#my brain says that he is and insists that he is

[pathologicalreid]

Spencer x fem!reader fic based on “Work Song” by Hozier?? Whatever storyline or category you want!!

work song | S.R.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: general cm violence, near death experience, blood, gunshot wound, hospitals. word count: 1.77k a/n: hozier song request makes my brain go brr. i hope the people of tumblr enjoy this bc i most definitely enjoyed writing it.

boys, when my baby found me

Your hair whipped your face as you spun around through the labyrinth of a warehouse that your team had found themselves in. It seemed like an impossible task, trying to navigate this space, but you had already cleared over half of the space.

A small noise, like a shoe squeaking, caught your attention, causing your ears to rise like an animal hunting for prey. Turning a corner, you had your flashlight and firearm raised, coming face to face with Morgan. The both of you relaxed ever so slightly, no longer ready to pounce.

Ricocheting throughout the warehouse, you heard a deafening gunshot. The sound bounced off of the metal walls of the building, making it almost impossible for you to determine where the sound originated from. Meeting Morgan’s eyes, he nodded his head to the left, signaling for you to go that way while he went right.

You affirmed his tactics, turning slowly and making your way to the left. The rusted building was now so eerily quiet that goosebumps were sprouting across your body, even under your bureau jacket.

Continuing your way down the narrow passageway, you saw movement inside of a room. Sliding your back along the wall, you peeked into the room, seeing two bodies on the ground. You whispered almost imperceptibly into your radio, calling for medical. One of them was the local officer that the BAU had been working the case with.

The other one was Spencer.

You pivoted so that you were entirely in the doorway, facing the UnSub, he raised his gun at you, but you were already pulling the trigger, hitting him square in the forehead. Breathing heavily, you lowered your firearm before scrambling over to Spencer.

I didn’t care much how long I lived, but I swear I thought I dreamed her

In your ear, you could hear Morgan shouting, “Y/N, Reid, sound off, dammit!”

Something needed to happen. You needed to do something, but you had such severe tunnel vision that the only thing you could think about was Spencer.

He was gasping for air on the metal ground of the warehouse, lying in a pool of his own blood. You observed in horror as the red puddle spread with each passing moment.

Launching into action, you tugged your jacket off, stuffing the fabric onto Spencer’s side in an attempt to staunch the bleeding. Even Kevlar vests had an Achilles heel, and the UnSub had managed to strike him precisely where there was a gap in the material. All the while, you were muttering the words, “Stay awake.” Just those two words, over and over again, like a prayer.

You hummed, using one hand to apply pressure to his wound and lifting the other so that you could smooth his hair back. His skin was alarmingly clammy, and you knew that, even with your attempts, he was losing too much blood. “Y/N,” he muttered, sounding like he was using all of his strength to say your name.

Gently, you hushed him, “It’s okay, Spence. Don’t talk, you’re gonna be just fine,” you insisted as his blood soaked through the knees of your jeans. You weren’t sure who you were trying to console at that moment.

“It makes sense-“ he said, being cut off by a cough, sending blood spurting out of his mouth. If his lung was collapsing, there was nothing you’d be able to do. You tried to shush him again, but he had more to say – he almost always did. “That I’d see you while I’m dying.”

Choking on tears, you leaned your face onto your shoulder so that you could wipe them away without moving your hands. “I’m here, I’m really here,” you urged, he wasn’t hallucinating, and he wasn’t dying. Not on your watch. “It’s me, Spence. I’m right here,” you told him carefully.

He opened his mouth again to speak, and you wanted to tell him to save his strength. You also didn’t want to deprive him of his words. “You…” his voice trailed off as he searched for the words, “You’ve always been my favorite dream.”

Sniffling, you shake your head, “I’m not a dream, I’m right here.” You told him, watching carefully as his eyelids grew seemingly heavier, “baby, open your eyes.”

in the low lamplight I was free

His skin was pallid. Even in the dim, orange light of the warehouse, you could see a sickly sheen forming on his skin. His body temperature was dropping, and it was all you could do to not cover his body with yours as you tried to keep him warm. “Spencer, please,” you rasped, urging him to open his eyes.

Your only solace was that his chest was still rising and falling. His breathing was rickety, but he was still breathing, and that had to count for something. “Spencer,” you cried, watching as blood sept through your jacket, flooding between your fingers as you tried to keep him in one piece.

“Love, open your eyes,” you begged, your eyes flooding with tears until everything was just a blur of red.

His heart was beating, you could feel it beneath your hands. A weak, unsteady beat under your trembling hands. “Baby, please, oh my god,” you pleaded, verging toward incoherent babbling.

You were second-guessing if he was still breathing. If his heart was still beating. With that realization, you screamed.

when my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth

At first, you were just screaming, letting the vibrations of your vocal cords portray your emotions, and then you screamed for your team. You had never felt more alone, kneeling in a puddle of Spencer’s blood, and no one was coming to help you.

This couldn’t be how it ended. You refused to acknowledge it, even as you felt the life leave his body.

Leaning your head to the side, you spoke into your radio, “I need medical. I’m in the upper west wing of the building. The suspect is dead, I have an officer and an agent down.” Tears continued to stream down your face.

You heard footsteps behind you as people piled into the room, but you didn’t dare take your eyes off Spencer. Not when there was a chance that it would be the last time you looked at him while you were both still breathing. “Agent,” someone said, but it didn’t register. They kept repeating themselves until two strong arms wrapped around you, dragging you away from Spencer.

Now sat on the floor, you clocked the paramedics that were now frantically working on Spencer, packing his wound, and cutting off the Kevlar vest.

Breathing heavily, you watched out of the corner of your eye as Rossi approached the local officer, checking his pulse. Emily was hovered over the UnSub, collecting his weapon from his corpse.

You were still being firmly held back, trying to pry the tattooed arms of Derek Morgan off of your torso. “Stop, let me get to him. I need to get to him,” you struggled against his grip, but any attempts at freedom were futile. The medics were saying awful things about a weak and thready pulse and pneumothorax.

Clinging to any semblance of hope that you could find, you listened to them talk about Spencer’s pulse, knowing that a pulse meant he was alive.

Your breathing quickened as you looked up at Morgan, Hotch was hovering behind the two of you, “I should’ve called for medical sooner.” Your voice was miserable, you had sat there with your jacket to his side for far too long. He could’ve gotten help from professionals.

“You radioed almost five minutes ago for medical,” Morgan informed you. “The EMTs just couldn’t find you in this damn maze.”

While you had no recollection of calling for help when you first found Spencer, you also knew that Morgan would get no pleasure out of lying to you.

You heard one of the paramedics say there was no pulse, and you didn’t remember anything that followed.

no grave can hold my body down

Crumpled in a ball, you picked at the crusted blood in your fingernails as you focused on the steady beeping of Spencer’s heart monitor.

According to Emily, who had been there when you woke up in the hospital, you had passed out around the time that the medics lost Spencer’s pulse. The doctor said it was just a result of stress. Thanks to some IV fluids and hydroxyzine, you were able to be discharged.

Spencer had been out of surgery for several hours now. The doctors had been careful to use the term “if he wakes up”, while you had made sure to say “when he wakes up.” You were playing the most horrendous waiting game, and there’s nothing worse than playing a game you have no interest in.

You were now donning a pair of black sweatpants and an old Academy t-shirt. Being the only team member permitted to see Spencer while he was still sleeping – girlfriend privileges, as Morgan phrased it – you waited with only the noises of his monitor to keep you company in the ICU.

Nurses came in and out, trying to manage his pain without the use of narcotics, making sure his blood transfusions were helping, and every once in a while, they’d check on you.

At this point, you had been nursing the same cup of ice water for hours, remembering the last thing Spencer had said to you: You’ve always been my favorite dream.

There was something so peculiar about being with someone who read so much, especially when he said such eloquent things while bleeding to death. You sighed, slumping back in the chair, you looked back at Spencer, only to be surprised that he was looking right back at you.

You jumped slightly in the chair, leaning over so that you could look at him, “Hey,” you whispered, maintaining the reverent tones of the Intensive Care Unit. “How do you feel?”

He’d lie to you and tell you he was fine, but you could tell by the way his heart rate increased that it was a lie. His eyebrows furrowed as he clocked the white patient ID bracelet on your wrist and your bloodshot eyes, “You’ve been crying,” he observed.

Despite yourself, you smiled softly, “I thought you were dead.” Your voices were each raspy, yours from screaming and his from being intubated.

Slowly, he unfolded his arm so that his hand was extended to you. Without a second thought, you placed your hand in his. He hummed softly, “And leave you? Never.”

I’ll crawl home to her

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #margot's requests #spencer reid hurt/comfort #criminal minds hurt/comfort #spencer reid whump #criminal minds whump

[lemonlover1110]

𝐌𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝

Toji Fushiguro

[Chapter 11] A Better Man

← Previous Chapter - Story Masterlist

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

“Shiu… To what do I owe this pleasure?” You open the door to your apartment to find your ex-husband’s old friend. You have no contact with the man, therefore you have no idea why he stands in front of you. He holds a pink gift bag, making you assume that he’s brought a gift for the baby, but why? Then you remember you have a very persistent ex-husband that’s very good friends with the man that stands before you. “What does Toji want? He can just call me, he has my number– For fuck’s sake, you have my number.”

“I’m just here to drop off a gift for my niece.” Shiu says, holding up the bag. He’s not here just for that, and you know it but you won’t drag out an interrogation, demanding an answer from him. Instead, you take the bag from his hand and begin to close the door in his face. He stops the door before it’s shut right in his face, “Not so fast.”

“So you’re not just dropping off a gift?” You tilt your head to the side, slowly blinking your eyes to play dumb. Shiu sighs, shaking his head. He doesn’t like to admit that he's here on behalf of Toji… Well, Toji did ask him to come but Shiu isn’t exactly trying to push the agenda that Toji urged him to.

“Can I come in or not?” Shiu asks, and you take a moment to think about it– Well, you pretend to take a moment to think about it, wasting a couple of precious seconds of his life. Instead of answering, you move to the side to allow him in. 

Shiu takes off his shoes when he steps into the apartment. He hadn’t been here since he helped you move in, and it’s nice to see how the place has been transformed into an apartment that screams your name. He almost laughs at the fact that everything looks babyproofed, even when it’s too early for it. He knows you don’t have that much time in your hands to do it all, so it’s clear what your priority is.

“What did Toji tell you to do?” You question when Shiu sits on your couch, putting the gift bag on your coffee table. Shiu is biting his tongue, not wanting to answer the question immediately. 

“Can’t I just come around to check up–” He begins, but you cut him off before he can finish his claim. You swear you’ll roll your eyes so far back into your head that you’ll be able to see your brain if he claims that he isn’t here on behalf of Toji.

“Be serious with me.” You respond, as Shiu’s hands go to his knees. He takes a deep breath before nodding his head. 

“He wants me to convince you to move in with him since he claims that’s the best course of action since you’re having a baby and all.” He tells you, making you scoff. Toji just doesn’t know when to drop something, you never realized how persistent he can be while you were married. Maybe because Toji didn’t even try. “I’m honestly here just to say I showed up.”

“Then why did you insist on coming in?” You reply, and Shiu sits in silence. How does he answer honestly and fast without prying. Shiu doesn’t want to build a case for Toji but at the same time, he does have a lot to say in support of him. He doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable either. “Just say it.”

“Toji’s a tough person to be with but he does love you.” Shiu says, and you click your tongue. You’ve heard the argument a million times, and you’re never convinced. Even if he does love you, you’re never getting back with him.

“Why do you bring this up?” You ask him. “I mean, I thought you weren’t going to try anything but here you are, telling me that Toji does love me.”

“I’m not trying to convince you of anything, he does love you and I’m just bringing it up.” Shiu argues, and you hold back on sighing. You keep your irritation to yourself, wanting to seem neutral about all of this.

“Okay, what’s the point of it?” You respond, wanting this conversation to be over. You shouldn’t have to explain to him that trying to be convinced that you should get back with your ex is a rather bothersome topic. 

“You two are expecting a daughter, if you actually want to get back with him don’t feel guilty.” He tells you, and you chuckle. Did he really just say that? You wonder if you would feel guilty if you got back together with him, but for what reason would you?

“I appreciate it, Shiu, but I have no plans on getting back with him. Do I really need to tell you how horrible it was to be married to him for you to stop helping him?” You try to sound nonchalant about it all, but the annoyance peeks through your voice. Shiu feels the need to disagree with you, even though he’s helping him in a way.

“I’m not helping him.”

“Then what are you doing?” You question, making the man suck his bottom lip between his teeth. He’s quiet. He doesn’t know how to answer because you’re right. He is helping Toji.

“I guess I am.” He answers. He lets out a sigh, standing up from the couch, beginning his walk to the front door since the reason for his visit has come to an end. “It’s just weird to see Toji so miserable… He’s trying really hard to get something he wants and his efforts are in vain.”

“Toji needs to learn that he can’t get everything he wants. I gave him many chances, and he took them for granted. I shouldn’t be expected to give him another chance simply because he realized he can’t have me anymore.” You argue, and Shiu can’t say anything back because you’re right. He doesn’t know the extent of your issues with Toji, therefore he shouldn’t say more.

He opens the front door and waves at you, and before he can say anything else to you, you say, “Please don’t come around if you’re just coming here for Toji, I don’t want to hear it.”

“Hope you like the gift.” Shiu says before walking out. You don’t hesitate before closing the door. You roll your eyes as you walk to the coffee table to get the bag.

You find the cutest hat inside of the bag, which nearly makes you squeal. You should text him and thank him, but you’ll hold off on it. You’re reasonably upset. You have enough to deal with Toji, you don’t need a third party getting involved simply because he’s Toji’s friend.

For a moment you thought that Shiu would remain neutral in all of this, just now do you realize just how foolish you were. Shiu is Toji’s friend, not yours.

You smile like a schoolgirl when you get a delivery of flowers early in the morning. You’re excited for the lucky person that’s going to be met with flowers this morning. You ask who they’re for, and it takes you by surprise when he says your name. You sign for the flowers and are quick to look for a note.

You don’t really need to ask who they’re from, you know they’re from Toji. You find the note, one that makes you smile even brighter. You hate that it does, but finally getting the attention that you’ve been lacking from him makes you feel accomplished. He makes sure to compliment you in every way possible in such a small note. 

And just as you put the note away, you receive a message from him, asking you to lunch. You have to take a deep breath, putting the phone down for a minute to not seem too excited. You won’t let a beautiful bouquet of flowers change your mind. You try to seem as unenthusiastic as possible when you accept his invitation.

Toji picks you up at the office, but unlike other times, he doesn’t get out of his car to go to you. You can only assume it has something to do with your supervisor, but regardless, it’s none of your business. Toji is a single man, what he does with other women is no longer your matter, as much as it fills you with jealousy.

“There you are.” Toji gets out of the car to open the door for you. He makes sure to compliment you more, “You’re glowing today. You’re stunning.”

“Thank you, Toji.” You respond as he opens the car door. You get in, and he runs to the driver’s side to not keep you waiting. 

He begins the short drive to the restaurant he picked out for lunch, making light chatter. He’s asking you about you and how you’re feeling, and you give him short dry answers. He’s really trying, and you feel bad for doing this to him– But he deserves it.

You get to the restaurant, and the first thing you notice is how nice it is. He’s going all out on you, and it’s hard not to be happy. You dreamt of this for years, and you’re finally getting it when you have no need for it.

“Thank you for the flowers, Toji. They’re beautiful.” You bring up when you’re seated at a table. You don’t want lunch to be as awkward as the car ride.

