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#someone's dying this musical 100%

hairmetal666 · 27 days

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TW for internalized homophobia and related bad decisions

Steve is 12 and he thinks about finding his soulmate all the time.

You're supposed to find them through touch; your life together will flash in front of your eyes. They're rare, though, soulmates. So rare that most people never find theirs. So rare that some people say they're made up.

Steve wants to be one of the lucky few. He wants it to be a true, unbreakable bond, a love he gets to have forever.

He wonders if he'll find his soulmate at school. He's popular, he thinks. Tommy would say they were popular. But Tommy's definition of popular mostly has to do with the number of kids he can get away with being mean to, and that's not really Steve's deal. Tommy is like a prey animal, the way he can find weaknesses.

There's a new boy at school. Steve doesn't know his name, but they have English together. He's too thin, with huge brown eyes, and all his clothes are too big. His head's been inexpertly shaved and he never looks anybody in the eye. It's only a matter of time before he catches Tommy's interest, and Steve wishes he could stop it somehow, but he's never been good at going against Tommy.

The day comes, of course. They're standing in the hall, the new boy walking towards them, head down, as always. Tommy nudges Steve says, "What a loser."

And Steve shrugs, starts to ask Tommy about football, if the Colts can make the Super Bowl, but the boy is nearing and Tommy is cackling.

"Watch this." Tommy sticks his foot out.

The boy doesn't react fast enough. He falls forward with a bitten off yelp, and Steve moves without really thinking, only knows he can't stand to see him fall. He catches the new kid beneath his armpits, Steve's thumbs brushing the soft skin his arms.

The world around him falls away at the touch.

---

He's sitting on the floor in the band room, Eddie--the boy's name is Eddie--next to him. Eddie's hair is a little longer and Steve's in a green polo he doesn't recognize, and he's never been in the band room in his life. They're leaning into each other and laughing and Eddie's so beautiful.

---

They're in the woods--Skull Rock, Steve thinks. Eddie's hair is curled and frizzed around his chin, and he's laughing, his cheeks pink, his dimples prominent. He tries to pull his hair in front of his face, but it's not long enough yet to reach. Steve is overwhelmed, wants to kiss him so bad. He's never had to wait to kiss someone, or been unsure, or--

He wants to kiss Eddie.

So, he does.

It's hard, desperate, not the first kiss Steve expected, but then they've been waiting for so long.

---

Steve stands in the hallway of Hawkins High. He's wearing a striped, beige short-sleeved polo, and flirting with Nancy Wheeler.

He likes Nancy, she's pretty and smart and fun. And it's easy. He can hold her hand. Can introduce her to his parents. Can take her on dates and kiss her in public.

She bats her big blue eyes at him, and he can't help but kiss her.

He pulls away gently, brushing his thumb against her cheek, and when he looks down the hall, Eddie is there, frozen. His mouth is wide, his eyes glassy.

Steve thinks the way his heart stutters must be what dying feels like.

---

He's sitting on his diving board, facing away from the pool. He smokes a cigarette and there's a bat studded with nails at his feet, what the fuck. Music thuds, shrieks and laughter seep into the cool night air.

He should be playing the gracious host. He should be having a good time. Instead, his eyes search the woods and he taps another smoke out of the pack.

"Harrington?" The voice makes him jump, hand flexing around the bat handle. "It's freezing out. What are you doing?"

He recognizes the voice now, doesn't turn, doesn't respond, can't stand to see another person he let down; another person who could call him bullshit and be 100% correct.

"Do you not have a jacket? C'mon, man."

Something warm settles over his shoulders, and he inadvertently breathes in weed and leather and cedar. He squeezes his eyes shut, like that will make the comforting, familiar scent go away. He'll have to move to shrug off the jacket, though, which would mean acknowledging Eddie's presence.

"Can you at least say something, Harrington? You're freaking me out."

"I'm fine, Ed--Eddie." The nickname falls from his lips too easily. He doesn't miss how Eddie flinches.

His hair is long now, down to his shoulders, brittle looking in the cold. He's wearing a t-shirt and worn flannel, arms wrapped around his chest for warmth now that his jacket is draped over Steve's shoulders.

Steve is an idiot. He's such an idiot. Chasing after Nancy when Eddie is--

"I'm sorry," he says. He turns to face his soulmate, then. "I'm sorry about Nancy, I--"

Eddie jerks back like he's been hit. "Fuck you, Harrington," he snarls.

---

He sits in the back of an ambulance, eyes swollen shut, face throbbing. He's wearing a sailor suit for inexplicable reasons, which is almost more upsetting than the ambulance. He smells like puke and something toxically sweet.

A girl is with him, one he doesn't recognize, but he feels deeply, instinctively protective of her. He holds her shaking shoulders tight, tries to whisper comfort to her through his busted and bleeding mouth.

He's pretty sure he has a concussion.

"Steve!" Someone screams over the sounds of the EMTs and firefighters, of the building burning and collapsing behind them.

Eddie bursts through the gathered onlookers and past the ring of police cars enclosing them. He's falling into the ambulance before Steve has a chance to react.

"Sweetheart," Eddie sobs. He tries to cup Steve's face, but his fingers flutter around the damage. "Sweetheart, oh my god. I came as soon as I heard. Are you--what can I--"

Steve stares at him--his hair falling from its messy bun, his cutoff Metallica tee, concern and love leaking from those brown, brown eyes--and bursts into tears.

---

They sit on the roof of his house, sharing a joint back and forth. It's chilly, bordering on cold, winter just on the horizon. They're laughing, leaning into each other, and Steve is--he's happy. Elated. Could float away with it.

Robin--Robin-- is in the bathroom, or maybe in the kitchen for snacks, and it's just them for now. They're looking at each other, smiles wide, eyes bright.

They're taking it slow. Steve knows it's important, after what he did. They talked about it, his abandoning of Eddie for Nancy, chasing what his dad told him was normal and expected.

He doesn't want to cross any boundaries, wants to do this right. How Eddie deserves. But they're leaning into each other and they're smiling, and he's so in love. Intoxicated with it, lost.

In the end, he doesn't know who makes the first move, just that they're kissing and it's like coming home.

---

He's in a building, a shed or something. It's musty and dirty, smells like oil and gasoline and a building left closed up too long. Eddie's in his arms and he's talking through hiccuping sobs.

"I didn't save her, Steve. I didn't help. I just left her there! She was broken in pieces and I--I--"

Steve holds him close, tight, squeezes his eyes closed to stop his own tears from falling. He never wanted this for Eddie, never wanted him involved. Thought he could protect him from all of Hawkins's terrible things.

They aren't alone. Robin is there, coming up to hold Eddie too, plus a redheaded girl and curly haired boy he doesn't recognize.

"We'll figure this out, Eddie." The boy promises.

"We won't let anyone hurt you. We know you didn't murder Chrissy," the girl says.

---

Steve is in a world he doesn't understand, and Eddie is his arms. Eddie is in his arms, and there's blood everywhere. He's not awake, he's not--his heart beat is soft and slow, too slow, and his breathing stutters, and Steve can't--

"Baby, stay with me." He begs as he runs across the dead and rotting landscape. "Eddie, please. Wake up, okay? Wake up for me. I need to--I need to know that you're alright."

Eddie stays limp in his arms.

"Please," he begs. "You can't leave me. We promised, remember? We promised we'd be together forever. The rest of our lives. Me and You. Our six little nuggets. You promised."

The portal back to Hawkins is less than a dozen feet away, he's so close. Eddie gasps to consciousness, but his eyes are still hazy.

"Hi, sweetheart," he mumbles.

"Hey, hi, you're doing so good. We're almost out, okay? We're almost out and we'll get you to the hospital."

Eddie reaches out a weak hand, touches the edge of Steve's jaw. "Love you, Stevie," he whispers. "Glad you were mine."

He goes still in Steve's hold.

---

The images come faster now--

A hospital room at Hawkins General, Eddie hooked to machines. Steve holds hands with an older man. They wait in terrified silence

Eddie propped in a bed, a bunch of kids around him, Steve and Robin at his side. His eyes keep sliding to Steve, like he's making sure Steve's real, that he's still there

Their bodies tangled together in a bedroom Steve doesn't recognize

Steve down on one knee in a marble room lit only by black and red candles, Eddie standing in front of him

Hand-in-hand on a cliffside overlooking the ocean. The Chief of Police, Jim Hopper, stands in front of them with tears in his eyes and a beaming smile on his face

In a big, green yard behind a cozy little house. A little boy with Eddie's eyes and curls riding on his shoulders. Eddie sprinting around with a tiny girl giggling after him, perfect imitation of the King Steve hair-do on her tiny head

In a park, surrounded by family and friends. Steve has a little bit of a paunch and wears glasses. Eddie's hair streams around his shoulders, going grey at the temples. There's a banner strung between trees proclaiming 'Happy 20th Steve and Eddie!' They're surrounded by everyone they love and it's perfect

---

The images flash too fast for Steve to catalog after that, seconds-long glimpses of a shared future, and then he's back in his body in the hallway of Hawkins Middle, still holding too tight onto Eddie's arms.

Eddie rears back, face pale and terrified, and Steve is too shocked to do anything but let him go.

Tommy's yelling, but Steve only has eyes for his soulmate, who scrambles to his feet and throws himself down the hall away from them.

"What the hell, Harrington? Why'd you catch him? That was about to be funny as hell! I bet he'd have broken his nose--you ruined it!"

Steve isn't listening. He's trying to hold on to the memories of their life together, the ones that are already fading.

The last thing he remembers is that, sometime in the not-too-distant future, he'll find his way to the band room, Eddie Munson, and the rest of their lives.

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #soulmate au #fluff #angst #angst with a happy ending #childhood sweethearts #canon divergent au #everyone lives/nobody dies #glimpses of the future #getting together #break up #getting back together #first kiss #brief stancy #platonic stobin

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caelivir · 3 months

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red lips, dying for a kiss | rayne ames

— synopsis. in which rayne discovers that red lip combos are his weakness.

— pairing. rayne ames x fem!reader

— genres. university au, friends-ish to lovers, rayne has a little bit of a crush

— word count. 2.3k

— warnings. very brief violence mention in the beginning, alcohol consumption (rayne and reader are 21 in this), making out (i tried to keep it brief), ooc rayne but he’s kinda drunk so

— notes. breaking theme for this one but it’s okay. i wanted to drop this on valentine’s day… clearly that didn’t work out. also as i go to post this hidden lights reached 1k notes which is absolutely insane to think of. thank you for giving it so much love. anyway, happy 100 followers! thanks for sticking with me. enjoy!

dedicated to all the rayne girlies. i pray we find (or already have) a man like him. ♡

ryoh’s parties are always a bad idea. rayne can’t count the number of times something has gone wrong. cops show up. someone locks every single bathroom from the inside. a dumbass jumps off the roof and into the pool. any incident you could think of has probably happened. the last one rayne went to nearly got him screwed over when he fought against a guy picking on his brother, and it was not pretty (for the other guy) to say the least.

from that moment on, rayne had made the decision to never attend another one of ryoh’s parties. it doesn’t matter who begged him or what the circumstances were. no one was going to change his mind on that.

unfortunately, ryoh grantz would not have that. it took three days and a two hundred dollar bribe to convince rayne to go because who would he be if not taking advantage of the rich.

so that’s where he finds himself now, standing in a circle with his friends as music blasts in ryoh’s mansion. they talk about who knows what as rayne wishes he could go home. he has to see it out though because this would be the easiest two hundred dollars he would ever make.

his second red solo cup of the night is filled with some unknown (but surprisingly delicious) concoction that sits untouched. he swirls the cup around in his hand, his eyes darting around the room for an escape.

rayne chugs his entire drink down, setting the empty cup on the first surface he finds before mumbling an excuse of having to use the bathroom, not caring whether his friends heard it or not. he stops by the kitchen to rummage through a cooler, skin freezing as he digs through the ice. he finds two cans of a beer brand that he likes.

he weaves through the crowd in the living room, trying his best to not bump into anyone or spill any drinks because the last thing he needs is another altercation.

unfortunately for him, life always has a curveball in store for him.

