and underneath hes rly actually Soft Tm #yknow that one drawing ive done of lys and sterling just cuddling? yknow how in the tma au they're holding hands at every opportunity? yeah #it takes both of them a while to get comfortable with showing [and receiving] love and kindness but when they do they Really do #their story is about getting better. about learning to forgive yourself for things out of your control #ok im rambling now but. i like writing characters who Get Better. who've been hurt and had bad things happen to them and had to Do bad #things but then Good things start happening and they find a life they can love and people who love them #i just. cries. i fucking love my ocs ok i think stories where Things Get Better are very important #maybe the point of a lot of my writings is just. hold on. things will be ok someday. it will get better. #something im not always sure i can believe. but maybe thats why i write it #fuck i should post the rest of what ive written for the au

[kstewdeux]

@inukagfluffweek

August 14, 2021 - Family

Sure

Summary: Inuyasha & Kagome discuss starting a family

“Knee,” Kagome whined softly as her foot prodded her husband’s leg so it would go where she wanted, “Knee Inuyasha.”

With a tired sigh, Inuyasha slid his foot up until it rested comfortably against his thigh and adjusted his hips so falling asleep in that position wouldn’t make him lock up. It was a tried and true ritual. One that he didn’t mean to perpetuate but Kagome was always the last one to go to bed. Always. So by the time she changed and brushed her hair and washed her face and did whatever else she felt inclined to do, he was typically asleep in a position he found comfortable. Kagome told him he slept like a vampire but having met and fought vampires Inuyasha had no idea what she was talking about. Besides, he didn’t know why it had always seemed to matter how he slept. Sitting up had just been how he’d done it for over a hundred years and even though three years had gone by, he still wasn’t used to those while laying down business. Having a body trained not to move wasn’t ideal for laying down and he usually woke up stiff. His muscles locking up for absolutely no reason out of habit. Sitting up, having muscles that locked was useful. Not so for how the rest of the world went down for the night.

Still, Kagome slept laying down. Always had. Always would. And he planned on sleeping next to her for the rest of her hopefully long life. Which killed the monk. Even occasional overnight exorcisms were out of the question. Sunup to sundown only.

“That better?” he yawned and Kagome nodded against the arm she was using as a pillow while Inuyasha’s hand absently played with tendrils of her hair.

One of the things he liked best was that in this position he could feel her ribs expand with each breath and the steady rhythm was soothing. Every couple found a sleeping position that worked for them it would seem and with his primary issue being hardwired survival anxiety, a cuddling position where no backs were being exposed worked best.

Problem with this position was that it’d make co-sleeping with an infant dangerous. Not that…that they were trying or even planning on having brats. Hell, they’d never spoken about it but by some unspoken understanding, they’d been careful. Kinda. Sometimes. Okay, fine, mainly they’d been whinging it and been lucky as hell.

But…you know…maybe one day…

Lips twitching upward, Inuyasha allowed himself to imagine what their own puffy blob of flesh would look like. Newborn babies…well they weren’t exactly the cutest things in the planet. More they looked like boiled prunes - both in color and looks. And the screams. But once they hit a few months old they definitely started looking more like tiny people and you could start seeing the parents. From a strangers perspective anyway. Miroku’s twins had always looked identical but they went through phases and who they favored depended on which parent was standing closest….

God he hoped whatever they had one day - not that he was even sure they’d have babies - was a girl. He’d make a decent looking boy or girl. After all, minus the coloring, he looked just like his mother who had been very pretty. Kagome…Kagome would only make a pretty girl. Sota sure as hell didn’t look like her though so maybe there were some okay looking boy genes in there but Inuyasha for the life of him could not imagine what a Kagome-looking boy would even be.

Nah. If they did one day have a…

“Why you purring?” Kagome hummed bemusedly in such a way that left him powerless to stop said noise. A noise that he’d only discovered he made since she fell back into his life. At first it bothered him that she called the chest growl thing a ‘purr’ but seeing as how he didn’t have a better name, he just rolled with it.

“Dunno,” he laughed softly.

“What were you thinking about?” Kagome hummed as she slowly and awkwardly began trying to roll towards him - something which had the purring noise stop immediately. It didn’t matter that his brain knew they were safe and there was no need to worry about being exposed. His body though….was hard wired to worry.

She froze.

“I didn’t…”

“S’not the question. It’s the stupid back thing,” Inuyasha reassured her wearily before running one hand over his face, “Look, I was thinking about us having kids, alright?”

The slow smile that bloomed on her lips as she sat up brought the soft purring sound back.

“And what were your initial thoughts?” Kagome asked curiously and the purring sound intensified.

“How newborns look like meat sacks,” he offered as he stretched his legs out and yawned, “And how they’re loud. And obnoxious. And how they shit everywhere…”

“Ah but said things made you happy,” Kagome observed and shrugging, Inuyasha didn’t deny it. Couldn’t anyway given the vibrations rumbling from his chest. Well, that was what they assumed it meant anyway. Could be he was dying or something. Wouldn’t that be the final kick in the balls.

“Thinking about it and living it are two different things. Reality is I’d fuck them up,” Inuyasha countered with an ill-checked half-grin, “You’d have to go around fixing them all the time.”

“You’d be a good daddy,” Kagome soothed as she lay back down and stared up at the ceiling - allowing Inuyasha to fully relax by covering her back. She never really thought of Inuyasha as the anxious type but apparently that was his secret to surviving so long and once they’d figured it out and pinned down his triggers to better avoid them, he’d actually been significantly less…grumpy. In fact, he could be downright pleasant most of the time.

Miroku and Sango had told her on more than one occasion that Inuyasha seemed, at times, like a completely new person. In public, he was still by and large snippy and obstinate but among friends and in private, his natural state of being sans anxiety was much more Kagome-like than any of them previously believed. Looking back, he had always seemed to find comfort in being around others but he was never what anyone would call sensitive or attune to emotional needs of others. In recent months, however, he’d been surprisingly observant, kind and gentle.

Well, actually it wasn’t all that surprising. The gentleness yes but the rest of it? No. Every time one of them lost it during the quest, Inuyasha was always the one who stepped up and did exactly the right thing to bring his friends’ minds back to center. In fact, his brand of abrasive encouragement was what saved their souls from being devoured by the moth demon’s trap. Whenever any of them felt like giving up, Inuyasha had been the one to encourage them to keep going. In some ways Inuyasha was so forgiving it was beyond understanding. For all his insults and for all his aggression, Inuyasha could be…damningly gracious. Kikyo being, well, Kikyo. Sango stealing his sword. Miroku trying to kill him. Shippo pulling trick after trick. None of those things ever drove him away.

That wasn’t to say Inuyasha didn’t get irritable or react poorly when said things happened but he did tend to let things go eventually and truly act like nothing happened. And his brand of love was protection and providing so there was that too.

So maybe it wasn’t all that surprising that being kind and gentle was his calm state of being. Now that he was more comfortable and no one was in imminent danger of dying a horrible, painful death; now that Kagome had been returned to him and everything worked out, how his natural being manifested was different was all.

But his anxiety still did rear it’s ugly head on occasion. New things. Unexpected things. Any slightly uncomfortable thing and he’d instantly snap his abrasive behavior back into place. There were also his triggers of course but those could be negated.

For example, he never slept with his back exposed and now that Kagome was, sorta, an extension of himself, his body decided to make him skittish at night if she too was left ‘open to attack.’ Not fun for anyone involved - the amount of twitching alone had kept them both awake until they figured out the issue.

“Don’t know how to be a father,” he sighed sadly - the purring sound grounding to halt, “So maybe…maybe kids isn’t something we should do. What…what if I hurt them? They won’t be like me. They’ll be mostly human. I’ll be too rough.”

“No because of that fear, I imagine you’d treat them like they might shatter,” Kagome pointed out and with that, Inuyasha reached over to intertwine their fingers.

“I could turn one day. You…or they might get hurt and I’ll make it worse,” he offered in a small voice, “I’m dangerous. I shouldn’t…and what if they can’t control what I give them? What if they’re born and…and they’re just like that all the time?”

Turning her head to look at his defeated face, Kagome sighed and waited for him to look at her. When he did, the worry mixed with longing made her heart ache. He wanted kids. That much was clear from his expression as was the fact that he didn’t trust himself.

“Inuyasha, I always bring you back, don’t I?” she pointed out and with a faint nod of acknowledgment, her statement seemed to soothe some of the anxiety that needed checking, “And our baby will be part me too. So it’ll have both….”

“It could purify itself. Hurt itself,” he countered shakily, “And we’re happy just the two of us. What if I’m a bad father and you end up hating me? What if it ends up being a mistake? Ruins everything?”

“I will never abandon you,” Kagome promised as she brought his hand up to her lips and gave his thumb a quick kiss, “Never.”

A nod and a relieved sigh. Like he knew that to be the case but wanted to hear it anyway. There was still some tension though which meant his fears hadn’t been addressed completely and so Kagome waited for him to continue. It had taken a few months but anymore he discussed everything with her. From feelings to fears to his past. The only thing off the table was Kikyo but that was more her hang up than his.

From his perspective, he found himself much lighter when he heard her opinion rather than just imaging what she was thinking. His inner monologue was usually depressing and rather cruel. Always assuming everyone hated him or was upset with him in some way. That everyone thought the worst. How he needed to receive love was verbal affirmations. Kagome would’ve thought it was touch but she discovered words were much more effective. What would’ve happened if she just told him back then how deeply he was loved? But, alas, she didn’t and it didn’t matter. In fact, that would’ve been worse. What if he achieved this and then had her taken away?

“I mean, do you want kids? You’ve never really said…” Inuyasha asked wearily and Kagome knew if she said yes, he’d do whatever she wanted. Even if it terrified him.

No. This needed to be his choice. His decision.

“What do you want?”

For a long moment, he was quiet before he swallowed and closed his eyes.

“I think you want them,” he answered evasively before pulling up one knee and fidgeting slightly, “And I don’t know. I want…I want, you know, the type of things Sango and Miroku have with their brats. And what I had with my mother before she got sick. I want someone to…to…you know, there’s just some type of connection. I…I wouldn’t mind being a brat’s person.”

“Their person?” Kagome asked curiously and Inuyasha let out a long sigh as he swayed his knee.

“Like…like you know they’ll take care of you. You scrape your knee. They fix it. You get hungry, they give you snacks. You get sad and just…just they….,” Inuyasha floundered before seemingly choosing a word to describe what he meant, “A helper. I wouldn’t mind being their helper.”

“You’d be the best helper,” Kagome sighed affectionately and Inuyasha eyes fluttered open.

“You really think so? I don’t have the…the warm thing going…”

Nodding, Kagome gently rolled onto her side and scooted her back against his torso. Like clockwork, he assumed their former position and sighed contentedly.

“You…” she belatedly started to address his comment but he was already off to the races.

“I could work on that though. You know, with the twins,” Inuyasha opined hopefully - like he was trying to convince her that he could be a good father and encourage her to say yes, “See…see if I could get better at the whole…whole warm thing. I bet I could get the hang of it in a month or two. I mean look at how fast I mastered Tessaiga. You wouldn’t have to worry about…about me scarring the kid.”

“That has never been a concern,” Kagome chided affectionately earning a frustrated grunt. Oh yeah, he was trying to get her to just make the decision or convince her to just agree with his decision. A decision he’d clearly already made.

“Inuyasha, I know you’d be a great daddy,” Kagome finally yawned - earning a faint blush, “But don’t push yourself just because you think I want this. I only want babies if you do too. I’m honestly okay either way.”

She felt him inhale deeply.

“I think…I think I’ll see if…if I can do the warm thing then we can decide,” Inuyasha hummed before adding hesistantly, “I think I can do it but I wanna be sure.”

“I…”

“I mean, I’m pretty sure I could do it,” Inuyasha continued to think out loud, “But I just want to be sure, ya know? And I want you to be sure I’m good for it.”

At this, Kagome laughed softly despite herself - the hand by her head sliding up to cup his. Curling her fingers between his fingers, she pressed her fingertips against his palm.

“I know you can do…”

“J-just think about it,” Inuyasha interrupted shakily as he gave her hand a light squeeze “A-and I’ll think about it. And we can…talk about it when we’re sure.”

The miko grinned and replied with a soft laugh, “Sure.”

“Will you be mad if I…I think about it and say no?” he asked hesitantly and Kagome shook her head - making some of the tension seep out of him. For a long time, he was quiet and Kagome was just about to pass out when she heard his voice - small and timid - whisper those three little words he didn’t say that often.

“I love you. You know that, right?”

“I know. You show me all the time,” she affirmed and with a timid half-smile, Inuyasha flexed his hand ever so.

“Just want to make sure you know…”

“I do.”

“And you still love me, right?”

“Always.”

“Okay. Just want to make sure…”

#inukag fluff week 2021 #inukag #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 #inuyasha #writing #kagome #inukag fanfic

[spidersbane]

Hello! Can I get MCU, The Hobbit, and The Man From U.N.C.L.E. ship? 💚

Appearance: She/her. 179,5cm tall, rectangle body shape. Fair skin complexion with quite a few birthmarks. Dyed brown with honey-red highlights, shoulder-length, straight hair with bangs. The left eye is a mix of two colors – a smaller portion of (darker) greyish-blue and a larger portion of hazel; while the right eye is just a (lighter) greyish-blue. Heptagon face shape with two dimples on the left cheek and one on the right cheek (only visible while smiling). A gap between the upper front teeth.

Personality (good and bad traits): Ever since I was a kid, I was always quite mature for my age – I identify myself as an old soul. I come off as polite and well-mannered to strangers, yet I tend to keep it to myself by being reserved. But, that’s because I have social anxiety and I’m nervous and shy when meeting/talking to people. The only people I’m comfortable with being with my inner circle – closest friends and family. I am usually more “open” with my friends than with my family. With my friends I can be my “truest-self” – I smile more, I laugh more, I feel more accepted and understood. I am the mom and the fashionista of the group. Don’t get me wrong, I am fiercely protective of my family, especially of my mother and younger sister. But, lately, I’ve been feeling like the “black sheep” of the family, Cinderella who’s been taken advantage of. I express my affection for the people I care about in little, but practical, ways. I can be a little stiff when it comes to open, gushy displays of affection. Others turn to me for help and advice. I’m kind-hearted and generous, always ready to help a person in need. Always have been motherly towards children. Very awkward at keeping small talk (usually with people that I’m not that close with). Absolutely, hate speaking in front of a public, and if I do, because of my nervousness, I tend to mess up my words and/or I practice whatever I’m about to say in my head at first. I appreciate the simplicity and am often most comfortable when I’m not getting too much attention from the world. I am sensitive – both to criticism and to others’ feelings (I sponge up the feelings and moods of people and the environment around me). Have a hard time saying no or expressing my true thoughts, feelings. I get influenced by other people’s opinions/thoughts quite hard (I take everything to the heart), that is why I tend to keep a lot to myself (may come off as a little bit tense, secretive, mysterious). I avoid the harsh reality by daydreaming (almost every day) – imagining myself in situations far from my current circumstances. Sort of like a self-escape. I worry a lot and overthink almost everything. I am easily distracted and my attention span can be quite short. I have an internal struggle between my needs and wants. I can lack focus and be indecisive as a result – when I decide on one route, I am pulled in another direction at the same time (“But what if…”, “on the other hand...”). That is why I’m having a bit of a struggle with deciding what I want to do in the future (career-wise). I am easily overwhelmed by pressure and stress. There is a self-destructive side to me (self-critical, lack of self-confidence) that I’m working on by confronting my fears (coming out of my shell). Don’t like taking pictures, or other people taking pictures of me. I feel most content when I’ve straightened out all the details of everyday life. I have a routine, that I follow by mostly every day, and if something small changes in that routine, I start to have a small internal anxiety attack. Also, I like to do things my own way, like, when it comes to cleaning the house or organizing stuff, etc. I get triggered even if people don’t do the laundry the way I do. I guess you could describe me as a perfectionist, clean/control freak. In triggering situations I can be impulsive, spontaneous, quick to act. Quick flare-ups of anger/annoyance when being provoked on my patience. Even when I’m feeling low, I manage to find humor in life and have fun with whatever I do have. Although I tend to bottle things up, I am an emotional person and my emotions are genuine – I love and care deeply and passionately and wish no ill will upon anyone, yet it hards for me to imagine someone falling in love with me or just liking me.

Hobbies, likes: My hobbies are cleaning, writing (re-writing song lyrics, making small notes, writing stories), listening to any type of music, catching up on my favorite films and TV shows, hanging out with friends, going to the cinema, or the club, being out in nature, reading, traveling. I like history, cooking, fashion magazines (or fashion in general), road trips, spirituality, mythology, books, orange juice, previous decades, cottage-core, dark academia.

Overall: Hufflepuff. INFP-T. Bi-sexual. Pisces-Aries cusp sign. “Looks like could kill you, but is actually a cinnamon roll.” A feminist, support LGBTQ+ community. That’s it, thank you!

hey @pataim ! thanks so much for sending in your request, and thank you so much for your honesty about yourself. like it takes a lot to air yourself out like that, and I admire your strength for it. but also fINALLY a 'Man from U.N.C.L.E' ship! I love that movie and attempt Illya's accent all the time, so this will be fun :)

For the MCU/Marvel - I ship you with Steve Rogers/Captain America ! 

no one can tell me that Steve doesn’t have a set routine honestly, so let me just get that out there 

he seems intimidating at first, esp as a public figure and Avenger, but Steve is nothing but passionate about what he does. so it may clash w your lack of direction, but I could honestly see him envying that a lil bit, like it’s not that you don’t have direction, it’s the fact that you still have a choice in the matter. 

your love of history put you in a museum, here you bumped into Steve in a horrible disguise. he struck up the conversation first, and once you got past the whole “holy crap that’s Captain America”, you could actually engage with him in the material and boi was he smitten 

he would love to join you when your rewatched your fave things, bc not only is he catching up on more media he missed out on, he’s also getting to know your interests in a way that’s comfortable with you. it avoids all the small talk, but leaves room for discussion after the film/show ! 

since you tend to sponge up a lot of what other people believe, it’s totally Steve who actually tries to question what you think and what you feel about things. he’s someone who encourages you to have your own opinions and to stay true to those thoughts. so while with him, you can rely on him to learn about yourself, you also gain skills for independence

overall, Steve is super patient, and despite his chaotic job as Cap, he takes comfort in his routine, and would find comfort incorporating a partner’s routine into his life. and as you grow in a relationship with him, he’s patient about teaching you how to be your own person, and helping you learn more about yourself. and while it’s uncomfortable, you grow stronger throughout being with him :) 

For The Hobbit - I ship you with Bilbo Baggins !

Bilbo is the definition of introvert, and you're right there with him

not that introversion is ever a bad thing, bc it isn't. but Bilbo is quite content to sit in his little hobbit hole and vibe. like Gandalf had to come find him, ya know. dude disappeared from his own bday.

but anyways. it's not that Bilbo lacks purpose, it's just that he's more content with a quieter life. and it seems like his quiet life would balance you out well! like the Shire is so so chill, and there doesn't really seem to be a lot of pressure on the hobbits to pick a profession. like they just genuinely do what needs to get done.

similarly, Bilbo is the type who seems a little bothered by mushy displays of affection. exhibit a: disappearing from his own bday. like he's much more the type to refill your tea when y'all are reading by the fireplace, which he would totally do w you

it will probs take you a little while to warm up to each, given just how introverted you both are. but when he explains that he has set ways of doing things, then if they're compatible w your ways of doing things, then it doesn't take you long to open up to him

like it'll be a little jarring, but he takes comfort in his routines too. and it'll be an event trying to incorporate both of your ways of life together, but he's willing to do it

overall, yours is a very quaint partnership, built on deep respect for one another. neither of you are going to push the other to do things you aren't into. and y'all just live your best lives together tbh :)

For The Man From U.N.C.L.E - I ship you with Illya Kuryakin !

I love my big Russian spy so much, so this is fun for me

so Illya is the epitome of reserved and generally quiet, so it might take a while to really break down his walls and talk to him. and he's not quite sure what to do with you once you join the team

but, he's playing his game of chess alone, and when you sit down and ask to play with him, he opens up a little more after that

if you're one who get sent out on mission with the team, get ready, bc sometimes those missions require a lot of improvising. but you'd probably be at whatever 'base' was, helping run operations from a more secure place. but Illya and Napoleon improvise a lot, leading to a lot of headaches for you and Waverly

Illya has small bursts of anger, but similar to Gaby, most times, you can intervene and he doesn't get violent. or when he does, he tries to make sure it isn't in front of you. but bc you care so deeply for him, you're there for him in the aftermath. and that's how you show your love for him.

by patching him up if he gets cut, by talking him down when he's angry. and just generally trying to take care of him. and he totally does the same for you, especially if you get sent out into the field

and much to Illya's dismay, Solo doesn't refrain form making jokes about you. but if you can take them in stride, then Solo welcomes you into the team just as well :)

#steve rogers #steve rogers ship #steve rogers x reader #captain america #captain america ship #illya kuryakin ship #illya kuryakin #illya kuryakin x reader #bilbo baggins #bilbo baggins x reader #bilbo baggins ship #mcu #marvel #marvel ships #marvel ship requests #the hobbit #the hobbit ship #the hobbit ship requests #the man from uncle #the man from uncle ship #the man from uncle ship request #x reader requests #ship requests #writing #writers of tumblr

[beautifulterriblequeen]

For the kiss prompt, is 36 good? For Ruthari?