“I’m glad you like them.” He responds, a shy smile on his lips. Who would’ve thought bouquets would be so expensive, he wouldn’t dare bring up the price though. “Also… Sorry about Shiu.”

“Let’s not talk about him please.” You tell him, and Toji nods in response. Of course you wouldn’t like to talk about that.

You’re looking at the menu, deciding what’s most appetizing at the moment. Something that won’t make you sick to your stomach. While you focus on that, Toji tries his best to think of something that’ll catch your attention. There’s only one thing that you can talk about for hours, and that’s the baby.

He clears his throat, “Anzu is a cute name.”

“Huh?” You look up at him, a sparkle in your eyes when you hear him. “I love the name! But I’m not sure, I have to keep looking at my options.”

“Of course, we have time. But I heard the name not too long ago and I love it.” Toji agrees. You begin to talk about baby names, and he finds himself getting excited. It’s hard not to get excited when you’re clearly over the moon because of this. “I hope we can come to a decision before she’s born.”

“Do you think she’ll be born before or after Megumi’s birthday?” You ask as your hand goes to your bump. Toji takes a moment to think about it.

“On his birthday.” Toji answers, and you hope that isn’t the case. You wish Toji can celebrate his son’s birthday without an issue. “How are you holding up though? Is everything okay?”

“Why do you mainly ask about me and not the baby? Aren’t you excited?” Your question comes from pure curiosity. You swore Toji was getting excited about her, but his questions are only to you, very rarely about the baby. Toji clears his throat before answering,

“I’m excited. I am. But you’re my main priority.” You raise your brows, a bit taken back by his response. “You were my wife first, and you always will be. My priorities will shift when she comes along, but she isn’t here yet.”

He’s choosing the right words, making you foolishly smile. He’s doing things right today, and if he keeps doing them like this, you might reconsider the decision that you’ve made.

But you remind yourself that you could’ve had this husband for years, but he chose not to be. Regardless you smile,

“You’re right. Thank you, Toji.”

#toji x y/n #toji zenin #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji fushiguro #daddy toji #fushiguro toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #jujutsu toji #jjk toji #toji x reader #toji x you #dilf toji #toji fushiguro x you #toji fanfic #toji fic

[starberry-cupcake]

I'm back! Thank you so much for your patience and your kind messages and comments ♥ you are so nice about my silly ramblings, I appreciate it a lot.

previously, on harrowsoup the ninth:

this happened

also I posted this and this as previews and this is the whole tag

currently, chapters 23-26:

"an atmosphere of greater unease had settled over the mithraeum"

aka the emperor's bolthole

btw, no kidding, harrow, I hadn't noticed the unease

so, harrow asks around about the herald situation

I have another deck with dragon heralds but I'm not gonna go on a card tangent this time (you're welcome)

everyone gives terrible and useless descriptions

emperor johnny boy says "Whenever they come I am bundled off to a sealed sanctum at the heart of the Mitrhaeum, so that their insanity can't touch me"

asshole coward awful man

harrobean is trying to ask why emperor asshat is so sure about her having to die and if there's no way she can make it

emperor johnny says yandere twin isn't that good at being a lyctor yet, even if she's surprising and that if he was still giving silly names, he'd name her "Saint of Awe"

harrow thinks "that had not quite suited Naberius"

get perpetually owned, chad

harrow also mentions not being able to remember things well

YOU THINK, HARROW?

"it was as though your brain had formed a scab over everything that had happened to you"

I don't think that scab is healing well

emperor johnny insists on the rapier

idk why they all insist on the rapier

gideon and camilla didn't like it and were the fucking best cavaliers ever

ARE, THEY ARE THE BEST CAVALIERS EVER

PRESENT TENSE

but anyway, at this point, it could very well be emperor johnbro has aesthetic demands

not like he'll explain anything

harrowbean sees not!dulcinea's door closed, which isn't usual

she second guesses a bit because she can't always trust what she sees and she remembers crux saying "you saw what you saw, Lady, and the only thing you control now is your reaction thereto"

I didn't like that old man, but that's pretty cool of him to say

harrow opens the door and sees this

alleged gideon the first aka ortus tells harrow to go away very calmly and in a way that is too nice for him, apparently

harrow is upset at the display in front of her salad and goes to complain to yandere twin

which is a terrible place to complain at because she's both into gossip and into kink

if you want someone to take this seriously, that's the last place to go to

"at least you know who's been moving her—so to speak"

this is what we get combining yandere twin and chad

I've used that gif twice for her already

I forgive her, though, because she says "god is a dickhead" and she's right

she also asks harrow to try to remember why emperor john god has given her the sword

and establishes that harrow previously did something to her jaw so that she couldn't tell her

that's going in the 3d model

CHAPTER 24

apparently people are being less mean to harrowbean because they're already mourning her

harrow says that alleged gideon the first aka ortus has the name ortus because "it was just a banal and uncomfortable coincidence, as though he'd carried the name of a dead childhood pet"

she believes that the name must have caught on in the ninth because anastasia must have like brought it in and named people after her pal

I think he's named gideon

and that our gideon is named after him because of direct relationship of some capacity, maybe to someone involved

I considered the mom, but it's uncertain

in any case, he has to die

so, harrow puts a lot of wards and safety things in her room

kind of like this

home alone styling it

but apparently alleged gideon the first aka ortus can bypass wards

much like the sleeper/waker

much like not!dulcinea

wards are basically pointless, I guess, at this point

so he goes into her bathroom when she's bathing because here in the emperor's bolthole, everyone's a disrespectful asshole

harrowbean says he's "a thanergy void" and "the ultimate nemesis of a bone adept"

he tries to kill her while she's looking like this

I want to give this child some cocoa and play a comfort movie for her, like "the bone collector"

she ended up using the teeth she lost in the fight as projectiles in his eyes and got him to leave

she ended up bloody, unmoving, wet, naked and collapsed on the ground to which yandere twin live reacted to and left

she could have given her a hand

or an arm

she decided alleged gideon had to die and ice cube barbie aka probably annabel lee agreed

when gideon was among us, there was not enough time for her to throw hands at people and here there's so many people she could be throwing hands at and she's not here to do so

camilla too, but camilla threw hands at martita in a way that was legendary enough

CHAPTER 25

harrow goes with the chisme to dr reverend professor emperor john

she says "I swear by the Locked Tomb"

to which he replies "I wouldn't swear by that in this instance"

which I sure hope doesn't mean anything nasty with my girl ice cube barbie annabel lee because I'm gonna kill this man

she might not be entirely alive (maybe she is, maybe she's just suspended or something) but she deserves better than this piece of work

then he says "well, that's unfortunate"

this man really knows how to handle a situation, huh

emperor john says that it's pretty unlikely that alleged gideon the first aka ortus was doing the dirty with not!dulcinea because he never showed interest before and is "legendarily unamorous"

that's another tshirt I need

I need that one and the witch one immediately

also, now we've got a problem

not just because my telenovela about how this man might or might not be related to our gideon got more convoluted

but also because if alleged gideon is aroace, I'm gonna have to stan

I don't make the rules over here, I have to stand by my people

I have a conflict of interest now

emperor john also says "you must think us all a depraved set of immortal criminals"

I mean yes, I do, but not because of sexy times with zombies

I'm not here to judge the sexytimes of necromancers and whatever they do in their spare time

I don't know the intricacies of consent with ghosts or whatever, I can't be imparting judgment

it's not that, emperor john

it's because you're unpleasant war criminals who are killing planets for fun

well, the war criminal part I don't have hard evidence on rn but the situation doesn't seem to be in the favor of these people

I feel like when this man talks about the overall situation I'm getting a speech from emperor palpatine

emperor reverend john asks harrow, who has been awake for 25 years, to go to sleep

yeah, sure, she should go to sleep and wait for this guy to come by and try to kill her for the millionth time

meanwhile, harrowbean keeps collecting hours without sleep like

she makes, at the request of emperor camp counselor john, soup for everyone

I don't remember if it was here or before and I forgot but, this is extremely important

they mentioned cassiopeia being the one who cooked before

cassiopeia the same one with the ceramics collection, if I'm remembering correctly

cassiopeia who was also from the sixth, I think

camilla's house

she's checking every single one of my boxes like a sniper

why isn't she here, we're stuck with the grumpy one and the senior chad

ANYWAY, at the mention of harrow cooking I thought, immediately, "that's an awesome way to kill this guy"

I was picturing more like a poison type situation, although I didn't know how that could be achieved

something like this

but I should have known poison was too subtle for harrowcita

like I established back when protozoa's head was found in her closet, subtle isn't harrow's style

so it was more like this

basically, harrow sectioned her tibia to put some in the soup and then she could necrobend it so that it attacked from the inside

if I'm getting it right

insane plan and I love it

emperor john shadyman says "ten thousand years since I've eaten human being, Harrow, and I didn't really want an encore."

were they snacking on people during the Resurrection???

did they kill people by making lunch?????

???????????????????????????????????????????

"you think we're bad because we have sexy times with ghoulies?? uwu" that's the least of my concerns johnny john man

harrow then breaks down and asks straight to his face WHY THE FUCK MUST SHE SUFFER LIKE THIS

she calls herself a nonsense

the only nonsense here is what this emperor man speaks

she tells him she hasn't slept in six days

for a sleep deprived plan, it was excellent tbh

emperor man over here asks yandere twin to take her to sleep

and then stays with mercygirl to whom he says it's insane that harrow could do what she did and how did mercygirl miss that

this is the situation, as I have previously established

augustine looks at harrow "as if he had seen the ghost of someone he did not particularly like"

alleged gideon the first aka ortus salutes her on her way out

he doesn't even have heartburn

CHAPTER 26

we're back on gideon-less canaan house because it's time for more people to die

in ways that make 0 sense at all for what we know so far

regina george twin is pushed to her death by mayonnaise uncle

sounds fake to me

like, come on

regina george twin can probably murder that feeble guy on sight

we saw her spar with gideon, she wanted to be the cav that chad ended up being

she might not be a necro but she can stand her ground in a physical fight

mayonnaise uncle without duracell bunny nephew is like a sweaty guy on an anime con complaining about girls ruining everything while buying a maid figurine

she can take him

anyway, he does that and he says to her "and somewhere out there, may all the blood of your blood suffer even a fraction of what I have suffered"

now, this is weird

is he talking about yandere twin?

he wants revenge because yandere twin obliterated him?

is yandere twin "out there"?

I'd say this might be limbo BUT CAMILLA ISN'T DEAD

harrow is going to him and he says "she has not remembered her end" "is this how it happens then?"

and then he yeeted himself into space

that's what I wanted to do with not!dulcinea all along

so, yeah, well, this canaan business is getting more complicated now that it's not just people being shot

people are throwing themselves and others into space

and the memories of harrow in the emperor's bolthole aren't completely lining up with these

and mayonnaise uncle seemed to have been more aware of things than others around here?? or maybe just more forthcoming??? in that cryptic otaku way of his

also, no camilla at all still

Things are heating up in the emperor's bolthole, hope to come back soon with another one and thanks for the patience, hope it was worth it.

#luly reacts to tlt #harrow the ninth #harrow the ninth spoilers #tlt spoilers #the locked tomb #long post #gif cw

[underground-secret]

The Hunter and the Witch~ Dean Winchester x f! reader

Description: Sam's nightmare leads the group to Saginaw Michigan. But it's more than a nightmare and it's more than any ol' hunt. Things are revealed about the past as it sends them barreling into the future.

Warnings: Cannon violence, I might have gotten a little too carried away with the beginning scene sorry not sorry! flirtation, banter, mentions of su!cide, gore, mentions of child abuse, mentions of past abuse, guns, a roller coaster of emotions, and a lot of angst (no one can be happy...sorry!)

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @okayiamkassandra , @fablesrose , @ada--44 @bonkydarnes , @star-yawnznn @crazyunsexycool @onlyangel-444 @seninjakitey @mystic-mara

Word Count: 9,912

Nightmare

(Masterlist, Prev Ch, Next Ch)

I turn over in my bed, burying my head deeper into the pillows to ignore the loud and insistent banging from my door. I mumble incoherently into the covers, sleep having its claws so deep into my brain. “Please open the door, sweetheart. ‘m tryna give you privacy here but if this door isn’t open in five seconds I’m gonna use my key,” Dean warns loudly, his voice raspy. I hum softly into the bedding but make no move to get up, instead snuggling deeper into the blankets. The remains of sleep creep into the corners of my mind, hazing the rest of my brain.

Suddenly a gentle calloused hand is on my bare shoulder, “Come on baby, as much as I wanna let you sleep Sammy needs us to hurry.”

“Mhm,” I hum halfheartedly, digging myself further into the bed if possible. “Alright that’s it,” he says finally. There's some shuffling before the covers are pulled back, a rush of cold air prickling my exposed legs followed by the warmth of his hands dragging up and down my calves slowly before leaving to pull down my slip nightgown further past my butt. That wakes me up. My eyes flutter open, and as much as I loved my little cotton nightgown every time I wore it to bed I woke up to a full tit out and the bottom up at my hips. Luckily this time I didn’t think it rode up so high, it had only felt like it was just barely covering my butt, so at the most, he saw a flash of my underwear which is not the most ideal thing to happen, and also insanely embarrassing but at least I was wearing one of my cute pairs. And at least he didn’t comment on it, except he did pull it down further which means he probably did see…oh god. 

“Okay! I’m awake Dean!” I say, my words half mumbled by the bed but if I turned over he would also be seeing a boob today and he had seen enough already. His hands grip my ankles, his thumbs rubbing my skin, oh lord. No. I have to focus…and not on how butterflies are erupting in my stomach, fluttering around frantically, “Not convinced baby, not until I see you get up,” he conceded. He was really playing with my resolve and it was a very fickle thing to begin with. 

“Yeah, so if I flip myself around you’d be getting flashed. These nightgowns…just you know…” I admit, my face warm for two different reasons. His thumbs pause and I can practically hear the arch of his brow and that devilish smirk, “By all means, continue…”

“Dean,” I warn.

“I really wouldn’t object to it, wouldn’t complain one bit,” he comments, his voice dripping with amusement. “Dean!” His hands leave me entirely and I suddenly miss the warmth he brought, “Alright, alright,” he gives in, “I’ll go, be waitin’ in the car. I’d hurry though Sam’s freaking out about needing to leave but won't say anythin’ more.”

The initial embarrassment of being woken up the way I was or at least the result of that, as well as being a little “late” had long worn off except for when Dean caught my eyes in the rearview mirror then it all came rushing back. But I needed to screw my head on right, and not get distracted by his playful teasing manner, he was most likely compensating for the fact that he had to say goodbye to the woman he loved again. Ending on good terms aside those feelings don’t just magically disappear especially when it only happened recently. Either way, I was thankful for the nightfall's darkness, because with each gaze my face heated up even if it was against my better judgment. 

I needed to focus.

Sam had his ear pressed into his phone, reading from a fake ID to potentially give real information, “McReady. Detective McReady, badge number 158. I’ve got a signal 480 in progress, I need the registered owner of a two-door sedan, Michigan license plate Mary-Frank-six-zero-three-seven…Yeah okay, just hurry.” 

Dean glances over at his brother, concern written in his eyes, “Sammy relax. I’m sure it’s just a nightmare.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Sam remarks. 

“You know considering he was right about your old house I’m pretty much convinced he’s right about this one too,” I add. Dean adjusts his hold on the steering wheel, “It could also just be a dream. Y’know, a normal everyday, naked-in-class, nightmare. This license plate, it won’t check out. You’ll see,” Dean tries to reason though I can't understand why he won’t accept that Sam has been right before and will be right again, my only guess would be fear.