“hey, look! (y/n)’s here!” someone had yelled, causing people to push closer towards the front door. the flow carries him closer despite his protests.

the half blonde finds you easily. it’s hard to miss your bright smile, even in a room surrounded by dozens. a crowd surrounds you and your group of friends. they greet you with hellos, offer drinks, and fight for your attention. you try your best to address everyone as you and your friends inch closer to the dance floor.

rayne knows you. your friend groups overlap often so he was bound to meet you at one point. you're popular around campus, known for your friendly nature, kind acts, and most of all, you're known for your beauty. he hears about a new attempt to gain your affection almost weekly. you never seem to accept them for some odd reason. it doesn't matter who it is. the d1 basketball prodigy? the rich girl in your philosophy class? they'd be rejected all the same. your lack of care for relationships has sparked up rumors, but even those never seem to faze you.

as for his opinion on you, rayne acutally likes you, which is a rare feat considering that the half-blonde cannot stand the presence of most people. but in this case, he likes you. he has the smallest of crushes that he wouldn't dare to admit to anyone except his brother, maybe.

in the times your paths had crossed, you had been an easy person to be around, never doing anything to irritate him and always trying to include him in every conversation and activity. it makes him feel all warm inside. the thought of it brings the ghost of a smile onto his face.

he also can't deny that you are indeed one of the most beautiful people that he's ever come across. you would have to be a fool to try and deny that. it's a little shallow on his part to like you partly for your looks, but he can't help it when your smile has the power to blind angels.

"rayne?" your head tilts, surprise written all over your face. he locates two shots in your hands. "woah, i'm surprised you're here! people said you wouldn't come to these anymore!"

rayne is barely to pick up the sound of your voice over all the music. "got paid to be here." he speaks loudly, avoiding yelling as much as he can.

"well, that's one way to get someone to come to a party." you giggle.

it's at this point where rayne closely inspects your face. his eyes are immediately drawn to your lips, colored in a combination of reds. he's never seen it on you before, and paired with the rest of the makeup on your face, it stands out, commands attention.

and it looks… really fucking good. rayne takes the sight of you in fully. yeah, you look really fucking good tonight. the half-blonde gulps, forcing his eyes back up to your face.

"take this with me!" you urge rayne, holding out a plastic shot glass to him.

unwilling to bring himself to say no to you, rayne sighs, accepting it. the two of you raise your glasses up in a silent toast before pressing the plastic to his lips, tilting his head back, and letting the alcohol slide down his throat. it burns. it tastes horrid on his tastebuds. the half-blonde scrunches his nose in disgust, and you take the empty glass from him, how you went unbothered by such a disgusting beverage is beyond him.

as much as rayne wishes he could be with you, he desperately longs to find someplace quiet. the bass of the music pounds against his head. "i'll see you around, (y/n). have fun tonight. be safe." rayne says.

"oh okay. see you rayne." you frown, but maybe that's just the lighting messing with him. he swears there's disappointment laced in your voice, but that could also just be the alcohol playing games with him.

rayne makes his way upstairs. he prays that he won't barge into people having sex. luckily for him, it's still early, and the room that he chooses, the one at the very end of the hall, is empty. he relaxes the moment he locks the door as if a weight was being lifted off him.

the half-blonde sets his unopened beers onto the nightstand and lies on the made bed. he stares at the ceiling for fifteen minutes, contemplating his life choices. his thoughts drift to you and your gorgeous lips, but he’s quick to dismiss them. when he’s finished with that, he cracks open his first beer, leaving a ring of condensation on the nightstand, and opens up his phone.

the next hour or so is spent watching compilations of bunnies and sipping on his beers. it’s perfectly fine like this. save for the bass of the music bouncing against the walls, it’s peaceful. he feels the effects of the alcohol he drank humming in his veins. it puts him into a lighter mood. however, that peace is disturbed when there’s a loud pounding on the door.

“what the hell?” rayne mumbles under his breath. did someone confuse this room for the bathroom? the half-blonde pulls himself out of bed, unlocks the door, and cracks it open just a little bit to see who it is.

“rayne, is that you? oh my god, please let me in.” you beg, clasping your hands together in prayer.

confused, but without any complaint, he allows you into the room, shutting the door behind him and locking it.

you practically collapse on the edge of the bed, and rayne can sense that something is amiss.

“are you alright?” he asks cautiously, standing a foot away from you.

“do you ever just get sick of people?” you ponder suddenly, shooting to sit straight up.

“sure.” rayne shrugs, still unmoving from his spot.

“you can’t tell anyone i told you this,” you point at him with narrowed eyes, voice slurred. “swear you won’t.”

“i won’t.”

“good.” you nod. “as i was saying, i get so sick of people sometimes. being popular is fucking exhausting. i don’t know how much longer i can keep up with this. i swear i can’t enjoy things on my own time without people barging in or commenting on it.

“i can’t sit on a couch to catch my breath without people wanting to talk to me. not that that’s bad of course, i love talking to people, but christ, just back up a bit. like can’t they just take a hint and realize that i don’t want to talk? do you get that?”

rayne nods. “must be rough.”

“it is,” you groan and then sigh, standing up to dust off your clothes. you stumble from dizziness after having gotten up too fast. however, you shake the feeling out. “sorry, i shouldn’t have dumped all of that on you. that was a stupid thing to complain about.”

“no, it wasn’t.” rayne argues. “people who are always in your space are fucking annoying. i would know so there’s nothing wrong with feeling that way.” at this point, he could tell the alcohol is doing its number on him, making him more vocal and bold.

“do i annoy you, rayne?” you ask, eyelashes batting at him, this innocent worry behind your eyes. it drives him mad.

“no.” he says sternly, inching closer, his gaze falling to your crimson lips. that damn red lipstick. he wonders what would happen if he were to mess it up. what would happen if he were to ruin that precise lining of color? what you let him cross that line? in his tipsy state of mind, he wants to find out.

“are you sure? because i know whenever we see each other i kinda cling to you, but if that bothers you, just let me know. really it’s no-” you ramble before rayne cuts you off.

“i want to kiss you.” the half-blonde mutters. his eyes stare deep into your own. your eyebrows raise in shock.

"huh?"

"i want" rayne's hand flexes at his side as he exhales, resisting the urge to touch you. "to kiss you."

"why?" you whisper so quietly that he almost didn't hear you.

maybe this is a reckless decision. maybe he shouldn't be risking a friendship with a drunken mind, but honestly in the moment, he really couldn't care less. he can regret it in the morning if things fell apart.

"i like you." rayne admits.

a moment of silence falls onto the room. you stare and stare, sinking your eyes deep into rayne’s as his confession weighs further down onto you.

“oh thank god.” you exhale, pulling rayne in by his shirt.

rayne practically melts into the feeling of your lips, soft against his own. he can taste faint traces of alcohol on you. he places his hands on your hips to press your bodies together. his palms explore your figure, circling around your lower back, trailing upwards to your ribs and back down to your waist. your hands entangle themselves in his hair, eliciting a soft groan out of him.

kissing you is a feeling like no other. it’s straight euphoria, maybe even something greater than that. the butterflies flap violently on his stomach. fireworks ignite his blood. being with you is like soaring across the sky.

you deepen the kiss, exploring each other with such desperation that it makes you dizzy. his tongue moves against yours in perfect sync, as if it were a choreographed dance. by the time you pull away to catch air, you and rayne are breathless, huffing as the half-blonde rests his forehead against yours.

you beautiful red lipstick is now smeared across your mouth, staining at the corners and below the chin. rayne pulls his head back. his fingers graze over your lips, admiring the mess. he’s sure it transferred onto him as well.

“you got something right there.” you joke, pointing at him.

“shut up.” he whispers. however, a smile breaks out onto his face, betraying his words.

“so,” you say, snaking your arms around the half-blonde’s waist. “the rayne ames has a crush on me? i never thought i’d see the day.”

he hums as confirmation. “would i be wrong to guess that you like me too?”

“no.” you grin. “in fact, you’d be one hundred percent right.”

“wonderful.” he mutters, leaning in for another kiss. you turn your head, having him miss your mouth entirely.

“i’m starting to believe you only like me so you could have a make out partner.” you tease, causing the half-blonde to sigh at your antics.

“i like you because you’re kind.”

he pecks one cheek.

“because you’re fun.”

he pecks the other.

“because you’re intelligent.”

he presses his stained lips to your forehead.

“because you’re so beautiful.”

rayne kisses the tip of your nose.

“my beautiful, (y/n).” he mumbles with a barely noticeable slur, cupping your face.

“you should drink more often. i like this side of you.” you comment, looking up at him with a gaze that drives him crazy.

“please just let me kiss you again.” rayne quietly begs, his mouth centimeters from yours.

“kiss me whenever you want.” you whisper before colliding with him once more.

in the morning, ryoh has to pick the lock to get into the guest bedroom. he stumbles in pissed off and ready to blow up on the person who dared to put him through such a hassle.

however, the sight he walks into flips his mood instantly. ryoh finds you and rayne tangled in each other’s arms completely knocked out. upon closer inspection, he notes the matching lipstick stains on both of your mouths, and a knowing smirk spreads across his face.

the blonde man pulls out his phone, snapping pictures in different angles to solidify this moment in history.

“he better thank me for this.” ryoh says to himself before walking out and shutting the door behind him.

#anime #manga #mashle #mashle magic and muscles #mashle x reader #rayne ames #rayne x reader #rayne ames x reader #from kor ; ♆

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famemonsterrr · 11 months

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Astrological observations part 4. 🪽

- Virgo placements judge everything and everyone around them. Even their loved ones and they will say "well I care for u that’s why I point out your flaws so you can change them and be BETTER”

- Has any taurus ever apologised?

- Leo and libra are the type of people that when u talk to them. They would look in the mirror or taking photos of themselves (as a Leo rising I do that quite a lot but I promise I listen anyway)

- fire mars are really athletic and they have a lot of energy.

- I have noticed that if u talk with mutable signs they tend to jump from one conversation to another or talk about 100 stuff at once. Especially Gemini.

- Pisces placements make someone extremely sentimental.

- if you think that cardinal signs are the unpredictable then you are so wrong that’s the mutable😁

- air and earth Mercuries give the best insults.

- the 8th house placements can make someone really strong and “rise like a Phoenix” mentality. They might have a lot of struggles but they getting stronger.

- when u argue with a Pisces there is 100% chance they pretend to care but inside they laughing their ass off with ur anger.

- mutable signs tend to listen to every single music genre exist. 🫶🏻

- I have noticed Leo are easy to be pissed off.

- can someone tell me why Gemini sun/ placements always look so youthful not matter how old they are?

- Leo,Aquarius,Taurus and Scorpio are untouchable💅🏻

- Leo and Pisces are meant to be together✨Pisces compliments and adores Leo so on the other side Leo will give them sooo much love and special treatment which Pisces will die for. Unless one of them becomes attached or toxic.

- if an Aquarius man approached u first but then stopped talking to you. Just so u know you didn’t do nothing wrong they are the problem babe. They do it to everyone that’s why the are single or they waiting for their special Leo.

- Leo and Capricorn love wealth but in different ways. Leo wants to flex but Capricorn worked hard and building an empire.

- speaking of Leo so much…LEO RISING ATTRACT JEALOUSY. I have seen a lot of people with this rising not been treated right because people don’t like them for whatever reason.

- Capricorns age like fine wine. The kind of people who didn’t peaked in high school they are still out here getting cuter. 💅🏻

- you want a parent that will support you no matter what? Get a Leo mother. They are insane but if someone say anything about you. Be ready to see ur mother beating everyones asses.

- fire signs are the most unhinged.

- earth signs are the least unhinged.

- if there was an argument with all the zodiac signs. Fire signs would be the ones who will scream and make everyone think that they started it. Water signs might participate or just zoomed out. Air signs are the ones who started it because they triggered the fire signs and earth signs they just laughing.