…to give up control.

So, uhh, this one got long! And angsty af. Really, really angsty. But you know me and my endings. I did my best to pull out a softer ending. This is a really hard subject though.

cw: fighting, yelling, pushing, Ethari actually swears

Runaan sat quietly, sorting through his pile of freshly picked moonberries in the waning moonlight. One berry, carefully considered and placed in its appropriate bowl, and then the next. No pause interrupted his focus. No emotion rippled the cool mask of his expression.

His deliberate calm was driving Ethari crazy. Perhaps if he had turned further away as they sat, he wouldn’t be getting so irritated right now... The craftsman felt his shoulders stiffen, and he took a deep breath and forced them to relax. Runaan’s moonberrry sorting habits weren’t upsetting. He was just taking his care with life and death as seriously as he always did--

The berry in Ethari’s hand lost its shape in a juicy splatter, and hot rage spiked along his spine. Even with his eyes shut, he could feel Runaan’s sudden focus, cool and intensely turquoise, brushing against him. His husband’s unspoken question flowered open with quiet concern.

The deep crimson juice ran down Ethari’s wrist. He stared at its sweet tickle. Was it a moonberry, or a deathberry? He couldn’t even remember.

Runaan handed a soft cloth into the periphery of his view, silently answering Ethari’s worry. Not juice to be licked clean, then. Poison. Ethari took the cloth without meeting Runaan’s eyes. But its soft paleness, unbesmirched, screamed in denial.

He couldn’t do it.

“How can you do this?” His words grated like the slow grind of a landslide. One that finally admitted it was falling. One that let go of its illusion of stability. Its momentum was inevitable.

“You’re not talking about the moonberries, are you?” Runaan asked.

Ethari flicked his hand, sending the cloth against Runaan’s chest with a little thud. His husband’s fingers caught it there on instinct. Cradled it over his heart.

Ironic. So, so ironic.

Ethari rolled onto hands and knees and faced Runaan directly. “She. Is. A. Child. Why aren’t you stopping this? Why did you agree to take her? It’s madness!”

Runaan’s brows tightened, and a brief pout of hurt puckered his lip before he smoothed it away behind that thrice-bedamned mask. 

Ethari hated that mask. It was for other people. Not for him. His crimson-stained hand lurched forward and grabbed the front of Runaan’s shirt, crumpling it, soaking it in red. “No, don’t you hide from me, not now. You tell me what in the name of the sacred shadow you were thinking when you said yes to her. This isn’t a picnic, Runaan! It’s not a jaunt, it’s not an outing! You’re the adult. You have the power to instruct. The power to decide. Why were you so soft with her, the one time I needed you to be hard? Why?”

Runaan’s eyes met his, and the ice in them frosted his breath. He wrapped one hand around Ethari’s and tried to tug it off his shirt. 

Ethari didn’t let him. The corner of his mouth curled into a snarl, and he tightened his grip further. His gaze flattened into cold steel. “Answer me.”

Runaan’s eyes flickered wide for a moment, flashing from Ethari’s, down to their taut and tangled grasps. Without looking up again, Runaan shifted his grip, added a twisting push with his other hand, and popped Ethari’s grip free. He flowed like water to his feet and began striding out of the clearing, leaving Ethari alone in the moonlight with his questions and his anger.

No.

Ethari’s bowl of moonberries cracked against the tree next to Runaan’s head, and red fruits rocketed out in a juicy explosion, leaving Runaan splattered with crimson. He jerked to a stop, shoulders stiff, hands in fists.

Ethari matched him, chest heaving hot, red edging his vision, nearly in tears of desperation.

“It’s for the best.” Runaan’s voice was quiet.

“No, it isn’t. Don’t you lie to me.” Ethari’s voice grew tighter and louder with each sentence. “Not about Rayla, don’t you dare.” 

“It’s not a lie.” Runaan still hadn’t turned to look at him.

“It’s not for her best, then,” Ethari amended. “Runaan, you know her heart. You know what this will do to her. She’s too young! You can’t. You can’t take her.”

“I have no choice. She asked to participate, and she was right to do so. She knows what truly matters, Ethari.”

Ethari threw his arms wide, though Runaan couldn’t see it. “And I don’t? Is that what you’re telling me? I’m no assassin, so I must not see the world properly? I love Rayla too, and I’d do anything for her. You know I would! But this isn’t helping her. What if something goes wrong?”

Runaan raised his chin and stared into the gloomy forest ahead. “I won’t let that happen.”

“What if she has to take someone? At fifteen, Runaan? Even you weren’t that young.”

Runaan jerked his head sharply, letting Ethari see his face in profile. “I won’t let that happen, either.”

A rampant growl escaped Ethari’s mouth. For a moment, raging in the moonlight, he understood werewolves all too well. “Then why in the fuck are you taking her with you at all?”

At his sudden curse, Runaan spun in surprise. The look on his face was open for a moment. Vulnerable. Streaks of berry red crossed his forehead and marked his cheek. A blooded assassin, ready to soak Rayla as well. Ethari stalked closer. Runaan’s brows lowered again, and he reassessed Ethari with a guarded look. “I told you, my heart,” he murmured. “I have no choice.”

Ethari seized the front of Runaan’s shirt again and tugged him onto his tiptoes. “Stop! Just stop it! Stop it all, tell everyone you made a mistake! Let her stay with me! Stop this, Runaan! Or I will!”

Runaan’s hands flew to cup Ethari’s. A protective grip. Why would he protect Ethari, but not Rayla? “No, you can’t. You can’t do that.”

“I can and I will!” Ethari roared. “Someone must! Someone must look out for Rayla, and if you’ve lost your mind and turned your back on Rayla’s heart, Runaan, then by the moon in its orbit, I will step up and do it myself! No matter what the cost! You, of all people, not willing to do whatever it takes for Rayla?” He looked Runaan up and down, seeing his markings, his horn cuffs, his tunic patterning, and all that it said about him. Every inch of Runaan proudly proclaimed who he was, to anyone who could read it. But in his rage, Ethari loosed a deadly strike. Glaring at the pendant he’d lovingly crafted for his husband so long ago, he growled, “I don’t know who you are right now.”

A soft grunt of pain from Runaan’s lips told him his daggered words had found their mark. Runaan squeezed Ethari’s hands as they gripped his shirt. “Ethari...”

But Ethari refused to meet Runaan’s eyes. If he did, he knew what he would see. He didn’t want to get distracted into softness, as Runaan so often managed during their arguments. He needed answers. Facts. Truth. Things his husband tended to hoard behind locked doors and series of traps. Sometimes, Ethari could disarm them. Other times, he had to march through and take the hits. Like now.

“I won’t fight you on this,” Runaan said. His voice was low, but it held a strange edge to it. “You can’t fight this.”

“I can!”

“You can’t win, my heart.”

Ethari’s gaze sharpened to an outraged point. “Are you...? You’d have taken her even if she hadn’t asked, is that what you’re hinting at?”

Runaan’s eyes widened sharply. “No, I--”

“Don’t you dare lie to me about that!” Ethari’s voice broke as he reached the edge of his hope. Was Runaan truly so dark that he would willingly spend Rayla’s life to expunge the stain of dishonor Lain and Tiadrin’s betrayal had drenched them with?

Runaan let out a sharp hiss of breath, twisted his grip on Ethari’s hands again, and shoved him back into the middle of the moonlit clearing. Ethari caught his balance and clapped a hand over his chest, where Runaan had pushed him away. His husband stood as if hunched against some unseen attack, shoulders heaving, head bowed, one hand outstretched to ward off Ethari’s return. Moonlight kissed his horns and lit his hair, but he was not beautiful. Not like this.

Ethari straightened and marched right back to Runaan, stopping just out of reach, hands on hips, chin high. “I’m not letting this go.”

Runaan’s bright gaze snapped up to his, eyes shimmering with hidden hurts and the tears they freed. “The tighter you hold it, the harder it grips me,” he whispered shakily.

Ethari’s fury faltered, stuttered, shifted gears. “I’m not... Runaan... Change your mind, then!” He threw his hands in the air.

Runaan clutched fists against his chest and bowed his head again. 

“No, don’t you dare keep that to yourself. Talk to me, what are you hiding?” When Runaan didn’t answer, Ethari took his face in his hands and forced their eyes to meet. Runaan’s gaze narrowed. He didn’t like being forced to make eye contact. But Ethari was past politeness. “If you shut me out again, Runaan, I swear on the Moon’s holy light--”

“I told you,” Runaan growled.

“Tell me again,” Ethari growled back.

“I. Had. No. Choice.”

Ethari blinked. Runaan had said that. And Ethari had blown right past it as the deflection he assumed it was. “No choice in what?” he goaded, searching his husband’s eyes for hidden truths.

“I cannot change my mind about Rayla, Ethari, because I never made the choice to take her in the first place.” Runaan’s voice remained quiet, but it sounded ragged, a flag battered and shredded by gale force winds.

“What? Then why--?”

“Duty demands--” Runaan began.

Instant fury. “Your duty does not get to demand Rayla’s--”

Runaan clutched at Ethari’s hands as they held his cheeks. The corners of his mouth drooped sadly. “Honor requires--”

“Fuck your honor, Runaan! It’s going to get you killed! You and Rayla both!”

“I KNOW!” Runaan roared. His sudden rage burst across the clearing like a thunderclap, leaving Ethari stunned.

The night went silent around them, quietly turning its back to offer plausible deniability for Runaan’s dark admission.

Both elves trembled in the lull of their argument. Hands fell away, chests heaved for breath, heads bowed. After a moment of silent apology from them both, their eyes met again.

Runaan spoke first. “I know,” he repeated, recovering his soft tone. “Don’t you think I know that? I know it as I know my own heartbeat. It is our fate, Ethari. It has always been our fate, one way or another. But what is served by dwelling on the things we cannot change?”

Lost in Runaan’s blindside confession, seeing only the looming loss of the rest of his most precious family, Ethari pressed the back of his wrist against his mouth to stifle a sob.

Runaan drew in a sharp breath at Ethari’s sudden shift. His gaze found the grass, and soon, so did one of his tears. “I’m sorry.”

The soft angst in Runaan’s tone told Ethari exactly what he was apologizing for. Despite the aftershocks of their fight, he slipped easily into his old reassurances. “No, don’t you dare. My heart chose you, and the life that came with loving you.”

Runaan’s gaze didn’t rise. “If you’d loved someone else... if I’d never told you...”

Ethari eased closer, resting warm hands on Runaan’s bare shoulders. “You didn’t trick me into loving you, Runaan. You’re not nearly skilled enough for such illusions.”

Runaan coughed softly in wry amusement.

“I chose you, as you chose me, remember? I was there. Lunablooms, dancing, our whispered vows? Ringing any bells?”

“Yes, my heart.” Runaan’s voice was small.

“I came into this life with you with my eyes open, as much as they could be. Don’t hold yourself away from me for fear of disappointing my expectations of you. We’re stronger together, remember?”

Runaan nodded once, but his brows rode low with confusion. “You were so upset. I didn’t want to make you feel worse.”

Ethari’s fingers squeezed hard. “Runaan, it got worse anyway, because you didn’t trust me! I’ve only been so frustrated because I...”

“Because you what?” Runaan breathed.

Ethari fiddled with Runaan’s collar, smoothing his shirt atop his shoulders. “We’ve both been right, and we’ve both been wrong, haven’t we?” he murmured.

“What do you mean?” 

Ethari kept his voice low, soft. “You haven’t been putting Rayla first. But that’s because you can’t. Your assassin’s honor won’t let you.”

Runaan closed his eyes and lowered his head. Twin tears tracked over his markings.

Ethari bit the inside of his trembling lip. “And so... there’s no way out, is there?”

Runaan shook his head.

Ethari managed a steadying breath. “Because you’ve looked. You’ve tried to find a way to spare her from this.”

A tiny nod. Hesitant. Uncertain whether it had been enough, and whether it even mattered anymore.

Ethari surged forward, gasping in deep relief, and hugged Runaan tightly. His arms squeezed around his husband, pinning him against his heaving chest. Runaan’s arms hesitantly slid around Ethari in return.

“Then I still know you, my heart.” Ethari’s whisper danced against Runaan’s ear.

A sudden, soft cry flew free of Runaan’s mouth, and he clung hard, digging his fingers into Ethari’s crop top. His cry ended with a deep gasp of relief, and he buried his face against Ethari’s scarf. His shoulders tensed and released, and he nodded against Ethari’s collarbone.

“You keep her safe.” Ethari’s voice was urgent, even as he held Runaan with tight reassurance. “She’s all we have left. Keep her safe.”

Runaan lifted his head, and his steady gaze met Ethari’s. Despite the fresh tear tracks on his cheeks, his breathing was even and his eyes were clear. His brows rose softly, and a small smile lurked in the corner of his mouth. “I’d be lost without the advice of my heart.”

Ethari pulled one arm free and pressed his hand atop Runaan’s chest. “I’d be lost without the dedication of my heart. I should’ve trusted it more, and I’m sorry. I won’t fight you on this anymore. Your way, Runaan.”

Runaan’s expression struggled with angst for a long moment before he nodded. “My way. For what it’s worth.”

Ethari leaned his forehead against his husband’s. “I trust you with all that I love, my heart. I trust you.”

His lips brushed Runaan’s softly, surrendering to a fate that had held them in its grip for far longer than he realized. If it wouldn’t let them loose, then he’d just have to hang on all the tighter.

Runaan kissed him back with urgent softness, hungry for Ethari’s trust. “I won’t fail you. I’ll make it right. I promise.”

And Ethari smiled and nodded, pretending for love that such things were possible.

#ruthari ficlet #ruthari #tdp angst #ruthari angst #did i mention the angst #my writing

[nissakii]

Is Kageyama Tobio an ISTJ? - MBTI Analysis with functions

Spoiler warning for the entirety of the Haikyuu!! anime Parts of the manga after chapter 292 will not be discussed. Thread with caution dear reader!

This is the new and improved MBTI type analysis for the Haikyuu!! character Kageyama Tobio. You can read the old one here.

After a lot of research and also input from other readers and writers, we have started to analyse and type differently when it comes to the Myers Briggs Type Indicator. There are tools out there better equipped to type and examine the abundance of personalities out there which are called cognitive functions.

You might already be aware of it, but Makii has delved deep into those functions for her BNHA Compatibility : La Brava and Gentle/Sidekick and her Villain post. With extensive research, she has brought up beautiful points there, please feel free to check it out!

Now that we know about these functions, and Haikyuu!! To the Top is in our arsenal as well, I shall go over Kageyama’s personality type again and we will see if he still is our ISTJ setter!

Now to explain first before we dive into Kageyama’s personality, what exactly are those functions?

This time, instead of going with the Letters that you might already know (I/E, N/S, T/F and P/J) and shuffling those together, we are looking at four core functions that play out differently in each person.

Explanation is coming, stay with us!

These core four are the perceiving functions; Sensing (S) and Intuition (N), and the judging functions; Thinking (T) and Feeling (F).

The judging functions, as the name reiterates, shows us how someone judes things. How they make their decisions and what their values are. What does the person do with information taken from their surroundings? How do they analyse it?

The perceiving functions on the other hand are all about the perceptions of said information. When you look at the world, what do they see? What stays in their head? What catches their eye and how do they interact with it all?

It's easier to remember when you think of the concept as taking in information and then sorting it.

Now each person has a natural preference as to how they use their function. In this case we look at extraversion and introversion again, and see how their functions are used. If one f.e. prefers to use their Sensing trait internally we will add a small ‘i’ next to it so it becomes introverted Sensing Si.

Looks familiar?

These are the small abbreviations you might see around when looking at type discussions, and then they are arranged in the order of preference.

With the stack we always alternate between introverted and extroverted functions, and the order of the functions are always JPPJ or PJJP (Perceiving and Judging) which now forms our previously known 16 personality types!

The four functions get stacked and form the “Function stack” or “Cognitive stack” which can look a little like this:

Fi (Introverted Feeling) Ne (Extroverted Intuition)

Si (Introverted Sensing) Te (Extroverted Thinking)

This would’ve been my personal stack as an INFP, and an even better way to properly look at how the personality type works. The first function in the stack is the most prominent and the last is the weakest, which can already tell you a lot about how a person sees the world.

Now that we have finished this rather lengthy explanation, let’s dive into Kageyama Tobio’s cognitive functions shall we?

Dominant Function: Si

The dominant function is the first function, and the one that encompasses said person the most. It is their core being, what they truly are and what most people see for the first time.

The dominant function also establishes if the person behaves like an extrovert or an introvert.

“I am not introverted!” is what we hear from Kageyama the first time this topic is mentioned in the anime. But is that really true? He is often seen as reserved and collected from the outside. A forceful and possessing figure,

“The King”.

Extroversion and Introversion is easier explained if we take it like the workings of a battery. As Makii has mentioned in her post as well, if you spend a lot of time with people do you feel more energized or is your energy depleted afterwards?

I feel like it’s important to mention that Kageyama’s biggest passion is volleyball, which is amplified by him saying how he would despair only if he couldn’t play volleyball anymore.

As an athlete Kageyama can’t really play volleyball alone, so saying he’s extroverted just because he’s always adamant on playing doesn’t really prove if he’s an extrovert.

In this case, what is the first thing we see with Kageyama? What would be the most dominant function for him?

If we typed him right the last time, and he actually is an ISTJ, that would be the Sensing function.

Sensing is the perceiving function that is all about organisation and strong discipline. People with dominant Sensing have the innate ability to look at what they do and maximize everything to the fullest potential. As we’ve established that kageyama definitely behaves like an introvert even though he might have some outbursts, that makes his first function ‘introverted Sensing’ or Si.

Kageyama still has his priorities laid out in front of him, but he is also very particular on how things are supposed to be done. He accumulates information and experiences from his past and uses those to evaluate current facts.

That is why Si-Te characters are often shown to be adamant on their strategies or typical 'textbook' learners. They do things in a mundane and familiar way rather than try out new things.

He’s known as the genius who is able to make incredible sets with shocking precision, and he has the highest expectations on himself and others. His Si is what makes him think deeply of only the things he is interested in, and makes sure to use practical and methodical ways of action. All of this is internalized in Kageyama’s brain, he doesn’t talk much about it and sometimes even has no concept of it himself, but his work ethic and controlling nature shows us that this function fits him very well.

Auxiliary Function: Te

The Auxiliary function is the second most preferred and used function, especially there to support the first dominant function. As the first function in introverts is internal, the second is external and therefore extroverted.

It is the first and most immediate thing that will be noticed by others when they interact with Kageyama.

His Si might be internal and therefore established when he is focused or when he lets other people see it, his Auxiliary as an ISTJ would be the Thinking function.

Extroverted Thinking, or also Te would show his love for routine and efficiency and also the reason why Kageyama often works to his limits and trains properly everyday to attain his goals. It also fuels his competitiveness, which is the first thing Hinata sensed about him when they met.

It is all about winning and winning until he beats Oikawa and becomes the best of the best.

Him being a hothead would explain that his Thinking trait is extroverted, when it comes to his training regimen for example Kageyama is very strict. He understands the importance of pushing his limits and working through every obstacle until it is solved.

His first two functions Si-Te show the adamant way of carefully planning the way he needs to pursue their goals.

Like mentioned before with the first quote of Kageyama wanting to win all his games in the future, those are not just empty words. He is shown to have a training routine that he follows diligently and he always nags Hinata to not just hit spikes but also work on his weak receives.

This also explains the white board in Kageyama’s room that shows a very complex workout schedule.

Kageyama’s goal is to stay on the court the longest and become the absolute best, and he is aware that all of that doesn’t come from nothing. Logic, strategy and internalizing and sticking with his own principles is a strong indicator for his Si-Te stack.

We often see that Kageyama still has some difficulties using his Auxiliary Te, as he tends to overindulge in this function. Especially when Kageyama is stressed or overwhelmed by a situation, we can see that more clearly.

He then tends to become very stiff and his judgment turns very black and white, which is seen for example when he already decided for himself what the role of the setter entails. Instead of looking at it from the perspective of Hinata as well, which was a piece of advice Oikawa had to give him before he could understand that more fully.

These traits make him very inflexible which turns to him not being able to change plans and ideas, we see this when he was reluctant to change the quick attack to something that could've been improved.

His recent interactions in season four are also an indicator of his stiff and humorless attitude that conforms his Auxiliary. It's the reason why Atsumu was able to get into his head space while calling him a "goody two shoes", which Kageyama couldn't fully understand until he broke apart.

Tertiary Function: Fi

The Tertiary function is now one of the weaker and strained functions that a person exhibits. As the first two functions of the stack show us the accumulated personality of someone, we must know that balance is very important.

The third and supporting function makes sure that there is a healthy balance in the cognitive stack and it also acts as a slow break to the first two.

Kageyama’s third function should be an internalized one, as we’ve established in the beginning that the functions alternate from being extroverted and introverted. For his personal stack, the next function is his introverted Feeling or Fi for short.

To his very analytical and strategic behaviour, to conform to a good balance the setter needs to learn how to factor his own and other people’s emotions into the mix.

Fi exhibits itself as a sort of sensitivity to other people’s feelings. In the first season of Haikyuu!! We see Kageyama slowly and politely trying to sense the people around him in a very clumsy manner. He needs to know how he can take the perspectives of other people and apply them to his own course of action.

“Azumane-san, how was that toss just now?”