“I mean I suppose,” I shrug, “but even just logically speaking unless you’re lucid dreaming you can’t read in your sleep, as the part of your brain that’s responsible for logic and intellect shuts down. So following that logic, he wouldn’t have been able to read or understand that license plate, that fact must hold some merit here.”

“Alright, maybe he was lucid dreamin’ then,” Dean suggests instead, finding any reason for his brother not to be a psychic. 

“It felt different Dean. Real,” Sam shakes his head, eyes focused as he tries to explain, “Like when I dreamt about the old house and Jessica.” 

“Yeah, that makes sense. You’re dreaming about our house, your girlfriend,” Dean points out, “This guy in your dream, you ever seen him before?”

“No,” Sam responds. 

“It doesn't matter if you've actually seen someone they can still be in your dreams because when you're walking around you're subconsciously watching and cataloging them,” I explain, “Though of course you're most likely to have dreams about people you see or think about more often, but still people you pass in real life can be in your dream.” Dean catches my eyes again in the mirror, gazing at me questioningly, “Why do you know so much about dreams?”

I shrug, “I don't know, it’s interesting so I just go down a rabbit hole of information. Plus there are a lot of psychological aspects to dreams which can make them important to analysis.” Dean shakes his head as if shaking away the information, “So why would he have premonitions about some random dude from Michigan.”

I rub my eyes, tiredness still trying to cling to me to the point of my eyes aching, “Yeah I don’t have an answer to that one.” Dean turns his gaze to his brother, silently asking him the same question, “I don’t know,” he answers. “Me neither,” Dean shrugs with one shoulder though it was more done to prove his point.

“Yes I’m here,” Sam says suddenly, pressing the phone closer to his ear. He goes silent, listening, then throws a glare at Dean and picks up his pen, “Jim Miller. Saginaw, Michigan. ‘You have a street address?… Got it. Thanks.” He moves his phone away from him, clicking a button, most likely hanging up, “Checks out. How far are we?”

“From Saginaw? Coupla hours,” Dean answers. “Drive faster.”

The Impala cruises to a stop, Emergency vehicles lined up followed by two medical examiners pushing a stretcher with a body bag on it just being zippered. We were late and it was hard to know whether it was by a couple of minutes or hours, but it didn’t matter because we were late and someone was dead. 

We approach the crowd, a couple of neighbors dressed in their pajamas and a coat watching the scene from behind a line of caution tape. “What happened?” Dean asks a nearby woman. 

“Suicide,” she answers, “Can’t believe it.”

“Did you know them?” Sam questions, moving to the woman’s other side. 

She frowns, “‘Saw him every Sunday at St. Augustine’s,” she replies, oversharing to a couple of strangers but it was helpful so there was no way we would tell her to stop, “He always seems…seemed so normal. I guess you never know what’s going on behind closed doors.”

“Guess not,” Dean acknowledges, looking straight ahead.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” I say softly, maybe she didn’t know the guy so well but seeing him weekly still meant something. She nods in thanks. 

“How did…uhh” Sam stammers, “How are they saying it happened?” It was a total conversation turn but once more it was necessary. “I heard they found him in the garage, locked inside his car with the engine running,” she answers. Carbon dioxide poisoning from a car makes it hard for it to be an accident so of course the initial thought would be suicide and I doubt it would be easy to prove otherwise with a death like that. 

“Do you know about what time they found him,” Sam pushes and I hope she doesn’t think we’re being weird about this and asking a little too many questions. “Oh, ‘just happened about an hour or two ago,” she says. Frick, frick that wasn’t long ago at all. “His poor family,” she continues, “I can’t even imagine what they’re going through.” I follow her gaze to a woman standing on the front steps crying against a middle-aged man. A young distraught man stands behind them. I could imagine what they were feeling and it was horrible. Grief was not pretty and those feelings were even uglier, leaving a permanent mark on your heart. 

Someone tugs on my sweatshirt sleeve, I follow the motion watching Dean walk away following his brother who had stormed away. I follow them, making the quick walk to the Impala. 

“Sam we got here as fast as we could,” Dean reasons. 

“Not fast enough,” Sam shakes his head, a pained look painted on his face, “It doesn’t make any sense man. Why would I even have these premonitions if there wasn’t a chance I could stop them from happening.”

I bit my lips, thinking for a moment before speaking, “Maybe it wasn’t about him exactly, like maybe it’s bigger than that. Sometimes that happens, remember what I said about oneiromancy or using dreams to predict the future? Well sometimes it’s not so literal, sometimes it serves as a warning or pointing you in a specific direction for whatever reason. Now I know your whole thing is different and more detailed than that but do you get what I mean?”

He nods, clearly thinking it over. “I don’t know though, I’m no expert but I’m just tryna say to keep it in mind,” I add. He shakes his head and sighs, “So what do you think killed him?”

“Maybe the guy just killed himself?” Dean suggests, “Maybe there’s nothing supernatural going on at all.”

“Then why would he have such a vivid dream of just some random dude dying?” I point out, immediately realizing my contradiction. “I dunno,” Dean shrugs, “Maybe it’s like you said, it’s pointing to somethin’ else.”

“I watched it happen. He was murdered by something. I watched it trap him in the garage,” Sam explains.

“What was it, a spirit, poltergeist, what?” Dean asks in rapid succession. Sam huffs, “I don’t know what it was. I don’t know why I’m having these dreams, I don’t know what the hell is happening!” He was freaking out, totally and utterly freaking out and he had every right to be. “It’s alright Sam,” I say softly, “We’ll figure this out, I promise. ‘No matter how long it takes.”

He sighs, mumbling a “Thanks.” I couldn't imagine what he was feeling, I always knew who I was even if nobody else did. To know one thing your whole life just to be thrown onto a totally new path with no explanation must be terrifying. “What,” Sam says suddenly throwing a look at his brother who was just staring at him. Dean shrugs, “Nothing. I’m just, I’m worried about you man,” he confesses.

“Well don’t look at me like that!” Sam yells. Dean looks away, “I’m not looking at you like anything,” he retorts, glancing back, “Though I gotta say, you do look like crap.”

“Dean. Really?” I say.

“Nice. Thanks,” Sam replies, pursing his lips. With a small smile, Dean moves to the driver's side of the car, pulling the door open, “Come on, let’s just pick this up in the morning. We’ll check out the house, talk to the family.”

“Dean, you saw them, they’re devastated. They’re not going to want to talk to us,” Sam reasons. Dean pauses in thought, “Yeah, you’re right. But I think I know who they will talk to.”

I scoff, “Who?”

I pull open my motel door, the sun shining brightly behind the man in front of me highlighting his stunning green eyes. His arms are hidden behind his back, “What do you have there?” I ask, squinting at him suspiciously. “Oh, just a little somethin’” he smirks devilishly, gazing down at me. 

“You’re scaring me,” I admit, “I’m scared.”

“Don’t be,” he grins revealing what he was hiding. He holds up a rectangular Halloween costume bag, the classic orange logo on the top, and a blonde woman in a nun costume holding a ruler on the other side. I look between him and the bag his smile never leaving his face a mischievous sparkle in his eye, “Sam and I are going as Preiests so we need our nun,” he explains.

“Tell me you're joking,” I say blankly, my face falling.

“Not at all sweetheart.”

I huff a laugh, pointing at the bag, “I’m not wearing that.”

“You gotta,” he replies.

“No offense to the nuns of the world, but I would rather be shot dead than wear that.”

“‘Cause it’s not cute?” Dean asks though it comes off more like a statement as he knows my answer. “Yes,” I answer flatly, “I’m not wearing that.”

“Maybe I shoulda picked up the slutty one,” he retorts, thinking he got me there. I cross my arms across my chest, wetting my lips, “You should’ve, ‘be good for Halloween,” I counter. Checkmate. He drags his eyes across my frame. my face heats up, “While I’d love to see to that, Halloween is months away and you’re being ridiculous.”

“Still not wearing it,” I say as sternly as I can manage, which isn’t very considering my mind trying to compute what he said. “Come on,” he grumbles, “what am I gonn’ do with a nun costume now?” He pushes past me, stepping deeper into the room. I close the door, turning around, “I don't know, return it? Or use it for one of your one-night stands, I’m sure you’ll find someone kinky enough.”

He looks at me blankly, deadpanning, “You’re wearing it.”

“No”

“Yes”

“No”

“Yes”

“I’ll just sit this one out, wait in the car or something ‘till you’re done,” I say.

“You’re wearing it,” he repeats.

“No”

“Yes”

“You’re not winning this one!” I throw my hands up.

“Y/N come on!”

“No!”

He groans, annoyed, “If you wear it I’ll buy you whatever book you want.”

Oh. I mean it’s only a couple of minutes of embarrassment and ugly clothing, “Okay, deal. Fine.” His wide grin returns, he throws the bag at me and I catch it, looking down at it with disgust. “‘Not gonna bite sweetheart,” Dean says as he heads out. 

“Yeah, but I might,” I mumble.

I fixed the Coif on my head for the hundredth time, I should’ve put more bobby pins in my hair. God. How did Nuns wear these? It just digs into your scalp and the most hair you could show was just the very top, probably about three inches, the rest of your hair was hidden along with your ears. It was the least cute or sexy thing to ever exist, faces were not being framed. 

“Quit poutin’, you're supposed to be a Nun, be happy,” Dean comments as he rounds the car.

“I look like I'm going to burn myself at the stake,” I huff.

Sam laughs, having to bite back the noise. “You look fine,” Dean says. I look down at myself, the long black dress covering everything down at my ankles and a strange-looking white squared bib thing around my neck, “Who are you lying to right now!” 

Dean huffs frustrated, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“At least you guys look good, like really good,” I say maybe a little too honestly. Sam had his hair all jelled back in a cute little hairdo, he was quite adorable. And on the other side, it really must have been the all-black attire, forget about the clerical cuff and that damn silver ring on his finger that made Dean look so good. Otherwise, there was something deeply wrong with me and I’d have to reevaluate my life, ‘cause there should be no reason for a “Priest” to look so damn fine. Lord, I need help. 

“Let’s just get this over with,” Dean declares. He leads the way crossing the street and walking right up the porch, he rings the doorbell that silver ring glinting in the light. Sam sighs, “This has gotta be a whole new low for us.”

“Amen,” I mumble.

The door opens slowly and I throw away my pout replacing it with a kind smile. The older man from yesterday stands at the door, blocking our view of the rest of the house. Now that it wasn’t dark out and I was far closer, I was able to take note of him: a round-faced man with dark eyebrows and a sort of buzzcut.“Good afternoon,” Dean starts, “I’m Father Simmons, this is Father Frehley, and this is Sister Kathern We’re new junior priests over at St Augustine's. May we come in?”

The man nods, stepping aside. “Thanks,” Dean says entering first. I give the man a polite nod, “We’re very sorry for your loss.”

“It’s in difficult times like these when the Lord’s guidance is most needed,” Dean adds.

“Look, you wanna pitch your whole ‘Lord has a plan’ thing? Fine. Just don’t pitch it to me. My brother’s dead,” the man spits, his face wobbling with choked emotion. An older blonde woman appears, her soft hair only reaching her shoulders, her eyes etched in sadness, “Roger. Please!” she lectures. Roger moves away, escaping to some other part of the house, “Excuse me.”

“I’m sorry about my brother-in-law. He’s…he’s just so upset about Jim’s death,” she explains.

“You don’t have to apologize, we completely understand. Everyone grieves differently,” I say sincerely. Her eyes soften, a sad smile on her face, “Would you like some coffee?”

“That would be great,” Dean answers.

****

I sit next to Sam on the loveseat, Dean beside him in an armchair. Ms. Miller pours coffee gently into a couple of little white mugs, she hands one to each of us, “It was wonderful of you to stop by. The support of the church means so much right now.”

“Of course. After all, we are all God’s children,” Dean replies smoothly, taking a sip of the black coffee. She stands up taking the coffee pot with her. Dean takes that opportunity to shove a bunch of cocktail sausages into his mouth, he was really taking advantage of her leaving food out on a little platter. “What?” he asks with a mouthful of food, responding to his brothers staring. “Just…tone it down a little bit, Father,” he responds.

Ms. Miller returns then, emptyhanded, she sits back down. Dean swallows his mouth full of food before talking again, “So Ms. Miller, did your husband have a history of depression?”

“Nothing like that,” she answers her eyes already tearing up, “We had our ups and downs like everyone but we were happy,” the tears run rapidly down her face, “I just don’t understand…how Jim could do something like this.”

“I’m so sorry you had to find him like that,” Sam replies sincerely. She wipes her tear-stained face, gesturing behind her, “Actually, our son Max, he was the one who found him.”

“Do you mind if maybe, I go talk to him?” Sam asks. 

“Oh thank you, Father,” she musters a sad smile. He rises, following the direction she pointed. 

“Ms.Miller you have a lovely home. How long have you lived here?” Dean inquires.

“We moved in about five years ago,” she answers. 

“The only problem with these old homes, ‘bet it gives you all kinds of headaches,” he comments. Her face washes over in confusion, “Like what?”

“Well, weird leaks, electrical shortages, odd settling noises at night,” he lists, “That kind of thing.”

She shakes her head, “No, nothing like that. It’s been perfect.”

“Huh,” Dean hums, “May I use your restroom?”

“Oh sure, it’s just up the stairs,” she says. He nods, rising and taking another cocktail sausage before leaving. Now I was left to fend for myself in a social situation I wasn't totally prepared for. What do I say? “Is there anything I could do for you that might make you feel better? I understand how hard it is now.”

She tears up again, “I don’t know.” I lean over placing a gentle hand on her arm, “It’s okay…it’s okay," I say softly.

I enter the boy's motel room, following Sam. We had just come back from researching about the Miller’s house. I close and lock the door behind me, so grateful that I had been out of that nun outfit for more than an hour. “What do you have?” Dean asks, his entire arsenal spread out around him as he sits on the edge of the bed cleaning a gun. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows as he works the weapons, I have to force my gaze away. Men should not be allowed to look good doing random tasks, it wasn’t fair.

“A whole lotta nothing. Nothing bad has happened in the Miller house since it was built,” Sam answers sinking onto his bed. 

“What about the land?” Dean questions further.

“Nope,” I say, “There were no battles or graveyards, it’s not tribal land and no kind of atrocities happened on or near the property.”

“Hey man I told you, I searched that house up and down. No cold spots, sulfer scent. Nada,” Dean adds.

“And the family said everything was normal?” Sam checks.

“Well, if there was a demon or poltergeist in there you think somebody would have noticed something? I used the inferred thermal scanner man, and there was nothing,” Dean answers.

I sigh moving to sit at the end of Sam's bed, “Back to square one.”

“So what, you think Jim Miller killed himself and my dream was just some sorta freakish coincidence?” Sam questions.

“I dunno,” Dean answers truthfully, “I’m pretty sure there’s nothing supernatural about that house.”

Sam gets a pained look in his eyes, bringing his hand up to rub his temples, “Yeah. Well, maybe it has nothing to do with the house,” he inhales sharply holding his head, “Maybe it’s just…Gosh,” he clutches his head, “... Maybe its connected to Jim in some other way?”

“Sammy you okay?” I ask, placing a careful hand on his bicep just as Dean says, “What’s wrong with you?” I throw him a sharp glare, way to word it. Sam makes strained pained noises, sinking to the floor, “My head.”

Dean practically jumps from his bed, “Sam? Hey,” he sinks right next to his brother in a crouch grabbing Sam’s arms, “Hey! What’s going on? Talk to me.”

I stand up concern running through my blood, “Sam! Come on!” I've never seen something like this before, it was completely foreign which only made it more terrifying. Dean throws a pleading look at me and I stand not knowing what to do, “I-I don’t know, I’m sorry.” He turns back to his brother, not saying anything as he holds on to him. 