- want good advice? Earth signs. You want a good listener? water signs. You want confident baddie energy? Fire signs. You want a fun relaxing time? Air signs.

- Capricorn x Scorpio placements make someone who is goal oriented not matter if they dying from anxiety or difficulties. They will get what they want🤌🏻

- Aries women are BADDIES 💅🏻

That’s all 🪽

Thank u for reading so far. I’m really so greatful for that 🫶🏻🥰 stay healthy and hydrated 🥰🫶🏻

#astrology #astrology notes #astrology observations

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d4rkpluto · 8 months

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𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔢𝔫𝔦𝔤𝔪𝔞 𝔞𝔯𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔱𝔶𝔭𝔢

[I AM FOLLOWING AYESHA K.FAINES RESEARCH OF FEMININE ARCHETYPES]

↳ the sexual feminine archetype of the mystic archetype.

♇ when your percentage of the lover percentage is 70% and over. and when your personal score matches with your percentage engima the most.

♇ the enigma is one of the sexual feminine archetypes that belong to the feminine archetype the mystic, whereas the other sexual feminine archetype is the goddess.

♇ people who belong to the enigma archetype are perceived as earthy and have this mesmerising and magnetic energy that can be depicted as positive.

♇ some of them could be seen as very aloof and can have a resting bitch face. they're spiritual people and positive enigmas have a hard time being narcissistic and cold.

♇ they're people who dont necessarily need fame or attention, [they just focus on what they create and people are attracted to], these women are more focused on their inner peace.

♇ they are people who feel like they need to connect to a higher source of power, its comforting for them to know that there is something bigger than them that they can be lenient on.

♇ since they're people who like peace so much, they could have this tendency of fleeing from situations when they recognise that trouble would be led to them in the end. they're women who are likely to have a sense of high value of themselves and to reach that, they like to ground their energy.

♇ when it comes to romance, they like to make their lover feel seen and heard. enigmas are HUGE lovers, and most of them express their love for them within their music. like when i was writing the enigma post, fka twig's song, pendulum kept on playing in my head.

♇ the lyric "dying to be yours" repeated in my head, sometimes, enigmas are the type of women to drop everything to be and please their significant other. the link to the song :)

♇ they can sometimes overlook their lover's very bad flaws, and can be the type of people to be into open-relationships.

♇ when it comes to non-romantic situations, or in general, they're people who keep a big part of themselves only to themselves, they don't like the idea of people knowing about them 100%.

♇ as it comes to people interacting with them, people might give them the burden of having to fix them.

♇ they can get into episodes where they have a lot of blockages when it comes to expressing their sensuality or creativity. enigmas are the type of people to live in their head than executing their ideas.

when it is not blocked you'll find them to be people with very artistic and original.

♇ though, enigmas come in many forms, even though they are people who can love very deeply, they're also very closed off women. watching interviews of them, most of them have reminded me of manic pixie girls.

♇ they're women who are very strong with their opinions, and since they're strong about their thoughts they can be very poetic. they're woman who can easily express their feelings so people can understand where they are coming from.

♇ when around the right people, they can come off as very chatty but they're the type to speak about everything but themselves.

♇ i have noted that many of them do know how to sing, i've implied that they're creative and enigmas are likely going to be those who take the musician route.

♇ are aware of how society and how poorly it treats people, so they try and help others, [and the earth]. they're people who always like to be prepared and can be considered as very cute. they have this earthy energy to them but still like to indulge in luxury, chiefly for their jewellery.

♇ they like to nurture things so they are the type to get plants or even pets. [and as a stretch could be open to having kids].

♇ when enigmas are really in love with someone or just take a liking too much for a person, they can become very agreeable people, they sometimes become a walking mat or you could say people-pleaser.

♇ after watching tons of interviews many of them do have a raspiness to their voice, could sometimes be because of weed. or just smoking in general.

♇ as it comes to their aesthetic, i have observed many of them like neutral colours and are into self-care. the type to have many skin products.

♇ scent/senses is very important for them and they tend to be very hygienic people.

♇ out of all the feminine archetypes, enigma archetypes are the ones who have the most diverse personalities, makes sense to the title of their archetype, not knowing who or what they specifically are.

♇ are women who are direct with what they want, especially when it does come to romance, confident enigmas know what they want and they get it. they could have many romances but not marry, plus, if they're famous they're likely tired with the attention they get.

♇ are sexually fluid people and love to express their sensuality within their art. many of them love memories and will always be grateful with what they have been taught in the past.

♇ moreover, when i was watching interviews of them, many of them had voices i did not expect them to have. if not careful can get pressured easily and hastily anxious. the type to want to make others feel included. they like to heal, very spiritual people, and as i have said that they remind me of manic pixies, the more i did my research on them, the more i realised they're very fairy-like.

♇ they're people who are interested in research and like to embrace their powerful feminine side. the type to indulge in witch-craft; some enigmas can be very insecure about their face, can be interested in cosmetic surgery, [even though all of them are gorgeous]. + also noticed many of them have very curvy bodies.

♇ can appear as two-faced or fake because they want to set a certain reputation of themselves. don't like drama or would walk away from the mess they made. they do like to be left alone and due to this people might consider them as boring, but they just have a wall in front of their real personality.

♇ as they are people who like to ground themselves, they are people who are long to temper, or try not to be easily tempered.

fashion wise, they are people who know their colours really well. are likely going to wear gold jewellery.

♇ and can sometimes come off as very bimbo-like because of their lack of care for things. they are people who are very open about their past, and majority of the time, young enigmas were forced into the spotlight. [asia monet ray + kourtney kardashian].

♇ they are great entertainers and can be favoured in what they do. what makes them more likeable is their sunny appearance. some of them display themselves as delicate. on the other hand, people might find them to be weird.

♇ sometimes enigmas can come off as childlike and a lot of them have chubby-cheeks.

other enigmas ↴

♇ enigmas i put above are fka twigs, krotchy, frida kahlo, greta garbo, kourtney kardashian and nicole kidman.

♇ understanding the enigma archetype, is that it shows that they are women who are usually deeply underestimated when it comes to their intelligence, spiritual women who are on a hermit path of understanding themselves and others.

♇ and to make the enigma archetype easier to comprehend i gathered characters from different tv shows or films that come under the archetype.

⟶ harry potter franchise - luna lovegood, embodies the shy and kept to themselves side of the enigmas, [as i said they are a very fluid and diverse archetype], as enigmas, luna is perceived to be someone who is strange but doesnt allow it to make her feel insecure. she helps other people and is kind, embraces her quirkiness.

⟶ from american horror story [coven] - misty day, the stereotypical spiritual enigma who cares for nature and the earth. has a special connection with animals and with life itself, very caring and eccentric, and as a healthy enigma, she doesnt allow people's views of her to bring her down.

⟶ avatar the way of water - kiri, when i was thinking of fictional characters who are the enigma, kiri was the first character that appeared in my head. she is connected with the earth, creative and connects herself to a higher source of power, [even though she is already connected to eywa from what i believe]. is connected to life and death.

⟶ from friends - phoebe buffay, embodies the childlike nature of the enigma, the nature where people perceive them to be "ditzy". when she is around the people she likes, she can come off as very chatty.

⟶ naruto franchise - hinata hyuga/uzumaki, embodies the shy nature of the enigma. the enigma that loves with their all, can have creative blockages and people underestimate who she is and her power. hinata is aware of how the world poorly treats people as she did belong to clan that didnt really care for their people. [ex. neji]. sometimes expresses the mysterious side an enigma can be.

⟶ from the original franchise - freya mikaelson, is the witch of her family and is very connected to nature, chiefly because of the time she was born. she is someone who likes to ground herself and is one of the siblings who thinks things out the most, will do anything for the sake of love and family. strong opinions and holds a strong bond of life and death, like misty day.

⟶ the last of us - dina woodward, likes to be connected to a higher source, shows when she gives ellie the evil eye bracelet, embodies the expressive side of the enigma and is likely open to "open-relationships" chiefly due to her bond with jesse and ellie. she is direct with what she wants, does like her peace.

⟶ from the haunting of hill house - nell crain, some people overlook her connection to a higher source of power; to see how you are going to die since you were young is pretty psychic. had spiritual phases and like many enigma characters is very connected with death, had tried to ground herself but wasnt able, especially becuase of her therapist. does keep a big part of herself but she normally did that because she didnt want to burden her siblings.

⟶ winx club - flora, represents the kind, nature-loving and mysterious side of the enigma, especially with the vibrant colours she wears, it might not really appear that there's this secrecy and mystery to flora's character but ever since i've watched the show when i was young, i've always noted an essence of puzzle and unsolved problem when it comes to her. like she's there but not at the same time.

⟶ from euphoria - cassie howard, you might wonder how cassie belongs to the enigma archetype and the girl embodies everything that an underdeveloped enigma is. is willing to drop everything for her lover, look past the red-flags and become what their lovers wants them to be. cassie is a big lover girl, and likes to make her lovers feel seen and heard, especially for what she did to nate, telling him she can be whatever he wants her to be.

♇ as i have done my research, i gathered that a lot of enigmas are are likely going to have capricorn, leo and pisces in their big three; in order of how much they appeared.

♇ they are also going to have leo, capricorn and taurus appear in their dominant signs; in order of how much they appeared.

♇ the planets jupiter, sun and pluto appeared in their dominant planets the most; in order of how much they appeared.

♇ the element that appeared the most was earth, second was fire and third was water.

♇ lastly, when it comes to the modality, what appeared the most was fixed and the second modality was mutable.

♇ feminine archetype masterlist

to find out what feminine archetype and sexual feminine archetype you are

buy a natal chart reading from me

masterlist

♇ pluto

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sopiao · 9 months

Note

can i request headcannons with the 141 and konig during a road trip? like a looong ass road-trip. nothing for a mission, just a little trip or vacation.

ooh i just got back from a 10 hour long road trip too!

(Callsign will be ‘Shark’)

Price would be the one driving, Soap in the front, Shark, Ghost, and Gaz in the middle row, while König gets the back all to himself. Sometimes it would cycle who would be in the front with Price since they all wanted to take turns sleep.

Since König is the big bitch he is, he gets the whole back row to himself. He can ‘shooonk’ and ‘mi mi mi mi mi’ all he wants. With his pillow and pink jaguar blanket someone lent him cause he forgot his (most likely Soap’s). While Shark is stuck in the middle, stuck between Ghost and Gaz.

—

Price would have first dibs on the aux since he’s the driver. He’d only play songs that no one knows. Y’know the classics and his personal faves. No one gave him the aux since.

Soap would play songs that he likes, regardless of what anyone else thinks. ‘Shut up and drive’ by Rihanna, ‘Talk dirty’ by Jason Derulo, ‘Treasure’ by Bruno Mars. Will literally blast the volume at his favorite parts.

Occasionally Ghost or Gaz would yell at him to shut up, his only response being to turn the music up even louder.

—

“I’ve got to go to the loo..” Soap asked. Price gripping the wheel and taking an audible and long breath in and out through the nose.

“We just left THE FUCKING STOP”

—

During stops to restock on gas stations snacks or fill up on gas Gaz would get drinks he never finishes, it just piles up in the back. Shark got a bag of chocolate marshmallows, they later played basketball with it, Ghost’s mouth being the hoop.

Price would 100% do the dad-snack-hand from the drivers seat. While König got a whole tub of ice cream to eat in the back, just because he felt like it.

Soap actually got left at a gas station once. The car ride back to get him was quite.

—

Shark’s gasp made everyone turn to attention since it was so quite and their gasp sounded so alarmed. Shark leapt across Gaz’s laps and looked out the window.

“Cow!” They pointed out towards the field of cows minding their business.

“Cow?

“Woooaaah”

“COW”

—

König gets motion sickness very easily. Which is why he spends 60% of the car ride sleeping. But the times where he is awake, half the time he’s throwing up in a paper bag. Ghost having to throw it out while Gaz and Soap try not to gag. Shark is rubbing him on the back and giving him water to feel better :).