Pairing well with his observant nature, he accumulates actual facts to accommodate his peers. He might have a problem getting his emotions in check, but when it comes to volleyball his straightforward approach is what helps him determine how to f.e. set to someone new. In this moment his Fi becomes a gentle reminder that he needs to dial it down sometimes and consider how others feel.

Even if he does register other people’s emotions he uses them in a logical context instead of an emotional one, while keeping facts and logical aspects like skill and technique as a first priority.

And that is why his Feeling trait is less prominent, but still an important asset to his whole stack. If he overindulges in his Auxiliary and uses his inferior Feeling trait to compensate for that overly stiff and possessive nature, he might fall into what we call on this instance a Fi loop.

Signs for such a Fi loop would be the reluctance to see that problems are getting worse by using a black and white approach or knowing that the current course of actions could be improved but not changing it.

We can see this when Kageyama knew exactly that the first quick attack was stopped by other good players and could be improved, but did not back away from his original play. Even though Hinata told him to his face that it soon wouldn't work anymore.

He then interprets his own feelings as immediate facts and factors them into his decision making as "facts" which only fuels his Auxiliary Te, and then the loop continues.

Kageyama sees himself as the best and strives to overcome everyone who is in the way, so in his case he interprets his own feelings of "I am good/better" into actually being factual. His own feelings then cooperate to back up his own strategies.

Inferior Function: Ne

The infamous last function is also called the inferior function, and as the name states the most weak.

It is a person's emergency break or great strength and if not developed fully, can be their achilles heel.

It may be the weakest function of one's stack, but it has a huge impact for when it actually comes out. For the analytical type that Kageyama is, his Feeling and Intuition are bound to be the latter functions in his stack. That doesn't mean that he is emotionless or doesn’t like to try out new things true to his Intuition, it just means that he personally would rather value things by rationality and logic than emotion and theory.

Still, his Extroverted Intuition or his Ne is what wants new and exciting ideas to develop in his thought process. As it is the inferior function, it is only usable in small amounts of time and often associated less with Kageyama’s true character.

A good example for a Ne and Si conflict would be the season two improved quick attack.

As a Si-Dom he is less imaginative and likes to use things that always work for him. If he finds a safe route, he will cling to that stability and continue to pursue it, disregarding everything else.

When Kageyama started on the “freak attack” with Hinata he found said stability. Seeing the immediate boost it gave the team and the satisfaction that Hinata had in the beginning, it was especially hard for him later when the middle blocker demanded more.

Why change something if it is already perfect?

To have a direct comparison, Oikawa with introverted Intuition (Ni) as his Auxiliary function immediately saw room for improvement behind the success rate and a chance to make something “perfect” even better, while Kageyama was clutching on the current path that was successful.

Oikawa took his time to give every member in Karasuno advice and tips on how to improve, he is often seen observing in the background and pushing everyone he works with to their fullest potential. That is his internalized dialogue that plays with new ideas and concepts as he takes in his world.

When it came to the freak quick attack, it was shown that Kenma with extroverted Intuition (Ne) as his Auxiliary saw the weakness in it as well, pushing Hinata to want to improve it.

Kageyama's weakness is that he didn’t see the bigger picture, but only the short term solution that was most effective.

Another reason why the inferior function is so important, is because under high amounts of stress any personality can fall into an episode called ‘the grip’, in Kageyama's case that would be the infamous Ne-grip.

If caught in a spiral of routine that is a lot higher and alarming than most other days, a Si-Te with Ne grip can get irrationally scared of the future and compare it to bad things that happened in the past. Freezing up and getting the feeling that something may have already gone wrong 'just like last time'.

A good example for a really strong Ne-grip for Kageyama would be his middle school experience with his team when they abandoned him finally after he taunted them for their efforts and this memory makes him stop in his tracks and over think his current state.

His fear of situations taking a wrong turn and reliving past mistakes again makes Kageyama show signs of Ne-grip.

It's Hinata or the general new support system of Karasuno and even Oikawa who have to pull him out of his grip, when he starts to get overwhelmed by the sheer possibility of something going wrong just like last time.

Conclusion:

After this new analysis and with the help of other researchers and the personality database, it is now well established that I truly believe Kageyama is an ISTJ.

The reserved and logically inclined Si-Te setter who can still be a bit emotional with his Fi might feel quite ambiguous, still I think that his responses to sudden change and inefficiency due to his inferior Ne already determine a lot about him and his personality.

It truly was a pleasure to look at this whole analysis again and see if Kageyama was truly typed correctly, and I encourage every single one of you to look into your own cognitive stack to find out more about yourself!

Now what do you guys think? Agree or disagree with me? I would love to know if you have typed with or without functions in the past and what your experience with it is!

Until then, to the next tea time!

Ah~ this tea tastes the same and yet… Quite different now~

-Nissa

#kageyama tobio #tobio kageyama #kageyama #haikyuu!! #haikyuu #haikyuu kageyama #haikyuu!! kageyama #ha #hq #hq!! #haikyu #haikyu!! #istj #mbti kageyama #mbti anime #mbti anime character #mbti functions #kageyama functions #stack #istj stack #kageyama istj #haikyuu mbti #nissakii #nissakiiblog #blog

[vacation-grif]

What kinda feelings?

A LOT, ACTUALLY. Like I said before, the RTNY group was telling me to skip it because it wasn’t a good season, and I want to express how much I wanted to just form my own opinion, only to end up agreeing with them in the end. Let me break this down as best as I can now that I am on my PC. I mean no disrespect to the director and writer, as well as the cast and crew. Honestly, I’m worried that my opinion makes me feel like a boomer at this point.

First off, if anyone was going to tell me that I’m going to have headaches over bright flashing lights and colors over a Red vs Blue series, I wouldn’t have believed you. As I said before, they should’ve just called this “Red vs Blue: Epilepsy Warning THE M0VIE”. I understand that they are using the Unreal Engine, because my god the graphics on this is INSANE. But everything is...too bright. TOO. BRIGHT. Everything has a lens flare no matter where the camera turns, and with the high paced action, all the lights and colors, it HURTS.

-

Next, this is a fully CG-animated season. We haven’t had one like that in SUCH a long time, and this is the first in the 20-ish years of Red vs BLue. When I was a kid who didn’t have a cellphone, I could only imagine what Red vs Blue was like when my best friend would play it over our landline on a weeknight before we would go to school the next day. And I would come over and be like, HOLY SHIT. IS THIS FUCKING HALO?! So imagine my excitement when after 8 years of Red vs Blue using Halo 1 to Halo 3 assets, you see a Warthog just crash through the walls of Valhalla, something you’d never see in a Halo game. A fully animated scene of Grif running over Washington (hell yeah), and an angry Washington outside of his game model just climbing onto the hood of the car and shooting at Grif through the windshield at pointblank range. Then cut to episode 10 of the same season, Tex makes her triumphant return, fully animated instead of her Halo 3 game model. And in the last two episodes of the season, you get OUR VERY FIRST FREELANCER VS FREELANCER FIGHT. You find out this was the work of the late Monty Oum (rest in peace), and until Season 10, Red vs Blue was THE HIGHEST POINT OF YOUR FUCKING LIFE.

Then we go to Season 12 where the animation post Oum (he was working on RWBY at this point but iirc this was just before he died) was choppy at best and didn’t feel right until Season 13, where within the one year the animation team REALLY stepped up. And this actually carries over into Season 17, Singularity, where it became more animation and less game effects, or rather it was balanced. It wasn’t extravegant like Oum’s works, but given that these are the Simtroopers, some Freelancers, some Mercs, and time gods, it felt par for the course. It felt right.

We cut now to these upgraded graphics, which felt like when you were playing on your Xbox 360 and you jsut FUCKING SHOT into the Xbox One. It was, as you would say, unreal (lol). But it felt...off. The first two episodes, the entire action didn’t feel like what you spent 16 seasons watching. It felt like a whole another beast entirely. With the use of super powers, you would think oh the Freelancers had that! Yes, but those were all suit enhancements. These...didn’t feel like it. Zero’s and Phase’s teleportation didn’t feel like something that Fragmented AI can control. Shatter Squad’s at least felt more at home. 

The models themselves were a bit off too. Choppy at best, but understandable given that they were using the Unreal Engine. But you notice that they do a lot of hand on hip pushed out to the side type of thing a lot? Everyone does it. Except Raymond, West, and the big dude. Like the SASSY STANCE. Also, there was way too much power stance. Where if your feet were shoulder width apart, it was a bit wider, and also the pelvis was out a little more. A bit weird. Finally, everyone has an ass. Everyone. Even West. West has an ass, it was like, everyone was dummy thicc and the clap of their ass cheeks was alerting Viper.

-

Next, voice acting. I...absoultely could not stand the voice acting. It was completely over the top, overdramatic, over exaggerated. Granted, I’m a singer, a perform, but I’m not exactly a good actor myself in the few shows I’ve actually done. It felt like watching an anime. When you wtach something with dialogue of your own language, you can tell when you feel something is to over the top. If you watch something of a language you don’t speak, it’ll go over your head, unless you start to speak that language, and you speak to people who speak that language, then you start to pick up what is regular speaking and what is acting. When an anime gets dubbed, most times, the voice actors tend to over dramatacize in the same way the Japanese due, and some times it works, most times it doesn’t. This is because the Japanese way of acting comes from kabuki theater. When English dubbers do that with this weird over emphasized emotions, it is extremely offputting.

In some places, the voice acting is poorly done. Jen Brown’s performance from just getting out of a hospital to giving an expositional lecture about the new cast in literally 5 seconds of time was...off. Carolina should’ve had more time to recover, especailly after losing Washington, one of her closest surrogate family, she felt...a little too calm and normal. Not like the Carolina who was hesitant but trying her best to be a whole better person (see the Paradox Arc, S15-17). It was jsut quick shift, and now she’s making snarky remarks in that Jen Brown voice she does (my god step on me please) and also being a mother hen. Also, she really calls Washington David way more this season than she ever did before that.

Fiona’s performance was shaky at best in my opinion, I don’t know her very well outside of what everyone says. All I know is that sometimes, the way she emphasizes some of her lines don’t fit the situation very well. I think East/Phase was a lot better done than One imo. But she was mostly angry and competitive.

Raymond is the textbook definition of what I hate about taking a character’s role and making it their entire personality. Think of it like watching Power Rangers, and all of their roles is just defined by the shit they say. Jason is the jock, Kimberly is the pretty girl, Trini is......I’m not gonna lie, I don’t...know what to classify Trini, Zack was the cool guy, and Billy was the nerd (Tommy was Jock II also the rebel/loner). Raymond reminded me a lot like Billy, where Billy was defined by being so smart, half of his dialogue was just look at me, i’m fucking smart, let me use all of these big words. Half of Raymond’s dialogue was, look at me, i’m the tech guy, I’m nerdy and loveable, it felt like it was too over the top of trying to stand out. By the end of the season, after East’s big reveal, I started to like him a lot more because he knew what was more at stake. I want to say that my initial impression of him was immature at best.

West was too stiff. Just.. Too stiff. I get he’s old. But show some emotion, please.

Why am I emphasizing on this more? When you listen to the dialogue of RvB, and then you listen at this, even with the return cast of Carolina, Washington, and Tucker, the direction was different. I think it’s because of the new medium with Zero being all super animated like an action, where RvB was just a bunch of net videos that you’re gonna laugh at with well timed jokes. It was super casual, but also super real. Geoff and Gus and everyone else aren’t big actors or anything, but that’s what made it feel real. That’s what made RvB feel like its own thing.

-

In terms of writing, I get that this is RvB meets FnF (Fast and Furious). But I honestly feel that it doens’t belong. The story of Shatter Squad vs Viper would have been a lot better if it didn’t have the RvB name tacked on. It’s such a cool concept, but given what RvB was before, the tonal shift is jsut too great, especially when you only have 3 of the previous cast returning.

Speaking of, what happened to Tucker?! What happened to the guy who became a leader? Responsible? Not as arrogant? Maybe playfully arrogant at best, but not stroking his ego? What happened to HIS SWORD? Did they forget how Tucker’s sword works? That it only works IF HE DIES? Tucker didn’t die, and yet Phase was able to use his sword (which by the way is now hers). One of the earliest stories/gags of RvB and they just...retconned it and threw it away! Also, Tucker’s voice acting did NOT match the scene at all. It’s like watching a video game that was localized from Japanese, and the dubbers spoke too fast before the character could finish. Tucker moves outside of his dialogue and there is this weird seconds of silence. That...that was just a BAD return for him.

-

My final thought is that, if RvB Zero is not...the RvB I grew up with. Maybe the jokes are dated, but the memories of what RvB was is still real. This just...doesn’t feel like RvB anymore. This should have just been it’s own show, it’s own story, replace Wash and Carolina and Tucker with new characters, it just wasn’t their place to be in this.

The only thing I liked about this? I’m glad Danielle (I’m assuming this is how you would spell her name) didn’t go AWOL and returned to the team. I actually really liked her the most next to Axel. She was done dirty, but she still held on to that one bond she had as East that Zero didn’t give her as Phase.

-

I know this is probably not a great opinion, and I really hope that Rooster Teeth finds the ground they want this series to go in. Sometimes, you have to try new things, or else staying stagnant will make it go stale. It’s all about trial and error. I don’t know how everyone else feels about Zero, how the new audience and the old audience feels. RvB as a whole wasn’t perfect. They had their down moments. But when you feel that way for an entire season...it’s a problem.

#grif liveblogs #grif liveblogs rvb #rvb #red vs blue #red vs blue zero #Anonymous #spoilers #rvb negativity

[ayamari-no-goshi]

Eidolon 10 | (T)

ff.net | AO3

Fandom: Danny Phantom (DP)

Summary:  AU: What started off as the result of a simple act of rebellion ends up causing his life to spin out of control. How will young Danny cope with the results as well as a past that has a strange habit of coming back to haunt him.

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, kidnapping, and various other things

Parings: hints of Danny/Sam much later on

Notes: originally uploaded to Ff.net. Cross-posted to AO3 and tumblr

10. Aftermath

"So… What do you think he is?" Tucker asked her as they made their way to the kitchen to grab some lunch. It was about noon, and since Danny was still not awake -or showed any signs of waking, he had decided to put food on the top of his priority list. "Don't get me wrong. I'm thankful Danny went all glowy and beat that thing, but something that weird… And you got to admit, it was pretty weird…. Couldn't have come from a human."

"'Glowy'?" Sam asked while trying not to laugh. Oddly enough, it did help to lighten her bad mood brought on by exhaustion, fear, and paranoia. After Danny had somehow magically transported them back to her front yard and passed out, she and Tucker managed to sneak back into her house while carrying him and make it into her room undetected by her parents. Tiring as that and the chase from earlier was she was unable to convince herself they were safe and began constantly checking the window for any signs of the creature. Needless to say, by morning, she hadn't been able to fall asleep.

He just shrugged as he opened the large kitchen door and allowed Sam to pass through first. "I don't know what else to call it. I guess 'luminous' could work, but it doesn't really fit either."

"And 'glowy' does?"

"Probably not, but at least it's specific."

Though she would never admit it out loud, he did have a point. When Danny had taken a stand against the monster, ghost… whatever it actually was, it almost looked as if tendrils of greenish-white energy was wrapping around him. As it became more noticeable, it gave his body the illusion it was actually glowing. Even more startling was the change in his eyes and hair color. His eyes changed to a toxic shade of green which shouldn't exist in this world, and his hair had become a brilliant shade of white with a silvery sheen. After Danny had passed out, the white color seemed to seep out, leaving behind his naturally black hair after a couple minutes. Hopefully his eyes had returned to their natural color too.

"Anyway… what do you think we should take up to Danny?" By the time he spoke, Tucker had already started putting together a rather impressive lunch meat and mayo sandwich on one of the white marble counters. While Sam could not even look at the growing monstrosity, she was impressed by the knowledge he had of her kitchen. He had been over way too many times.

She thought for a moment as she searched one of the polished mahogany cabinets for some supplies of her own. "Well… probably bland foods like toast or rice would be best. Since he tends to get sick after anything weird happens to him, those are the only types of food that shouldn't cause any problems…"

"I didn't… even think about that…" he replied between chews, much to Sam's dismay. "Whatever that power… or weirdness is, it really seems to do a number on him."

"Yeah… and let's just hope it doesn't kill him in the process."

This particular episode had been particularly bad for Danny. Before carrying him into the house, she had checked his vital signs only to find no sign of life. His pulse was nonexistent, his breathing had ceased, and his body was freezing to the touch. Both of them had begun to panic and tried to remember what they could of CPR. Luckily for Tucker -what was it with guys and CPR? - Danny let out a shaky breath even before they got a chance to start.

Unsure what to make of the situation, they just stood there, dumbfounded, for a moment before deciding to take the seemingly unconscious and not dead boy into the house. If it was any other person, she would have called an ambulance without a second thought, but there was no way such strange events could be explained or probably even treated by a doctor. Besides, if he seemed fine now, it was unlikely a doctor would be able to do anything. Originally, they decided whoever woke up first would make sure Danny was still among the living, but with her being unable to sleep she checked on him regularly. His breathing and pulse seemingly remained steady, but his body, though a little warmer, still remained very cool to the touch; Combined with his naturally pale skin kept causing her to compare him to a cadaver.

An awkward tension filled the air for a moment while they made their lunches. Unnerved, Sam was about to say something, but a strange look from Tucker stopped her. "What's wrong?"

"Sam… this might sound weird, but what if that's the point? What if this power that's taken hold of him really is going to kill him?" he asked as he put his sandwich down and looked her in the eyes. "Didn't Danny say something before about how the ghost you two saw in the cemetery said that he didn't belong to this world? And didn't it also suggest he didn't have a lot of time left? And didn't that thing that chased us last night call him 'Ghost Child'…. I don't know about you, but it just seems like, if you think about it, everything's suggesting he's going to die."

"Tucker, how can you say something like that?" she snapped while trying to prevent any emotion, save for anger, from crossing her face. During her vigil, similar thoughts had crossed her mind, but she tried to completely ignore them. She had noticed Danny always seemed drained and weak after the power manifested, almost as if his 'energy or' life was its power source. It seemed quite possible it could kill him if it continued, but the cryptic hints they kept getting suggested maybe that was what the power needed.

No! She wasn't going to think like that! Nothing as horrible as that was going to happen to Danny. They were going to somehow figure out how to help him, and she didn't need such terrible thoughts floating around her mind. She cringed as she once again tried to suppress them. Having the idea be said aloud seemed to somehow confirm it, even with absolutely no proof. "Let's just focus on finishing so we can get back to Danny. I wonder if he's awake yet…"

"If you say so… but before we do that, can you please explain why your toaster's floating?"

Sam had to chuckle as she watched Tucker begin to panic and quickly put space between him and unassuming yet levitating toaster. Glancing at it to make sure it was actually plugged in and in use; she shrugged and moved over to retrieve its contents. "It's from Denmark. This usually happens."

"Wait… what?"

….

Surprisingly, when they returned to Sam's room, Danny was awake and sitting up on the deep purple bed. He looked terrible. His blue eyes were dull, and the dark rings under them attested to just how tired he really was. His body was also incredibly sore and stiff, but nothing more seemed to be wrong with him. Sam couldn't help but be relieved. As she watched him thankfully accept the tray of food, it seemed as if there would be no lasting problems from the night's events.

After finishing his light meal, Danny hesitantly asked what happened the previous night. Unsure where to start, she looked to Tucker for some help, and within a few minutes, the combined effort of the two got him up to speed. He accepted it silently, though Sam did notice he kept looking down at his hands. It was almost as if he was checking to make sure they still looked the same. It unnerved her slightly, but she tried to push it aside as she suggested a good break from all the weirdness would be a monster movie marathon. Both Danny and Tucker gave her looks suggesting they questioned her sanity, but after a few minutes of persuasion and a mention of the room sized television in the entertainment room, they happily changed their minds.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

It was official. The best way to recover from a mysterious paranormal fight was to sit and watch movies in Sam's gigantic theater. Not only did Danny get to relax in some of the most comfortable chairs he had ever encountered, but the ability to laugh with his friends as they poked fun at the terrible effects further alleviated the stress weighing down on him. Surprisingly, they were able to get through three movies without being interrupted.

After glancing at fancy clock hanging from the wall, he realized it was almost dinner time. "Hey, I should probably be getting home soon. Knowing Winston, he'll be getting worried."

"Do you think you're up to walking home?" Sam asked as she gave him an appraising glance. "You're welcome to stay another night."

A chuckle escaped him as he thought about her parents' reactions to the suggestion. Although he had only briefly met them, something told him the couple was already not too fond of him. "I think I can handle it." That was an obvious lie. His body still felt as if he had been put inside of an industrial dryer on spin mode, but how else was he going to get home? He didn't want to impose on Sam, Winston would start asking questions, and he certainly didn't have the money to call a taxi. "Besides, the walking might help with the stiffness."

"Or it could make it worse. Seriously dude, you should be taking it as easy as you can. Kicking some serious butt can be really tiring." Tucker's tone was playful and encouraging, but Danny knew he was trying to hide his own concerns about the strange event. Judging by how Sam and Tucker were acting when they entered the room after he woke up, the two most likely had a serious conversation about what happened. Though they tried to make him feel as if nothing was wrong, he could sense their worry.

He was about to start arguing but Sam quickly cut him off. "If you really think you should leave, at least I can do is to have my driver give you a ride home. I mean, you did save our lives."