Then, Sam slowly removes his hands from his head, focusing back on reality as he warns, “It’s happening again. Something’s gunna kill Roger Miller.”

My leg bounces in the back seat. once more we were running against an invisible and unknown clock, running to save someone with little to no information given. And once more Sams is on the phone trying to get information quickly that will help us, “Roger Miller. Uh no no, just the address, please. Ok, thanks.” He goes quiet with the information before hanging up and reciting it, “450 West Grove, Apartment 1120.”

“You ok?” Dean asks, eyeing his brother in quick succession.

“Yeah,” he answers in the least convincing tone possible.

“If you’re gunna hurl I’ll pull the car over you know, cause the upholstery…” Dean says, not really joking.

“I’m fine,” Sam answers still not convincingly enough.

“Alright,” Dean shrugs, dropping it.

“Just drive,” he says, looking away. He sighs, “Look, I’m scared, alright? These nightmares weren’t bad enough, now I’m seeing things when I’m awake? And it’s painful.” 

“Come on man, you’ll be all right. It’ll be fine,” Dean comforts in his own way. I wet my lips, choosing my words carefully, “Whatever these abilities are, they’re advancing which is why it’s breaching into day. And because it's leaning more toward psychic abilities it takes a great amount of will, and concentration, and puts a horrible strain on your mind which is why it's painful. But the more you work on it the better it’ll be.”

He turns around in the passenger seat, facing me, “You have telekinesis, right?” I nod, his eyebrows scrunch together, “It hurt when you were first started?”

“God, yes,” I laugh bittersweet, “It just requires so much focus, more so at first, that I had headaches constantly. I tried not to use too much Advil, but they were definitely making a profit off of me, that’s for sure.” He seems to consider the information, turning back in his seat, “Then what is it about the Millers? Why am I connected to them, why am I watching them die? Why the hell is this happening to me?!”

“I don’t know Sam but we’ll figure it out,” Dean answers, “We’ve faced the unexplainable every day. This is just another thing.”

Sam shakes his head, “No. It’s never been us. It’s never been in the family like this. Tell the truth, you can’t tell me this doesn’t freak you out, Dean.”

Dean looks straight out the windshield silently, he couldn’t lie because Sam and I both witnessed him freak out before over it. Of course, then we’d all been younger, and he lashed out at me and when he left he hadn’t talked to me or apologized for months, I think it was about five. These sorts of things do freak him out, and sometimes I think the things I’m capable of doing still scare him sometimes, and that's just with someone he's friends with. With his brother, that fear must be a million times worse. “This doesn’t freak me out,” he finally says, lying. 

****

The Impala pulls up across the street from Roger, who approaches his apartment's entrance with a bag of groceries in his hands. Sam rolls down the window swiftly yelling for the man, “Hey Roger.” The man turns around, the annoyance on his face clear as day, “What are you guys, missionaries? Leave me alone.”

I lean over rolling down the window opposite of where I sit, “Sir this has nothing to do with religion! Trust me.”

“Please,” Sam adds. But Roger is already gone, walking closer to his building. Suddenly the car jerks into motion the engine gunning as it makes a quick turn around, and with a bump Dean jumps the curve hurriedly parking as Sam jumps out running after the man, “Hey. Roger. We’re trying to help! Please! Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey.”

I get out of the vehicle, round the black car, and head to Sam’s side, Dean following. As Sam reaches the entrance, Roger closes the door behind him, “I don’t want your help.” He walks deeper into the building and in a last-ditch effort Sam yells, “We’re not priests or nuns, you gotta listen to us!”

“Roger, you’re in danger!” Dean yells after him. But of course he doesn't hear them or if he does he just ignores the warnings. God people are so stubborn. “Come on,” Dean suddenly says looking towards a back entrance, he leads the way as we run around the corner of the building to the back entrance, a door in the way. With a quick look around Dean steps back and kicks it open, the door bursts open with a crack. 

Sam jumps for the bottom ladder of the fire escape, using his tall frame to easily reach it, he pulls himself up and starts running for the stairs. Dean turns to me offering me a cupped hand, “You comin’?” he asks. I shake my head, pushing strands of hair behind my ear, “No you go, there isn't enough room for the three of us on that thing, you go. I’ll keep watch. He needs you.”

He looks me over, before nodding and jumping for the ladder, catching up to his brother swiftly. Against my better judgment instead of keeping watch, I look up at them, a hand blocking the sun as they make it up to the second floor. Then all of a sudden there's a heavy squeak and slide of a window followed by a wet squelching noise. Sam freezes, Dean sprints past him and stops looking down at something I can’t see from down here but even so, I know it is Roger’s severed head. 

****

“I’m telling you there was nothing there. No signs either, just like the Miller’s house,” Dean informs, once more the three of us in the car this time driving back to the motel. Sam squints his eyes, slightly, in focus, “I saw something, in the vision, Like a dark shape. Something was…something was stalking Roger.”

“Whatever it was, are you sure it’s not connected to their house?” Dean asks, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel. 

“You know that argument doesn't really hold up anymore considering Roger died in his apartment,” I answer fidgeting with my fingers, “So it could be the family itself.”

“So you think, like a vengeful spirit?” Sam questions.

“Well yeah,” Dean responds, “There’s a few that have been known to latch onto families, follow them for years.”

“Angiak. Banshees,” Sam lists out examples.

“Wouldn’t you have still picked up on something when you were snooping around?” I ask this time, looking up from my hands. “No, I was thinking somethin’ more like a curse,” Dean explains, “Maybe Roger and Jim Miller got involved in something heavy, something curse-worthy.”

Sam hums, adding to the working theory, “And now the something is out for revenge. And the men in their family are dying…Hey, you think Max is danger?”

“Let’s figure it out before he is,” Dean remarks. Sam sighs, “Well, I know one thing I have in common with these people.”

“What’s that?” Dean asks.

“Both our families are cursed,” Sam says like it's the most obvious thing in the world. I frown, one because he feels that way and two because I dislike when people say that. Dean huffs, “Our family’s not cursed! We just…had our dark spots…”

“Our dark spots are…pretty dark,” Sam nods slowly. Dean eyes him, “You’re….dark.”

I scuff, “Well as dark as it was you don’t have to worry, curses aren’t real.”

Sam turns around in his seat, facing me, “You’re a witch and you don’t believe in curses?”

I tilt my head giving him a ‘really?’ look, “That’s not what I meant, of course those kinds of curses exist they are very real and palpable things,” I wet my lips, “What I meant is that this curse you suggest to be the reason why you suffered misfortune isn’t real and that goes for everybody. Bad things just happen. And I know you probably weren’t being too literal but still blaming bad things on curses doesn’t help you in the long run it just serves as an excuse for you not to face your problems and acknowledge the real issue.”

Sam looks at me with slightly wide eyes and when I look at Dean, his expression is more or less the same if not even more, “What?” I ask eyeing the two of them. Sam turns back around in his seat a small smirk on his face, Dean gives a little shrug, “Nothin’, just someone’s using their psychology degree.”

I snort, suddenly getting shy, “Shut up,” I mumble. The thing was I wasn’t using my psychology degree this was just me, not that I was embarrassed by my degree. I took education very seriously, especially college. So of course I wound up double majoring, one in criminal justice and the other in psychology, but could you blame a girl? Either way, I didn't like when people said things like that, blaming something on a force they didn’t understand and had no real play in any of it.

I pull down the sleeves of the black Nun dress, readjusting the material, “I hope you know this is another book,” I say closing the car door behind me. Dean seems to round the Impala quicker at that, “What?! No, that wasn’t part of the deal.”

I purse my lips, “Yes, but when we made that deal it was under the presumption that it would only happen once in this case. And yet, here we are again.”

Dean opens his mouth to say something more but his brother cuts him off, “Wait, you guys made a deal?”

I smile triumphantly, “Yup!”

Sam frowns a little pout to his lips, his puppy-dog eyes turned down, “Man,” he whines, “I should’ve made a deal.”

“You should’ve,” I respond, thinking for a moment, “You know what? I will extend my second book to you, you are now included!”

He shakes his head, “No Y/N it's okay, have your books.”

Now I shake my head, “No no I want to, nothing would bring me more joy than the three of us going to a bookstore, and while Dean impatiently waits for us and grumbles to himself we get to wreak havoc and choose books!” Sam smiles with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “That does sound like a good idea.”

“You’re an evil woman,” Dean grumbles.

I smile sweetly at him, “I prefer ‘wicked’ but I guess that’s close enough.”

He eyes me for a beat, tongue against cheek as if he is contemplating saying something but ultimately he looks away, “We’re meant to be checking in on Max.”

Oh, “Yeah,” I say leading the way. “See, this always happens,” he states, reaching my side in one stride.

“What happens?” Sam asks.

“Whenever you two are together we get nothing done,” he elaborates. I fake a hurt gasp, “That’s so not true!” I mean we could be annoying, sure, but that was our whole job especially since we’re younger siblings it’s just how it works. 

We reach the door and he knocks before anyone can say anything more on the topic. Instead of Ms. Miller answering the door her son, Max, does. He opens the door wider, “My Mom’s resting, she’s pretty wrecked.”

“Of course,” Dean nods, stepping deeper into the house.

“All these people kept coming with like, casseroles?” Max says, making small talk, “I finally had to tell them all to go away. You know 'cause nothing says I’m sorry like a tuna casserole.” I bite back my laugh, very poorly, he caught it giving a smile back to me and Sam who was also grinning at the joke. Max gestures to the seating area his mom put us just earlier today, and just like then we all take the same seats, but this time it's Max in front of us. 

A beat of silence goes on before Sam sighs, speaking softly he asks, “How ‘you holding up?”

His face drops a little, answering with a small, “Ok.”

“You’re Dad and your uncle were close,” Sam follows up, stating instead of asking.

He shrugs, “Yeah, I guess. I mean, they were brothers. They used to hang out all the time when I was little.”

“But not much lately?” Sam asks.

“No, it’s not that. It’s just…” he shifts in his seat, “We used to be neighbors when I was a kid before we lived across town in this house. Uncle Roger lived next door, so he was over all the time.” 

“Right. So how was it in that house when you were a kid?” Sam questions further. 

“It was fine. Why?” Max answers, dismissively. He was uncomfortable, something about that old house made him uneasy. 

“All good memories? Do you remember anything unusual? Something involving your father and your uncle maybe?” Dean asks this time, skepticism written in his voice. Max shakes his head, slight panic crawling in his irises, “What do yo…..why do you ask?”

I recognized that panic. Knew it well. I remember wearing it, how it crawled over my skin. “Don’t worry it’s just a question,” I nod, noting his behavior.

“No, there was nothing. We were totally normal. Happy,” he replies suddenly more sure of his answer.

“Good. That’s good,” Dean answers, “Well, you must be exhausted. We should take off.”

Catching on Sam nods, “Right,” he looks back at Max, “thanks.”

Max eyes us, something between panic and questioning, “Yeah.”

****

We make it to the Imapla before debriefing, the panic in his eyes burning into my retinas. 

“No one’s family is totally normal and happy,” Dean starts, pointing out the faults of Max’s response, “See when he was talking about his old house?”

“He sounded scared,” Sam answers sadly.

A chill runs up my spine, “More than that, he was petrified. And I don’t think it has anything to do with the house…”

“Yeah, Max isn’t telling us everything,” Dean agrees, “I say we go find the old neighborhood, find out what life was really like for the Millers.”

I shift my footing, fixing my pants (which I was glad to be in again) as I watch the older man named Rob in front of us. “Have you lived in the neighborhood very long?” Sam asks him.

“Yeah, almost 20 years now. It’s nice and quiet. Why, you looking to buy,” he answers and I can’t tell if he wants us to be interested or wishes to keep out outsiders. Maybe the earlier, he seems kind.

“No, no,” Sam smiles, “Actually, we were wondering if you might recall a family that used to live right across the street I believe.”

“Yeah, the Millers. They had a little boy called Max,” Dean adds.

“Yeah I remember,” he responds, “The brother had the place next door. So, uh, what’s this about, is that poor kid ok?” That makes me stumble over my thoughts, “He….um, I’m sorry why did you word it like that?”

Rob frowns, “Well in my life I’ve never seen a child treated like that. I mean I’d hear Mr. Miller yelling and throwing things clear across the street, he was a mean drunk.” My skin curls up, my fears confirmed. My heart recoils, cowering away from the information and the thoughts. “He used to beat the tar outta Max. Bruises. Broke his arm two times that I know of,” Rob continued. 

I take a subconscious step backward. I don’t understand, if he knew why didn’t he do anything? Why didn’t he call the police?

“This was going on regularly?” Sam asks, his voice firm.

“Practically every day. In fact that thug brother of his was just as likely to take a swing at the boy but the worst part was the sepmother. She’d just stand there, checked out, not lifting a finger to protect him. I must have called the police seven or eight times. Never did any good.”

I suddenly feel nauseous. He was finally free now but that was too many years too late.

“Now you said stepmother,” Dean says for confirmation. How could he not be reacting to this information?

“I think his real mother died. Some sorta…accident. Car accident I think,” Rob answers.

Suddenly Sam clutches his head again, grimacing. Rob looks at him strangely, “Are you okay there?”

He winces, “Uh, yeah.” Dean holds the crook of his brother's arm, leading him away as he throws back a “Thanks for your time.”

I blink out of what feels like a daze, mustering a smile for the man, “Have a nice day,” I say before catching up to the boys. But my feet feel heavy, as if cylinder blocks had been tied to my ankles. My intestines seem to twist itself into a knot, wrapped around like a bow. I clutch my shirt where my stomach is, my heart seems to beat faster an unnerving feeling settling itself into the vessels. I could hardly focus on my tense body and anxious thoughts when Sam’s head lulls back, his eyes doing that thing where you can tell he isn’t here with us right now. He’s somewhere else, having a vision.

****

I want to curl into myself and shy away from the current case. But we were in the Impala driving back to the Millers house and Sam still had to tell us about his vision. “Max is doing it. Everything I’ve been seeing,” Sam reveals. I should be surprised but I’m not, maybe it’s because of the newfound information.

“You sure about this?” Dean asks, almost skeptical. 

“Yeah, I saw him,” he confirms.

“How is he doing it?” I ask carefully. 

“I think telekinesis,” Sam answers. 

“What so he’s psychic?” Dean questions, definitely skeptical.

“I didn’t even realize it but this whole time, he was there. He was outside the garage when his Dad died, he was in the apartment when his Uncle died,” Sam elaborates, “These visions, this whole time–I wasn’t connecting to the Millers, I was connecting to Max! The thing is I don't get why, man. I guess—because we’re so alike?”

“What are you talking about? The dude’s nothing like you,” Dean responds firmly.

“Well,” Sam tries to reason, “We both have psychic abilities, we both…”

“Both what? Sam, Max is a monster, he’s already killed two people, now he’s gunning for a third,” Dean exclaims. This was all getting very complicated very fast. “He’s not a monster he’s a kid. It isn’t his fault, he’s a product of his messed up childhood,” I defend, my voice filled with perhaps a little too much emotion.

“With what he went through, the beatings, to want revenge on those people? I’m sorry, man, I hate to say it, but it’s not that insane,” Sam adds, agreeing. I nod vigorously, it isn’t insane, not one bit.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t justify murdering your entire family!” Dean yells, his voice louder than needed.

“No of course not. But clearly, no one else was caring about him. No one made any effort to help him, not even the police! So you must understand why he felt like he needed to take justice into his own hands,” I argue. This was complicated, this was human. And humans, human feelings get messy very quickly.