—

Gaz would sleep against the car door, a pillow between him and the door, one leg would be across Ghost and Shark’s lap and the other would be on the middle console of the front. Sometimes Soap would have to nudge his dinosaur socks out of the way.

Ghost would claim he’s not tired at all, but is always the first one to fall asleep. Arms crossed and head back while he snores like a motor boat. First time this happened Price freaked out that he was dying, choking or something, and had Shark punch him in the chest.

He didn’t feel like sleeping after that.

Eventually when he does he’d be in the same position as Gaz, but both of his legs would be across Sharks and Gaz’s lap. Hitting the opposite door.

—

“Would you rather fight 100 toddlers or—” Shark asked of the first thing that came to mind.

“A hundred toddlers” Soap interrupted them, no hesitation.

“I didn’t even finish the question—”

“Those kids are getting CURB STOMPED”

“No—”

—

Going down a long path in the middle of the night. Practically in the middle of nowhere as the only thing keeping them company was yards of grass and mice that hid in little holes for the night. Everyone was fast asleep until they felt the car shift to a stop. They all immediately looked at each other after seeing where they were stopped.

“Let’s stretch our legs, been a while” Price explained, being the first to get out, turning the car off and the key out of the ignition. They were all still confused why they stopped suddenly, but they understood that hours of driving does no good for the legs.

Price made sure to turn the head lights off too. The rest of them thought that they’d just but in the middle of nowhere in the dark but they were frozen in amazement when they saw how bright the sky is, despite it being 12 midnight.

Without all the city lights and street lights to pollute the sky the night looked so bright. Stars that were barely visible, only a dot in the sky, were now shining and bright. In the city you could only see 6-7 stars 10 if your lucky, but right now it was like you could see till the end of the galaxy.

Not a word was spoken the entire time they were out. It was beautiful but also so surreal and bone chilling seeing how much space there is beyond this world. Every star a sun and every sun had at least 5 planets. There had to be at least one other life form.

Those 20 minutes were the most quiet but calming 20 minutes of the trip. Something they shared and saw together.

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soberqueerinthewild · 15 days

Text

I’ve written about this a lot before but it bears reiterating now.

I’ve seen some takes that essentially say Taylor was callous because she broke up with Joe because he “couldn’t get over his depression” and how cruel that is when she said she loves him.

And I think that a lot of the people who think that are identifying with Joe, and empathizing with him and suffering from a version of somewhat understandable main character syndrome. I see this a lot in advice on how to be there for someone struggling with their mental health. It says things like “keep reaching out even if they ignore you. They appreciate it.” “Keep inviting them to do things even if they say no” “Continue letting them know you are there for them to talk to even if they repeatedly shut you out.” And I’m not saying this is bad advice, but it makes it sound like there is one person who struggles with their mental health surrounded by supporting characters who are 100% healthy and able to give an endless supply of emotional energy and that they never have mental health struggles that are impacted by this. (My mental health for instance tanks when I reach out over and over and get rejected because I feel like no one likes me)

From what I can tell from her music (which by the way is the only indication we have that Joe struggles with his mental health, so if we are accepting that premise we need to accept everything else she says about it) Taylor followed a lot of this advice for a long time.

Years of labor locks and ceilings

Pulled him in tighter each time he was drifting away

Always rising from the ashes

There was nowhere for me to stay but I stayed anyways

And she tried and tried until it was having a hugely detrimental impact on her mental health which she relates

She discusses how she had to revert into a dream world because of the impact of it:

I dreamed about it in the dark the night I felt like I might die

She talks about how holding on to the relationship made her feel:

I know my pain was such an imposition

My white-knuckle dying grip holding tight to your quiet resentment

My spine split from carrying us up the hill

Wet through my clothes weary bones caught the chill

She had a huge amount of anxiety about the relationship so much that her friends noticed how it was impacting her

My friends say it isn’t right to be scared every day of a love affair

My friends tried but I wouldn’t hear it/watched me daily disappearing

She got to the point where she wasn’t sure he even wanted her

Every breath feels like rarest air/When you’re not sure if he wants to be there

Is it really your anxiety that keeps you from giving me everything or do you just not want to

I wouldn’t marry me either

Her mental health was deteriorating, so if Joe deserved a partner that would support him when his mental health was struggling, doesn’t Taylor? There’s no evidence that he was able to give that to her and she felt very misunderstood by him

My face was gray but you wouldn’t admit that we were sick

How can you say you love someone you can’t tell is dying

You never read into my melancholia

Nobody noticed my new aesthetic

You say you don’t understand and I say I know you don’t

He don’t understand me

A pathological people pleaser/who only wanted you to see her

Why is his mental health considered more important than hers? One person doesn’t get to call dibs on being the one with mental health problems while the other person is assigned to be the supporting character forever.

It’s also clear she had hopes and dreams for a future that involved marriage and kids that he couldn’t or wouldn’t give her. So should she should give those up so as not to leave her partner who is depressed and be labeled a bad person?

It isn’t his fault that he’s depressed but Taylor clearly has mental health struggles too and one is not more important to the other. They were unable to be good partners to each other due to this, so ending it was the right thing. Were there better ways to do it, yes! But she was clearly struggling so incredibly much that I for one, will give her grace and understanding

#taylor swift #mental health #tw sucidal ideation

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btsficsandsuch · 7 months

Note

Hi , i really like your writings and i enjoy reading your work very much. I read them after long and tiring work days to forget everything that bothers me. So thank you for sharing your work here. I appreciate it. I hope you're feeling great. I wanted to request a yoongi × reader drabble where they're friends and yoongi is trying to flirt with her, throwing some pick up lines etc. but she's kinda inexperienced with dating stuff (yoongi doesn't know that) so she's oblivious to the situation and doesn't get the pick up lines. He gets frustrated, starts to think that the reader is aware of his feelings and just playing dumb to save him from the heart break of rejection. Short time after he gives up, when they were hanging out at a party, someone tries to flirt with reader and she doesn't give a reaction and again doesn't understand the pick up line, yoongi hears the interaction and it clicks on him so he decides to confess directly. Fluffy with a happy ending.

Hope you like it! It’s been a minute since I’ve written for Yoongi.

Pickup Lines

“Hey genius, I brought you some food.”, you said setting the bag of takeout on the table in Yoongi’s studio. He turned around with a smirk, “You’re such a charmer Y/N. How could I ever live without you?” The two of you had a friendship that was filled with lots of teasing and poking fun at each other. That’s how’s its always been for the three years that you knew each other.

Yoongi walked over and plopped down on the couch next to you before grabbing a container of food. Normally Yoongi hated small talk but he always enjoyed it when it came to you. The sound of your voice had a calming effect on him. “Do anything exciting today?”, he asked. You shook your head, “No not really. Just worked and then got food and came here.” “How about you?,” you asked. “Just worked on some music. I’m almost done with this new song.”, he smiled. The two of you continued to eat in silence while scrolling on your phones catching up on social media and whatnot. You started giggling when you came across a new meme of Yoongi dressed up as a cat and you eagerly handed him your phone to show it. He chuckled while looking over the photo before handing the phone back to you. “You know Y/N, if I really was a cat I’d spend all nine of my lives with you.”, he said. “Aww Yoongles you’re adorable.”, you smiled before taking another bite of your meal not giving it a second thought. Yoongi internally scolded himself at his weak attempt of a pickup line.

The two of you finished your meals and you quickly cleaned up wanting to let Yoongi get back to work. “Hey Y/N before you go can I get your opinion on a song I’m working on? I wrote it for someone really special to me. It’s still a work in progress so go easy on me.”, he smiled at you. “Yeah of course!,” you said happily taking the chair next to him. He clicked a few buttons and the song started flowing through the speakers,

“From the moment I met you, ya, my life was all you, ya

You’re the star that turns ordinaries into extraordinaries, oh yeah

One after another ay, ay, everything is special ay, ay

The things you’re interested in, the way you walk or talk, and every little trivial habit of yours.”

Quickly Yoongi turned off the music and shyly looked over at you biting his lip, “What did you think Y/N?” “I love it Yoongi. It already sounds amazing. Whoever this girl is you wrote that for is really lucky. I’d love to meet the person that turned my Yoongles into a romantic mess.” He chuckled on the outside but inside he’s dying. After that you give him a hug and say goodbye before heading home to get some rest.

The following morning you woke up to a text from Yoongi. You thought it was odd that he was already texting you this early on a Saturday but you figured he probably never even went to sleep.

Yoongi: Morning sleepyhead! What are you gonna do today?

Y/N: Not 100% sure. I was thinking about having a Disney movie marathon.

Yoongi: People always say that Disney is the happiest place on Earth, but they’ve clearly never spent a day with you ;)

Y/N: Silly boy! So you wanna come over?

Yoongi: Umm sure. I’ll be there in fifteen.

Y/N: Great! Can’t wait!!

Yoongi ran his hands over his face. He started to question if you ever had feelings for him or if he just interpreted everything all wrong as you didn’t seem to take any of the hints he had been dropping over the last few weeks. Quickly he showered and got ready so he could make it over to your place in time.

When you opened the door you happily greeted Yoongi who presented you with your favorite coffee and muffin from the bakery up the street. “You smell nice. Why are you all dressed up? Hot date tonight?”, you asked. Too busy digging into your breakfast that you didn’t notice the blush creep up his neck. “So I thought we could start with Cinderella since it’s a classic. Then maybe The Little Mermaid. Followed by The Princess and the Frog and maybe Coco is we have time.”, you said. He smiled and nodded in agreement, “Anything you want Y/N.”

The first two movies went by in a flash. You were just finishing up The Little Mermaid when Yoongi turned to look at you and smiled, “Do you know what the Little Mermaid and I have in common? We both want to be part of your world.” You snorted at his joke, “Yoongi you’re my best friend. You are part of my world.”

He shyly chuckled before turning his attention back to the screen. Yoongi continuously tried to get close to you. His hand slowly crept closer to yours. He kept sneaking peeks trying to work up the courage to actually grab your hand. As the third movie began he couldn’t help but notice how cute you looked getting all excited. He doesn’t know where this sudden burst of confidence came from but he does the classic yawn and stretch so he could place his arm smoothly around your shoulders to try and encourage you to cuddle into him. “Are you cold Yoongi? I can get you a blanket.”, you asked noticing his arm around you. You simply thought he just wanted some extra warmth.

Yoongi shook his head and removed his arm, “No Y/N, actually I think I’m gonna get going. I have to work on some music.” You pouted at his sudden departure, “Alright, well I hope you have a good night at least.” He smiled and left your apartment not even giving you the opportunity to walk him to the door. It did seem odd but it wasn’t uncommon for him to have mood swings so you shrugged it off and decided to give him space.

A few hours of space turned into a few days and next thing you know it had been a week since you’d seen Yoongi. Unless he was on tour the two of you never went more than a day without seeing each other but every time you texted him to try and hang out he always had an excuse. Luckily tonight was Jimin’s birthday party and you knew Yoongi was going to be there. Normally he would pick you up but since he was avoiding you Jungkook offered to pick you up instead.

“Thank you for the ride Kookie.”, you said buckling up in the passenger seat. “It’s no problem Noona. I just hope Yoongi doesn’t find out. He always gets a little jealous when we hang out with you.”, the younger member said. Before you could question what he meant by that the two of you arrived and he hopped out of the car jogging over to the passenger side to help you out.

Once inside you quickly noticed Yoongi sitting in the corner talking to Namjoon and Hoseok. You waved and began to make your way over when you got side tracked by Jin who pulled you into the kitchen to get you a drink. While you were sipping form your cup you felt a presence come up next to you. Thinking it was Yoongi you happily turned around but were met by some guy you’d never seen before. He smiled down at you, “Is your name Google? Because you have everything I’m searching for.” You chuckled, “No actually my name is Y/N. And your name is?” The guy looked stunned, “Oh my name is Soobin. Sorry I hear one of my friends calling for me.” He turned and quickly walked away and that’s when you saw Yoongi standing in the doorway with a big grin on his face while laughing to himself.