"Thanks… but are you sure..? Wait, you have your own driver?" he asked, unsure if he had heard her correctly.

Sam fidgeted for a moment before answering. "Well, he's technically one of the drivers for my family, but I'm on better terms with him than my parents…. So, he's kinda unofficially mine."

"There's more than one…? Never mind." He cut himself off after a moment. "I don't want to know the specifics." The lives of the rich were hard to comprehend.

…..

After about a half an hour, the three of them were in the back of a stretch limo complete with its own mini bar stocked with several foreign drinks. Neither Sam nor Tucker actually needed to come, but they refused to let him go home alone. Danny just figured it was their way of showing concern. Though he didn't really need it, he didn't mind as their presence made the short ride more enjoyable.

When he arrived home, he was expecting a quite scene. Winston's silver Chevy would be sitting in the driveway, and while Winston himself would either be tending his modest garden or doing some paperwork in the study. But, instead of normalcy, chaos greeted him.

Yellow police tape had been placed around the perimeter of the yard and across the open front door. Several police cars were sitting, not only in front of the house, but also in his and the neighbor's driveway. A few officers were standing in the yard talking to each other while wearing serious expressions. Another was entering the house along with a couple people in white uniforms. Before the limo could even come to a stop, Danny jumped out of it and ran to the house, only to be stopped by some of the officers.

"I'm Danny, Winston's charge," he nearly shouted after one of the officers grabbed him while trying to explain he could not enter a crime scene. "What happened? Where's Winston? Does he know? Is he alright?"

"Wait, you're Wolf's kid?" another office asked as he approached. "We put out an alert saying you were missing. So you weren't in the house last night?"

"No, I…"

"Excuse me, Sir," Sam interrupted as she and Tucker ran over. "Danny was with us last night. He was staying over my house."

"He's not in trouble, is he?" There was a noticeable shiver within Tucker's voice, but he was doing his best not to show any other sign of nervousness. "Because we can totally vouch for him! We were with him for most of the day yesterday."

The officer held up his hand as a signal to let him talk. A trouble look crossed his face as he removed his hat and ran his free hand through his graying hair. After collecting himself, he held his hand out for Danny to shake. "I wish we could have met under friendlier circumstances, but I'm Sergeant Ross. We were called to your house after one of your neighbors called in some concerns about the safety of your dad. They thought they had heard gun shots last night but shrugged it off until they realized they never saw him leave the house today. We even received a confirmation from his work that he never arrived."

Danny bit his lip as he listened quietly. Winston almost never missed work, even if he was very sick. So, knowing that, something had to have gone seriously wrong, and Danny wasn't exactly sure if he was ready to find out what.

"I hate to say it, but it was a good thing we did decided to check on him," Ross continued as he looked him in the eye. "Your dad's currently in J. Marley Central Hospital and is being treated for several severe injuries from… what we think was a home invasion."

"No... That's impossible…" Danny stuttered after a few confused moments. "Winston's an ex-marine… He would have fought back. No one could have done that much damage…"

"Son, take it easy. This isn't the time for this…"

"You don't understand! Winston can take care of himself! There's a gun under his mattress for goodness' sake! He's always been prepared for something like this to happen! Some lame burglar couldn't have put him in the hospital!"

"Wait… did you say that Wolf owned a gun?" Ross asked carefully. "What kind was it?"

"I'm not exactly sure…. It's not like I saw it every day or anything," he replied gruffly as he tried to keep his feelings quelled long enough to try and answer the question. It wasn't like the officer had anything to do with Winston being hurt, but he certainly didn't want to be answering any questions. "I know it's some type of hand gun…. Maybe it's a .28… The box of bullets was sitting in the shelf on the study."

A concerned expression crossed the Sergeant's face as he called over to another officer. "Have any of the men found a firearm in or around the premises?" When the man shook his head, Ross' expression became grim. He then told the man to grab a couple of the other officers and search the area again, as well as finding a record of Winston's gun registration. After the other officer left, Ross turned back to Danny. "Well, I can't say I'm pleased by this new information… But I'm glad you mentioned it." He gave the boy a searching look before he spoke again. "I'm going to need to take you down to the precinct so you can give your official statement and maybe answer a few questions. Then we're going to need to go through your house and see if anything has been stolen."

"Wait… now?" Danny half demanded, half choked. "You're not going to let me see Winston first?"

"He's in the hospital…"

"You told me that, but you haven't told me anything else!" He had to fight to keep his voice and hands under control. Something in the back of his mind told him the officer would not appreciate it if he started waving his hands around while he was agitated. "Winston's all I have! I need to see for myself just how bad it is. I'll answer any question you have afterwards, but please, please let me see him first!"

"I can't let you do that."

"Why? Wait… I know what's going on… You think I did this." His eyes narrowed as he pointed at the officer. "I can't believe you! You're supposed to be trying to find whoever did this to Winston! Instead, you're wasting your time looking at me. I wasn't even home last night!" He took a breath to try and calm down for a moment as Tucker put his hand on his shoulder in a comforting gesture. With each breath, he could feel himself shaking in rage. "If anything, you should be looking at that Masters guy…"

It was the officer's turn to be suspicious. "…You don't mean Vlad Masters, do you?"

"I think so… He and Winston don't seem to get along…"

"And don't forget! He's the one who snuck into your house that one day!" Tucker added as he gave a shudder. "That's the day we heard Mr. Wolf yelling. No offense dude, but he's really frightening when he's mad."

"Tell me about it…"

"Back up a minute," the officer interrupted while rubbing his eyes. "You're telling me, Vlad Masters broke into your house. What business does someone like him have in your house?"

Could this officer be any more irritating? Danny had to bite back a sarcastic reply as he answered the officer. "He said he was checking up on Winston since he had to reschedule a meeting… with I guess one of his assistants. According to him, our front door was open, and he went inside to make sure everything was okay." As the officer wrote down something on a little tablet that was pulled out of his pocket, Danny decided he had enough. "Look! I'll answer any of your questions later, but I'm not doing anything else until I get to see Winston!"

….

After a twenty minute standoff, Danny finally got his way. An irritated Sergeant Ross had escorted him to the hospital after finally realizing he wasn't going to get any answers. After the two stepped into the waiting area, he ran to the nearest available teller and practically demanded to know where Winston was being treated. After an agonizingly slow few minutes, he finally got an answer.

In retrospect, running as fast as he could through the halls was probably one of the worst things he could do in the hospital, but he really didn't care. He easily managed to avoid any obstacle he encountered. Who knew there would be so many movable computers, monitors, and people in those maze-like hallways? When he finally reached Winston's room, he was met with a wall of people. Several doctors all wearing dark expressions seemed to be deep in discussion as they blocked the only door into the room.

Unsure how to interrupt the doctors, he was happy to realize Winston's room had a window. Peeking in, he felt his breath hitch as he realized just how serious the attack on his guardian had been. Winston was unconscious and hooked up to a respirator. Several monitors were hooked up to the man, and two IV bags, one of blood and one of clear fluid, were also put in place. What little bit of skin was not covered by bandage or machine looked bruised and swollen. The overall image made Winston look like he was fragile enough to break if he was touched. Danny had to try and hold back tears as he wondered who could have done such a thing.

"How the hell did you get here so fast?" an out of breath voice asked from somewhere behind him making him jump. He turned around to see a rather winded Sergeant Ross giving him a searching look. "I couldn't go more than a few feet without out running into something."

Danny didn't say anything as he turned back towards the window. He didn't want to have Winston out of his sight for more than a few minutes. He just had this feeling something terrible would happen if he did.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but are you part of Winston's family?" A person wearing a white coat came into the periphery of his vision. Curious, he turned to see a young female doctor extending her hand to him. "I'm Dr. Sabo, and I'm currently in charge of managing him while he's here."

He hesitantly took her hand and explained who he was. "How… how is he?" Even he could hear the unease in his voice.

"That's the big question, isn't it?" Dr. Sabo frowned as she looked towards the window. "I hate to say it, but it's hard to tell at this point. Winston received several odd wounds from the attack."

"Odd…? How so?" the sergeant asked, surprising both Danny and the doctor.

She bit her lip as she tried to find the words to describe her thoughts. "It's the first time any of us have seen wounds like that. They almost seem to be large bullet wounds, but the edges of them act more like burns. And, to make matters worse, we were unable to locate any residual bullets there might have been. We're really at a loss for what happened to him."

"Will he be able to answer any questions?"

"I'm not sure. Winston, although stable, is in a terrible condition. He's going to have to be watched very carefully over the next several days. We're going to do our best to see that he heals, but it will be up to his body to make sure he recovers. From what I can see of him, he appears to be in very good shape for his age, so we're hopeful… but, you can never tell."

The world started to spin as Danny listened to the doctor go into more details about Winston's condition with the sergeant. He allowed himself to slide down the wall and sit as he tried to get some sort of grasp on the situation. He never thought he would be in this situation. He had once joked that Winston was too strong to ever be taken down by anything other than a renegade bus, but this had shown him Winston was human, just like everyone else.

Danny couldn't take it anymore. In an uncharacteristic moment of weakness, he buried his face in his hands and allowed the tears to come. It was a small comfort, but if he was going to have to deal with the police over the next several hours, he was going to need to be as strong as possible.

=======================================

Anyways, a couple things:

J. Marley Central Hospital is not a real place… at least I think so. I named it to keep in line with the ghost theme of the show. Jacob Marley was the first ghost who appeared to Ebenezer Scrooge in Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol.

Dr. Sabo and Sergeant Ross aren't all that important. They're really only there for this section.

And, can I just say that hospitals are the most confusing things on earth? Cuz, they are. There are at least fifteen hospitals within an hour and a half of my house, and all of them are mazes. The floor plans are ridiculous. You can't walk through them without encountering workers, movable computers and/or other medical devices, and let's not forget the robots. Don't ask about that last one. It is really funny to see them having a Mexican standoff though.

#Eidolon #fanfic #fanfiction #danny phantom #danny phantom au #dp #dp au #danny fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #vlad plasmius #vlad masters #supernatural #paranormal #fantasy

[tumbledfreckles]

Beside Me

A/N: I haven't written for 15 years but this came flooding out. I hope it isn't rubbish. It's very imitidating putting something out into a tumblr world that seems very tight-knit.

He heard her footsteps coming down the otherwise empty corridor.

He saw her distinctive shadow on the castle floor, through the gaps between his fingers as he held his head in hand, eyes trained down.

He felt her warmth as she sat next to him on the flagstones, her back sliding roughly, noisely down the wall.

He smelt her clean, gentle floral shampoo as her head came level with his.

"You didn't come to dinner."

"No."

Her intake of breath was audible as she took in his short, bitten response.

"Why?"

"Couldn't."

"How come?"

"'Cause."

Frustrated, she moved restly to find a more comfortable position on the hard, cold floor. Her shoulder clipped his elbow as she leant sideways to smooth her robes under her. His body stiffened involuntarily at the contact, fingers grasping more tightly at locks of unruly hair.

"You haven't been to meals since yesterday."

A grunt confirmed her statement. "Kitchens."

"I've barely seen you since..." she trailed off uselessly, unsure how to proceed, unsure of how to move through this uncharted territory, not a new situation, but new to them as a... whatever they were.

He didn't respond this time, but his knee started to shake, jerkingly, like he was trying to control the emotions that caused it, but wasn't having much luck.

"You haven't even looked at me."

"Not true." The words bit out of him before he could stop them, no more the master of his tongue than his knee.

"I'd have noticed."

"Been staring at me?"

"Yes actually. I tend to do that when I'm worried about someone I care for. And you haven't looked once."

Silence again.

Never had the wall in front of her seemed so interesting as she stared resolutely forward, feeling that familiar heat warm her normally pale skin.

"Nice plait."

"What?"

"Your hair. It's in a plait today. Not a ponytail. It looks nice."

Her head, her eyes, most of her body swung to face him. He hadn't moved from his position, still stiff, still clutching at his hair, still jiggling his knee, that one limb betraying his otherwise cool demeanour.

"So you'll look at me enough to notice my hairstyle, but not enough to meet my eye? To talk to me? To smile at me? Merlin, I'd take a scowl at this rate."

"Can't." As terse as the first word he'd spoken.

"But why?"

He fell silent again despite the lost quality in her voice.

Again she turned her attention back to the blank wall in front of them. Portraitless, armourless, not even a torch stand to distract her whirling thoughts.

"I get if your mad at me. I get that I keep getting into these scrapes. That I can't hold my tongue or stop injecting myself into situations that are going to draw attention to me. I know I shouldn't. But I can't help it. I have to do it. I can't sit back or turn a blind eye. You know that. Please, be mad, give me your anger. Shout if you have to. Just please, don't ignore me."

"I'm not ignoring you."

Her exasperated, unladylike snort changed them both. His body relaxed somewhat, though his knee continued to move. Her posture slumped as her gaze turned downward to her clenched hands.

"If your regretting becoming friends, I get that. If things are getting too crazy and you want to distance yourself, I get that too. If you want to report me to Dumbledore, you can do that."

He snorted this time, "Be a bit hypocritical of me."

"Well I wasn't going to bring that up. Thin ice and all." She couldn't help the smirk despite her ongoing anxiety. "Please, just let me have it."

"There's nothing to say. I'm not mad at you."

"James, please -"

He lifted his head to look at the wall in front too. "I'm not mad at you." The strength of his tone, convinced her that this at least, was true.

"Then why? Why won't you look at me?" Her eyes turned back to his of their own accord, boring into the side of his head.

His voice trembled as began to speak, the cold anger breaking his normally charmed tone.

"I can't look at you, because I don't know how to stay calm if I do. I don't know how to look at you, and not react. Not go and find those bastards. Not beat them to a pulp, with Sirius to help if I can find him on the way."

"James, I'm fine. And maybe you didn't hear, I took care of them myself."

"I heard. Sirius is very proud. I know you can handle yourself. I know you don't need me to fight your battles for you. But it doesn't stop me wanting to do it anyway. Doesn't stop me wanting to make sure you won't have to do it ever again"

"We're in a war, James. And I'm at the centre of it. You can't protect me from it."

Finally his eyes turned to meet hers. And she understood why he hadn't wanted to before. The hazel burned so much that the gold flecks seemed to move around, darting through his irises like lightening bolts.

"But I want to. I want to stand next to you, in front of you, behind you even. With you. Here in the castle, and next year, when we're out there. I want to protect you, as you protect me, as we protect our friends and everyone that doesnt deserve this shit. I want to be there through every moment, good and bad, triumphant and terrible. I want to be with you as badly as I want to kill those sorry excuses for wizards, and Lily, I'm terrified that you won't let me."

She couldn't look away from those eyes. Fumbling, she reached for his hand where it still rested against his knee, the knee that had finally stilled with his outpouring.

Looking down, he flipped his palm up as she reached, and felt flooded with warm as their fingers intertwined and squeezed.

"Beside me."

His eyes flicked back to hers. The fear in her tone had disappated. She spoke quietly now, but with growing confidence.

"You can stand beside me. We'll fight together."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. There's no one I'd rather have."

Finally he started to smile, and her own was blinding in return.

#jily fanfiction #jily angst #jily #pro jily #lily evans #james potter #hogwarts jily #canon jily #marauders fanfiction #marauder era #first attempt at writing in 15 years #i wrote something

[msiopao]

Nobi with the Members

WORLDWIDE HANDSOME

‘eomma!!!’

one yell from her and jin’s running in with a spatula, ready to beat the kids

thinks a lot of her outfits are revealing but gave up after nobi told him to stop complaining to the stylists

cooking buddies

feeds into jin’s ego at being handsome

‘kim seokjin? no. art? yes.’

babies nobi TOO much

even though she’s literally 24, he still treats her like she’s 12

thinks she can do no wrong and sees her as an angel

but nobi is such a bad influence

‘my hair is bothering my eyes and it makes me want to just cut if off’

*nobi handing him scissors* ‘do it’

constantly telling him that his dancing is perfect bc jin is insecure about the lack of his ability :(

even though he’s a better dancer than most

nobi tries to get him riled up so he talks all weird

the one who is actually genuinely tickled with jin’s jokes

eatjin’s legendary moments always have jin and nobi in it

goes to his hotel room just because he always has food and jin doesn’t have it in him to refuse her

the one who nags nobi the most regarding her eating

just her mom periodt

TONGUE TECHNOLOGY

gets hyper when nobi messes around

incredibly and ridiculously protective of her

helps her go through rough times as her therapist

yoongi mumbles under his breath and nobi is usually the only one who hears and will laugh as he curses someone quietly

nobi’s sense of humor is the closest with his

nap times are their bonding times

also composing

army always amazed bc nobi is the only who gets yoongi on crack mode

nobi always pinches his cheeks and she shrieks when he does that cute awkward smile

nobi absolutely flipped out when yoongi got really sick

always seeks yoongi’s approval so he’s the first one to see her lyrics

doesnt beat around the bush w it

if its bad, needs improvement

if its good, its the BEST LYRICS HES EVER READ

nobi hides her feelings well and he’s the only one who can get her to open up

during bst era, she hit her lowest

yoongi got very concerned and when she did finally talk, his heart just broke in half

she hates the fact that she can’t be the daughter her parents wanted

she hates the fact that she’s weak and breaks down easily

she hates the fact that she’s seen as a whore because she’s surrounded by boys she calls her brothers 24/7

she hates the fact that everything about her is considered wrong

that talk got them really close and yoongi makes it mission everyday to see her genuine and pretty smile

he lives for her happiness

uwu

HOBI

‘WELCOME TO THE HOBI NOBI SHOW!’

puppies

nobi hugs him a lot

whenever he dances, nobi has this look in her eyes that looks like hobi is the stars and the universe

both of them are the ones who keep the group’s mood up and tries to prevent fights

even when they’re tired from practice, they still smile and yells ‘hwaiting!’

while hobi is just a moodmaker in general,

nobi does it bc she hates confrontation and gets uncomfortable so she just blurts it out

nobi’s also a dancer so her and hobi dance ALL THE TIME

vlives w them are always filled with laughter and teasing

‘everyone, nobi just fell after hitting that spin’

‘YAH! NO I DIDNT!’

hobi is known to be a choroegrapher and nobi puts her input here and there and boom!

tbh idk why they even have a professional choreographer in the first place

hobi is a trained singer so nobi asks him to sing for her constantly

hes happy to oblige

armys live for the moments of them in run bts or vlives bc they have this vibe or bond that is just something you wished you had

JOONIE-HYUNG!

‘NOBI WATCH OUT!’

they’re the philosophical duo

nobi loves poetry and literature in general bc she tends to think really deeply 

their bonding time is those deep talks

as their leader, nobi goes to him for confirmation or approval for a lot of things

she’s always having english lessons w him and he tries his best to teach her so she could speak to int-army

bts calls them the clumsiest bc of joon’s usual clumsiness but nobi is always looking out for him so she doesnt pay attention to her surroundings and runs into something too

she loves his studio and hangs out the most even though joon’s always telling her to stay away

props up her feet on that fortune dollar table of his

when he speaks english in interviews, she watches him with a smile on her face

her dad

pats her head when she walks over to him

her and jimin crashes his vlives all the time 

there’s nothing in the world that changes the way she sees joonie

to her, she’ll always be the joonie who welcomed her to their group even though she was a brat at first

thats another story for next time

now she respects him so much and he’s probably the one she looks up to the most

overall, she idolizes him and talks about him like he put the stars in the sky while joon just sits there all flustered

MOCHI

oof look at that beautiful manjfkalj;dlfsjkf

cannot sleep without her chimmy plush

when they first met, he was the first one she got really close to

his cute chubby cheeks were victims of her uwu moments

learns a lot fo ballet videos from youtube and they dance it in vlives all the time

remember when i said she had an eating disorder?

yea, it happened around the time he had his too

nobi was always trying to eat little ever since debut but she stopped eating for days at a time and with jimin doing it too, bts kinda derailed for a hot minute

a long emotional time of sufering until bang pd demanded they stop it immediately

after that, they had an emotional sit down where they just cried and spilled all their insecurities and they had each other’s backs

knowing she was already skinny, jimin disapproved but she also disapproved and again, more tears

nobi always hides snacks in her and kook’s room that kook doesn’t even know about and she always brings the box over to jimin’s room if hobi is out for schedules

when hobi went to america, nobi slept in jimin’s room

kook was real pissed off about it

eyesmiles for days

giggles 24/7

has the picture of one of jimin’s unreleased baby pictures as her home screen

dies a little inside when nobi reaches over to him with sweater paws bc OMG she’s so cute

uwu

jimin really coos and giggles at nobi bc of her small height and her uwu energy

sorry i used uwu a lot

TAETAE

the dumpling accident omg

jimin mentioned it in a vlive earlier and nobi also talked about it a day later in her own vlive

‘tae was very hungry at that time and just wanted to eat it immediately and when he got angry, he curled up to nobi and refused to acknowledge me’

again, nobi hates confrontation so fights between the members always brings her down and so she tries to comfort each member

she bought tae some dumplings after practice and tricked him into meeting jimin so they could meet up

tbh, tae would be a mess without nobi

she helps him clean up his room but gives up w the amount of clothes on the floor

‘honestly, you shouldve just stayed roommates w joonie-hyung. we cant trust you to room by yourself’

she goes to his room sometimes and just lays on his bed bc he has the softest bed in the whole dorm

tae is already known to be very regal and royalty like whenever he steps outside

combine that with graceful queen nobi?

oof armys fanfiction royalty aus pop up everywhere

nobi is still angry that tae isn’t a gucci model w her bc she feels out of place being the only member w a clothing sponsorship

but underneath that stiff and cold facade, they both are seen making faces and goofing off all the time

nobi can only stand being a queen for so long

in one concert, she danced w him in a duet w singularity and lets just say, armys died that night

always stands next to each other and if they cant, always seen giving each other longing stares and smiles

the 2nd most popular ship in the fandom and they know it too so they keep feeding armys for their compilation videos

MUSCLE PIG

the only member who’s younger than her

actually would it be considered if they’re only 10-months apart?

kook refuses to call her noona unless he wants something

initially didnt like her but there was a time she bought him banana milk and it was all good

our boy was crying bc he was hungry and tired and he was trying to control his weight and he just wanted some banana milk

they’re a superior ship

one of the most popular ship in the whole industry

actually the superior couple and kai and jennie can square up

there’s fan edits of them and they both purposely do stuff to help them make au videos in youtube

theyve seen it before so we arent safe bois

the 2nd pair of roommates in the bts dorm

nobi is usually the first one to sleep while kook is watching something in the living room

when he goes to his room, he takes a minute and stands at the doorway and just looks at nobi with love in his eyes

mhm

nobi loves warmth so she gets out of her own bed at like 3 in the morning and just goes into kook’s and cuddles to him

sometimes, they just lay in bed and nobi is holding his hand just inspecting his tattoos

‘should we get a matching tattoo?’

their closet is large and tbh, they share the same clothing anyways

more like nobi wears mostly kook’s stuff

like, really, nobi has pants and a few shirts and thats it

they share everything like family but kook refuses to share her w anyone else but him

#bts imagines #8th member of bts #bts 8th member #bts au #bts scenarios #bts female scenarios #bts female imagines #bts female member #bts female addition #kpop oc #female!oc #bts girl member #bts imagine #bts scenario #bts fanfic #bts aus

[diffuserlover]

Hello! Can I get Stray Kids, ATEEZ, and NCT ship? 💚

Appearance: She/her. 179cm tall, rectangle body shape. Fair skin complexion with quite a few birthmarks. Dyed dark brown-reddish, past shoulder-length, straight hair with bangs. The left eye is a mix of two colors – a smaller portion of (darker) greyish-blue and a larger portion of hazel; while the right eye is just a (lighter) greyish-blue. Heptagon face shape with two dimples on the left cheek and one on the right cheek (only visible while smiling). A gap between the upper front teeth.