“You're suggesting he's a necessary evil?” Dean counters, his voice gruff and on edge.

“Maybe, yeah,” I answer, crossing my arms across my chest. The car jerked right, driving up to the curb in front of the Miller’s house. “He’s no different from anything else we’ve hunted, all right? We gotta end him,” Dean lectured.

“We’re not going to kill Max,” Sam and I say at the same time, our voices overlapping. “He’s a kid!” I add.

“Then what?” Dean counters, “Hand him over to the cops and say ‘Lock him up officer; he kills with the power of his mind.’” 

I huff, “That’s not the point and you know it. We can talk him down, he isn’t a monster and I highly doubt he would kill just for fun. He’s angry and he’s hurt, he needs help. If we do that then we are just as bad as his uncle and his dad and the cops that refused to help.”

He shuts the engine off, pursing his lips and shaking his head, “All right fine. But I’m not letting him hurt anybody else.” Yet, despite his words he leans over to the glove compartment and pulls out a pistol. He glares at Sam as he gets out of the car. I catch his eyes, “Dean.” He looks at me, challenging me, before ultimately getting out and tucking the gun into the back of his pants. I roll my eyes, tongue in cheek, pissed. I get out of the car, joining the boys but not before slamming the car door behind me.

We run up the porch, Sam in the lead. He knocks on the door, and when no response comes he leans over the railing peeking in the window. He looks back at us and he does not have to say anything for us to know what was happening. Max was going to kill his Stepmother.

Without thinking any further, Dean raises his leg to kick the door in. I stop him, “Dude way to be inconspicuous. Let me.” He backs up a few steps, hands raised in defeat. I grasp the cold knob of the door, not needing to put much effort into getting the door unlocked. We rush into the kitchen, where Sam said Max would do it. Ms. Miller presses her back closer against the counters, her eyes wide and filled with tears and fear as she watches her son in front of her. Her eyes snap to us, “Fathers? Sister?” Ironically enough, we weren’t dressed up instead in normal clothes which I wasn’t sure if priests and nuns ever did. Max spins around, poorly concealing the large knife behind his back, his hair is a mess and his eyes match his stepmothers in fear after all he was caught. “What are you doing here?” he asks, afraid.

“Uhh, sorry to interrupt,” Dean answers awkwardly. 

“Max, can we, uh, can we talk to you outside for just one second?” Sam leads, fumbling for an excuse. He eyes us, he doesn’t trust us, “About what?”

“It’s….it’s private. I wouldn’t want to bother your mother with it,” Sam lies, “We won’t be long at all though, I promise” he says directing it to Ms.Miller. Max looks back at his stepmom and then at us, “Ok.”

“Great,” Sam smiles. 

We turn to leave, making it out of the kitchen and to the front door. Dean takes the lead with his hand grasping the doorknob, pulling it open he smiles back at Max awkwardly. Then all of a sudden the doorknob is pulled from his grasp and the door slams shut, followed by the dropping of all the blinds for each window. Impressive. I turn around swiftly watching Max as he backs up, “You’re not priests! Or a nun,” he yells. 

Dean draws his gun quickly, but without even moving a muscle Max uses his powers to pull the gun away, it slides across the floor and he crouches down to take it. He stands up tall, pointing the gun at us. Dean nudges me slightly behind him, I want to shove my way in front of him but he holds his arm out in front of me and I don’t feel the need to argue now of all times. Ms.Miller appears in the archway between where we are and the kitchen, “Max, what’s happening?”

“Shut up,” he bites.

“What are you doing?” she repeats, approaching carefully. Removing one hand from the gun he swings his arm towards her, using his power to send her flying back into the kitchen, she hits her head against the kitchen bench before sliding down to the floor. “I said shut up!” he yells at her unconscious figure. 

“Max calm down,” Sam says steadily, holding his hands up in defeat. 

“Who are you?” Max snaps.

“We just wanna talk,” Sam responds with instead. Max scuffs, “Yeah right, that’s right you bought this!” he motions with the weapon. Sam takes a careful step forward, “That was a mistake, all right? So was lying about who we were. But no more lying Max, okay? Just please, just hear me out.”

He eyes us carefully, “About what?”

“I saw you do it,” Sam explains, carefully, “I saw you kill your Dad and your Uncle before it happened.”

“What?” Max questions.

“I’m having visions Max, about you,” Sam elaborates.

“You’re crazy,” Maxx huffs.

“So what, you weren’t gonna launch a knife at your stepmom?” He challenges, taping his eye, “Right here? Is it that hard to believe Max, look what you can do. Max I was drawn here, all right? I think I’m here to help you.”

His hold on the gun tightens as fresh tears run down his face rapidly, “No one can help me.”

“That’s not true,” I say softly, “I know it feels that way now, and I’m sorry it does. But if anyone can help,” I look at Sam, “It’s him,” I look back at Max, “Please.”

Sam nods, wetting his lips, “Let me try. We’ll just talk, me and you. We’ll get Dean, Y/N, and Alice out of here.”

“Uh-huh. No way,” Dean intervenes. The chandelier above us rattles, “Nobody leaves this house!” Max yells. I want to cut in, I could contain him in a matter of seconds a minute at best. He was skilled, but I certainly knew more than he did. Yet I know I can’t do anything, he’s scared so rushing him with my abilities won’t help. Treating him like a monster won’t help. 

“And nobody has to, all right? They’ll just…they’ll just go upstairs,” Sam reasons, but the light fixture continues to rattle.

“Sam, I’m not leaving you alone with him,” Dean mutters.

“Yes, you are,” Sam answers firmly, “Look, Max. You’re in charge here, all right, we know that. No one's going to do anything that you don’t want to do but I’m talking five minutes here man.”

“Sam!” Dean intervenes again. I place a hand on his upper arm, gaining his attention fast and without words, not wanting to scare Max off, I give him a look and a nod silently telling him that his brother will be okay and that he can handle himself. His lip twitches as if he’s fitting off a scowl.

“Five minutes?” Max asks, the chandelier stops shaking, “Go” he nods to his stepmother.

I walk carefully behind Dean, waiting for him as he picks up Ms. Miller, I lead the way up the wooden stairs entering the master bedroom. Dean lays her down carefully, and I find the bathroom attached to the room. I quickly go through the drawers finding a small washcloth, carefully I wet it and ring it out before walking back into the bedroom to find Dean pacing the room, hand by his face. I approach him carefully, he stops his pacing when I step in front of him but worry is written clearly in his eyes, and in the way he hasn’t stopped biting his thumbs nailbed, a habit he exhibited only when he was worried about Sammy. 

I raise my free hand to him, pulling it away from his mouth, “He’ll be okay, he knows what he's doing.”

He shakes his head but doesn’t say anything as he takes the washcloth from me before moving past me, he crouches in front of Ms.Miller, lightly pressing the cloth to the small wound on her forehead. He was distracting himself.

I frown. It’s not that he doesn’t believe in his brother, he was just worried. For as much as this was for Sam it was nearly too much for Dean too, he might not be going through it but he was watching someone else navigate the messy plains of powers and the pain that came with it…that was scary. Especially since Dean has always taken his job as an older brother very seriously, doing anything and everything for him no matter the cost, he was meant to be his protector but with these newfound abilities Dean didn’t know how to help, how to protect his little brother– and that scared him.

I cross my arms across my chest, trying to think of what to say when I hear movement heading towards us. I turn towards the door, it creaks open slowly, Max’s figure standing right at the doorway the gun clutched in his hand at his side. I give him a questioning look, but his face is determined and there’s no Sam.

There’s no Sam.

Panic settles in my veins and before I can react Dean is standing in front of me, pushing me further behind him before he takes purposeful steps towards Max. The door slams shut and suddenly Dean goes flying left, barreling into the wall. Oh, two can play that game.

“Max!” Ms.Miller yells from behind me, having woken up in the short time her son arrived. Max points the gun at me with shaky hands, “Move,” he commands. I bring my powers forward, flicking it on, “Do you want to try?” I warn bitterly. He laughs, shaking, “Do you think you’re like me too?”

I assume Sam must have said something about that to him downstairs, “No,” I answer softly. He raises his other hand at me, flicking it to the left trying to send me flying too but I don’t budge. He looks confused and tries again but once more I don’t move. “Max please just put the gun down, this isn’t the way, I promise you,” I reason.

“You don’t get it!” he yells, shaking. I smile at him sadly, holding up my hands in defeat, “Dad drinks and he gets mean,” I say, “You think he doesn’t mean it, he’s just grieving. But it happens one too many times and you get scared.”

His resolve weakens and tears run down his face, “Your Dad?” He isn’t sure whether he should believe me or if I'm just lying to talk him down. I take a quick look over at Dean, who still lies on the floor looking at me with eyes wide, I never told him and I don’t think he ever knew.

I look back at Max, “Yes. My brother took most of it for me, but I reminded him too much of my mother and she was gone while I lived and that was not fair,” I swallow roughly, “I didn’t think he was capable. My mom loved him and he was never like that when she was around, but they did always say she softened him so maybe that’s why.”

“What did you do?” he asks, lowering the gun just a little. I go quiet and he does not like that, he raises the gun again, “Did you kill him?!” he screams.

I shake my head, “No. He managed that all by himself, he grew very careless.”

His eyes scrunch together in confusion, “Did you want to?”

I shake my head again, “No, I didn’t want to be like him. Didn’t want to stoop to his level. My brother though…he, um, I think he wanted to. But he didn’t. When he died, I didn’t cry at his funeral, I wasn’t as sad as I knew I should’ve been, and that alone makes me feel so guilty…” I take a careful deep breath trying to blink away the tears, “Please put the gun down, I know you're angry, you have every right to be. And I know you’re scared but doing this. It won’t help.”

“How do you know!” he screams, his face red, but it comes out weak.

“He’s dead and I’m still scared sometimes,” I admit out loud for the first time, tears slipping down my cheeks as my powers revert to it’s resting stage, “I think I hear his voice or that I see him in a crowd, and I know it’s not really him. But my heart picks up and I think he’s there, and I know what that means and I get scared.”

He looks at me, really looks at me and it is like looking in a mirror, our pain reflecting in each other. He lets go of the gun, but it doesn’t hit the floor instead it floats in front of him, “I’m not you, I won’t sit back and take it. She has to die, they all had to.”

His words feel like a stab to my hurt but I ignore them, “No, Max, please. It won’t help.” I don’t look away from him but even so, I hear Dean standing up and I can feel him getting closer. He puts himself in front of me again, I try to get him behind me, a gun wouldn’t exactly kill me, but he looks down at me his green eyes hard. He moves me behind him, looking back at Max, “You wanna kill her you gotta go through me first.” 

“Fine,” he says. Just as the door busts open, Sam comes barreling in, “No don’t! Don’t! Please. Please,” Sam begs, “Max. Max. We can help you. All right.”

I move away from Dean despite the arm that he holds out to stop me from getting closer. Max is shaking, and sweaty, and tears run down his face rapidly. He looks at Sam with anguish, then his gaze turns to me eyes filled with a familiar pain. But his shoulders suddenly drop, and his face clears, “You’re right. It won’t stop.”

The floating gun points at himself. A loud bang rings in the room. Bits of blood splatter on my face. His body crumbles to the floor, a hole in his head.

I stare blankly at a spot on the floor, a small swirl in the wooden floors. Sirens whirl just outside, and cops stand all around us. His body was brought out in a bag. Yellow caution tape sections off parts of the house. Something light was placed in my hand, something to clean the…

Muffled voices sing near me.

He’s dead. I couldn’t convince him, if anything I made it worse. I should’ve said it gets better because it does and it’s not that common that I get scared, I can’t. Not with this job. But I didn’t want to lie and I made it worse.

I feel sick. 

I couldn’t help.

He didn’t want to be like me. He’s dead.

He didn’t want to be like me and I didn’t want to be my father and he’s dead. They are both dead and I live.

I live and Dad would say it’s not fair. He’s dead. 

A familiar hand nudges me forward, I walk automatically without hearing the voices. Something about…

He’s dead.

The car door opens and I sit inside, automatically putting the seat belt on. Someone says something and the door closes, voices say something outside, and then doors open and close. The car moves forward, the sirens get further away. Eyes look at me and I look at him.

His body falls to the floor a hole in his head.

His body floats away as it burns like a Viking. He hugs me closer to him and we do not cry. We are free sometimes.

His body falls to the floor a hole in his head.

He said it won't stop and there’s a bang.

#supernatural #fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester #the hunter and the witch update #slow burn #john winchester #dean winchester x witch reader #the hunter and the witch #angst #sad reader #dean winchester x f!reader #dean winchester x reader series #dean winchester x you #banter #flirting #dean winchester flirting #dean winchester banter #sam and dean #dean winchester as a priest #dean winchester being sexy

[dazednmatthews]

hey hot stuff i’m feeling the need to be self indulgent (feel free to ignore me LOL) but a matt headcanon with his gf in the middle of exams? late night study sesh and such🥹 i love you

- mads 🪽(@hollandsangel)

bf!matt x stressed college gf headcanons

sorry this took so long!! i had a… hectic day to say the least. i hope this does ur request justice 🫶🏾 i love u bad

-matt is the type of bf to never ever want to see you stressed

-he’s gonna do whatever he possibly can to take the pressure off your shoulders

-so when exam season comes up and you start to get kind of distant because you’re so stressed, this mf is the most attentive, doting man ever

-“i’m just so stressed. my bio exam is in three days and my english lit exam is in 5 and i have to do so many chores and pick up this stupid cake for my mom—”

-“go to the library and study. give me the time and place to pick up the cake and i’ll use my key to get into your apartment. don’t worry about a thing, sweetheart.”

-he would respect your space when you needed it and when you wanted to study alone

-“i wanna see you matt but i really need to memorize this chapter tonight. i can’t, i’m sorry.”

-“it’s okay, baby. i understand, school comes first right now.”

-you love him so much for that cause he never makes you or lets you feel guilty for the lack of time together

-he definitely brings you your favorite snacks, water, and meals to the library when you stay late

-“i’m not staying, i know you need to focus. but i also know you haven’t eaten today and i can’t have that.”

-when you do want company, he is hands down the best study partner

-he will deadass read the chapters you have memorize just to make sure he can quiz you

-helps you make color coded flash cards

-“it means… fuck i can never fucking remember this one.” you’re chewing on your pen cap racking your brain for the definition of a chapter concept you know you know. you can feel the slight hysteria building as matt sits patiently, gentle eyes pleading with you to go easy on yourself. “i’m never gonna fucking pass.”

-matt puts down the flash cards, careful not to mess up the order. he comes around to the side of his bed that you’re on, squatting down between your open legs. he’s rubbing his thumb in circles on your thighs with one hand as he removes your head from your hands with his other. “you are the smartest and most capable person i know. you have been working your ass off for this. you need to give yourself some more credit, sweetheart. cause i have no doubt you can do it.” he swipes at the frustrated tears pooling in your eyes and gives you the most honey sweet smile you’ve ever seen.

-you tend to overwork yourself a lot so he insists on breaks every couple hours

-you almost always protest in favor of getting as much work done as possible but he always wins the argument

-“baby, i can’t take another break. i’m so behind. i haven’t even done half of what i wanted to!”

-“last break we took was four hours ago y/n. you’re going to drive yourself crazy if you don’t give yourself some time to relax.”

-he takes you to get food or even just a short drive listening to the playlist you guys made together, talking and laughing about anything other than school

-sometimes you sit in the living room w all the triplets and watch them argue about something hilarious

-he’s always right and it always works

-when you finally finish reviewing all the material you needed to, you flop down on his bed with a heavy sigh

-“i’m so fucking happy i finished on time.”