He walked over to you and grabbed your hand pulling you outside where it was quieter and less crowded. “There you are Yoongles! I’ve missed you so much.”, you said happy that you were finally spending time with him. “Yeah sorry about that. I just needed some time to think.”, he said. Gently he took your hand in his, “Listen Y/N. This is really hard for me to say so I’m just going to come out and say it. I really like you a lot. I’ve been dropping hints for weeks. I’ve been using pick up lines and trying to get close to you. When you weren’t reacting I thought maybe you were just trying to be polite and not hurt my feelings but I see now that maybe you just weren’t getting the hints. It’s okay if you really don’t like me in that way but I just had to be honest and tell you the truth. I’m sorry I kind of abandoned you the last week. I just wanted some time to think and decide what I wanted to do.”

You were kind of surprised at his confession but in a good way. “That song you played for me. Did you write that about me?”, you asked. Shyly he smiled, “Yeah, I actually have quite a few songs I’ve written about you.” You smacked yourself on the forehead, “Oh my god I’m so dumb. I’m sorry Yoongi. I’ve never really dated before so I’m not used to this kind of attention and I didn’t even notice it. The truth is I kind of actually like you too. I was going to tell you that day I brought you food to your studio but then you played me the song and I thought you already had your heart set on someone else so I never said anything.” The two of you started laughing at the situation you put yourselves in.

“Hey how about we get out of here and go hangout at my place?”, you asked. He agreed and quickly called for a cab since the two of you had some alcohol earlier in the night. Once in the back of the cab you felt your phone vibrate and saw a text from Yoongi,

Yoongi: Is this the Hogwarts Express? Because it feels like you and I are headed somewhere magical.

You rolled your eyes before leaning over and placing a kiss on his cheek watching his ears turn red, happy that the two of you finally cleared the air.

#bts #bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts x reader #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x y/n #yoongi imagine #bts yoongi #bts fluff #yoongi x reader #yoongi fluff #suga #min yoongi

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biggesttmntfanintheworld · 7 months

Note

Because you're alive again may I request more mutant-mayhem stuff? Like I got nothing specifically but I would love to see more of it! :3

I'm going through a severe case of writer's block so I'm sorry if this sucks:(

prom night

mutant mayhem! x gn! reader headcanons!

the turtless asking their crush to slow dance at prom!

leonardo

NEVOUS ASFFFFFFFFF

"bruh all you have to do is ask" "ITS NOT THAT EASY-"

bro heart hurts so bad he feels like its abt to explode

sweating like crazy too

bro does NOT know what to do

bro uses his rizz which is not existent to win you over

"hey uh...I think someone must have stolen the stars and put them in your eyes..."(LMFAOOOOOOOOO)

"huh"

"Wanna Dance?"

his hands are really sweaty and icky(im sorry LMAO)

he CANNOT make eye contact bro

and at the end he tells you that you're really beautiful/handsome/cute and runs away

raphael

he doesn't really want to dance

because he thinks it's "not manly"

but his brothers are making him do it because they know he likes you

he really does not want to do it because he thinks it's embarrassing

butt...

he likes youuu soooo...

not nervous asking...like at all

like he's not scared whatsoever

bros so chill abt it.

"wanna dance?."

not sweaty like leo and donnie

"your eyes are really pretty"

donatello

EXTREMELY nervous

like you can see the sweat dripping off of him

can't breathe

bro is literally dying

"why are you so nervous just ask" "im going to kill you shut up"

he keeps walking up to you and walking back

like he's about to tap on your shoulder and he just walks back(hes so silly)

he uses very cringy anime pick up lines

"Is your name Cana? Um, Cana call you mine?" (Fairy Tail Guild pick up line LMAOOO)

"what?"

"n-nothing!"

he just awkwardly stands around you after he said that

bro does NOT know what to do

after like 2 minutes of him standing around you awkwardly

"h-hey umm do y-you maybe w-wanna dance?, its fine i-if you don't want to"

"i would love to"

"r-really!?"

"yes!"

he fell in love with you a little deeper after that dance

Michelangelo

THE ONLY MF WITH REAL RIZZ BRO

but not scared or nervous at all

he knows exactly how to rizz you up fr!

and now all he has to do is wait for the perfect moment to sweep you off your feet

as soon as the slow dance music starts...

he walks straight up to you and grabs your shoulder genty

"If I could rearrange the alphabet, I’d put ‘U’ and ‘I’ together"(HES SO SILLY BRO)

"oh?"

"would you like to dance with me?"

he smells like vanilla or cocoa 100%

he asked you out for pizza the next day after school

can you guys give me tips on how to do oneshots like I'm actually suffering

constructive criticism is greatly appreciated:333

BYEEEEE

#mutant mayhem x reader #mutant mayhem #mutant mayhem raph #mutant mayhem leo #mutant mayhem donnie #tmnt mutant mayhem #tmnt 2023 #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt mm #mm tmnt #mutant mayhem mikey #idk what else to tag

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under-loch-n-key · 3 months

Text

Longggg Sherlock & Co plot rant. You have been warned.

I know the creator of Sherlock & Co. found the idea of writing Moriarty into the series intimidating. Plus, not knowing how to do Sherlock's "death" over a podcast and such. But I had an idea.

I love the idea of Professor Moriarty being some sort of hacker/online troll and MORIARTY is the name of a dark web corporation that is trying to hack into the Sherlock & Co. Company to send Sherlock puzzles/cases. You lot know those shady anon hackers on the dark web in films and certain websites? Like that.

I think it would be cool if at first Moriarty leaves hate/weird comments on John's podcasting sites and Watson just thinks it is some hater and thinks nothing of it and deletes the comments. He just grumbles about the comments being a continous thing.

Suddenly the comments stop. Watson isn't complaining about it, he is relieved by that because they were really annoying him. (no matter how many times Sherlock & Mariana told him to ignore them.)

Later on, Watson gets these emails from an unknown email of some shady guy (Moriarty) taunting Sherlock (and the rest of the company) and sending them on goose chase cases (Like the BBC did in that one episode with the phone calls, in a way?)

When Moriarty becomes the main centre of the podcast episodes, instead of Sherlock dying, he gets kidnapped by Moriarty's network. Watson and Mariana embark on and have to solve their most important case yet "Where is Sherlock Holmes?" This would give us some cool dynamics and more screentime between Watson and Mariana.

Watson starts to panick because he thinks he isn't like Sherlock and Sherlock did tell him that he would never be able to figure out stuff the way he could. Mariana is there to support and be there for him. Watson and Mariana have to channel their inner Sherlock Holmes to solve the case.

Idk whether I like the idea of Sherlock expecting this to happen and leave behind clues in some way. I do know though, that I like the idea of the following cases being them trying to work on finding Sherlock.

When they do, Sherlock is banged up and Sherlock tells him "I trusted that you would find me, Watson. You really are a persistent fellow."

And Watson just runs up and hugs him and Mariana joins in and they are just mother henning him like crazy.

Watson tells Sherlock "Don't do that to me again. Don't disappear on me again, you hear?"

And Sherlock is like "It's not like I was expecting to kidnapped, John. Besides, your podcast wouldn't last without me."

Watson just huffs and tells him "No, no, it wouldn't. Just come here," and then goes to hug him again.

Mariana pulls away from them both in realisation and she tells them "Boys, I don't mean to break up our moment, but we still do have one problem."

They both look at her and Sherlock nods and says "Moriarty. He's still out there."

I want it to be implied that they came face to face while Sherlock was kidnapped.

"He? Sherlock, you saw him?" Watson replies.

"Indeed, Watson and I think I know where he'll be waiting next."

*cue Sherlock & Co. End of episode music.*

Anyways, then we get to the episode of the Reichenbach fall, they have their final facedown. Sherlock doesn't die, but Moriarty does fall.

Watson would 100% be grumbling about how he can't pick up any audio over the sound of the falls.

Sherlock and Moriarty would begin fighting and Watson would start describing the scene in a panicked tone.

Sherlock calls over "Not helping, Watson!"

After more sounds of fighting and nervous ramblings from Watson. Sherlock & Moriarty turn the corner of the falls into a blind spot.

All Watson hears and sees is a cry and someone fall and crash into the water.

Watson panicks and shouts "SHERLOCK!" then dashes up to where they were fighting. Sherlock is sitting down and catching his breath.

Sherlock would probably make a smartarse comment like "Ah, John. Glad you make it. Help me up will you?"

"You're not dead."

"Clearly, or else we wouldn't be speaking. Now, would you please help me up?"

"Right, yeah." Watson helps him up.

"So, you, erm, you killed him?"

"I did. His baritsu was lacking, so his demise was inevitable."

"You're a clever, bugger, mate. Now, lift home?"

"Yes, of course."

I think it would be funny if the episode ended like this. They get home and Mariana starts mother-henning them both and she is scolding them both in Spanish about being more careful, how much she cares for them both, etc. Then she hugs them both.

Later on, we cut to them sitting in their chairs and talking about, well, everything.

"It's good to have you home, you know? I- well, Mariana and I both missed you."

"Mm. It's good to be home, Watson. I prefer the smell of our flat to the vile odour of where I was."

"Do you want to talk about it? Because, I, erm, am always here if you need a good talk."

"Not at the moment, Watson, but I will keep that in mind."

Long pause.

"So, Moriarty's network.. is it?-"

"Gone? Mm. No, but it will be taken care of."

"How? They are bloody HUGE, Sherlock. Shouldn't we, I don't know, contact Lestrade? Actually, the whole bloody Scotland Yard?"

"They're useless here, Watson. I'll leave this to the government."

"The government? Sherlock, we both know what they are. The government is not reliable in the slightest."

"Mm. The government you are discussing, yes. They are indeed unreliable, but in this instance I am discussing a WHO not a what."

"Friends in high places?"

"No. Much much worse."

"Oh, erm, an enemy then?"

"Mycroft is not an enemy, but certainly not a friend."

"What the devil is a 'Mycroft'?"

"My brother."

There's a long silence in the audio

"YOUR WHAT!?"

*Cue end of episode music*

I think this concept would be a cool way to be introduced to Mycroft, Watson realising his capibilities since meeting Sherlock, more screentime with Mariana and John's friendship, a way to do the podcast without killing Sherlock and having the time gap between Sherlock's "death" and resurrection, etc.

If you made it to the end of my Sherlock & Co plot concept ramble, good for you. Lol. Anyway, I just thought this would be a cool concept. The rant kinda blended into a fic, but oh well.

Do you lot like this idea? I thought it would be neat.

If John (or even the creator of Sherlock & Co) sees this ever, I will spontaneously combust. 😳

Enjoy my story/plot rant-

(Sorry for any typos, I am sick and half-asleep)

(I am so normal about them, I swear-)

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underground-secret · 1 month

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

Description: (Duo POV) After a hunt gone wrong Dean falls sick. Now on his death bed Sam and Y/N do whatever it takes to save him from the void that is death, even if that means running into trouble.

Warnings: Cannon violence, Ansgt, hospitals, talk about dying and death, illness, heart issues, talk of past deaths, grief, Dean may be OOC or at least his inner thoughts but let me know, Historical and religious talk of the Celts and Christianity if anything is incorrect/ inaccurate pls tell me so I may fix it, cursing

A/N: Thank you so much for 100 followers, never thought this series would get so much love!

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @okayiamkassandra , @fablesrose , @ada--44 @bonkydarnes , @star-yawnznn , @crazyunsexycool

Word Count: 15,139

Faith

(Master list, Prev. Ch, Next Ch)

I hate hospitals.

I hate hospitals, especially when it is someone you care about on the medical bed.

I hate hospitals, especially when you can’t be in the room with the person; when you have to sit in the waiting room with nothing but pure anxiety coursing through your veins, and everyone around you is in the same position.