Personality (good and bad traits): Ever since I was a kid, I was always quite mature for my age – I identify myself as an old soul. I come off as polite and well-mannered to strangers, yet I tend to keep it to myself by being reserved. But, that’s because I have social anxiety and I’m nervous and shy when meeting/talking to people. The only people I’m comfortable with being with my inner circle – closest friends and family. I am usually more “open” with my friends than with my family. With my friends I can be my “truest-self” – I smile more, I laugh more, I feel more accepted and understood. I am the mom and the fashionista of the group. Don’t get me wrong, I am fiercely protective of my family, especially of my mother and younger sister. But, lately, I’ve been feeling like the “black sheep” of the family, Cinderella who’s been taken advantage of. I express my affection for the people I care about in little, but practical, ways. I can be a little stiff when it comes to open, gushy displays of affection. Others turn to me for help and advice. I’m kind-hearted and generous, always ready to help a person in need. Always have been motherly towards children. Very awkward at keeping small talk (usually with people that I’m not that close with). Absolutely, hate speaking in front of a public, and if I do, because of my nervousness, I tend to mess up my words and/or I practice whatever I’m about to say in my head at first. I appreciate the simplicity and am often most comfortable when I’m not getting too much attention from the world. I am sensitive – both to criticism and to others�� feelings (I sponge up the feelings and moods of people and the environment around me). Have a hard time saying no or expressing my true thoughts, feelings. I get influenced by other people’s opinions/thoughts quite hard (I take everything to the heart), that is why I tend to keep a lot to myself (may come off as a little bit tense, secretive, mysterious). I avoid the harsh reality by daydreaming (almost every day) – imagining myself in situations far from my current circumstances. Sort of like a self-escape. I worry a lot and overthink almost everything. I am easily distracted and my attention span can be quite short. I have an internal struggle between my needs and wants. I can lack focus and be indecisive as a result – when I decide on one route, I am pulled in another direction at the same time (“But what if…”, “on the other hand...”). That is why I’m having a bit of a struggle with deciding what I want to do in the future (career-wise). I am easily overwhelmed by pressure and stress. There is a self-destructive side to me (self-critical, lack of self-confidence) that I’m working on by confronting my fears (coming out of my shell). Don’t like taking pictures, or other people taking pictures of me. I feel most content when I’ve straightened out all the details of everyday life. I have a routine, that I follow by mostly every day, and if something small changes in that routine, I start to have a small internal anxiety attack. Also, I like to do things my own way, like, when it comes to cleaning the house or organizing stuff, etc. I get triggered even if people don’t do the laundry the way I do. I guess you could describe me as a perfectionist, clean/control freak. In triggering situations I can be impulsive, spontaneous, quick to act. Quick flare-ups of anger/annoyance when being provoked on my patience. Even when I’m feeling low, I manage to find humor in life and have fun with whatever I do have. Although I tend to bottle things up, I am an emotional person and my emotions are genuine – I love and care deeply and passionately and wish no ill will upon anyone, yet it hards for me to imagine someone falling in love with me or just liking me.

Hobbies, likes: My hobbies are cleaning, writing (re-writing song lyrics, making small notes, writing stories), listening to any type of music, catching up on my favorite films and TV shows, hanging out with friends, going to the cinema, or the club, being out in nature, reading, traveling. I like history, cooking, fashion magazines (or fashion in general), road trips, spirituality, mythology, books, orange juice, previous decades, cottage-core, dark academia.

Overall: Hufflepuff. INFP-T. Bi-sexual. Pisces-Aries cusp sign. “Looks like could kill you, but is actually a cinnamon roll.” A feminist, support LGBTQ+ community. That’s it, thank you!

Hii! Thank you so much for requesting!! I hope you like your ships!! I got a little carried away so sorry it’s a little long:)

Stray Kids:

I ship you with...

Chan

He is very comforting and knows how to get to you😚

Whenever you are overthinking or overwhelmed he can tell🥲

He will sit you down and try to get you to talk about your feelings with him or he would take you out somewhere to distract you from whatever is overwhelming you💗

He would understand your perfectionist side and always makes sure that everything is perfect for you😁

He keeps you updated with his schedule if it ever changes because he knows how much you like a regular schedule 🥰

You guys probably share a calendar so all of your events are in one space☺️

He finds it so cute how polite and kinda nervous you were when you first met🤩

He always supports you and your goals for coming out of your shell, he is always so proud whenever you do😇

Chan helps you as much as he can when finding something you want to do career wise but due to the amount of stress it gives you I would say it causes some arguments🥲

He would never let the public see you and if your relationship ever gets released he is never saying your name or showing any photos because you knows you don’t like to be in the public eye😭🥰

He is beaming whenever he sees you with kids🥺

You guys are like the mom and dad of stray kids😊

He likes to take you to the studio and work on songs together for fun🤗

You guys go on walks a lot together to just look at the scenery 😌

He never watches shows or movies without you😋

You guys cook together a lot, you guys always have fun it’s not too serious while cooking😆

Extroverts and Introverts go best with each other 🙂

Chan reassures you a lot that he loves you and that he is so grateful to have you in his life☺️

Overall, you and Chan have the sweetest relationship. You guys are literally perfect together🥰

ATEEZ:

I ship you with...

Seonghwa

You and Seonghwa are both perfectionist😊

You guys have a schedule and certain ways of cleaning 🤗

You clean together to make it more fun😚

Wooyoung most likely makes fun of you for it😆🤣

Seonghwa I feel is really good at listening and you can tell he is really listening when you look into his eyes😍

He gets butterflies whenever you are with children he just finds it so cute 🥺😭

He appreciates how you leave little notes in his bag telling him sweet things, he always tries to give you little notes as well😇

Seonghwa is always considerate of your feelings 🥰

Extroverts and introverts go best together🙂

He treats you a lot even if that means just buying the food at the cinema he will do it🤗

When he knows you have had a long day he will cook for you😄

If he has had the worst day or if he is super tired he might just give you the silent treatment, you might have to physically ask him if he’s okay😬

He likes to sit down and have a meal with you 😊

I feel like you both don’t have much patience and kinda lash out on each other but it’s never something super serious😚

Seonghwa absolutely adores your smile and you always find something to laugh about😁

Overall you and Seonghwa have a real connection🥺

NCT ot23:

I ship you with...

Xiaojun

He is so sweet but he also silly😆

You guys are in the studio a lot☺️

He likes to play the guitar for you, you guys have written quite a lot of songs together 🥰

You guys have a lot of nights in just watching movies and cooking together😄

He loves your laugh so much it makes him smile just thinking about it😍

He understands how you like a schedule and doesn’t want to mess it up when something comes up, he always makes sure to call you or text you when he can to tell you😭🤗

He tries not to overwhelm you with his problems cause he feels bad but he also wants to talk to you about it, he has a hard time deciding😚

Xiaojun always makes sure you okay before checking on himself😇

He would never be as kind to his members than he is with you😂💀

Xiaojun loves his snacks, you guys go shopping at least 2 times a week so he can get his snacks🤣

He loves writing with you because he loves to see the passion in your eyes🥰

He studies the way you clean the house because if he ever wants to do it he doesn’t want to get it wrong😆

I don’t think Xiaojun is really into physical affection so I feel like he would be fine without heavy amounts of it😁

He loves how kind you are☺️

He labors to mess around and do anything to make you laugh or smile🙂

Overall you and Xiaojun are really cute and fun🤩

#kpop ships #stray kids #stray kids Chan #bang Chan #Chris #chris bang #ATEEZ #park seonghwa #seonghwa #ateez #NCT #nct #nct ot23 #WayV #Xiaojun #xiaojun

[newcolonies]

An Inconvenient Flame

Ethan x MC (Casey Valentine)

Prompt: “Stop biting that fucking lip.”

Taglist: @openheart12 @noboundariesplease @trappedinfandoms @caseyvalentineramsey @junehiratas @kaavyaethanramsey @choices-love-affair

*If you would like to be added to the taglist just let me know!

Authors note: Hello! So this was just a random idea I had that sparked from this prompt. Honestly not too sure how I feel about it but I hope you all enjoy!

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Ethan placed the file in front of the doctors sitting before him. Casey in the middle with June and Baz on either side of her. The team was small but it was really all Edenbrook could afford  under the budget cut they had to forego. 

“Names Maya, a twenty one year old female. She complained of having sudden dizziness, blurred vision, and numbness occurring in her left arm.” Ethan said from memory. He enjoyed memorizing each patient chart. It allowed him to become closer and more familiar with the patient without actually having to interacting with them.

“Has she ever experience these symptoms before?” Baz said glancing over the chart. 

“Not that she is aware of.” Ethan said pushing his glasses up. He glanced around the table trying to read the doctors facial expressions.

“Has she been in contact with any wild animals or been in the woods in the last two weeks?” Casey said placing a strand of wavy hair behind her ear.

“She had mentioned that she and a few of her friends had gone on a hike last week when I had talked to her.” June chimed in. June was their secret weapon. Whenever they needed information from a patient he sent June to talk to them. It made him uneasy how simple it was for her to draw information from patients, how she could change who she was completely for the sake of learning about someone. 

“It could be Lyme disease” Casey said nonchalantly biting her lip. “It would explain the dizziness and sudden numbness.” Ethan hated it when Casey would bite her lower lip. She would always do it when she was nervous or stressed. But to him it was more than just that, it was almost as if she was taunting him trying to pull a reaction out of him.

“Numbness would only occur after several weeks of being exposed to the disease.” June said with a cocky smirk on her lips. “But she did say she had been experiencing joint pain that had become more intense over time.”

Ethan nodded his head. “Damage to the nervous system outside her brain and spinal cord, Neuropathy perhaps? It would explain the stiff joints and the numbness experienced.” He said sliding his hand through his thick brown hair.

“Neuropathy is commonly found in diabetics, which Maya doesn’t have so it is extremely unlikely.” Casey said biting her lip once again. God did it kill him to watch her do that. Ethan averted his gaze from her unsure how much longer he would be able to control himself. “But what about MS?” she said softly unsure of herself. Ethan disliked when she doubted herself. She was one of the youngest diagnosticians in the world of course she was going to make mistakes but she was going to be have more successes than mistakes in her years. If only she could believe that herself.

“Multiple Sclerosis? That would explain all of the symptoms she is facing, and the increased joint pain.” Baz said with a smile on his face. He had always been a happy man, no matter what he had to face. Definitely a different character then Zaid.

“We will request-” Ethan began to say but then he caught sight of her biting her lip once more. His train of thought froze, all he could manage to think about were her soft lips on his, the way her body fit perfectly with his, like a puzzle. Ethan shook his head. Enough Ramsey, you have work to do he thought to himself.

“Uh are you okay Dr.Ramsey?” Baz said concern flooding his face.

Ethan cleared his throat and ignored Baz’s comment. “We will request an MRI to be scheduled this afternoon.”He said trying to be nonchalant but it was only half successful. “You all can go now and tend to your patients.” He managed to get out. He needed to be alone and gain composure.

Everyone nodded their heads and left the room except for her. Casey Valentine. The last person he wanted to see right now.

She got up from her seat and walked to the front of the room where Ethan was standing. “Ethan, what’s wrong? Are you feeling alright?” She said placing a hand on his forearm. 

“Yes, I’m fine Rookie.” He said as he shook off her arm. “Now get to work.” He croaked.

Casey furrowed her eyebrow. Of course she knew something was wrong with him. He had let himself become careless with his emotions and now she knew more about him than anyone else in this hospital.

“Seriously Ethan, I may be your Rookie but I’m not stupid. What is wrong?” She said a little sterner than she had before. 

Ethan’s body froze at her words. His Rookie. The words flew out of her mouth casually as though she had practiced saying them before. And he had to admit it did have a nice ring to hit.  

“Just stop biting that fucking lip.” He blurted out. Casey’s face contorted into an uncomfortable look as though she was trying to swallow her laughter but to no avail. She burst out laughing.

“A little frisky are we, Ethan?” She exclaimed between fits of laughter. Ethan could feel his cheeks becoming hot with embarrassment. Why did he feel the need to tell her the truth.

“Frisky, Casey? Believe me that is not the case. It’s just” He said with a sigh. “It’s just very distracting.” He said slightly nodding. It was a terrible cover up but it would have to do. 

“Sure it is tough guy.” She said with a grin. Casey leaned over and kissed Ethan on the cheek. “I’ll believe it when I see it.” She said before walking out of the room entirely. Leaving Ethan alone, standing in the middle of the room trying to make sense of their interaction.

 Casey had a hold of Ethan like no other, and slowly it was tearing Ethan apart. But he knew one day, one day, he could possibly pursue her, and call her his Rookie after all.

#open heart #ethan ramsey #playchoices #open heart second year #dr. ramsey #ethan x casey #ethan x mc

[normiewrites]

I think a lot about being hawks childhood friend and him falling In love with you but after he moves aways and becomes a hero you forget about him. Then he meets you again after he became a spy. Everytime he tries to interact and talk to you, you keep calling him "hawks" and he just want to tell you he is "keigo" but he won't because he knows how dangerous it is for him to be in your life. 😭 Is this angsty enough

This took so long and it feels like shit, oh well.

Please listen to ‘Everything I wanted’ by Billie Eilish, it’s kinda of the inspiration (besides the request)

Here’s the angst to all the Hawk whores, including @sparkncharge

(Also I’ve changed the backstory of Hawks and his job, as well as Stain, so just go with the flow)

Warning(s): angst

Angel - Takami Keigo x (fem)Reader

‘I had a dreamI got everything I wanted’

You hair was different now, it had changed in your own unique way. You wore different clothes too, but it still looked good on you. You also seemed to be more mature, politely talking to the man behind the counter as you ordered your pizza. But your smile was still the same; beautiful and simple yet was able to claw at his heart. Takami gripped the edge of the table, feeling all the emotions rush back into him, his heart buckling over.

Takami softly sniffled, looking down at his bloodied knees, the wind pinching it slightly. He had been trying to practice flying, but the winds suddenly changed, and he lost control, landing on a road a few streets away from his. As he sat on the edge of a walkway, his small wings shook along with his legs, now noticing the few grazes on his palms.

“Are you ok?” a small voice asked him, snapping his head up to the small girl that stood in front of him.

Through his teary eyes he could see your small face peering at him in curiosity and concern, your mouth in a small ‘o’ as you titled your head at him, taking him in. You had never seen such a quirk, and you thought his wings were magnificent, just like out of a fairy tale. He was like an angel. You held a small emergency kit behind you, fiddling with the handle as you waited for the boy to respond.

“I-I fell” he sniffled out softly, wiping his nose with the back of his hands.

“Oh no, that must hurt! But don’t worry, why? Because I am here!” you giggled softly, pumping one of your fists into the air, smiling down at him as you played out All Might.

Takami’s eyes sparkled, a small smile lifting onto his face at your impression. After multiple nights of watching All Might save countless of lives, he would never fail to cheer along with him. After seeing his smile, you got on your knees, tending to his injuries. Your father had taught you how to bandage wounds. It stung, but the view of your h/c hair littered with clips and your sweet smile distracted Takami, now his mouth in a small ‘o’.

“Hawks?” he heard, your voice snapping him out of his day dream as you stood before his empty table, holding your receipt for the pizza in your hand.

His wings fluttered softly at his hero name, his spine feeling the same tingles as it did all those years ago. God knows what would happen to him once you said his real name.

But you never did.

“I’m such a huge fan of yours!”

Realization kicked him in the guts. Of course, you didn’t recognize him. He shouldn’t have expected it, considering your ‘incident’. You had lost some of your memories, and that included the ones with Keigo. He vaguely remembered getting the call from your mother from the hospital right before he started his secret ‘internship’ with Stain. Besides, he had changed too; his old side parted blond hair now swooped back and messy, his baby fat gone and even his wings turned darker from maturing. But he couldn’t help feeling how deep his heart sank, his food now seeming unappetizing as his heart filled his stomach.

“I know you might be obligated to take a photo with a fan of yours, but actually I would rather talk to you. Would you mind if I sat here? I need to wait for my order anyways” you asked, pointing to the seat in front of him.

His wings went stiff as your request, accidentally hitting the table besides you, making you jump softly and giggle at him. He completely broke down his character at a few of your words, but your laugh was still the same and it made his stomach twist all the same too.

“U-Uh, sure” he smiled, motioning to the seat before tucking his wings back, chewing his lip softly.

“You were amazing the day other, just flying in and saving everyone from the burning building. You saved so many lives!” you exclaimed, the adrenaline of meeting your favourite Pro-hero rushing through your veins as you kept talking about his cases.

Currently, Takami was working a vigilante with Stain in secret. Their new mission was to infiltrate the system of heroes by disguising themselves as one and climbing up the ranks. Takami just entered the scene 6 months ago, but he worked his way up fast, surprising everyone.

Keigo zoned out as you went on about his work, focusing on your face instead. He couldn’t see it properly before, but now he it was everything he remembered. You took his breath away, as if he was flying on cloud nine. If only he was the same to you.

‘I had a dream

I got everything I wanted

But when I wake up, I see

You with me’

Keigo woke up with a soft prickling sensation that came from the base of his wings and spine. He peeked open his eyes as he remained on lying on his stomach on the makeshift bed, watching as you touched his feathers. The morning sunshine trickled in through the cracks of the pillow fort that you both had made in your backyard, highlighting the wisps of your hair and your soft cheeks. Takami had never let people touch his wings, he felt too sensitive, but how you did it soothed him. You hadn’t noticed that he had woke up, and he didn’t want you to, wanting to forever live in this moment. He kept one eye shut, while his other eye peeked at your beauty. He had never seen such an angel in his life, wanting to burn your image in his mind. He had never felt this way, it was strange, but he wanted to feel like this forever.

“Your wings are so cool, Keigo.”

“Hawks?”

He blinked his eyes slowly, wiping a few tears from his eyes, which hadn’t gone unnoticed by you. You always noticed the smallest things.

“Are you okay? You seem to be crying” you said, the same curious and concerned face peeking right at him. Flashbacks of your first encounters running through his mind.

Takami chuckled, “Sorry, it’s just that it’s touching when people notice my work. But shh, don’t tell anyone, it’ll ruin my cool boy persona.”

This was the first time he had ever lied to you, and his tongue stung from it. He felt like he drank poison as he looked at your unconvinced face. He was never able to lie to you, that’s why he never did. But you let it be, not wanting to pester a stranger.

“It was so fun talking to you, you’re someone I look up to. I wish I could talk more, but I have to go to my friend, it’s her birthday and I had to get the pizza for the party”, she smiled sincerely, resting her hands on her lap.

He felt his heart sink even further, the tips of his wings now touching the cool marble of the floor. He wanted to tell you everything; your pillow forts, the adventures you both had, how much you both troubled the stores in the neighborhood, how you used to touch his wings, how you were his first friend, and how you were his first and only love.