-“i knew you would. you’re gonna fucking ace it tomorrow.”

-“yeah i hope. i had the best study partner in the world.”

-you spend the night before your exams in his extremely soft bed and his extremely serene arms, him kissing away the nerves that threaten to choke you. every so often he’ll whisper sweet nothings of how good you’re gonna do, how proud of you he is and how smart you are, making your heart swell.

-the day of your exams you wake up to the sweetest note with a smoothie made (he didn’t go to bed until like 7am that morning anyway)

-“you’ve got this, baby! you’re gonna fucking kill it. take your time and trust yourself. i love you -m”

-you feel on top of the world knowing the most amazing man you’ve ever met believes in you so much

-after your exams are done, you wait until you’re back at his house to view your scores online

-“you ready?” matt says, looking at you with nothing but love and light.

-“no, but fuck it. lets get this over with.”

-you of course get the best scores imaginable

-you celebrate like you won the fucking lottery, jumping in his arms and shrieking in hysterical delight

-he is just as, maybe even more excited

-“that’s my fucking girl! i knew you could do it.”

-and he spends the entire night showing you just how proud of you he really is

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo edit #chris sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine #matthew sturniolo #matt stuniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo headcanon #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fanfic

[writing-for-life]

Dream's Therapist

I’m not sure if I should apologise for this brain fart in advance, but it just found its way to the page after this. Yes, this is how my brain works (or rather doesn’t)…

Intake Session

The client presented for his intake session on 22/04. When he made his appointment, he showed particular interest in the fact that this is an integrative therapy practice which uses cognitive, behavioural, somatic and Jungian approaches and is also versed in sex therapy. Naturally the ethical kind.

He was extremely on time (that is to say, close to three hours early), but he insisted on spending that time in the waiting area instead of coming back later. My receptionist assured me he did not move from the offered chair during that time and that he, in fact, did not move at all. She occasionally had to check (inconspicuously of course) if he was breathing.

Upon entering my office, he was polite if slightly aloof. He was dressed all black and refused to take off his coat. No problems with personal hygiene could be perceived from a distance. After getting seated, he enquired whether I could dim the lights ever so slightly because it was too bright, to which I agreed.

I noticed his staring at the crystal paperweight on my table for an extended period of time before he, seemingly out of nowhere, asked: “I trust your office is a mere illusion, a fleeting moment in existence?”

DT: Something like that I guess. What brings you here?

Dream: Well, I have these recurring nightmares. Not while I am sleeping, since I obviously don’t sleep.

DT: Obviously.

Dream: I create them.

DT: The nightmares?

Dream: Yes. And all of a sudden, they all suffer from… existential dread instead of helping to get rid of it. Also, my hair keeps getting tangled and knotted all the time, but I am not quite… certain if this relates in any way.

DT: Interesting. And how does that make you feel?

Dream (deadpan): Feel? I don't “feel”. I weave narratives, conjure nightmares, and occasionally attend celestial tea parties. Emotions are for mortals. The hair is inconvenient though.

DT: Right. Let's explore your childhood. Did you have any issues with your family?

Dream (I notice uneasy shifting in his seat): My family? My father, always running late. My mother… (I notice a slight tremble in his bottom lip)… well, she is… dark. My sister, Death, tells me I am a buzzkill, especially at family gatherings. Truthfully, I believe all my siblings are just trying to gaslight me into believing so because I can be… quite entertaining? (I notice uncertainty). Plus, one of them is… let's just say: they are the reason I have commitment issues.

DT: Commitment issues. Let’s expand on that a bit. Have you ever been in love?

Dream: (I notice extreme rigidity): Love is a quaint human invention, like gluten-free pizza or reality TV.

DT (I don’t know what that means and ignore it): I sense reluctance around the topic?

(He stares at the paperweight for a good 3 minutes)

Okay, let's try word association. I'll say a word, and you respond with the first thing that comes to mind. Ready?

Dream: Proceed, mortal.

DT: Sand.

Dream (I notice a raised eyebrow and a slightly tetchy sigh): Golden grain sifting through my fingers.

DT: Pillow.

Dream: A convenient weapon during astral battles.

DT (I momentarily feel confused and lose my footing, to which he reacts with)

Dream: I could show you? (I notice he makes a move to get up from his seat)

DT: That won’t be necessary right now… Word association: Unicorn.

Dream: (I notice grave seriousness) My ex-wife. I think.

DT: That should suffice for now. Let’s briefly discuss coping mechanisms. How do you handle stress?

Dream: Stress? When the universe unravels and the fabric of the Dreaming tears, I binge-watch reality shows. The Kardashians, mostly.

DT: Why the Kardashians?

Dream: Distraction. Inspiration. For all manner of things. Mostly nightmares.

DT (I notice the recurring theme of nightmares): Do you hold any hopes or dreams for the future?

Dream (I notice a nervous twitch around his mouth which he tries to hide unsuccessfully): I am the King of Dreams. Dreams shape reality itself. But if you must know, I dream of a world where everyone flosses regularly and understands general relativity.

DT: Why is flossing important?

Dream: I just like good teeth.

DT: Why general relativity?

Dream: Because it would help. With ships.

DT: What ships?

Dream (I notice eye-rolling and bridge-of-nose-pinching): Never mind.

DT: It’s okay, we can talk about anything that seems important to you.

Dream: It is of no import. Is time up yet?

DT: No.

Dream: Good, I shall leave then.

DT (I feel confused but try not to show it and respect the client’s wish to leave. I’m getting paid either way): Same time next week?

Dream (who is already standing): Time is a mere construct. But yes, let us pencil it in. And remember, reality is just a draft…

Further notes: The client suffers from insomnia and thinks he creates nightmares. He potentially has internalised he is one. He seems detached from his feelings to the point he believes he does not have any emotions and does not seem to relate to being human. He feels misunderstood by his whole family and suffers from the delusion that his sister is Death. He makes another of his siblings responsible for his failed relationships, which has led to the ingrained belief that love is not for him. He seems to compensate with believing he is above others and refers to himself as the “King of Dreams”. I notice a tendency to shirk potentially painful topics. He seems to communicate diminished interest or pleasure in all, or almost all, activities apart from binge-watching TV, but he seems quite enamoured with the concept of astral battles and general relativity, which requires further exploration…

#the sandman #sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus #Dream’s therapist #satire #or a tragicomedy of sorts #dream of the endless RP #morpheus RP #the stupid ideas generated by polls

[sirianasims]

Chapter 43.5

Idiot.

The voice in my head is persistent. It’s been over two months but it’s not letting up.

I try to focus on the lines, struggling to keep the faint remnants of my Tartosan accent from creeping into Llama Man’s commanding voice. It’s always more difficult just after I’ve been home.

Idiot.

Images from the last year keep flashing by, little details seared into my brain. Her green eyes. Her smile. The delicate birthmarks artfully strewn across her face. I used to insist on kissing each of them goodbye before I left and it always made her laugh.

It was the best sound in the world.

Idiot.

The more recent images are a different story. Her tears. The look of shock and confusion in her eyes. She didn’t understand, of course, and some days I’m not sure I do either. Am I an idiot for leaving her? Or for letting myself fall in love with her in the first place?

Both?

“Alright, Paul, that was good, but let’s do an extra take just to be sure.”

I nod at the sound technician and start over.

“I’ve sent the files off to Mike. Personally, I don’t think he’ll demand another round, the last two takes were flawless.”

“Thanks. I’m sorry for dragging you in for pick-ups again, I’ve been feeling a bit off lately.”

“Hey, it’s a pay check. And I’m going to need it for the move. We want to get settled into the new house before my son’s wedding so we’re already packing.”

“Did you find a job in Henford yet?”

“Not yet, but my wife got an offer. We’ll make it work. My kid is the only family I have left, so if he moves abroad, we follow. And I never liked staying in one place for too long anyway, I get restless.”

“Well, best of luck over there, Charles. The new sound tech will have some big shoes to fill.”

“Thanks, Paul. It’s been a pleasure working with you.”

Charles leaves, and I turn on the coffee machine.

I’ve just finished pouring two mugs when Lee arrives.

“Oh, you must have read my mind, love, I am positively dying for a coffee right now.”

“When are you not?”

Lee settles onto the sofa with a sigh.

“It’s been one of those weeks, deadlines put such a damper on my creativity. But how was Tartosa? Did you have a nice birthday?”

“It was fine. I didn’t feel like making it a huge thing, but my mother had arranged a family dinner at the vineyard.”

“Ah, just an intimate and completely non-threatening gathering with fifteen to twenty people, then.”

I lean back against the counter and take a long sip of the coffee to avoid responding. It’s still too hot, and I grimace as the liquid burns my mouth. Idiot.

Lee isn’t so easily deterred, though.

“So, that’s it? You’re just never going to see her again?”

“Lee, first of all, she blocked me. On my birthday, no less. So I’m going to take that as a big fat hint and respect her wishes. Second, I broke up with her because it was a dead end. She’s not going to settle down for another decade, and when she does, she’s not going to pick some fifty year old relic.”

Lee raises an eyebrow.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Yeah, I said it. Sorry to break it to you, Lee, but you’re old. Ancient. Practically dust.”

“I’m choosing to ignore your hurtful remarks because you’re clearly heartbroken and out of your mind with grief.”

I snort. “Sorry. I’m fine, really, I’m just annoyed at myself.”

“For irrationally breaking up with the love of your life or for stubbornly refusing to reconsider?”

“For being an idiot in general, I guess. I knew it was a bad idea. I even told her as much the first time I met her. But then I just had to go back and talk to her again like a complete dumbass and she practically invited herself back to my hotel. How could I say no to that?”

Lee chuckles. “Oh, but you couldn’t, of course you couldn’t. I mean, she’s not exactly my type, but I can still appreciate the aesthetics, as it were.”

“Right? And that might even have been fine if it never went any further, but I got carried away and kept seeing her even though everyone could tell it was going to end badly. We’re both better off like this, I’ll get over it.”

Lee just looks at me over the rim of his glasses.

“Are you sure? I may be a dusty old relic but as far as I’m aware, the only way you could possibly know that she blocked you is if you spent your birthday trying to look her up.”

“Thanks, detective. It was a moment of weakness, you don’t need to rub it in my face.”

“I’m not trying to rub anything in your face, love, I know it’s not your thing. But you were clearly serious about her if you were planning to bring her to Tartosa. And just because the poor girl understandably got slightly intimidated, you drop her like a newborn giraffe. Why not give her some more time?”

“I didn’t… Lee, it was the sensible thing to do! I just turned forty, I can’t just spend years waiting for her to make up her mind and hope for the best.”

“I don’t share your fetish for monogamy, but I believe all relationships are like that, you can never be certain. But you’ve always been stubborn so I’ll just give you the usual break-up advice. Get a haircut, hit the gym, put yourself back out there. Will you at least see my stylist?”

“Never. I am not brave enough to let Jessica Clemons near my wardrobe.”

beginning / previous / next

#duchellilegacy #duchellichapters #duchelligen5 #paul romeo #charlie ward #lee thompson #oh hi charlie #bye charlie? #two protagonists? in this economy? #it's more likely than you think

[sequinsmile-x]

Stained Glass Windows - Chapter Sixty Eight

Life was complicated, but they wouldn't have it any other way.

-x-

Hi besties <3

As always, the love for this version of them means the entire world. Sorry for the delay in this chapter - my brain wasn't working for the multi chapters whilst it was being melted by the mumps, but I am on the mend so here we are.

Cannot believe we are close to 70 chapters on this. I still have a lot to do with this version of these two, so as I've said before as long as you guys read and still enjoy this I will keep writing it.

As always, please let me know what you think - feedback means the world <3

-x-

Words: 3k

A full list of warnings for the fic can be found on the Series Master List.

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

“Son of a bitch,” Emily grunts as she lowers herself onto the couch, her hand pressing against her immobilised shoulder as it’s jostled as she sits down sending pain through her upper body. 

Aaron drops the bags in the hallway, his body tensing as she calls out in pain. He rushes into the living room, his eyebrows furrowing as he looks at her, walking over his hands on his hips as he approaches the couch, “Are you okay, sweetheart?” 

She smiles as she looks up at him, releasing a slow breath as the pain dissipates. He looked like he hadn’t slept since he left Pakistan. He’d barely left her side in the hospital, his hand wrapped tightly around hers as she slept fitfully through the one night the doctors had insisted she’d stayed. He was bordering on coddling her, but she knew he needed this. That looking after her was a way of trying to alleviate any guilt he felt for leaving in the first place. 

It was a conversation for another day, something she’d raise with him when she was feeling better and he didn’t look like he was going to collapse at any moment. 

“I’m okay,” she assures him, her hand slipping from her shoulder to her lap, “Is JJ on her way with Lily?” 

He nods and sits next to her on her good side, making sure he’s careful so he doesn’t jolt her, “I called just before we left the hospital.” 

Emily sighs, resting her head back on the back of the couch, her eyes drifting closed as she thinks about seeing her little girl. It felt much longer than the one day it had been since she’d seen her, a hollow feeling in her chest that only holding Lily would fill,  “Good. I missed her.” 

He smiles sadly as he looks at her profile, his eyes drifting over the features he’d memorised a long time ago, the ones she’d passed on to their daughter and that he hoped she’d pass on to any future children they’d have. “I missed her too.” 

She turns her head to look at him, smiling sadly as their eyes meet. She feels guilt rush over her, pulling her under as she reaches over with her good hand and curls it around his. It was a feeling she’d started to forget. She’d lay in their bed at night unable to sleep and desperately try to remember the feeling of his hand in hers, his fingers slotted between hers, the spaces the perfect size as if they’d been made for each other. She tries to memorise it again, and tries to make sure she doesn’t take it for granted. 

“I’m sorry,” she says, lifting their joining hands to kiss his knuckles, “I can’t imagine…” she drifts off, not sure how to put it into words. She missed Lily after one day, she couldn’t put herself in his shoes - couldn’t imagine how she would feel if she’d been the one who had been gone for as long as he had. 

“It’s not your fault sweetheart,” he says, leaning in to stamp a kiss to her cheek, taking the time to breathe her in, “I’m the one that agreed to go.” 

She hums in response and they fall into silence, the usual peace they both found in their home tinged with an awkwardness she hates. She rests her head on his shoulder and smiles to herself when he rests his cheek on top of her head, an automatic reaction to her affection, something they’d done countless times. 

“You know what’s a shame?” She asks, looking down at their joint hands, watching as he runs his thumb back and forth over the heel of her hand. It was something else she’d missed, the subtle kind of affection she’d lived without the first 37 years of her life but had become too used to the last three. She already knew that she didn’t want him to do something like this again, she hadn’t truly wanted him to this time, but she also knew how important his job was. 

That was another conversation they’d have to have another day, one of many that seemed to be piling up somewhere in the back of her mind. Including the job offer to lead the Counterterrorism unit that she hadn’t mentioned to him yet.

“What?” He asks, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, enjoying the closeness he’d been deprived of for weeks.

“If I’d been t-boned by that jackass just five days earlier you would have been here for our wedding anniversary.” 

It takes a moment for him to realise what she’s said, and a laugh of disbelief escapes him as he pulls back to look at her, his brows creased as he shakes his head, “Em.”

She laughs, the sound turning into a groan as it makes her shoulder ache, “Sorry,” she says, sounding anything but, “Too soon?” 