At least Sam is with him, that must make both of them feel better. But it doesn't make me feel as better as it should, my leg bounces rapidly no distraction working for me. I tried reading and listening to music on my stupid iPod, but neither worked- not when my mind was going a hundred miles a minute on all the worst possibilities.

It wasn't meant to be a difficult hunt, going after a rawhead. Yet it all went wrong far too quickly, Dean yelled for Sam and I to get the children out of the basement while he stayed behind fighting the thing. It would be a single shot with a taser, easy to mess up on, truthfully, which is why I had given mine up for him to have as an extra one before I carried a young boy out. It was all wrong. So so wrong. He shot the thing but they both happened to be standing in a small puddle of water, and water conducts stupid electricity and he got hurt too.

Sam had found him. We called for an ambulance and rushed him to the hospital, he was unconscious the whole time.

Sam had to talk to the receptionist for insurance and then the cops explaining what happened and then a doctor. But they wanted to talk privately and he wanted to see Dean alone first. Which only increased my anxiety, Sam wouldn’t have done that unless something was horribly wrong. Something was horribly wrong. I felt like I was going to vomit or shake myself out of existence, maybe the latter would be better. Everyone around me wasn't much better, looking the same shade of nervousness. Some were crying, pacing, or on the phone talking rapidly. Hospitals were a horribly depressing place.

I’m unsure how much time passes, minutes, hours, an eternity? Sam walks towards me, tears in his eyes some clearly having spilled over by the redness of his cheeks. No. No. No.

I stand up walking to him almost without noticing as if it was all just natural, tears fill my own eyes and I can feel my hands shaking. No. No. He wouldn't be crying if–

“Sam?” I said weakly, my voice wobbling horribly. I swallow down a knot in my throat, this couldn't be happening. No.

He drops his head down, his hair covering his face and likely more tears that spilled over. “Sam,” I say again my voice breaking. I couldn't lose someone else, couldn't lose anyone else. He finally lifts his head, barely being able to hold eye contact. He seems to wobble and all at once he falls into me, I hold him, his head dropping awkwardly into my neck, from the height difference, broken sobs leaving his mouth. He hugs me tightly, grasping desperately to the back of my shirt. Something is horribly wrong. I blink back my tears, I had to be strong for Sammy. This was his brother, I might have lost both my parents but I couldn't imagine how it would feel to lose my brother.

My neck grows damp but I ignore it. I hold the back of his head, holding him, no comforting words forming in my mind. “Sam” I breathe. I felt like I was going insane. He pulls himself away, keeping me in arm's distance. His face is red and blotchy from crying, and his hair is a mess. “Please” I begged one last time, my voice quivering.

He sniffles hard, but I do not expect him to be strong, “He has a month, at best” his voice is coarse and shaky but the words feel like they came out in slow motion. Everything freezes, turning into a buzz of white noise. I can feel tears spill down my cheeks but I can’t move. I can’t. No. He can’t be dying. No. No. He wasn’t allowed to. The world seemed to shatter, no, maybe that was my heart. I can feel it beating in my ears, everything else fading away. His mouth moves, he is saying something else but I cannot hear him over the sterile noise of the world crumbling. I don't understand. My throat is so tight I feel like I might just break right there. My knees feel weak and the floor seems closer than before.

Sam pulls me into him, holding me tightly once again, his hands cradling my head as a choked sob leaves my lips. Tears pour down my eyes, he promised. All those months ago he promised he wouldn’t leave me, it was a stupid and fruitless promise but I believed it.

He couldn’t die. He can’t, he can’t die. No one else. Not again.

All too soon Sam pulls back, his arms being the only thing that seems to be holding me up. I can barely make out his features behind my own teary eyes. “He wanted me to come get you, ‘wouldn’t talk without you there” he croaks. A whole new sob breaks through my lips, I wasn't strong enough for this. I went through this twice, I could not take another. Tear after tear passes down my face, my cheeks stiff with it. I shake my head, this can’t be happening again, but even so, I let him pull me down the halls to his room trying my best to blink away my never-ending tears. But it was useless, not when it felt like I was being torn in two.

I stopped at the threshold of the doorway, he looked so weak, he was so pale and he had dark circles under his eyes that were not there hours before. An IV sticks out of his arm along with various machines around him, including an EKG. New tears fall over the rim of my eyes and I have to force my hand to clasp my mouth to hide another sob. Sam enters the room, his face hard and rid of any of the emotions he showed just moments ago. How could he do that?

Dean’s eyes are focused on the TV, but even from where I was partially hiding I could see his green eyes had grown dull, “Have you ever actually watched daytime TV? It's terrible” he jokes but he sounded weak too, his voice rid of its usual playful tone and familiar gruffness. Sam shakes his head and sighs, his ability to not break down in front of his brother was impressive to the point of it being scary, “I talked to your doctor.” But Dean continues to ignore anything that wasn’t that stupid TV playing commercials, “That fabric softener teddy bear. Oh, I'm gonna hunt that little bitch down” he responds instead. I want to laugh and ask him what the cute laundry bear ever did to him but I could not find it within me to be humorous, “Dean” I plead weakly my voice betraying me with its cracking. That gets his attention.

His eyes snapped up to where I stood, leaning against the doorframe to prevent myself from crumbling to the floor. His face immediately fills with worry, his eyes softening which is ironic considering who’s in the hospital bed. Without looking away from me he turned off the TV, I could tell he was thinking and worrying over something as he stared at me but I could not look at him without new tears falling. “Yeah. All right, well, ‘looks like you're gonna leave town without me” he finally says, my eyes snap back to him but he has already turned his attention to his brother. “What the hell are you talking about?” I step into the room, my sadness mixing too closely with frustration over his stupid declaration. “We are not gonna leave you here” Sam adds in sternly. “Hey, you better take care of that car” he points at Sam, any hint of a joke void from his voice, “Or, I swear, I'll haunt your ass.”

My eyebrows scrunched together, “what's wrong with you?” I accuse, “How are you just accepting this? You are young and have so much life ahead of you” For each word that passed my lips tears followed, my resolve too thin to exist. “You’re meant to grow old, and…and yell at kids to get off your lawn as you work on Baby and maybe other cars with a pet at your side and a lovely home. You’re meant to annoy your brother and me with stupid calls and the same old rock music.” I swallow roughly, ignoring the subtle shock on his face, “It’ll be beautiful and wonderful and we will all be there to watch it happen because you have to live.” My chest heaves, and I’m surprised I have any more tears to give. Life was too cruel before to allow me the opportunity to beg someone to stay as if that feat alone was enough to keep someone alive.

Silence envelopes the room, his eyes are wide and his lips are slightly agape. I don’t believe in God, but I would get on my knees right now and beg and plead and do anything he ever wanted if it meant Dean living. He sighs after what feels like forever, “Look, what can I say, it's a dangerous gig. I drew the short straw. That's it, end of story.” I don’t understand how he could just dwindle his life down to bad luck and a wrong straw. Tears well in my eyes and I have the urge to smack some sense into him. “Don't talk like that, alright? We still have options” Sam insists, his voice breaking slightly. “What options?” Dean asks, “Yeah, burial or cremation?” he pauses for a moment his “joke” not landing, “And I know it's not easy. But I'm gonna die. And you can't stop it.”

It felt like a punch to the gut. How many people will I have to lose until it's enough to feed the glutenous wrath of death? First, it was my mother growing sick and dying, neither my brother nor I was allowed to see her in such a state not even to say goodbye. Then my Dad, who grew reckless in the wake of his only love's death, the coldness about him we had heard about only in stories returning to consume him completely until he drove himself into the ground. I always thought I was most like my mother, but now in the wake of this maybe I am my father's daughter.

I wipe away my tears roughly before clenching my hands, needing my nails to dig into my palms to ground me. “Let me try and heal you,” I say as firmly as my voice will allow. I've never done such a thing on a serious scale, it never got to the point where I felt desperate enough to toe the line of my own morals. But this, for him I would and I would not stay awake at night contemplating my selfishness.

Dean’s POV

Her face was red from crying, and her e/c eyes were filled with deep sadness. She looked shattered, and even so, she was beautiful.

I know I wasn’t being fair to her or Sam. But I always knew I’d die on a hunt, I long accepted it so her big glossy eyes would do nothing to change that fact. Even if it broke her, both of them, which I knew I was already doing. But I also know that sugar-coated truths would only hurt them more, I wasn’t going to allow them to get hopeful not when it would ruin them.

“Please?” she pleads quietly. My resolve breaks, my heart lurches as if it was trying to get closer to her and I didn’t think it had anything to do with the heart attack.

This was for the better, if they saw nothing would work early on they’d hopefully accept my death quicker. Plus I knew she’d stay up every night wondering what more she could have done for me, she’d obsess over it until it broke her all over again. I give her a sharp nod not trusting my voice, her eyes seem to light up a little, and that enough was all the excuse I needed.

She steps closer to my bed, careful not to trip over the wires connecting to me. She got close enough where I could smell her perfume, something sweet and flowery, and undeniably her, I felt warmer just from her closeness. She swallows roughly, “It works better if I can touch you…without the barrier of clothes.” Under any other circumstance I would most likely be flustered by her shy request, I mean this is what I’ve always wanted– to have her. But time was not on my side and I’d never get a chance to tell her, whenever it was I planned on doing so– to do so now with only a week to live would be too cruel. If she didn't like me back I’d die at least knowing and maybe I’d die with a broken heart or whatever crap people complain about. But if she did like me, which Sam insists she does, then a week wouldn't be long enough.

I lift the scratchy hospital shirt, hoping neither saw how much energy the simple action took. She looked nervous as she stared at my bare chest but I could see the hard look of determination in her eyes, she needed this. Carefully she places her hands on the center of my chest, her hands freezing as I suspected they would be but I don't cower from her gentle touch I lean into it further. I bask in it, small sparks igniting where she touched and it had nothing to do with her abilities. She looks up at me, watching my face for any warnings as her own e/c eyes turn to purple and pure warmth extends from her palm seeping into my skin. Maybe I should have been scared, but she was looking at me so gently and she's so beautiful that she must be an angel, and I'm only half the man she deserves.

I suck in a deep breath, clarity hitting me like an arrow, the grogginess and pain I felt melting into a puddle and being replaced with her. It felt like she was cradling my heart, caressing it gently like she would my face, her kindness and love seeping into the vessel, and truthfully I don't ever want it back. She could have my heart. She could have every part of me, and I'd never ask for it back. It's hers. I'm hers. My mouth fell agape, her hair fell onto her face, and I could feel it in my bones. I could feel the tension leave my shoulders and it was like everything I'd been carrying was lifted away. I don't care if she was healing me or not, I want her hands on me, I want to feel her. Just her. She was the sun and I was a fool begging to be closer, even if it burned, even if it was impossible.

Her hands begin to shake violently, but she pushes on, she holds on to me. Her fingers look like they want to curl and dig into my skin and it's clear she's fighting against the instinct, she doesn't want to hurt me not that I would mind any marks she printed into my skin. She lets her head hang, closing her eyes, “Oh fuck” she whines quietly and I have to desperately keep my mind clean. ‘Not the time to have those thoughts or acknowledge how hot that was. I lift a hand pushing her hair out of her face and behind her ear, keeping my hand there to hold her. Again I have to force away any ideas of what noises I could get her to make in a similar position. She looks up at me from her lashes as she bites down on her bottom lip hard, and I wonder how much longer I can keep my mind clean.

Suddenly deep crimson drips down her upper lip, and she begins to shake more. “Wait, wait Y/N” I breathe, looking from her over to Sam with concern. He pulls her off of me, she looks drained and paler than I know I am. She wipes at her nose, the blood has seemingly stopped, but she still shakes and wobbles. Sam pushes her down onto a nearby seat and I pull down my shirt, “How do you feel?” he asks me. “Peachy” I respond, smirking. He rolls his eyes, “I’m being serious. Did it work?”

“I feel better, not as weak” I answer truthfully. She nodded her head, her voice quieter than moments before, “Call for a nurse we should see if anything physically changed.”