 Hiccups shook his body as he tried his best to control his breathing, his wings quivering around him as he sat on your porch, his body going cold. He softly jumped from your sudden touch on his wings, but the quivering stopped just as quickly when you softly stroked his feathers, the way he liked it. The warm touch of your fingers trailing down his feathers and lining the edges of his wings sent a comforting chill down his spine that only you were ever able to conjure. You had noticed a few uneven spots in his wings, your brows furrowing in thought, wondering what happened.

“What happened, Keigo?” you asked, looking at him with a smile that made him want to forget everything bad.

“They hurt me on my first day. T-they called me ‘Chicken little’, a-and plucked a few feathers of mine. Their touch was so different from yours, it hurt so much. Why did they do that, y/n?” he asked, his bird eyes now looking at, streaks of tears painted his cheeks as he looked lost in the world of life.

‘And you say, “As long as I’m here, no one can hurt you

Don’t wanna lie here, but you can learn to

If I could change the way that you see yourself

You wouldn’t wonder why here, they don’t deserve you”’

 But now you weren’t here for him anymore. Maybe as a fan, but not as someone who loved him, not as someone who could touch his feathers in the blissful way that you did. As much as he wanted to tell you everything, he knew he couldn’t. His life was too dangerous for you, and he would rather be de-winged than to put you in harm’s way. His heart was always yours, but never to keep.

You got up, and slung your backpack over your shoulders. He wanted to hold your hand and keep you there, in his life, in the warm embrace of his wings, in his heart without any pain. But life was like that, and he couldn’t stop it.

‘I tried to screamBut my head was underwater’

“Have a good day, Hawks” you smiled, Hawks immediately getting up from his seat, bowing his head in respect. His heart beating against his chest, trying to escape and stay in your arms. The thuds were all he could hear as his body heated up slightly, frustration and sadness poking his brain and choking up his throat.

“You too, my fangirl” he said soflty, in hopes that he would see your smile and hear your giggle for the last time.

He succeeded, his wings fluttering softly as you chuckled. Everything felt too quick as walked away from his table, your footsteps seeming too quick, as if you were trying to escape. His eyes followed your back, remembering how your hugs were always the best, your arms perfectly fitting around his body, knowing how to lace around his wings as he used to nuzzle his face in the crook of your neck, the scent of your hair refreshing him.

Your retreating back stilled for a second, turning around as you looked at him with your angelic face. The face he saw so many times, in tears, in laughter, in confusion, in embarrassment and in love. He could never get it out of his head. He got hopeful, as if you could read his mind, and that you possible remembered everything. That you both could go back to your old life, no memory loss and no vigilante life. Just a life full of love and happiness. 

His wings quivered softly, anticipating your words as his eyes bore into yours, time now slowing down as you approached your last words to him.

“Your wings are so cool, Hawks.”

#hawks #takami keigo #takami keigo x reader #hawks x reader #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #angst #billie eilish #everything i wanted

[imtryingmyfuckingbe]

Werewolf of Portland

Pairing: Dean x FBI!Reader

Word count: 10K

I’m not good a summaries, but I drew inspiration from anytime the boys give actual FBI Agents the “talk”, as well as that episode where Jody calls them out for using Bobby as their “supervisor”. This is a repost because I accidentally deleted the original, but it gave me time to edit it better. I’m thinking of doing a second part if I get enough feedback or requests for it, so please, please, please tell me what you think. I’m hungry for feedback haha. Also I know nothing about Portland or official FBI Badges so please keep that in mind as you read.

Warnings: Canon violence, profanity, and a plot twist I didn’t even see coming

Werewolf of Portland

The repugnant, putrid scent overcomes the clearing, spread by the gentle breeze. Despite the green grass littered with wild flowers, the unforgiving scent of rotten eggs clings to the workers’ hazmat suits. Flies buzz incessantly around the body, like that of an opaque blanket if adorned with beady eyes and veiny wings.

While the forensic cleaners work to gather the corpse’s remains for transportation, Agent Y/L/N stands at the edge of the control zone. Her day started at 4:39 in the morning, wherein she spent the next five hours scouring the field alongside her team. Even with her duties tended to, she refuses to leave the scene. The sparse clues yielded in the first examination plague her mind.

No fingerprints, no shoe prints, no footprints, no DNA; the list of what they don’t have extends further than what they do.

The body itself— what little the attacker left of it, at least— covered the majority of the scene. Torn to pieces, heart removed; remains scattered. She hopes the coroner can get something from her examination. The lacking evidence in addition to this being the fourth body found places an insurmountable weight on Y/N’s shoulders. 

The public’s outrage cries for the FBI to put the criminal behind bars, but they’re no closer to identifying witnesses, let alone a culprit. Y/N signs, running her hand through her hair. No matter the amount of cases she faces, no matter how gruesome, she never lets it desensitize her. If she becomes numb to the pain of blood and guts, she fails to invest herself in solving the case.

Turning from the scene, she instead takes in the myriad official vans and workers putting about. Her partner speaks with forensics, gathering whatever helpful information they can provide. A small side glance her way and the lift of his hand by his side, he beckons Y/N over. However, her lead feet refuse to move. Still engulfed in the horror show behind her, she takes a moment to collect her thoughts.

Y/N struggles to keep her emotions in check. Rage courses through her veins at the heinous acts humans commit, to fulfill sadistic pleasure or cure one’s demons. Unfortunately, in the FBI, she must swallow her anger and sadness, replacing it with a monotone voice and calculated expressions. Taking a breath, she departs from the border and heads towards Agent Colt. 

He finishes speaking with the worker, who leaves the partners in peace.

“They’ve got nothing. We’ve got nothing. Not for this one, not for the past three.”

She already knows this. A thought tickles the back of her mind, but she cannot name it. “All right. Maybe they got sloppy; maybe this time the coroner will get something. Anything.” Elijah rolls his eyes, pursing his lips and rubbing his chin. Y/N knows he’s saying We can’t base our investigation on maybe. Another sigh. “Fine, let’s run through this again.”

Elijah leads the way to their company car. “So, the heart. That’s the main focus. It’s missing.”

“Yes. This points to it being personal. It takes a lot of passion and hatred to rip through someone’s chest and remove their fucking heart. Which, another thing, the hearts aren’t just removed. They’re taken.”

“Right. Okay, haphazard blood splatter; no pattern. I’d say our killer is disorganized. Listless.”

“Not completely. I mean, there’s an even month between each murder. That leans more towards organized. There’s ritual. It’s not really first come, first serve, ya know?”

Elijah pauses at his door, fingers clasped tightly around its handle. He worries his bottom lip between his teeth, staring off into the distance. Y/N knows that look. She’s seen it in herself, survivors and fellow agents. He’s not looking at the clearing, but trying to connect the dots. Perhaps the weight of solving this doesn’t rest solely on Y/N’s shoulders.

As Elijah returns from his reverie and yanks open the car door, Y/N hears a deep, raspy voice greet the local law enforcement. Her partner settles into his seat, staring at her with drawn eyebrows and pursed lips. She holds up a finger.

Casting a quick glance behind her, Y/N finds two suits mid-introduction with the sheriff. The pair hold up identification booklets, much like the one in her pocket. Their suits hang too loosely off of their bodies, their dress shoes too scuffed. The longer she watches their body language, the larger the pit in her stomach grows. She turns around to lean against the car, keeping focus on the men. They talk for a moment more before the sheriff nods in her direction.

Y/N watches their shoulders tense, standing taller from the rigidness. Yes, she muses, something is off.

The window she leans against pulls on her coat as Elijah rolls it down. “Hey, you coming?”

Pondering for a moment whether she should let him in on her instincts, Y/N decides against it. “Yeah,” she leans down, poking her head through the window. “I’m going to stay here, actually. I want to see if I can squeeze anything else out of the uniforms.”

Elijah chuckles. “We’re uniforms too, you know.”

She returns the laugh. “Right, well, you head back to the office. Make a fresh pot of coffee, too. I’ll meet you there.”

He holds two fingers to his forehead before dramatically sweeping them across his face. “Aye, aye, captain.”

Y/N stands as he rolls the window back up, patting the roof. Elijah peels off while she returns her attention to the still-gawking men. Their postures only straighten as she nears; if they stood any more rigid she’d swear they were wax figures. “Harold,” she acknowledges the sheriff. He nods. “How’s it going on your end?” Y/N keeps the men in her peripheral but focuses on Harold. 

Harold’s eyes shift to the pair, then back to Y/N. “As I was telling your fellow agents—” at this statement, the men share a glance, “—still nothing.”

“Right, well I want to go over everything again. Give me a moment.” She finally turns to greet the supposed agents. “Gentlemen, to whom do I owe the pleasure?” Scanning their faces, she studies them for any quirk of the lips or perspiration on the brow.

The taller one speaks first. “I’m, uh, Agent Pert and this is Agent Bonham,” he gestures next to him.

Pert and Bonham? Really? She refrains from rolling her eyes.

Instead, Y/N doesn’t respond, using the pressure of silence in her favor. Harold clears his throat, uncomfortable with the tension. She ignores him, keeping focus on the men before her. Most of her suspects break under her gaze; very few can sustain their façade in an encounter with her steely eyes and stiff posture. Harold excuses himself,  unable to withstand her harsh eyes. The men continue to stare, neither willing to relent. Unfortunately, this renders them at an impasse. She, too, will not look away or speak.

Agent Pert concedes, taking the lead. “Right, well, we’re here from DC to investigate the murders. What have you got?” His voice imperceptibly wavers— if untrained, Y/N wouldn’t notice the quiver— the corner of his lip twitching. 

Ignoring his request, she commands, “Let me see your badges, agents.”

Another conversation through a shared look before they hand them over. They’re good, the badges. A smidgen off center of authentic. If not for the incorrect serial code and too high insignia placement, Y/N would accept them at face value. She closes the booklets and pockets them, earning a small Hey of protest from the short one. Cocking an eyebrow, she dares them to challenge her.

“Impersonating a federal agent is a crime, I’m sure you know.”

“Impersonating a— call our superior and check! Let me see your badge!” Crew cut exclaims, indignant.

“I’ll lend my badge after I’ve talked to your superior officer.” She wonders how far they intend to take this rouse. 

With their business card in hand, she retreats a few steps. As she dials the number the little whisper in the back of her head pesters her further. The questionable agents and unsolvable case remind her of… something. 

“Agent Willis,” a voice grunts.

“Willis? What’s your outpost?”

“Headquarters. Who is this?”

“Agent Y/L/N. It appears I have two of your agents here; I’m sure some wires crossed when you sent them down? What were your orders for Agents Tyler and Grohl?” 

“Who are you to question my authority, Agent?”

His growl pulls the pressing thought to the forefront of her mind. 2005, in Cincinnati on her first case. Similar to her case today: bodies piled up with no leads and peculiar circumstances. She ran into someone claiming to be FBI, too. Fresh from the academy with the weight of the world on her shoulders, she accepted his excuse of  bureaucratic miscommunication; why don’t we work the case together? 

She laughs. “Wait, hold on. I know you.”

“Noyoudon’t,” he spits out, too quickly.

“Yeah, I do. Fuck, what’s your name?” she mumbles, more to herself than him. “Singer! Ohio, we worked a case together. Culprit never caught and you went on your merry way.”

He blubbers, failing to produce a proper excuse. “I don’t know a Singer, Agent.”

She rolls her eyes, finally turning to face the men. The stricken look on their faces only further points to the truth. “All right, Willis. Even if that were true, you also don’t know your agents’ names. They introduced themselves as Pert and Bonham. Really, Singer? Rockstars’ names?” The humor of the situations drains, replaced with its severity. “All right, I’m taking your men in. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay put and wait for mine to come get you.”

“Wait— Y/L/N, right? Hear me out,” he pleads, urgency ringing clear in his voice.

“You have ten seconds.”

“Listen, they’re there to help. Your attacker ain’t what you think it is. I closed that case in Cincinnati, thanks to your help. But, it wasn’t a person. It was a vampire.”

She laughs again, this time wild and unbelieving. “Yeah, right. And this one is a fucking Chupacabra.”

“No, it’s not. We think it’s a werewolf.”

“You’re fucking nuts. No, I’m calling this in.”

“Y/N. Wait. Talk to them, please. People are still in danger. Their names are Sam and Dean. Winchester.” The desperation in his voice settles with unease in her chest. Her time on the force yields too much experience in discerning honesty from duplicity. 

Rather than respond, she ends the call and returns to the newly named Winchesters. They stand unmoving, shoulder to shoulder; if not for the wind tussling the tall one’s hair, she’d think they were statues. “So.” They squirm under her gaze. “Which one of you is Sam and Dean?” Their eyes widen at her remark, startled by her knowledge of their true identities. 

Crew cut juts his chin out and squares his shoulders. “I’m Dean. That’s Sam. Why don’t you tell us who you are and how the hell you know our names?”

“I’ll be the one asking questions, gentleman. I’ve half a mind to put you in cuffs. First, you impersonate a federal agent; second, your pal Singer brings up werewolves? Sounds like three peas in a pod headed for St. Christopher’s Asylum to me.” Neither respond. “Thirty seconds, boys. You have thirty seconds to make me believe you or the only way you’re leaving is in cuffs.” For emphasis, she pats her hip, whereupon the cuffs hang.

The pregnant silence leers on.

“25.”

Sam sighs, running his hand through his hair. “All right. There are things in this world that you don’t know about; that not many people know about. The bumps in the night, the clichés; most of them are real. Have you had anything happen to you that you can’t explain? Or had an unsolvable case?” He pauses for her answer, but she only looks on, hands on her hips. 

Vampires? Werewolves? What the fresh fuck? Her mind reels with the implications of his statement; even still, it doesn’t feel wrong. A few cases come to mind instantly: the serial killer who left victims’ eyes burnt out, people torn to shreds in supposed animal attacks by nothing from these parts. How many victims faced the unknown rather than human wrath? She can handle psychopaths, serial killers, the insane. She knows that evil; deals with it regularly. But the supernatural? No.

“Right, well, we hunt those things. We take them out,” he gestures between himself and Dean.

Y/N’s hands drop from her sides, falling limp at her thighs. “Just you two?” She whispers, cold and disbelieving.

“No,” Dean speaks up. “Not just us. There’s a lot of us out there.”

“Listen, I’m going to need more than just your word. I don’t know you, and I sure as hell don’t trust you. What can you give me that will make me believe you?” Despite not wanting it, she needs proof. Plus, if they turn out to be nuts, she can lock them up and toss the key; no harm, no foul.

They nod once, curt but understanding. Sam takes a step forward, hand raised in her direction. “This’ll take a leap of faith, Agent…”

“Y/L/N.”

“Agent Y/L/N. Let us work on this with you,” Sam implores. “And if we’re wrong, you can book us yourself.” 

“Sammy, hold up. Who’s to say we can trust her either? She’s just some Fed. Who’s to say she won’t cuff us anyway?” Dean protests, turning towards Sam.

While the two quietly argue, Y/N takes a step back. Running her tongue over her teeth in concentration, she ponders the options. Even if Sam offers her control, she knows their type: they won’t let her actually take the lead. Dean reminds her of her father, and that man never relinquished supervision. In order for this to work in her favor— seeking the truth, protecting the public— Y/N must fulfill the role as the dutiful public servant. Perhaps they’re not fucking lunatics, and this thing turns out to be real, she’d be way out of her element anyway. Still, she refuses to give up control.

Staring off towards the field, where the body once laid, she contemplates the little evidence recovered. Vics torn to shreds, no prints, no DNA. Local PD swears it’s a cougar, an animal indigenous to the area. Even still, animals are simpler than humans. They kill for sustenance or safety. The brutality of this kill, the length of the claw marks, lack of fur, ritual occurrences; it all points in the wrong direction. Y/N would quicker say some furry decided killing offers more sexual release over cosplay than call it a fucking cougar.

“If you expect me to try to trust you, or at least what you say, then I need your trust, too. This goes both ways,” she interrupts. The men cease their heated discussion, turning towards her. “I don’t like what you’re telling me. I don’t want to believe it. But… I trust my gut, and I think you guys are either great liars or telling the truth.” Sam smiles, but Y/N holds up a hand. “However, I will not put my eggs in one basket. I need insurance that you’ll hold up your end of the bargain. This means I’m taking point, and you guys are consultants. Anything you know, you tell me. Anything you find, you tell me. Anything you do, you tell me. Capiche?”

Sam nods before Dean, nudging his side to encourage his agreement. Dean tosses his hands in the air. “Fine. Where to next, Agent?” Venom drips with each word. 

“I need to get back to the station. My partner, Agent Colt, will be—”

“Colt? Agent Colt? The irony.” Dean interrupts. Sam elbows him again, and Y/N chooses to ignore him altogether.

“I’m going back to the station. I’ll talk to the Uniforms and tell them to give you anything pertinent to this specific scene. Anything to do with the others can wait until tonight. Meet me at Carlton’s, off of Hamilton street. I’ll bring the files for the other Vics.” She hands Sam her business card, not trusting Dean to keep it. 

“What about our badges?”

Y/N rolls her eyes, exhausted. “Fuck, man. I’m trying my hardest to ignore the federal crime you committed right in front of me. Prove you’re right and you’ll get them back. Until then, you’re consultants employed by the Bureau.” 

She pushes passed them, heading towards Harold. Their boots crunch on the gravel as they lag behind her. He halts his conversation with one of deputies upon their arrival. “Sheriff, these two are fresh blood from the academy.” She juts her thumb over her shoulder. “HQ thought this would be a good case for them to learn on the job. Tell them anything you know and let them case the scene. I’m going back to the station to meet up with Elijah.”

“But—” Harold begins. Y/N levels him with sharp eyes and pressed lips, stopping him in his tracks. “Right. Okay. Follow me, Agents.” Sam and Dean shoulder passed Y/N, catching up to the Sheriff with a few long strides. 

Y/N stands for a moment, hands in her jacket pockets, watching the two men. If this turns out to be a rouse— if she let two criminals onto the field with her permission— that’s her head. Shaking the thought away, she turns. She’s able to hitch a ride back to the station with the forensic profilers.

———————————————————————————————————

Elijah spared his questions when she returned, thankfully. Instead, he shoved a hot cup of cop shop coffee into her hands before continuing their earlier evaluation. “Right, can’t be disorganized, but he’s definitely passionate. That shows connection to the victims.”

Y/N sips her coffee. Forcing the bitterness down her throat, she also swallows her new knowledge. She must work this case like any other, for it might be. “You think it’s a man?”

Around the bite of an apple, he says, “Yes. Female offenders aren’t typically serial murderers; they’re passion killers. Black Widows, Angels of Death, you know the type.”

“I do, but Wuronous diverged from the typical female murderer.”

“Yeah, that’s one of many. Most other women utilized poison for their kills. The ME didn’t find any traces of cyanide, arsenic, or tetrodotoxin— nothing. Doesn’t fall in line with what we know.”

Y/N simmers. She knows this, of course. “Let’s keep the possibilities in mind.” She sifts through the crime scene pictures, lining up the photos of the different victims side by side. “Placement doesn’t seem to matter, so that leans away from obsessive compulsiveness. The offensive wounds support this, too.”

“Y/N, what are we reaching for? We don’t have a profile, a motive; nothing.”

“Not true. Let’s lay it all out, one more time. Hearts are taken, gruesome attack wounds, lower body left alone. Maybe these are passion killings, and the only thing in common with the victims is the killer. I mean, people come and go all the time here. Maybe they knew the Unsub outside of Portland. The ritualistic pattern of the murders makes me think the killer stalks the victims in the month down time; gets to know their schedule, comings and goings. They’re all aged between twenty-five and thirty-five. Maybe the killer is attracted to the ages rather than physical descriptions. Also—” Y/N stops, sighing.

Even as she tries to string everything together, she knows Elijah is right. Too much of the evidence contradicts any profile they could scrape up. Ritualistic but not obsessive, disorganized but keeps to a schedule, passionate murders between unrelated victims. Nothing points them in any definitive direction. They’re grasping at straws here. 

Sam and Dean creep to the forefront of her mind. She downs her coffee in one go. It heats her stomach, and she blames her rising temperature on the beverage rather than brimming anger. Clenching her fists, she crushes the paper cup. Elijah reaches over to rub her shoulder, massaging her tense muscles. “It’s okay, Y/N/N. We’ll catch this son of a bitch,” he encourages, misunderstanding her frustration.

She rubs her eyes, forcing them open. Wordlessly, Elijah fills hands here a new cup of coffee, topping himself off as well. They sit in silence, pouring over their respective files. The victims must have connections; even if Y/N allows herself to believe the Winchesters, she can’t believe monsters don’t have rituals. Psychology reaches further than humanity— scientists observe it in animals. In order to keep hope and keep going, Y/N trusts in the knowledge that all things in existence operate off of some code. 

Another sigh, another gulp. “One more time. From the first victim. Elijah, there has to be something.”

He purses his lips, clear indignation warring his exhaustion and winning. Even still, he nods. “All right, Vic One: Stephanie Lane, age 27. She worked at the local vet clinic on Broad Street. Usual nine to five, Monday through Friday. Killer got her leaving work Thursday night, July Fifth, around six p.m. Scratched her up, took her heart. Passerby found her body two days later.” He wets his lips, staring at her file.

Y/N nods in confirmation, already well aware of the facts. With a fine-tooth comb, they revisit each victim after Stephanie Lane. Jonathan Grism, Marcus Kent, and, the most recent, Gabrielle Shaw. All with varying occupations and seemingly no connections, aside from enjoying the casual run or grueling hike. Despite their apparent love of nature, the Unsub chose to kill them in their daily routine.  