“Yes,” he replies quickly, shaking his head at her. The air briefly stolen from his lungs as he remembers the call he’d received from JJ, the panic that had taken residence in his chest and hadn’t gone anywhere until he’d made it to his wife’s side. He breathes in deeply, sucking in hair and the peace only she could give him, and he blows it back out, choking on another laugh as he carries on, “Too soon,” he confirms, shaking his head as she presses her lips together, a half attempt at an apologetic smile flitting across her face, “I am sorry about our anniversary.” 

She shrugs her working shoulder and sighs sadly. She can’t say that it’s okay, that she hadn’t missed him. She’d spent their anniversary with just Lily, a quiet evening pacing around the nursery as she soothed her teething baby. Haley had sent her an anniversary card with Jack the next day, an understanding smile on her face as she passed it over. 

“When my shoulder is better we’ll make up for it,” she says, cupping his cheek, enjoying the scrape of his beard against her skin, “We’ll be making up for a lot of lost time.” 

He smiles and leans in to kiss her, taking the opportunity to sweep his tongue through her mouth, capturing the contented sigh she sets free. When he pulls back he rests his forehead against hers, “I’m looking forward to it.” 

___

Emily tries to get up the moment she hears Lily crying from the nursery, ready to get off of the couch to go upstairs and get her, but Aaron stops her, his hand on her thigh as he squeezes.

“I’ll get her,” he says, pressing a kiss against her temple, “You stay here.” 

She opens her mouth to argue with him, but she stops herself, knowing he needs time with Lily, that she has to get used to sharing the load with him again. She also knew since her shoulder was immobilised, and therefore her arm, she wouldn’t be able to lift her baby up from the crib by herself anyway

“Okay,” she says, smiling at him, “Bring me my baby.” 

He winks at her, “Yes ma’am.” 

He walks upstairs, following the sounds of his daughter’s cries, and he smiles at her as he walks into the room. She was standing up, holding onto the edge of the crib, something she couldn’t do before he left, her face screwed as she cries. He knew in the grand scheme of things that it hadn’t been that long, but he couldn’t believe how much she’d grown. She was bigger, her hair longer, her face impossibly more like Emily’s - something he hadn’t thought was possible - and even more of her personality had started to develop. 

“What's this all about, Lily-Pad?” He asks soothingly as he walks over, lifting her into his arms. She shakes her head and tries to wriggle out of his embrace, her tiny hands pressed against his chest, something that makes him chuckle at first as he balances her on his hip, “I know sweetheart, you want Mama. But she’s got a bad shoulder so you’ll have to put up with me doing all the heavy lifting for a little while.” 

Lily grumbles as if she understands him, a frown on her face that would rival his own, every bit as adorable as it always had been on her sweet face. 

He couldn’t deny that it hurt that since she’d come home that morning she’d resisted it every time he’d picked her up to feed her or change her diaper. She’d looked at Emily each time, her eyebrows furrowed as she reached out for her, making noises so close to actual words it made him ache. He knew it was natural, that Emily had been her only caretaker for the last couple of months, that the little girl had got used to how life looked without him, but it didn’t make it any less difficult to take. Lily had always been all about Emily, ever since the moment he’d first handed her to her, but she’d never resisted him before. 

“Mama.” 

He snaps out of his thoughts at the sound of her voice, at the first clear word he’d ever heard her say. He looks at her, a disbelieving laugh escaping his chest as he holds his little girl closer.

“What did you just say Lils? Did you say, Mama?” 

There’s a moment of silence, a brief pause as she furrows her brow before she says it again, wriggling in his arms again, “Mama.” 

He kisses the side of her head and walks out of the nursery, moving quicker than he thought he ever had in his life. He gets to the living room in record time with Lily in his arms, surprising Emily with his speed. Her eyes go wide, panic flaring in her chest as she looks over their daughter to make sure there is nothing wrong.

“Aaron, is she okay-”

“She’s fine,” he says, sitting on the couch next to her, sitting Lily on his lap, securing her to him with one arm as he points at Emily, “Who’s that Lily?”

Emily frowns as she looks back and forth between the two of them, the room falling into silence as Aaron looks at their baby girl expectantly, “Honey, what-”

“Lily,” he says, cutting Emily off with a smile, holding her close, “Who’s that? Is that Mama?” 

There’s another pause, another beat of silence, and Emily is about to roll her eyes at her husband and his strange behaviour when Lily reaches out for her. 

“Mama.” 

She gasps and puts her hand over her mouth, joy filling her lungs so quickly she chokes on the laugh that escapes her, “Did she just…” she asks, looking up at Aaron, smiling when she sees tears shining in his eyes before she looks at Lily, “Did you just say, Mama?”

“Mama,” Lily says again, frowning as she reaches for her again, her hands forming into fists as she tries to get out of Aaron’s embrace, clearly confused as to why she wasn’t in her mother’s arms. 

“She said it upstairs,” Aaron explains, handing over the little girl gently, making sure that she’s settled against Emily’s good side, “She was so fed up with seeing me she decided to say it for the first time.”

Emily chuckles and holds Lily close, pressing a kiss to the top of her head as tears slip free from her lash line, “I love you so much, sweet girl,” she says, kissing her again, “I love you so much.” 

“She loves you too,” Aaron says, reaching out and wiping the tears from her cheeks since she couldn’t, her only available arm holding Lily to her chest. He sighs contentedly and wraps his arm around her, holding both of his girls in his arms, “I can’t wait to hear her say Dada.” 

Emily freezes briefly, a quick thing he thankfully misses as he tickles Lily’s stomach, drawing out her sweet laugh. Guilt burns her from the inside out, making her cheeks warm as she thinks of the secret she is keeping from her husband. She shakes it off, hoping she was making the right decision by protecting him from one of the things he’d missed. She looks up at him and smiles, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

“Me neither.”

___

She yawns as she walks into the master bedroom, exhausted even though she hasn’t done anything all day except sit on the couch and let Aaron look after her. She smiles as she finds him dressed in his pjyamas, rooting through the large linen closet in the corner of their room. 

“Are you remaking the bed?” She asks, rubbing at her eyes with her good hand, “Before you do that can you help me change?” She says, sitting on the edge of the bed, suppressing another yawn, “I’d like to say I can do it myself but we both know I’d struggle and then you’d have to help me anyway.” 

Aaron chuckles and walks over, pressing a kiss to her forehead before he guides her to stand up, reaching for the zipper of the sweater he’d put on over her immobiliser that morning when they left the hospital. He lets it drop to the floor and starts to undo the velcro of the immobiliser so he can take off the clothes underneath. 

“I was looking for that blanket I like,” he explains, careful as he eases her arm down to her side, apologising softly when she winces at the pull in her shoulder, “I thought I’d sleep under it in the spare room so we don’t have to change the bedding in there when I’m done.” 

She looks up at him so sharply, and moves so quickly that pain spreads through her shoulder and down her arm, “Fuck.” 

“Easy, sweetheart,” he says, placing his hand on her shoulder to steady it, to provide support until the pain subsides, “You’re okay.”

She breathes through it until it passes, blinking until her vision is no longer blurry as her breathing slows. She looks up at him, her eyebrows furrowed, “Why…why are you sleeping in the spare room?” 

He sighs and slowly removes his hand from her shoulder before he goes for the hem of her shirt and lets her lift her good arm out of it before he helps her with the injured one. 

“You’re in pain, Em. You have to sleep with that damn thing on,” he says, nodding towards the immobiliser on the bed, “You need the room.” 

She feels a surge of anger she knows he doesn’t deserve that she has to swallow back, taking a moment to blow out a breath so she can react more accordingly, “What I need is my husband sleeping next to me.” 

He sighs, his hands soft and gentle on her bare waist, “Em-”

“No,” she says, firmer this time, “You just spent two months sleeping on the other side of the world. I won’t have you sleeping in the next room when you’re this close. I…” she shakes her head and presses her lips together, “I won’t. You need to sleep in here with me, okay?” 

He stares at her, their eyes locked as he feels himself lose his resolve. He’d never been able to say no to her, not really, and he wasn’t going to start now. Not when it was what he wanted to do too.

“Okay.”

She sighs in relief, “Okay?”

He smiles and nods, leaning in to stamp a kiss against her lips, “Okay.” 

He continues to help her get ready for bed, unhooking her bra and slipping it off before he puts one of his t-shirts over her head. He reaches for the immobiliser but she stops him, her good hand on his arm. 

“Wait,” she says, smiling as she steps a little closer until they are chest to chest, “Hug me.” 

“What? Em-”

“You haven’t hugged me properly since you got back, and I know my shoulder is still fucked up, but I just want you to hug me. No immobiliser, no side hug. Just you and me.” 

He wraps his arms around her, not waiting for her to ask again, and he gently pulls her closer, careful not to hurt her. She wraps her good arm around him and her palm rests on his back as she sinks into him, her face pressed into his chest as he rests his cheek on top of her head. 

“I love you, sweetheart,” he says, stamping a kiss against her hair as he takes the opportunity to hold her this close, something he'd imagined every night since he’d last seen her. 

“I love you too,” she says, kissing his chest through his shirt, her lips catching on what she knew was his thickest scar, “I love you so much.” 

They stand like that, wrapped up in an embrace that isn’t fierce enough for either of them but one that would do for now until he pulls back and cups her cheek, his smile soft. Something just for her and their family. 

“Come on,” he says, “We’ll get this back on you and then I’ll go get you some ice cream before I join you in bed. Jack will be here bright and early.” 

She smiles and nods, already feeling cold when he steps away from her, his warmth something she had been chasing since he left, “He’ll be so excited to see you.” 

“I’m excited to see him too,” he says, smiling as he straps her arm to her chest, “He was surprised when I called him earlier.” 

She hums and runs her fingers through his hair, a wistful smile on her face, “He missed his Daddy. We all did.” 

He wraps his arm around her again and kisses her forehead, his chest aching for all he’d missed, all the things he’s sure he didn’t even know about yet. 

“I missed all of you too.” 

-x-

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[beautifulpersonpeach]

I was a bit surprised to see that mhj specifically said that newjeans had approved the statement saying that belift had copied newjeans' concept with illit. I'm not the type of person that thinks that you're a bitch for asserting position or your value, so this isn't where I'm coming from, but, especially in an industry where it's so rare to see groups say anything negative about other groups, particular junior groups I would think, it was quite the strong, swift position to take. Do you foresee newjeans continuing to engage publicly with this scandal, and how would you think taking an active part in this would affect their brand?

*

Ask 2:

bp in your opinion is there any chance that in this Hybe/MHJ situation there's a buried kind of double-blind motivation?

Like the kind i've seen attributed to E|on Musk, where he creates a big scandal to provide cover when he's doing something much shadier (and then maybe it gets out of hand, like the TwiX thing lol)

You've said you're pretty familar with the corporate side machinations - could Hybe be purposefully airing all this, sure to stick it to MHJ, but also to temporarily drive down stock prices for idk easy shares-repurchasing? Or even allowing a mess they can blame for having to report lower numbers to shareholders for whatever reason: boycott actually impacting profit, hedging against lower-than-predicted bts returning numbers, etc.

Or is this too convoluted of conspiracy thinking and BPD/HYBE/MHJ, and by extension from your recent posts basically 'corporate kpop' entire, are really just that transparent and petty?

*

Ask 3:

Might be a stupid question because I honestly don't have any clue about corporate businesses and how they work. But in the light of this scandal and how BigHit/Hybe developed over the last years: would you say this is what you get when you become too greedy instead of concentrating on what you were good at?

*

Ask 4:

in your opinion, is mhj truly an indispensable part of newjeans creative output? Also, do you see any way that hybe would let newjeans leave with its name and discography if they try to break their contract to go with mhj like some people are saying?

*

Ask 5:

I’m seeing a lot of discussion about whether newjeans will try to leave with mhj and break their contract with hybe, but I don’t see this as a realistic scenario, and I especially don’t see hybe letting them leave with their name and discography. You mentioned that there are a limited set of options now, but is this even one of them? In my mind, newjeans as a concept either stays at hybe, with or without mhj in whatever capacity, or can’t really exist legally

*

Ask 6:

Also this has given everyone (kpop stans, ARMYs, journalists) the go ahead to drag Newjeans in order to "defend" Illit, BTS, Riize, etc by throwing (again) dozens of plagiarism accusations and trying to discredit everything the group has done and achieved. And it was started by Hybe themselves... I have no words, bpp

***

I think these six asks capture most of the talking points in the asks I've received since yesterday, so I'll use these to answer your questions.

The sheer amount of spin happening in the media right now is ridiculous lmaoo. With the mention of BTS in the "escape files", ARMYs have predictably moved from shady bystanders to actively joining in the negative spin, spreading rumor articles and many are now attacking the girls themselves. But honestly, this is nothing less than what I expected. NewJeans is the most popular group in Korea, the 2nd most valuable IP only behind BTS, and Min Heejin is the brains behind the operation - an achievement she's insisted on taking full credit for since inception. Leaving the only option for whoever is masterminding this from within and outside HYBE, to destroy her reputation as an executive completely to diminish her value to outside investors, and weaken the fan support for NewJeans given how closely they are already associated with MHJ. And that's what is happening. It impacts every group at HYBE and nearly obliterates the viability of NewJeans.

For HYBE, it's a tolerable loss given there's only one year left before BTS returns and closes that earnings gap in mere months. Whoever took this action sees it simply as resulting in a numerical loss that can be soon corrected, but personally, I disagree, for the same reasons I objected to HYBE's acquisition of SM even though on paper it made numerical sense.

Anon in ask 1: I can understand your surprise but sad as it is to say, I expected that response from MHJ. She's a creative, not a PR exec or an MBA-credentialled suit. I'm not sure how familiar you are with ADOR's press releases in general, but anybody who reads them can tell there's almost no corporate doublespeak, no vague allusions, nothing that shows it's written by a typical media-trained PR person. Which is why most people, including you, take that statement to mean NewJeans agrees with MHJ that Illit copied them (it's a possibility), when in reality the language shows it could refer to them agreeing with MHJ's assertion that HYBE hasn't duly responded to her requests about inter-label discrimination, or other related matters. That's the kind of detail a trained PR person would be sure to include, to minimize the fallout to NJ, but just as with the press release on Cookie, the one on Minji's rival sasaeng, the response to Hyein's veneer rumours, and practically every press release ADOR has put out, the language is unsophisticated.

"Do you foresee newjeans continuing to engage publicly with this scandal, and how would you think taking an active part in this would affect their brand?"

NewJeans has so far not engaged publicly with this scandal. MHJ has mentioned them to signal any separation between them will likely be contested. It's leverage. If they do take an active part in this scandal, it will completely destroy their brand. Like, it's already on life support. Anything more and we might as well say their last rites.

*

Anon in ask 2: I'd say that's not a conspiracy exactly but it is kinda pushing it. Anytime there's a stock dip it's a buying opportunity, and HYBE is always guaranteed to be a Buy so long as BTS is slated to return within 12 months of the stock event. But we simply don't have any clear indications that's the case now given the timing doesn't quite line up. If anything, that is more like the 4th order side-effect.

And yeah, people on the corporate side, not just in k-pop, are many times just that petty. But it's also true this case has been sensationalized in particular ways to appeal to k-pop stans specifically.

*

Anons in ask 4 & 5: The options available are:

MHJ leaves HYBE and NewJeans stays in HYBE

MHJ leaves HYBE and NewJeans leaves with her

MHJ stays in HYBE but is demoted from her exec role and NewJeans stays in HYBE

MHJ stays in HYBE and keeps her exec role and NewJeans stays in HYBE

None of these options are good, but the worst of these evils is option 2. If the members attempt to leave with her, there's no pretty way to say this, but they'll be done. I'm not even going to waste time writing all the ways HYBE and k-pop stans as a whole will rip them to shreds, all I'll say is that whoever is attached to these girls should consider taking a 6 months sabbatical away from k-pop entirely once that news breaks. The law is not on their side and public opinion, especially after all the 'leaks' and spin from HYBE in the last 72 hours, certainly isn't on their side either. It would be career suicide.