“What about you? What was all that?” I ask. She shrugs, “‘Never really done it on a scale like this before, but it takes a lot out of you.”

Your POV

The doctor finally comes back, sifting through the papers on his clipboard, he looks shocked and confused which I hope is for the better because being lightheaded and on the verge of passing out would be worth it. “‘Looks like there has been some improvement, which would explain why you feel better,” he says, the room growing quiet with hope, “The difference is slight but well enough to know it wasn't a fluke” he looks up, “But I’d say it wasn't enough to change the outcome, I’m sorry.” Somehow the second time was worse. Hope was worse. “Thank you, Doctor” Sam replies sadly, and with a nod, the doctor leaves but does not take our sorrow with him.

“I can keep trying. Eventually, it will add up, and the more I do it the longer I’d be able to go” I offer, desperation clear on my tongue that it's almost embarrassing. “We can keep trying that but we should look at other options too” Sam adds. I nod my head vigorously in agreement. “You shouldn't get your hopes up, I’ve already accepted I’m gonna die you should too” Dean responds instead.

“Not happenin’” Sam retorts.

After we used up all our visiting hours we headed to the library, skipping out on eating to research for hours on both supernatural and not– just anything related to heart conditions and healing. I didn't ask why Sam didn't stay with his brother, he was family so he didn't have to follow visitation hours but I also figured he would rather spend his time trying to find a solution. Currently, Sam went the more “normal” route, pulling and printing articles on heart surgeries and other doctor stuff while calling several people. At the same time, I delved into the dark that is the unnatural.

Sam left a while ago, heading back to the motel with all his articles. I insisted on staying behind to “look for more,” in reality, I was going to make a call. The library closed in less than an hour and I already researched several Gods associated with healing, the side of my hand had turned dark with the ink stains. Though it was unsuccessful it was helpful for two reasons; one I at least looked, meaning it was one more thing I could check off, and two it pushed me to make a call I wasn't sure I was ready for.

What I needed was to be home, to look through many books on mythology and witchcraft, there I would find something but that was halfway across the country and each day that passed would be a day wasted. And teleporting books here wouldn't be helpful when there were so many of them and I wasn't sure where I would even begin.

I stare at my phone on the table, this shouldn't be a big deal. I call her all the time, well not as of late which I already got yelled at for. No, none of that mattered. She could lecture me a hundred times or resent me for months. I needed to help Dean. I swiftly pick up my phone, scrolling down to her contact, I don't hesitate to hit “call”, I’ve already hesitated too many times today.

The phone rings three times before she picks up, “Adeline” I start my voice already cracking with emotion. I can almost hear her jump to her feet, “Y/N?! What happened? Where are you? Are you safe? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I did not think I had any more tears left but was proven wrong when another tear slipped down my cheek, “Dean he’s…” I couldn’t say it, couldn't make it more real than it already was. I swallow roughly, trying to cram down my emotions for the time being, I’ve cried enough today, “Dean he’s dying, and I don't know–” a strangled sob leaves my lips and I have to force myself together resting my head on my hand for support, “I don't know what to do” I finished weakly. I hear her suck in a deep breath and it only makes me feel worse, “I-I want help…I need help,” I add, “I tried healing him, the doctor said the effect was minor but I’m gonna keep doing it, even if it takes a lot out of me.”

She exhales, “I’m really sorry Y/N”. I shake my head even though I know she can't see me. I ignored her comment, there was nothing to be sorry for because he was going to be alright, “Do you have any ideas? Maybe I’m doing something wrong or could be doing it better?”

She goes quiet again and it is hard to hold on to hope, “please,” I say quietly hoping she can hear me. She clears her throat, her voice cold and serious, “I’d try some herbal tea, one with healing properties any one of it will help or at least make him more comfortable.” I hum picking up my pen again, writing ‘herbal tea’ on my arm, I didn’t want to risk forgetting.

She sighs again, but it isn’t disappointed or even exhausted, “Don’t…don’t get your hopes up.” I shake my head vigorously again, “I’m not listening to this. I called for help cause you’re the only person I can think of who would know even a wisp of this. I’m desperate for help, not a lecture.” I know I was being cruel, ‘could hear it. She wasn’t trying to hurt me. “No, Y/N please listen. This isn’t an easy task, honestly, I’d like to say it’s impossible but I don’t want you to hang up on me. This doesn't come without great sacrifice.”

“And what if I’m okay with that?” I snap back, “I’m willing to sacrifice.”

“This is different,” she spits a hint of anger on her tongue, “I don’t mean just going against everything you believe in or against your mother's words. I mean making deals with demons, where you could lose your soul or your life or what makes you whole or maybe even worse.” I go quiet. I know she’s right, she always is. But I know my answer, I know what I’m willing to do, “I said I’m willing to make sacrifices.”

“Are you?” she counters. And without hesitation, I answer, “I love him.” I could tell she was getting frustrated with me, for not listening to her warning or taking her seriously even though I was. Of course, I know this is dark and messy territory, but that did not concern me. I can hear her swallow, her voice turning hard again, “What you would need to do would be more than love him.”

“Would it?” I counter.

“Yes,” she replies sternly, “And I won’t help you with that.” It was hard to be mad at her, she was just watching out for me trying to protect me. That was her job after all. But I wanted so desperately for him to be okay, he had to be. “Whether you help me or not, I will do everything in my power to fix this. He won't die.”

“I know you will. That’s what scares me.”

My eyebrows furrow, “I don’t understand.”

“I hope you never will,” she huffs out a breath, “I don’t want you to regret anything.” I couldn't vocalize it, did not even know how to make her understand what I felt–that even if I lost him now if I never saw him again. If I sat on his grave weeping for the man I loved with new flowers in my hand each day and each year. If I never got to hold his hand again. If I never got to see him smile again– that cocky smile. Even if I never got to tell him that I loved him…even then, I would never regret knowing him. Never regret the first time we met and never, never regret loving him. But I don’t say that, instead settling for, “I don’t want to lose anyone else.”

She turns serious once more, determined even, “You won’t. I’m on my way to your place now, I’ll go through your books, and I’ll call you back the second I find something.” She may not agree with my decisions all the time, and might even be upset that we don’t talk as much anymore but at the end of the day we’re best friends–more than that really, “Thank you, Adeline.”

“Of course, now don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone,” she laughs lightly, “I love you, talk to you later.” I smile for the first time in hours, “I love you too, be safe.”

I let myself into the motel room. Sam doesn’t look up from his place on the bed, papers surround him, some in the garbage which I assume were ones that won't work out. I make my way to the small table in the corner of the room, avoiding looking at where Dean slept the night before. I take out my spellbook, my small journal, and my laptop. My eyes were killing me, most likely from crying so much before.

The next few days would follow a similar pattern, Sam would fall asleep but never for very long before getting coffee and a quick bite to eat before continuing his search. And I spent the nights awake, sleep could not find me at the edge of the void. At some point crumbled pieces of paper surrounded me and I felt like a college student again, I didn't want to do anything but look for an answer. Adeline called once that first night, but it didn't wind up leading anywhere.

The second morning I prepared tea for Dean, arriving at the hospital with the steaming cup and food that wasn't from the hospital. He looked happy to see me and complained about how bored he was there. He looked horrible, and it hurt my chest to see him like that so I just nodded to what he said. He drank the tea with nearly no complaint but instead curiosity, I explained I had boiled Sun water, before making homemade ginger tea adding cinnamon sticks, chamomile, and honey for taste. He asked me to explain to him why I chose each one, though I wasn't sure he truly cared and just wanted to hear me speak since he was relentless with his questions. I healed him again and laid with him when he asked. Then the rest of the while we talked as I did research.

Somehow being there, and watching him worsen was worse than not being there at all. I think I understand now why we weren't allowed to be there when my mom died. I would have rathered someone just stabbed me in the heart over and over then see his eyes grow duller. I healed him again before I was kicked out.

I felt hopeless. I wasn't going to give up but I felt hopeless. It was like I wasn't myself but watching myself go through the motions.

The second night wasn't much better. I slept for a couple of hours only to wake up crying. I didn't try to sleep after that. I prayed to God that night. I hadn't done that in years. I hadn't begged him for mercy since my mother died. I think I was on my knees for hours, the harsh carpet digging into my skin, but that didn’t matter. I barely felt it after a while. I apologized for not praying in years, for only praying when it benefited me which I knew was selfish. I asked for help, and begged for it. I needed him to help Dean. I said I’d do anything he wanted if he did that, even if it meant becoming a nun. I felt incredibly embarrassed begging like that, I didn't even believe in God yet there I was my hands pressed together and the carpet beneath my knees. I cried again that night, for everyone I've lost and how far I would go to save another.

Adeline was wrong, I decided. Sacrifice didn't come with the solution, it came with the search for the answer. Like I said, I didn't feel like myself. I knew I was losing myself each hour that passed and I knew it would only get worse if he did die.

On the third morning, I did the same thing I did the morning before. But after healing him for the first time that morning, I broke in front of him. “I don't want you to go,” I told him, sobbing. He just held me against him even though I knew it hurt him, but he just stroked my head anyway mumbling “I know, I know” into my hair. I could hear his voice breaking with each letter; somehow, that was worse than seeing him act as if he didn't care. Then very quietly he whispered, “I don't know how to comfort someone when I know I’m the source of their pain.”

They did more tests on him. He wasn't getting better, at least not fast enough. It seemed my healing was just halting its progress momentarily, in a sense slowing it down before it continued. I needed to stay on him longer but I wasn’t sure how and ‘could barely make it past 20 minutes before I began to shake so badly and feel so faint like my chest was being pulled open with the sharp nails of cold hands.

I went back to the motel dragging my feet. It had been three days and we had nothing to show for it but failed attempts which I suppose is better than no attempts though it didn’t much feel that way. When I got there I returned to my corner at the table, moving away my mess of “work” with a swipe of my arm. I crumble into the wooden chair, laying my forehead on the edge of the table, I didn’t know what to do. I’d keep looking no matter what, that would not change. I would search through every book on every myth, god, folklore, anything. I’d do whatever it took, I just hoped time would not beat us to the finish line.

With a huff, I pulled my latest book from the library closer to me, a book on Greek Gods. I pick up where I left off in the thick book on the God of healing and medicine Asclepius. I read the passage about him, and it seemed promising, “He was considered a symbol of medical knowledge, skill, and wisdom. Known for his ability to heal the sick and revive the dead, Asclepius played an essential role in Greek religious and medical traditions…He was known for his exceptional skill in diagnosing diseases and treating wounds. His abilities were so profound that he could even bring the dead back to life, a talent that eventually led to his downfall…The Asclepieia, healing temples dedicated to the god, were spread throughout Greece and were renowned centers of medical practice. Pilgrims would travel great distances to seek healing, engaging in purification rituals, sacrifices, and dream incubation, where they would sleep in the temple and receive divine guidance through dreams.”

The rest of the chapter contains no more info on the healing aspect but just more of his legacy and whatnot. I close the book sharply, pulling open my laptop to do more research on him. Maybe a temple still existed, and considering Pilgrims there might even be one in America somewhere. Just as I type the temple name into Google a knock sounds from the door.

For a moment I think Sam forgot his keys, but when I turned to where he always was he was there. He looks at me confused and I shrug my shoulders, “Maybe it’s room service?” He answers by going to the door and opening it curiously. I watch from my seat, tilting my chair back to get a better look. But it is not room service, or someone knocking at the wrong door, it’s Dean. I almost fall backward, my chair slams forward back on all four legs I shoot up from my seat.

He leans on the doorframe, holding his side. He still has dark circles under his eyes and just looks sickly which is only accentuated by the black zip-up he wore, which was odd for him he never really wore sweaters. “What the hell are you doing here?” Sam exclaims his voice a mix of surprise and confusion. Dean limps his way just a little bit further into the room, leaning on a dresser next to the door, “I checked myself out,” he responds placing all his weight on the thing. I didn't even know a sick patient could check themselves out like that. “What, are you crazy?” Sam exclaims.