On a whim, Y/N searches each date (July 5th, August 3rd, September 2nd, and October 1st) for any similarities in the dates, coming up short and further exasperated. Elijah keeps to himself while she abuses her keyboard, refusing defeat. Only on her fifth page of Google searches does she find anything worth noting; unfortunately it supports the Winchesters. Each murder occurred on a full moon. 

She slams her laptop closed, finishing her coffee and crushing her cup. “I need a break, Elijah. Just some time to clear my head and get fresh eyes.” She stands, tossing her cup into the wastebasket. Elijah leans back, clasping his fingers behind his head. “I’m getting some sleep. You should too. You look like shit.”

Elijah laughs. “Thanks, Y/N/N. You don’t look too much better yourself.”

She shoves his shoulder as she passes, shouting a goodbye over her shoulder. Elijah hollers something back, but she’s already out of the front doors. The crisp air helps the fog in her head, supplementing it with aches in her bones. Her boots crunch leaves with each step, and she forces her focus onto the noise.

Crunch, crunch, crunch. 

Werewolves?

Crunch, crunch, crunch.

The supernatural?

Crunch, crunch— smack.

A broad chest stops her, calloused fingers grasping her upper arm to steady her. Y/N looks up, palms pressing against a soft t-shirt, into effervescent green eyes. Dean grins down at her, the left corner of his lip tilted in an almost-sneer, if not for the mischief in his eyes. She rolls her eyes, pushing back against his firm chest. He releases her, hands up in mock surrender.

“Agent, fancy seeing you here.”

“Where? Outside of the station where I work? Must be kismet.” Sarcasm drips from her words like venomous honey, sickly sweet and sticky.

“Well, to be fair, you did say to tell you anything we find, so here I am.”

Her heart stutters, excited. They found something. This could be the end of the murders. Straightening her back and returning to Agent Y/L/N— locking Y/N into a tight box at the back of her mind— she faces Dean head on. “All right, what have you found?” Her voice lacks the previous emotion, all business and no play.

Dean sighs, a look flitting across his face and disappearing before Y/N can place it. “Walk with me.” He turns on his heel without awaiting her response, starting down the sidewalk.

She follows, despite the annoyance burning the bottom of her feet with each step. They continue down the street in silence, save for their steps and the seldom passing cars. While she wants answers, Y/N knows pestering delays the process. Dean seems like a man who has been through the ringer a couple times. If he shares similarities with herself, he won’t share anything until he’s ready— another form of control she wants to rip from his fingers.

By the time they reach the doors to the Sunshine Diner, Y/N must clench her fists to bury the frustration of unanswered questions. Dean holds the door, motioning for her to go in. In the back right corner of the restaurant sits Sam, typing furiously on his laptop. So. It appears Dean did search for her once they found something. Pleased at the notion, she lets some of the annoyance roll off her shoulders.

Dean settles in next to Sam, Y/N taking the opposing side of the booth. “So, get this,” Sam begins. “Your murders started four months ago, right? Well, turns out a small werewolf pack traveled from Washington to Portland because they drew too much attention to themselves. One of our connections in Seattle worked the case until they completely disappeared, no trace, no nothing. Within a month of leaving Washington, the Portland murders began.” He finished, peering at her through the too-long tendrils of his hair.

Y/N schools her face into indifference, despite her racing heart and sweating palms. He sounds so sure and calm, like they run into werewolves grocery shopping. Dean looks at her, too, sharp eyes searching for anything in her expression or body language. 

For a moment of reprieve, the waitress approaches the table. Rushed and rough, the trio relay their orders: Sam an egg white omelet, Dean the Bacon Supreme, and Y/N another black coffee; she ignores her shaking hands and clammy skin. The server jots down their choices, rushing off to the next table.

Y/N clasps her fingers together, leaning forward. “That sounds like a nicely wrapped present with a bow on top. I need your process. How did you come to this conclusion? Who is this supposed hunter?”

Sam squints at her, mouth  agape. “Those are your questions, really? Nothing about werewolves?” He turns to Dean, bewildered. Dean shrugs, looking all too comfortable for the topic of conversation.

The server returns with their drinks,  setting the three coffees and one orange juice in front of the respective customers. As if purposefully slow, she takes her time to offer creamer or sugar, unaware of the tension. Dean taps one of his fingers on the surface of the table while Sam makes polite small talk with the waitress. Y/N continues to study the men before her. Finally, the server leaves once more.

“Listen, if I’m going to believe your bucket of crazy, then I’m going to believe it. So, no. I’m not going to ask about werewolves, I’m asking about the details of your research. I need to know how credible you are.”

This time, Dean leans forward, staring straight into her eyes and speaking low. “The hunter we know in Washington, Richard, kept track of them enough to know their comings and goings. He put out the word through the Hunter grapevine that he needed help with the… extermination of the pack, but by the time anyone could come to help, they migrated south. To here. We know it’s this pack because the victims share the same hobby: doing shit in nature. Runners, hikers, whatever. It makes them easy targets—”

“— Except they weren’t killed on hikes or runs. They were killed after work or errands or—”

Dean continues speaking, as if she hadn’t interjected. “—This specific pack only eats the heart, a common characteristic of werewolves. However, a lot of them eat more of the body, and depending on what they eat points to which pack is most likely to be the attacker. These sons of bitches blend in, except on the full moon, where they go apeshit for hearts. Richard identified the pack leader; Sam found where they’re holed up in. Good enough for you, Agent?” 

She wants to slap the pleased look straight off of his plump lips and pretty green eyes. Instead, Y/N props her head up in her palm, keeping her eyes level with Dean’s, swallowing her ire and replacing it with feigned kindness. “Yes. When are we going to get them?” The thought of coming face to face with a monster rushes like winter water through her veins. She reminds herself she deals with monsters on the daily; hers only lack claws and fangs, and whatever else. The circumstances only vary slightly.

“We? There is no ‘we’, sweetheart. We kept you in the loop, like you asked, but you don’t know Jack from Shit about how the gank these fuckers. You do your job, and we’ll—”

Y/N raises her hand, silencing Dean. “Listen, sweetheart, I know the area. I’m guessing they’re staying at the Crest Apartments off of 205, right? Developers left it abandoned when the surveyors refused to clear it due to landslide likelihood. I know the woods, the city, everything. As for what I don’t know, you can teach me. I may not be trained in proper monster lore, but I know how to fight.”

Dean leans further forward, meeting her at the halfway mark of the table. He lowers his voice, speaking gruffly as if to admonish. “You might be an agent in the normal world, but to us you’re just a civvie. No matter what you think you can do, no matter what you think you know, you’ve never faced these things in real life. I’m not about to put your stubborn ass in danger just so you can prove a point.” 

Y/N opens her mouth to retort, but Sam grabs Dean’s collar and pulls him back. “Enough with the pissing contest. I get it: you’re both badass,” he interrupts, at his wits end. “Listen, Y/N,” he begins, softer. “I’m sure you’re good at what you do. You got the location correct without any intel, save for what you know about your city. But Dean’s right. If you come, you’re more of a liability than helpful.”

Y/N closes her eyes, taking a deep breath and holding it for five counts. When she exhales, she forces a smile upon her lips, albeit a bit sardonic, and opens her eyes. The men stare at her, awaiting her response. She stands, instead, straightening her jacket. “Gentleman, I’ll see you tonight. Bring an extra weapon, seeing as I’m sure normal bullets won’t kill a werewolf. Nine o’clock?” Rather than wait for a response, she nods her head and departs onto the street once more.

———————————————————————————————————

From the moment she stepped outside of the diner to the moment she parked her car behind Sam and Dean, her phone rang. Y/N assumed the alternating unknown numbers belonged to the brothers, likely wishing to dissuade her from joining their crusade. She ignored them, deleting any voicemails they left. She knows they’re right; she doesn’t know left from right when it comes to monsters. But it’ll be a cold day in Hell when she lets some terror run rampage in her city.

Instead, she chose to bide her time researching werewolf lore between several more cups of coffee. Luckily she came across a duo well versed in their knowledge: the Ghostfacers. Although they posted their most recent content a year ago, she assumes lore stays the same. Silver bullet, shot to the head or heart, werewolf down for the count.

Y/N alights from her car, closing the door. Sam and Dean stand at their trunk, rummaging through— an entire arsenal of weapons? Y/N still has half the mind to arrest them. First impersonating federal agents to knives and machetes and guns in a hidden compartment of their car? She forces anxiety down, instead choosing once again to believe Sam and Dean are not raging psychopaths. Every bone in her body screams to cuff them and book them; her entire career banks on capturing nuts jobs like these two.

Still, she makes her way to their car, stopping at her front bumper to lean on it. “So. Silver, huh?”

Sam turns to face her, loading his .45 absentmindedly as he takes in her appearance. Gone is her official suit, in its place jeans, boots, and a well-worn long-sleeve. Dean rummages through the trunk, ignoring her presence. “You researched,” Sam replies, more so a statement than a question.

“I don’t go in half cocked. Pun intended. Got any leftover bullets? I’ve got a .45, too,” she muses, patting her hip for emphasis. 

Dean sighs, rubbing his temple with his free hand, the other occupied with a magazine. “For the last time,” he begins, turning to face her, “I don’t want you here. We don’t want you here. If things get hairy in there, we can’t protect you, Y/N. You’re a liability. You don’t know—”

“— Jack from shit, yeah, yeah,” she dismisses, waving a hand. “Stow the crap, I’m coming. Now, do you want me going in defenseless or do you have silver to spare?” She stands straight, squaring her shoulders and holding her head high. 

Sam covers a laugh with a cough, his attention trained on Dean. Y/N forces her unwavering gaze onto him, who in turn rolls his eyes. His shoulders sag in defeat as he returns attention to his trunk. Wordlessly, he passes her a simple pistol, already loaded. She adjusts her grip, searching for a comfortable hold. 

“Thanks.” 

Dean barely nods his head. Y/N leaves the pair for a moment, returning her own gun to the glove box and locking it. 

Upon her return, Dean closes the trunk with a deafening slam, leaning against it. “All right, let’s get some things straight. We go in first, you follow. We’ll call clear and then we move forward as a group, understood?” Y/N wants to roll her eyes— Dean seems to forget she works raids on the regular— but she nods. “Good. We counted five. You see someone who isn’t us,” he motions between Sam and himself with his gun, “you shoot. Bullet to the heart will do the job.” He delivers a pointed look in her direction, awaiting confirmation.

“Got it.”

He looks at her for a moment, his eyes alight with enough fire to bore holes into her clothing. A familiar look hides behind his façade of rage; it rests on the tip of Y/N’s tongue. Perhaps a concoction of grief and hope. She sees it in herself when a case grows too heavy; grief for the pain and hope for the end. In this moment, Y/N feels like she knows Dean. 

The moment breaks when he shakes his head and walks heavy footed to the building. Sam falls in line with Y/N, resting a hand on her shoulder to slow her. She cranes her neck to look him in the eye, skin burning whereupon his palm rests. “He doesn’t want casualties. He doesn’t have the best way of showing it, but Dean cares about people. He’s got enough blood on his hands.” Sam squeezes her shoulder, sparing a tight lipped smile, before dropping his hand.

A few long strides puts him next to Dean, shoulder to shoulder. Y/N hangs back, processing Sam’s vague confession. She understands the need to protect others. The most pressing motivation for joining the Bureau stems from this desire. These men fight in a war separate to her own, but not dissimilar. They’re two sides of the same coin, both Y/N and Dean aching to save, save, save. 

She shrugs her shoulders, pushing the nerves building in her chest down to her toes. If Sam and Dean tell the truth of the awaiting horrors, she needs to ready herself. In matters of life and death, anxiety only increases the chances of death. Adrenaline only carries her so far before it peters out.

Dean stands at the front door, gun raised and legs parted. Sam stands to the side, hand on the handle. Y/N, as promised, stands back and behind Dean. With a nod from Dean, Sam pulls the handle, opening the heavy door. The brothers file in first, flashlights illuminating the unfinished floor and walls. 

Their footsteps echo as they clear each room, a foreboding cadence through the empty halls. Dean looks back at Y/N, ensuring she still follows. She keeps her gun pointed to the ground and her senses open. At the first corner, Dean holds his arm out. Sam and Y/N flatten themselves against the wall while Dean looks around the corner. He nods, stepping out into the open once more. 

A crunch from the right hallway drags Y/N’s attention from the brothers proceeding to the left. Peering down the corridor, she finds it empty. Just as she turns to catch up, another crunch sounds, followed by a squelch and a footstep. Looking behind her, Y/N finds Dean and Sam halfway down the hallway. “Dean!” she shouts as quietly as she can. He doesn’t turn. “Dean. Sam!”

Nothing. 

She sighs, frustrated. One side begs her to run down the hallway to warn them; the other implores her to follow her gut and the noise. Another wayward glance in their direction and Y/N turns right. She steps carefully, avoiding debris. Heel, toe. Heel, toe. 

The further she travels down the hallway, the darker it gets. Footsteps and low voices grow closer as she reaches another left or right turn. She presses against the left wall, sparing a glance down the right corridor. Empty. The left hallway, however, offers cover to three silhouettes crowding in front of a closed door. She startles back, heart hammering against her ribs.

Y/N holds her breath, calming the relentless anxiety in her chest. Breathe in, hold four seconds, breathe out. Rinse and repeat. She looks back to where she last saw Sam and Dean; they’re gone. Great. Now she's truly dug herself an early grave. 

With one last breath, Y/N turns the corner, aims and shoots. One of the people— werewolves— yowls in pain, collapsing to the ground. Yellow eyes glow in the dark, the only light from their end of the hall. Guttural growls roll from their chests as they stalk towards Y/N. She fires again. It hits the plaster, sending dust and shards flying. 

“Fuck.” 

The monsters pick up speed, running full force in her direction. She fires one more time, hitting one in the leg. It crashes to the floor, knees hitting the ground with a sickening crack.  The other continues. Y/N whips around, running down the hallway towards Sam and Dean— she hopes. Her feet thump with each step and she pays little mind to the trash and tools on the ground. 

A foolish mistake, it seems, as she stomps on an empty chip packet. Her right foot slips from beneath her, sending her careening to the ground. The side of her head smacks against the concrete. Her vision blacks for a moment before the pain spreads in webs from her cheek to her neck, down her back. The heavy footfalls of her pursuer sound muffled compared to the needling throbbing in her head. 

With a groan, she pushes herself onto her hands and knees. A hand on the wall stabilizes her, she clambers to her feet. An unfortunate time to do so; the werewolf runs full force into her, slamming her onto the ground once more. Autopilot takes over as she raises her palms to the man’s chest, pushing as hard as she can.

He snarls, snapping his teeth as he tries to reach her neck. Y/N blocks his throat with her forearm, using her spare hand to blindly search for her gun. Instead of the handle, she grasps a wrench. Good enough. With as much force as she can muster, she clobbers the werewolf’s head. He falls off of her, a hand pressed to his bleeding forehead.

In the second of reprieve, she spots the pistol a few feet away. She throws herself through the air, grabbing the handle before turning onto her back, the gun pointed towards the monster. 

He dives after her. Bang. The shot rings out through the hallway. His body tenses before relaxing completely, eyes half lidded and empty. Y/N rolls out of the way as it collides with the floor. Her breaths come ragged and short, but the fight persists. The unforgiving footsteps of her aggressors afford little time to catch her breath; she pushes herself up once more. 

Panting, but not yet done, she turns towards the thundering steps. Sam and Dean race towards her, guns at the ready. “Oh, thank God.” She drops her guard and lowers her pistol to her side, leaning against the wall to catch her breath.

Dean reaches her first, fire in his eyes and coating his words. “What the fuck is wrong with you? I told you to stay with us, Y/N!” He grabs her chin, calloused fingers tilting her face to get a better look at her wounds. He pulls back, lifting and examining each arm. Y/N, too spent, lets him search for whatever he wants to find. She feels the welting of a bruise on her right cheek and a trickle of blood from her forehead.

“I got— I got three,” she gasps, watching Sam turn the werewolf over. 

Dean releases her, shaking his head. She touches her cheek, wincing at its sensitivity. “Oh, how nice. You also almost got yourself killed. I swear to—”

“—Dean,” Sam warns. “There are two more. We can worry about this later.”

“I got— I killed one of the others, but the third one I just hit in the knee.” Admitting to killing something, despite it being a monster, settles heavily in her stomach. She presses her hand to her lips, forcing her lunch to stay put. 

No time to puke, Y/N, she scolds herself. 

Shaking her head, she compels herself to focus. She nods at Sam and Dean, who take their positions at the front once more. This time she has no intentions of abandoning their protection. They stalk forward, albeit not as carefully as before; the ruckus certainly alerted the rest of the pact to their presence. Turning the corner, they find the werewolf Y/N shot first. A trail of blood leads the room they convened outside of, the door open this time.

The trio step lightly and quickly to the room. Dean peers in before entering. Inside, the wounded werewolf leans against the wall, a hand pressed against his thigh. Dean shoots him on the spot, wasting no time. Another body lies in the corner, torn the shreds. Aside from the two corpses, the room yields no tell-tale signs of the rest of the pack. Even still, Sam and Dean survey every nook and cranny. Y/N hovers by the door, working on slowing her breath and calming her heart. 

She peaks out into the hallway, just in case. The darkness limits her view, but she can’t hear anything either. Her ears ring, a relentless low buzzing from hitting her head and firing her gun too closely. Dean places a hand on her lower back as he passes, alerting her to his presence. The warmth spreads through her body, even when he lets go and walks ahead.

“Do you think they left?” she wonders aloud. It’s what she would do, but packs could think differently than humans.

Sam walks next to her, looking at her in his peripheral. “Maybe. But we want to clear the whole building, no stone left unturned and all that.”

She nods, instantly regretting it. Her brain tumbles around her head, hitting the walls and throbbing. Y/N rubs her temple, but says nothing. Lord knows Dean would already have a smartass retort on the tip of his tongue. Instead, she concentrates on putting one foot in front of the other. 

They clear the first floor easily, no signs of the last two. Dean leads them back to the front of the building to the stairwell. The door refuses to open, no matter how much force they use. The handle turns, but something on the other side blocks its pathway. Sam and Dean brace their backs against the door, plant their feet on the ground, and push as hard as they can. It budges slightly, only enough for them to see inside.

One of the railings torn from the stairs leans against the door, while another, wedged between the railing on the door and the first step of the stairs, holds it in place. They’d have to get in there to open the door. The brothers try once again, opening it a smidgen further. 

As Sam and Dean discuss the next step, Y/N formulates her own plan. She knows the boys, Dean in particular, won’t like it. Stepping closer to them, she chooses to stand next to Sam, hoping for his support.

“Listen,” she interrupts. Both brothers run their attention to her, Sam’s eyebrows raised and Dean’s drawn down. For a moment, she wonders if they have other facial expressions or if they always look this perturbed. “I can fit in there,” she motions to the opening in the door, a crack about a foot wide. Dean opens his mouth to disagree, but she holds up a hand. “I’ll get in there and move the railings so you guys can get in too. Quick and simple. Won’t go off on my own, promise.”

Sam and Dean meet eyes, silently coming to an agreement. Dean pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing. “Fine. Be quick.” He sets his steely gaze upon her face. “And, I fucking swear, Y/N— if you go off by yourself I will kill you.”

She rolls her eyes. “Sure, you will.”

She shoves passed him, knocking his shoulder on purpose. He grumbles something under his breath, but moves out of the way. A deep breath in, Y/N sidles through the opening. She barely makes it, struggling to get around the railing. Once inside, she grasps the leaning railing, using her whole body to pull the steel from where it’s wedged. Inch by inch, she gets it out of the way. 

It hits the floor with a reverberating clang, settling in the alcove beneath the stairs. The other falls to the ground, closing the door with its force. Y/N sighs, throwing her head back in frustration. Fists bang on the other side of the door, Dean shouting her name along with profanities.

“I’m fine, you oaf. Give me a second,” she yells back, exasperated.

“Hurry up, Y/N.”

She groans, sinking to her knees for more leverage. Breathlessly, she retorts, “I. Am. Trying.” With a grunt, she pushes the steel into a vertical position. “All right, you should have enough—”

“Need a hand?” a low voice taunts from above.

Y/N looks up. An unassuming woman stands at the platform of the first level, hands on her hips and an all teeth grin baring her lips. “Dean?” she yells, urgent and frightened. The door opens with enough room for Sam and Dean to squeeze through.

Dean barges in first, gun raised. He casts a glance at Y/N, following her gaze to the landing. Mechanically, he pulls the trigger. The woman falls with a thud. Y/N lets out a breath, hands white knuckling the railing and eyes trained on the body. Sam grabs the metal while Dean pries Y/N’s fingers off, more gently than he’s been with her all day.

She looks at him, eyes wide. As much as she wants to act fearlessly, she’s seen more people— things— die in front of her today than in her entire life. Dean nods, as if to say It’s okay, we get it. She steps back, letting him take the railing. Together, the brothers shift it to rest upon the other. 

Y/N closes her eyes, clenching and unclenching her fists. Her nails dig crescents into her palms, the stinging centering her. Okay. Okay. I can do this. Her skin burns under the gaze of Sam and Dean, even if she can’t see them herself. Opening her eyes, she focuses on the men before her. 

“You good?” Dean asks, warm and low, a hand reaching out to her.

“Yeah. Yeah. Let’s go.” She motions before her, allowing them to take the lead again. 