"in your opinion, is mhj truly an indispensable part of newjeans creative output?"

Personally, I think yes. Every label at HYBE had similar initial monetary investment as NewJeans and ADOR had, and other groups from the Big 3 have had even bigger investments and resources at their disposal. There isn't a single group, both within HYBE and outside HYBE, that has yielded the same results as NewJeans in the same period of time. Illit comes close, but even with their achievements they haven't reached the same (positive) notoriety as NewJeans did at debut. All HYBE groups have access to HYBE's youtube channel, connections and resources, and yet the achievements of BOYNEXTDOOR, LE SSERAFIM, ENHYPEN, and even ILLIT, are nowhere near comparable to that of NewJeans. And I agree with MHJ that she's the primary reason why. Having access to resources is only one part of the equation. How you allocate those resources and what you do with it is far more important, and this is where MHJ and ADOR excels relative to other sub-labels.

NewJeans without MHJ will not be nearly as threatening to everyone else in k-pop, and I suspect this is one reason there have been calls for her to be removed from managing the group since their debut.

*

Anons in ask 3 & 6: Yeah there's a fair bit of greed on show here. Generally, for a lot of people in this industry, greed is good... unless the greedy person is a woman. Because the only thing more central to nasty corporate tussles like this, more than greed, is ego.

I'm not trying to play the gender card, but sometimes I do wonder why there are no articles like this about people like Jaden Jeong and Simon Jakob given the reputation those men have in corporate circles, where top officials (in this case, within HYBE) are saying they cannot possibly work with MHJ because she is "overly and excessively opinionated". I'm highlighting this article because despite the initial paragraphs of spin, that bit is the only thing consistent with MHJ's claim that this attack from HYBE started because she'd filed a whistleblowing report on toxic inter-label competition and followed up an email that said quote:

"..is this deliberate obtuseness and unapologetic behaviour consistent with HYBE's founding philosophy of rebelling against unfair practices in the entertainment industry?"

I mean... in corporate Korea, I can see how they were sick of her shit and it was only a matter of time before she got the boot.

The insidious thing about spin is that it mixes the truth with lies, making it easy for people to accept it wholly. It's entirely possible that MHJ wants more compensation, more autonomy and independence, feels that Belift and other companies borrowed her ideas without full credit, and that she was unsupported by HYBE HQ. It's entirely possible that she took actions such as monitoring fan feedback of the group(s) she suspects and filing a whistleblowing report to build a case - according to both MHJ and others at HYBE, these are complaints she's apparently had since last year, but none of those things would justify HYBE's response nor is it enough to turn people against her.

What I find particularly interesting about this case, is that everything that decisively incriminates her comes from the person of VP L or CEO A - a person who only joined ADOR in January 2024, shortly after which HYBE received their first tip-off that MHJ was planning to escape. It's VP L who titles documents with the equivalent of "TOP SECRET DO NOT TOUCH" on company computers... the same guy that's supposedly a double agent working in favour of MHJ and ADOR but is situated within ADOR, not HYBE, where simple logic shows he'd be most useful. Unless he's situated right where he's supposed to be.

Anyway...

HYBE has requested for a shareholder meeting on April 30th where they'll likely table the motion for MHJ to resign regardless of what's found in the audit. Far as I know, she's completed the audit questionnaire but not surrendered her laptop as HYBE has requested. Given the play is for HYBE to kick her out while continuing to manage NJ, I can see how she'd rather die than surrender her laptop and hand over her ideas to HYBE on a silver platter for them to use in her wake.

Every way this shakes out is bad news for HYBE groups IMO. So long as NewJeans keeps quiet and sides with HYBE, they'll be somewhat okay. But regardless of the fallout from HYBE cannibalizing itself, all HYBE groups have no choice but to take it on the chin and bide their time until BTS comes back to capture the attention back to them.

I hope I answered all your questions. IMO there's really no point talking more about this until there's a firm conclusion.

#min heejin #newjeans #ador #hybe #bang pd #kpop #kpop industry #kpop business #belift

[sea-buns]

I understand not wanting your party members to walk into a lake and drown themselves but also Laudna has the fuckin WORST bedside manner lol. Yes, your much-needed long rest was just interrupted in a creepy abandoned town where you know weird charm-shit happened and the LAST thing you need right now is for anyone to lose focus. But also "Can you not wait? You can wait 5 minutes." talking to someone who has waited months and doesn't know if their loved one is even ALIVE and has confessed to you how much he misses them and how much it hurts and they could be outside breathing alive right now—

And on the surface, it looks like Chet is enabling a bad decision when he says "You probably heard Dorian. He's probably outside." and yeahh, okay, maybe he is a little bit. But right after that he's about to protest with something about Orym and it's like yeah. ORYM said he heard something. When has there been a time when ORYM heard something, and it wasn't real? How many times has Orym heard something and it's saved our asses? Before Chet is being hit with his own need to check out the lake, he's giving Orym the benefit of the doubt. And while he is an enabler by nature, he's keeping his voice soft rather than his usual, over-the-top "let's fuck around and find out" energy that he brings to dangerous situations like this.

You can't have everyone in the group treating a dilemma with the same amount of sympathy and care. What makes the BH so fascinating to watch is the variation in responses and different ways they interact with each other. You need a balance of someone who will take the cold, unyielding stance against something that is so obviously a trap, and someone that is aware of the risks but willing to speak up for that person and humor them when they're so clearly struggling.

I have a lot of feelings about Laudna and Chetney's instinctual responses and I think both stances are fascinating and they've both shattered my heart to pieces

#chet is very observant with orym and everyone else tbh #and i feel like he always takes care when it counts #im very soft for the father-son bond there #and i feel like when laudna and orym agree and clash flips on a dime sooo often #its very interesting. and laudna i feel is a very decisive person. when she feels some way about something shes very firm on it #and i think orym is too. but most times shes much quicker to be loud and vocal and insistent about it than he is #its fun to watch her oppose him and he have to be like 'ok i guess i have to push this' #and half the time they are ON THE SAME PAGE but its either like one line off or they just totally misunderstanding each other #orym is my boy i spin him in my brain and anyone who interacts with him makes me spin even faster #critical role #c3e86 #orym of the air ashari #chetney pock o'pea #laudna #bells hells #not even done with the ep yet but taking advantage of the fact that i can pause and make posts like this lol #during the live its like i save long posts for the end IF i can remember what i wanted to say #if i do it during i do not process the show and miss everything

[kinokoshoujoart]

the sos awl development team really looked at rock and said “even if we could fix him (we can’t) he would never agree to it, carry on king”

#and i’m eternally grateful they responded this way #my odd worldview king has every possible brain disease and disorder and he’s perfect just the way he is #cora clownposting content #sos awl #multiple interviews stress that rock was left unchanged because he was always a fucking weirdo and will remain so eternally #i also love that they use the same logic i do. sorry couldn’t redesign him he wouldn’t let us. sorry rock insisted on being drawn this way #what? just change his personality? sorry our hands are tied because he would not fucking say we can rewrite him #explains why his risqué first heart event dialogue was left entirely unchanged in the jp yet maya can’t call him a nanpa anymore #english localization toned it down this time. natume used literal translations and some roughly equivalent english double entendres #sometimes just ignored them #xseed did decide to make him wink when inviting you to be fun-buddies so idk #xseed definitely held a gun to his head for his toned down lines they have Hostage Situation vibes #‘hi there platonic buddy pal!!’ *winks in morse code to spell the words ‘SEX NOW??’* #psychic damage posting #bokumono #hm awl #rock (awl) #this was in my drafts when the heck did i write all this #rock tumbling (sos)

[arbitrarycategories]

what if I indulged my inner twelve year old and wrote crossover fanfiction

#it would be pjo x dc bc I’ve been reading a lot of batfam fic #I can’t stop brainstorming Tim as a demigod who encounters Grover Annabeth and Percy and just has to cope with that #tim calling Cassie: THERE ARE CRAZY PEOPLE HERE WHO SAY THEYRE DEMIGODS #Cassie: ooooh yeah. yeah I don’t run in those circles but if they say ur a demigod you should probably go with them #tim: how could you betray me like this #was Cassie also made from clay??? unfortunately I don’t know anything about Wonder Girl I’m so sorry #I want Tim to be a low-powered child of Aphrodite and when he finds out he’s just like aaa this explains why I’m so good at disguises #Gotham city has crazy levels of Mist bc it’s being patroned by Hecate #so most monsters don’t bother #also most intelligent monsters look at the batshit crazy mortals and are like. yeah we’ll stick to NY and Cali where the most demigods are #in my brain it’s actually Grover’s fault that the trio are in Gotham he wants to recruit Poison Ivy to help restore the Wild #percy and Annabeth insist on coming with to protect him and also bc they’re bored #they run into 20yo tim and grover is like DAMN how are you alive??? and Tim just has. no idea what the fuck they’re talking about #arbitrary speaks

[izzystizzys]

the usual izzy gets surprised by not having had menopause yet and a baby trope but adding in a twist: it happens pre-canon and by the time he gets unceremoniously dumped off the ship, he’s known for at least a month

just. increasingly tense izzy, who not only has to deal with not being able to keep anything in his body and worse nausea than he had even in his first week on a ship, but also can’t sleep marinating in the familiar coldness between him and ed that suddenly grates all over again. who’s forced to contend with the idea that something might finally force them out of this stalemate, and he doesn’t know if he wants that really or what outcome scares him the most, and it makes him pissier than a rabid cat soaking wet most days

and then it happens anyways, in an entirely different way that didn’t even require izzy to voice all of his fears and lay bare their problems, because stede fucking bonnet did that with his mere presence. no need to admit to his fear of being abandoned now, is there, is all he can think bitterly over a mug of fucking water of all things in jackie’z.

#ofmd fic idea #edizzy #kind of #my steddyhands loving brain wants it to end up there but idk how #in my angstridden mind this can go several ways #obvs he still sees jack and obvs the prick knows immediately #now: does jack run off and tattle or stay and help? #either way in my mind izzy has lost all will to fight his way back to ed’s side via navy fuckeries in this #discovering he has other priorities than ed now is a shock to him more than anyone #anyways option one jack still makes it onto the revenge drunkenly ripping ed a new one in the most incomprehensibly strange way #halfway through he’s like oops you’re not supposed to know that izzy’s pregnant! #ed: izzy’s pregnant???? #jack (sweating): i didn’t say that #which brings on a merry goose chase because izzy is a wanted man in his own right #and also not in the mood to talk to anyone #option two: jack does NOT scurry off to the revenge #i envisage ed still going ham in this bcs one he discovers functioning without izzy’s shit and two there were issues there brewing already #years later the crew (slowly but steadily piecing itself together) raids a ship and finds a screaming five-year-old in its brig #completely impossible to miss that she is an exact carbon copy of ed from the hair down to the scowl and eyes and- #well it’s very unsettling is all #as are the promises that if they don’t help her her papa will disembowel them all #‘a toddler should not know that word!!!’ lucius insists #meanwhile izzy going insane having temporarily commandeered jack’s current ship in search of his beloved daughter #comedy of errors type thing where the revenge crew are forced to become temporary babysitters to the absolute hellion raised by izzy hands #truly only he could create such horrors (affectionate)

[mudstoneabyss]

Charles must be a very well spoken sweetheart but simultaneously a simple and blunt bitch

#i can never say anything without adding some sort of i think or should be bc my brain goes #either ppl will think thats 100% canon or that youre insisting that its 100% canon on them #and then i get annoyed by my own phrasing #joyousposting #anyway hes talking to Kevin with the eloquency of poetry then will turn around and tell someone to fuck off straight up

[dearreader]

and the arguments that i have won against you in my head; in the car, in the shower, and in the mirror before bed…

yeah i’m so tough when i’m alone and i make you feel so guilty and i fantasize about a time you’re a little fuckin’ sorry-

and i try to ꪊꪀᦔꫀ𝕣ડ𝕥ꪖꪀᦔ why you would do this all to me. ‘you must be insecure. you must be so unhappy.’

and i know in my heart: hurt people, hurt people. and we both drew blood, but man those cuts were

ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ꜰᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ ᴇQᴜᴀʟ!!

and i try to be tough. but i wanna scream ‘HOW COULD ANYBODY DO THE THINGS YOU DID SO EASILY?’

and i say that i don’t care.

say that i’m fine.

but you know i can’t let it go, i’vetriedi’ve triedi’vetried for so long… it takes s⃞   t⃞   r⃞   e⃞   n⃞   g⃞   t⃞   h⃞ to forgive but i don’t feel ₛₜᵣₒₙg

#which ever hacker leaked my notes app rants i used as diaries to olivia rodrigo to write this song owe me an apology #no but the fact that she literally put thoughts and feelings and things i’ve done when i’m completely alone #things that i hate because i hate the power it means people still have over me #and she just put it down and released it to the world #she perfectly summarized my two year battle alone with dealing with my trauma in a single song #especially the ‘how could anybody do the things you did so easily?’ #because everything i’ve ever said on the situation leaves people speechless and it also makes me realize just how bad it was #like she infiltrated every friend group in a sorority just to get VP and then (maybe unintentionally) turned everyone against me #because she hated me and warned everyone not to be like me (one of my friebds told me she intentionally distanced herself from me because #people thought she’d be the next ‘kelly’ and be annoying and she said she didn’t want that for her. and i’m not even mad at her #because i probably would’ve done the same thing if the tables were turned.) and she did this all while my father was DYING of the most #aggressive form of brain cancer OR had just died #and even tried to comfort me 2 days after he died by saying ‘i was allowed to feel this was because i would be feeling it for the rest of #my life’ #she did everything to me #tried to steal my best friend and drive a wedge between us #destroy the relationship i’d built with my pledge class that the sorority insisted on building and developing for each pledge class #made fun of me liking taylor swift #reminded me constantly i wasn’t wanted in the sorority #belittled my knowledge of things and automatically assumed if i said something it was false until a second party agreed with me #she just did all that without batting an eye #told me to my face and over text she never did anything wrong #like… the song just describes it perfectly #pinky tag #kelly babels #sorority tag #the grudge #kelly listens to music

[bylertruther]

the rod imagery is fucking awful and makes me want to drive one through my own head but like. but like........... good lord i tell you what brother it absolutely does fuck SEVERELY every time 😔🫡

#like. HELLO. AND THE FACT THAT IT /IS/ HENRY THAT HE /IS/ THE ROD..... BECAUSE THE ROD IMAGERY ALWAYS APPEARS RIGHT #BEFORE HE MAKES HIS APPEARANCE INVADING WILL'S MIND .............. WOOF WOOF GRRRRRRRRR BITING AND RIPPING #AND HENRY'S INSISTENCE WITH BEING A PREDATOR...... THE SHADOW PARTICLES GIVING HIM THE MEANS TO BE ONE... #'you kept henry in that lab. with the children. was that for our good? was that a right choice?' & THE VICTIM BLAMING RIGHT AFTER #AND WHEN SHE MENTIONS THE MIND FLAYER WE LITERALLY GET THE FLASHBACK OF WILL BEING INVADED #i don't understand how people say it's subtext when we literally see all this shit happen on our screen like. hello. #i just. #the rod........ phineas gage.... it always goes straight through will's head.... henry is literally in his head 24/7.... i'm going insane #they did their thing with that one. #@ross @matthew i'm eating one of alice in wonderland's magic snacks n shrinking myself so tht i can crawl my way to ur brain thru ur ears. #rape tw #csa tw