Four down, one to go, Y/N reminds herself with each step. The task seems less daunting with the odds in their favor at three against one. On the second platform, they exit into the hallway. The builders didn’t get so far as to hinge a door to the opening, thankfully. The trio stalk down the corridor, straining to hear anything out of place. 

The end of the hallway yields a wall and two doors opposite of each other— one opened and one closed.  The brothers broach the entryway of the open room, clearing it with a quick sweep. Similar to how they entered the building, Dean stands in front of the closed door while Sam grasps the handle. Pushing it open, Dean rushes in, Y/N and Sam following closely behind. 

The door slams shut behind them. Y/N whips around, ready to fire and finish the job. She stumbles, lowering her weapon, jaw dropped. Dean steps in front of her, half blocking her from— “Elijah?” Dean looks back at Y/N, brows furrowed and lips parted. Sam rests a hand on her shoulder, steadying her. 

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,” he taunts, almost as if scolding her. “I see you’re running around with scum. I thought you were better than that.”

She shakes her head, struggling to wrap her head around the man before her— her friend— being a monster. “What— how…”

He rolls his eyes. “Wah-how? Blah, blah, blah. You were always so naive.” He twirls a knife between his fingers, a small smirk dancing on his lips. Y/N looks away, unable to handle Elijah being the culprit she sought so long to capture. “When they came to town all those months ago, I caught one of them. I was ready to cuff ‘em and book ‘em, like we’re trained. But Eddie, the one you shot in the leg, Y/N, presented an offer I couldn’t refuse.” His voice glides like silk over her skin. It takes everything not to vomit.

“Only downside is once a month I’d get a little craz—”

The shot rings clear in the air, stopping Elijah’s tirade. Y/N’s head shoots up in time to watch him crumble to the ground. He settles with a soft finality, folded over himself. Dean turns around, saying something, but she can’t hear him. She shakes her head, tears stinging her eyes. Her knees give out, collapsing. Sam falls with her, softening the blow.

She pushes off of him. “Get off of me, get off of me,” she screeches, banging her fists into his chest until he releases her. He holds his hands up in surrender as she scrambles a few feet away. 

Y/N rests on her knees, forehead touching the cool ground as if in prayer. Dirt and dust grind in her wound, she knows, but she can’t feel it. She can only replay Elijah’s fall. The separation of the man she knew and the man who he became felt too small. She never noticed a difference. He acted the same: kind, funny, a good agent. A good friend. 

Her sobs wrench in her chest, burning her throat. She wants to scream, but it comes out strangled, reverberating from the ground back to her— furious and despairing and inconsolable. Running her fingers through her hair, she grips the roots needing something to hold. Everything feels new in a terrible, sickening way. Just yesterday she believed she and Elijah would put the murderer behind bars. Now, she knows monsters exist. She fought one. She knew one.

Y/N breathes in, steeling herself. The man she knew died four months ago. She pushes herself onto her hind legs, wiping her tears. The burn of her fingers against her wounds calm her. Dealing with physical pain numbs the emotional. She presses her fingers to the bruise, hissing but reveling in the tenderness. 

She struggles to her feet, all too aware of the aches in her legs, and turns to face Sam and Dean. They stand by the door, leaning on the border. In her moment of desolation, they moved Elijah somewhere. Out of her sight. Not wanting attention, or Are you okay’s, she pushes past them, avoiding contact. Silently, they follow her to the stairwell and out onto the street. The cool air dries her tears and fills her lungs. For the first time since peering around that godforsaken corner, she can breathe. 

Sam and Dean keep a respectable distance, letting her lead them to the cars. Wordlessly, Y/N returns the gun to Dean’s grasp, leaning against her front bumper. She tilts her head back to gaze at the waning moon. 

“You good?” Dean asks, settling next to her.

She looks at him, really looks at him, for perhaps the first time. The green of his eyes highlight the bags beneath them. His laugh lines contradict the exhaustion heavy on his lips. His shoulders hang low, weighed down by the knowledge of darkness and pain.

Y/N sighs, accepting the beer he offers her. “I’ll be all right.” She means it. Maybe her monsters don’t have fangs and claws and familiar faces, but they’re monsters all the same. “You know what’s funny?” Dean raises an eyebrow, taking a swig of his El Sol. “I’ve seen worse,” she giggles. 

Dean looks away, shaking his head with a low chuckle. “Yeah? Like what?”

She sips her beer, too, thinking of a good story. “One time there was this weird inbred family that captured people and hunted them down. Had a barn with cages and shit. They kept their victims cars in a junkyard-graveyard thing, and—”

Sam and Dean share a look before busting out laughing. She glances between them, offended at their mockery. “All right, I’ll keep my stories to myself, then.”

“No,” Sam gets out between bursts. “No, we, um— we hunted those guys. Thought they were monsters. Turned out to be hicks with too much time on their hands.”

It’s Y/N’s turn to laugh. “No fucking way! Must’ve just missed each other.” She shakes her head, taking another sip.

“Small world,” Dean whispers into his bottle. 

They settle into a comfortable silence, the tension from the day drained. Y/N lets her mind wander— from meeting these men to now, and everything between. She tries to think back to before all this; before yesterday. The person who stood on the outskirts of the caution tape versus the person who sits on the hood of her car are miles apart. 

“Oh, that reminds me.” She pushes off of her bumper, unlocking her car. From the inside door she grabs two small booklets. Y/N passes the fake badges to the respective users. “A few tips: don’t use famous names. That’s the first thing that gave you away. Secondly,” she takes Dean’s badge back, opening it up. “Your official federal insignia is too low. It should be square with your picture. And your serial code is the wrong date. The first number—sometimes letter— is the year this was manufactured. We get new badges every two years, alternating between numbers and letters. Right now,” she says, opening her own booklet, “we are on letter Q.” She passes the badge back to Dean, who pockets it.

Sam nods, “Thanks for the information.”

“Yeah, I just love helping people—”

“— impersonate federal officers,” Dean and Sam interrupt, saying it in unison.

She laughs. “I’m glad you guys didn’t turn out to be crazy.”

In another pocket of silence, they finish their beers. Dean grabs the empty bottles, tossing them into a beat up green cooler while Sam turns to rest on the side of the Impala. Y/N readies herself to say goodbye, ignoring the ache in her chest. She refuses to admit it aloud, but she wishes she met them under different circumstances. She wishes she met Dean under different circumstances. 

Despite only knowing him for two days, Y/N can see herself in Dean. He bears the same weight she bears. Plus, it doesn’t hurt that his eyes remind her of fresh cut grass at the beginning of fall. Paired with his smell of cinnamon and gunpowder (a scent she knows all too well), she can’t help but want to know him. If they had met in a bar, she would definitely have taken him home.

Dean returns to her side, this time shoulder to shoulder. “You think you can handle that?” he inquires, pointing to her forehead and cheek.

She touches it gingerly. “Yeah, I think so.”

He nudges her shoulder with his, and she looks up at him. “You did well, tonight. Better than I thought you would, honestly.”

She grins, shaking her head. “Yeah, that’s what you get for doubting me.”

He looks ahead again, and she does, too. The sky brightens as the sun returns for its reign. The fatigue from the last twenty-four hours settles in, and, without much thought, she rests her head on Dean’s shoulder. He tenses for a moment, and she feels him look down at her, but he lets his shoulders sag again. He places a hand on her thigh, squeezing it gently, as if to say I’m right here. I’ve got you. 

At least, she hopes that’s what he means. 

The sun finishes its creep into the sky and the stars fade into a blanket of pink, orange, and purple. Y/N and Dean hop down from the hood of her car and Sam meets them between the bumpers once more. Sam dips down to hug Y/N first, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and squeezing tight. She fights not to groan when his grasp aggravates the aches in her bones. He releases her, casting a smile in her direction.

“Thank you for your help, Y/N. Here,” he passes her a torn piece of paper with two numbers scrawled across. One has an “S” next to it, the other a “D”. “These are our numbers. Call us if you run into anything else.”

She nods, grinning too. “The same applies to you guys. It doesn’t hurt to have someone on the inside.”

He pats her arm before taking his leave, settling into the passenger seat. Y/N turns to Dean. He doesn’t look like much of a hugger, so she extends her hand for a shake. Rolling his eyes, he grabs it, but wraps it around his waist. Dean envelopes her in his arms, holding tighter than Sam with one hand in her hair and the other barred across her shoulders. This time, she welcomes it, in spite of the pain. 

He lets her go, but keeps his hands on her shoulders. “I mean it, Y/N.” His voice is low and sinful. “If you need anything, call us. Call me.”

“Anything?” she drawls playfully. He nods, regardless. “Even just to talk?”

Dean laughs. “Yeah. That’d be nice.” His right hand travels up to her neck. She wraps her fingers around his wrist, not entirely sure of his intentions but welcoming anything. He pulls her close, pressing his lips to her forehead. “Get home safe, Y/N,” he mumbles upon releasing her.

“You too, Dean.”

She waits for him to get in his car before she clambers into her driver’s seat. Her bones creek as she settles. Twisting her keys in the ignition, she rolls the windows down and heads home. Werewolves of London blares across her speakers, and she laughs. Yeah. She’ll be all right.

Taglist:

@angelicthreads

#dean winchester #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #fbi!reader #supernatural #supernatural fic #SUPERNATURAL AU #werewolf of portland

[ash-trash]

💗💥☀️🌙🌺 for all your ACTIVE RP charr.

Oh my! To keep this from going overboard, I’m going to keep this to Charr that are participating in active guild or open RP! Let’s get started...

Sela Lunarstep:

💗 Ramble a bit about this character!

Oh gosh, there’s so much to ramble about! Sela’s actually not my oldest EU character, she’s younger than Kurra by a smidge, but she’s definitely my favorite! She’s currently having a pretty rough go of it, but I really love thinking about her “private” life outside of Warband stuff - she gets into tussles, makes jewelry, all sorts of exciting things! :3c Sela’s name comes from, shocker, the Greek moon goddess Selene, while Lunarstep has changed a bit over the years. Originally, she was a shadowstep thief build, which is where the Lunarstep came from, but now it’s more of a... she’s always at the front of the pack, leading the charge, sort of deal. :p

💥 Are there any emotions your OC doesn’t know how to deal with, doesn’t understand or hates having to feel? Any reason behind this?

Sela is garbage at dealing with anything related to her own vulnerabilities and weaknesses, aha. She’s built up this huge facade of bravado that fixates on her being the perfect soldier and the best Legionnaire and so she has a huuuuge amount of trouble asking for (or accepting) help, or admitting that she can’t do something. Vulnerability is a big no-no and so naturally, although she does well with the more maternal relationships within her Warband, she really struggles with anything that veers towards the romantic. As far as hating to feel something, she hates to be embarrassed or humiliated, again related to her own pride and confidence.

☀️ How well does your OC take care of themself? Do they tend to put others before their own wellbeing and if so how often? What is their favourite way to pamper themself?

I’d say that she does a pretty good job of taking care of herself, but she absolutely puts others before herself. She prides herself on taking care of her warband and spoiling them and that often translates to making sure they get the lion’s share of the goodies while she scrimps. That said, she does have enough of an ego to feel that she “deserves” the good stuff, so she generally takes care of her own needs pretty well. Except sleep.

🌙 What are some of your OC’s favourites? Favourite food, colour, season, stuff like that! Give some general simple facts that tend to get overlooked!

Hmmm, stuff that’s overlooked... well, her favourite colour would be purple, season would be fall (she likes the milder weather and really enjoys the autumn leaves), flavorwise she loves spicy things (honestly, just because she’s trying to show off and be tough) as well as deep rich flavours... More obscure stuff might be: Her favourite time of day is late night, favourite bunk is the bottom one, favourite horn is her upper right one, favourite instrument would be the flute (she tends to prefer her music in the higher ranges - piccolo’s up there too!), and favourite cheese would be a nice heady parmesan.

🌺 What additions would your OC make to their body if they could? Lets say, if they don’t have a tail would they want one? Wings? Horns? Do they wish they could shapeshift?

Sela’s pretty happy with her body as it is, but there’s definitely a few changes she’d make. As much as they’d get in the way, she kinda wants bigger horns, and definitely bigger teeth. She’d love to be even more flexible than she is, and she’d like some extra muscle and definition to her legs. Wings would be nice, but definitely not all the time. Shapeshifting, of course! That would come in so handy!

Graf Towercleave (Yes, he still counts >.> ):

💗 Ramble a bit about this character!

Ah, Graf, my old man... Graf is definitely one of those characters with the most fleshed-out backstories, especially in how it affects him nowadays, and all the traumas and memories that come with it. I don’t remember the inspiration for his first name, but the second part was because he was originally designed to be a WvW Firebrand in his off-time (which... never came to fruition, oops), so Towercleave. I’m really excited to see the next step in his journey, though it coincides with my own journey in such a way that I do find myself getting emotional about the good-byes... ;w;

💥 Are there any emotions your OC doesn’t know how to deal with, doesn’t understand or hates having to feel? Any reason behind this?

I’d say that Graf doesn’t really do well with a lot of the “non-Charr” emotions/feelings: any sort of romance, faith, or selfishness. He’s learned to deal with them in others, to be sure, but they’re still fairly alien to him. I’d say that as far as things he experiences that he struggles with, it would be the trauma of his past - whether it’s something that he experienced in the Sieges, or in his time with the Vigil, he... doesn’t do well with being “scared”, or not in control.

☀️ How well does your OC take care of themself? Do they tend to put others before their own wellbeing and if so how often? What is their favourite way to pamper themself?

He does good at taking care of himself, though perhaps a bit more spartan than is strictly necessary, because that’s what he’s used to. He’s been a soldier his whole life, through and through, and he knows how important maintaining his equipment, including his body, is. He does a good job at keeping himself in shape and healthy, though perhaps to a detriment of not allowing himself many luxuries (except for warm baths, those are always welcome). Although he does consider others, he usually tends to leave them to their own devices, except when he decides they’re too young/naive/bullheaded to do it properly, such as a certain blue-haired warbandmate.

🌙 What are some of your OC’s favourites? Favourite food, colour, season, stuff like that! Give some general simple facts that tend to get overlooked!

Favourite food would be some good old traditional charr chow. Grilled meat, lots of special sauce, no fancy frou-frou to mess with it. Maybe some cheese. As far as colours, although most of his life tends to be filled with red, he’ll admit to liking a nice deep dark navy blue the best. The sea has been a rare treat for him, and he enjoys it when he can. Favourite season would have to be winter. Although he doesn’t care for the snow and cold and slush, he likes the way it makes the world slow down. He likes that everyone hates it together, I suppose. Some more obscure ones... his favourite flavour of pie is strawberry, his favourite place was a small grove in what is now the Dragonbrand - nowadays, it’s probably the Hero’s Canton, because it has the most nice memories without bad ones to taint it.

🌺 What additions would your OC make to their body if they could? Lets say, if they don’t have a tail would they want one? Wings? Horns? Do they wish they could shapeshift?

Honestly, he’d mostly just... fix his current one. Make it less old, less achy, less stiff. Shapeshifting and the rest of it sounds like a lot of faff. He wishes he had a third set of ears so he could hear humans better. Maybe another pair of arms to hold more things.

Naphtha Seizetar:

💗 Ramble a bit about this character!

But I ramble about her so muuuuch, FINE. For any newcomers, Naphtha was originally a villain in a Lunar plot that met a gruesome end, but I loved the concept so much that I had to remake her (a sort of AU, what-if-her-life-turned-out-different) as a good girl. I’ve actually got a sort of spooky story in the works with her (and at the rate I’m going it might be spooky season before it’s ever finished) that’s going to give her a bit of development with her magic because right now the poor girl is a dummy and would rather play with pressure cookers.

💥 Are there any emotions your OC doesn’t know how to deal with, doesn’t understand or hates having to feel? Any reason behind this?

A lot of them, probably. Naph is a sweetie but she doesn’t do well with a lot of “serious” things. She likes being left alone to her own devices and is still getting the hang of the much-more teamwork oriented Seize group. So I guess emotionally, uh, things like teamwork and codependence and responsibility, whatever emotions those are. As far as hates feeling, she really doesn’t like feeling like she’s wrong (ironically). She doesn’t like feeling like she’s being irrational, or that she’s not justified in what she’s doing.

☀️ How well does your OC take care of themself? Do they tend to put others before their own wellbeing and if so how often? What is their favourite way to pamper themself?

She does not. Naph is the kind of gal that would go weeks without showering, live off of corn chips and stale marshmallows she found under the couch, and develop a 12 coffee a day habit so she only has to sleep once a month. Naph does not take very good care of herself at all, and she takes care of others even less. She’s not necessarily inconsiderate, she just... as above, doesn’t do well with the whole teamwork thing and kind of figures that she can take care of herself, so everyone else can too. As far as pampering herself, she rarely goes above what’s “necessary” as far as self-care, but on the rare occasion that she did decide to treat herself, she’d get a lot of fancy soaps and oils and just... go to town on her fur and spend like a whole day grooming and scrubbing and getting the years of grime out of there until she’s as soft and fluffy as can be.

🌙 What are some of your OC’s favourites? Favourite food, colour, season, stuff like that! Give some general simple facts that tend to get overlooked!

Favourite food would be mushroom anything. Probably her favorite ever is something she had in Lion’s Arch one time, some sort of pasta dish with mushrooms and squid ink - it was salty and savory and rich... Her favourite colour would be brown (well, she’d say black but as far as actual COLOURS), and her favourite season would be fall. She likes the spoopy season, and enjoys cronching the leaves. More uncommon things, her favourite shape is octagon, her favorite simple machine is the screw, and her favorite animal is the carrion devourer.

🌺 What additions would your OC make to their body if they could? Lets say, if they don’t have a tail would they want one? Wings? Horns? Do they wish they could shapeshift?

She would absolutely go all out and give herself big ol’ bat wings and like 3 more sets of horns and huuuuge fangs and way bigger claws and a pointy tail and SPIKES and probably a third eye on her forehead... heck yeah.

Elda Throatchop:

💗 Ramble a bit about this character!

Ahhh, Elda. I included her mostly because I wanted to talk about her and also she’s sort of gotten sucked into a few open-ish things lately so she totally counts >.> She’s another NPC-turned-character from Lunar’s Drizzlewood plot, this time a generic helper NPC that was supposed to get killed off but Lunar actually did well enough that she survived, and helped them through the final fight. Aesthetically, she’s actually based off of the Pokemon Obstagoon, which is where her last name comes from as well. Sort of. I’ve honestly had the idea for a Blood engineer in the back of my mind for years now and Elda is absolutely not that! She’s not at all what I would have made had I set out originally to make a Blood engineer, but I love her anyways and I’m really enjoying her.

💥 Are there any emotions your OC doesn’t know how to deal with, doesn’t understand or hates having to feel? Any reason behind this?

Elda hates feeling loneliness. She doesn’t mind being alone, and she can handle that just fine - she likes her private time to tinker or work on projects or test the latest whatever, and she probably does better on her own anyways, but she... needs to know that there’s people there for her if she wants/needs. She doesn’t like being isolated. As far as stuff that she doesn’t know how to deal with, probably regret? She’s so far operated on a kind of “live hard die young” sort of deal (and she almost did, dohohoho) and so when missed opportunities or regrets jump out at her, she’s not really sure what to do about it. It never spurs her to action so she’s kind of just left there staring at it like “so... what now?” and it kind of shuts down her whole mojo for a long time.

☀️ How well does your OC take care of themself? Do they tend to put others before their own wellbeing and if so how often? What is their favourite way to pamper themself?

Elda takes decent enough care of herself. Not exemplary (she’s not out here practicing yoga or getting enough fiber) but well enough! She eats regularly and gets enough sleep and bathes often, so she’s doing pretty good! Although she doesn’t regularly put anyone above herself, she would do it for certain people, like her friends or family. She values them and their role in her life enough that she’s willing to self-sacrifice to make them happy and keep them around. When she does want to treat herself, she tends to splurge a little on some shiny new tool or toy, often with the excuse that it’s for work and it’ll help her be more productive, but she knows that it’s just because it’s bigger and shinier and has an extra spanner or something.

🌙 What are some of your OC’s favourites? Favourite food, colour, season, stuff like that! Give some general simple facts that tend to get overlooked!

Her favourite food would probably be things that are kind of finicky and interactive, so poultry wings, or artichoke, or shellfish. She’s not really picky about flavours, though of course she likes things meaty. Her favourite colour is obviously red, though she’ll admit to a fondness for pink as well. She never understood why humans attach so much meaning to it - pink’s cool. Her favourite season is definitely summer - she likes the clear skies, the bright weather... More random stuff! Her favourite Bop-It command is Twist It, her favourite style of soda pop (if such a thing exists in Tyria, I dunno) is Dr. Pepper, her favourite sport is wrestling, and her favorite piece of clothing is her belt buckle, which is made from the melted down remains of her first gun.

🌺 What additions would your OC make to their body if they could? Lets say, if they don’t have a tail would they want one? Wings? Horns? Do they wish they could shapeshift?

Elda’s pretty happy with how she is, but given her choices, she’d like to be quite a bit taller and a bit bulkier. She wishes her teeth were a bit pointier, and she always wished she could grow a longer mane - she wants to have a big spiky mohawk too. As nice as wings or shapeshifting would be, it seems like having too many things would just get in the way.

#Thanks for asking! #Long post #Sela Lunarstep #Graf Towercleave #Naphtha Seizetar #Elda Throatchop