Dean shrugs, “Well, I’m not gonna die in a hospital where the nurses aren’t even hot.” He turns his head to wink at me and gives me that devilish smile. My jaw dropped, baffled wasn't even the word to explain it. This had to be the most Dean Winchester thing Dean could have ever done, I could not fathom it. I wanted to call him an idiot but I was too shocked to give any response. Sam huffs a laugh as he shuts the door, “You know, this whole I-laugh-in-the-face-of-danger-thing? It’s crap. I can see right through it, we both can.”

Dean moves himself further into the room leaning on anything he could, “Yeah, whatever, dude. Have either of you even slept? You look worse than me.” Sam helps him to the bed, sitting him down, “We’ve been scouring the Internet for the last three days.”

I sit back in my chair, scooting it so I can face them both, “I don't know how either of our laptops survived this. Late at night, I think I can hear it cry.”

Dean purses his lips, “Lack of sleep has made you crazy.” It was my turn to huff a laugh, and for that fraction of a second everything felt normal. But that moment of normalcy breaks as Sam adds, “I’ve also called every contact in Dad’s journal.” I was brought right back to the present, back to the reason we were doing all of this to begin with. “For what?” Dean asks.

“For a way to help you,” Sam explains, “One of Dad’s friends, Joshua, he called me back. Told me about a guy in Nebraska. A specialist.”

“Wait, why didn't you tell me sooner?” I ask.

“He called back when you were with Dean,” he answers, “I was going to tell you when you came back but didn't get the chance before he decided to break out.” I hum an ‘oh’ in response. “You’re not gonna let me die in peace, are you?” Dean chimes in, hunched over.

“I’m not gonna let you die, period. We’re going” Sam says, end of discussion.

The Impala bumps along the gravel road, I was beyond happy we finally arrived. The sky was cloudy and grey with a thin layer of mist clinging to everything, it reflected the past couple of days and the ride quite perfectly. Dean rested in the back seat the entire time, his face scrunched in discomfort, we stopped a couple of times so I could jump back there and heal him for a short while.

The car comes to a full stop among others in a large green field, a large white circus tent stealing the show. A sign nearby reads The Church of Roy LeGrange. Faith Healer. Witness The Miracle. I was skeptical, but like Sam said our options were low. I wasn’t religious and certainly hated when things like this existed, giving people false hope and feeding them lies, when they could be looking at real options and getting real help but I guess I was being a hypocrite considering how I spent my time kneeling to a God I didn't believe in. Many people walked towards it, all sick, some with canes, walkers, breathing devices, etc. I get out of the car slowly, eyeing the scene carefully. We’re all just desperate people, hoping a tent in the middle of nowhere will save our loved ones.

Sam gets out of the car, rounding the vehicle to help his brother get out of the car. Dean grimaces as he tries to lift himself, “I got ya” Sam tells him trying to grab him but Dean shoves him away, “I got it” he spits. He fixes himself, pissed off, but uses the car to hold himself up leaning on it, “Man, you are a lying bastard. ‘Thought you said we were going to see a doctor.”

“I believe I said a specialist” Sam corrects. I squint my eyes at him, “You’re not slick. But…” I say stretching out the word, “We should try, at the very least.”

“And this guy is supposed to be the real deal” Sam adds, nodding. Dean scuffs, rolling his eyes, “I can’t believe you brought me here to see some guy who heals people out of a tent.”

An old woman walks by holding a big black umbrella, “Reverend LeGrange is a great man” she declares. “Yeah, that’s nice” Dean sarcastically remarks. I hold back on batting his arm as I would normally, “Be nice” I mumble instead.

We walk away from the old lady and the car heading toward the tent, walking past an angry man who is struggling against an officers hold, “I have a right to protest. This man is a fraud. And he’s milking all these people of their hard-earned money.” I suck in a sharp breath, mumbling an “Amen, brother” underneath my breath. But the Sheriff seems to ignore the man's declaration, holding him back while trying to lead him away, “Sir, this is a place of worship. Let’s go. Move it.” The man huffs, walking away with the Sheriff. “I take it he’s not part of the flock” Dean remarks.

Sam purses his lips, half shrugging, “When people see something they can’t explain, there’s controversy.”

Dean stops short, getting our attention and making us stop too, “I mean, come on, Sam, a faith healer? And what about you Y/N you don’t believe in this crap.”

I hold up my hands in surrender, “You're right. I don’t. And I think making a whole religion out of it that smells more like a cult than anything, it’s ridiculous. But there’s a good chance this is legit,” I drop my hands back at my side, “He’s probably using magic like I was doing with you, it's just that he's, hopefully, more successful.” He pressed his lips together tightly, I got him there. “See, maybe it’s time to have a little faith, Dean,” Sam adds.

“You know what I’ve got faith in?” Dean exclaims, “Reality. And this won’t work. I mean do you really think this guy is a dude-witch.”

I purse my lips, “I’m pretty sure the term would be a wizard, but, uh, I don't know. I’d have to see it in action to know for certain along with anything around him while he works, rituals and stuff.” I pause for a moment, thinking it over, “I do hope he’s real and not an elaborate con artist, and I hope he’s better than me at the whole healing thing.” I was being blatantly honest. I hoped it would encourage Dean to not fight this version of help, and I truly did wish this guy could help. “And if you know evil’s out there, how can you not believe good’s out there, too?” Sam chimes in, a hint of annoyance on his tongue. A muscle in Dean’s jaw twitches, “Because I’ve seen what evil does to good people.”

Dean’s POV

I snapped in a moment of weakness and said too much. “Dean” she sighs, placing a gentle hand on my upper arm, stepping closer to me almost subconsciously. I didn’t want a lecture full of sappy nonsense and corny poetry. She must have known that because she smiled sadly, her lip curving up on one side, my eyes following the movement, “Good does exist, it has to,” she says simply ever the optimist. She tilts her head slightly, looking up at me through her curled eyelashes, her hand still on my arm, my knees feel weak. “I'm sure you can think of at least one good person. Of course, the terms good and evil are subjective…” she cuts her cute rambling off, “but you get what I mean.”

I guess she was right. Sammy’s a good person sometimes a total asshole but I guess that came with the territory of being brothers. And Y/N’s the definition of being a good person, she’s always been kind even to people who didn't deserve it, including me. I remember a couple of times I was cruel to her when we were kids, always about her being a witch, yet for some reason she accepted my apology and even wanted to keep being friends. For a long time, I didn’t understand her, ‘how she could be sweet and smile at a world filled with darkness. Sometimes I think I still don't get her. “Please just give it a try,” she pleads, “And if it doesn't work or turns out to be a con you can make fun of us the whole way back.”

I studied her again, she looked drained and I knew she hadn't been sleeping all because of me. “Fine” I huff. She bites back a smile and suddenly complying with this stupid faith healer was worth it.

“And who knows, maybe God works in mysterious ways” an unfamiliar voice butts in. I didn't care to look who it was, solely focused on the girl who still had her hand on me; a smile on her lips and a sparkle in her eyes, one I hadn't seen in three days. “Maybe he does” I respond, half heartily, I look up briefly catching the eyes of an attractive blonde holding a black umbrella. I averted my eyes back to my girl, but she was already looking away at the woman who interrupted us, her hand slipped down my arm.

“Uh, hi. I’m Y/N” she introduces herself, holding out the hand that was touching me only moments ago. She accepts her hand, “Layla. And these two?” Layla says looking past her. “Sam,” he introduces himself before motioning to me, “Dean.” I give her a tightlipped smile in response.

She smiles at me, “So, if you’re not a believer, then why are you here?” She was attractive, you’d have to be blind not to see it but my interest is elsewhere. I can't fool myself into thinking that'll work out. Hell, I'm probably gonna end up dead. And yeah, it's harsh, but I can't shake the feeling that I'd rather spend what time I've got with Y/N, not waste it chasing after other girls just to fill the gap she left without even knowing it. I’m self-aware enough to know that. “Well, apparently my brother here believes enough for the both of us” I muse. An older woman with blondish-gray hair walks over, putting an arm around the girl, “Come on, Layla. It’s about to start.” Both women smile at us before walking away.

“Well, you heard the woman,” Y/N starts, “We should get you inside.” Sam nods leading the way.

Your POV

The tent is packed, full of people trying to find seats, it smells of hope and despair if that’s possible. “Yeah, peace, love, and trust all over,” Dean remarks, nodding over to a camera in the corner. Did churches have cameras? “I guess it makes sense,” I try to reason, “‘probably get more people like that dude outside protesting, maybe even getting violent.”

Dean slips away sitting down on one of the foldable chairs. “Hey no,” I point at him, “You are not gonna be all brooding and hide in the back.” His shoulders slump, “Let’s sit here.”

“No” I answer simply, eyebrows scrunched. He opens his mouth in a retort but his brother steps in, putting an arm around him and practically dragging him from the seat and towards the front, “Oh, come, on, Sam” Dean growls. Mistaking his anger for pain Sam halts in his movements, “You alright?”

“This is ridiculous” Dean bites, slapping his brother’s hands away, “I’m good, dude, get off of me.” I roll my eyes at their behavior, even in public, and even with one of them being severely sick they could still act childish and make a scene. I look around the closer rows, looking for seats, “Look at that” I smile turning back to the boys, “seats” I point to three empty seats not only close to the front but right behind Layla, the girl from before. She seemed nice, maybe a little strange in randomly joining the conversation but it wasn’t a big deal. “Perfect” Sam agrees, lightly shoving his brother in that direction. “Yeah, perfect” Dean remarks, sarcasm clear in his voice.

“Take the aisle,” Sam tells his brother before moving into the row of seats, I move in after him taking the seat between them. Dean grumbles something, his face having ‘irritable’ all over it, but he sits quietly, arms crossed.

An old man with white hair and sunglasses steps onto the stage with the help of an older woman with brown hair tied back. He must be the famous Roy LeGrange, “Each morning, my wife, Sue Ann, reads me the news. Never seems good, does it?” he says with a classic southern accent, the crowd muttering agreements, “Seems like there's always someone committing some immoral, unspeakable act.”

“He could say that aga–'' I began to mumble. “Huh” I hum to myself, my eyes catching on a particular religious item, why would there be a Celtic cross? I mean the cross represented the blending of the Celts and Christians but there are many separations between the two from believing in multiple gods to human sacrifice–

“But, I say to you, God is watching,” he preaches, and if I wasn't so focused on that wooden cross I might have rolled my eyes forgetting my manners, especially when the crowd responded with “Yes he is.” It sounded very cultish, the hair on my arms standing up. Maybe it wasn’t that weird for there to be a Celtic cross, but I just couldn’t shake the feeling. I racked my brain for information on it, and I just couldn’t see it used in Christian churches anymore. Though of course, I could be wrong, it's not like I go to church every day or even once a week. But again it felt a little too weird to just brush off–

“God rewards the good, and He punishes the corrupt” Roy continued getting loud cheering and more murmuring. I look at the people around me strangely, I forget how powerful religion is…

Speaking of which, that damn Celtic cross again. Alright, think. The Celtic cross represents life and death, creating dynamic tension, the vertical arm represents the life aspect while the horizontal arm signifies death, the circle acting as a portal to transformation. In simpler terms, the cross and circle represent opposing forces; life and death, yet they harmonize with the Celtic cross, emphasizing unity and balance, they coexist. But what does that mean here? Okay, well he’s supposedly healing people which would be the life aspect and the death could represent the healing cheating death? No, that sounded like a stretch. Maybe this was all a stretch and the cross meant nothing. I’m just overreacting because I'm scared of what will become of this if this man was a con or whatever else. Yeah, that makes more sense—

“It is the Lord who does the healing here, friends. The Lord who guides me in choosing who to heal by helping me see into people's hearts,” Roy proclaimed.

“Yeah,” Dean whispers just loud enough for Sam and me to hear, “and into their wallets.” But it wasn’t quiet enough, “You think so, young man?” Oh, that was weird. The crowd falls dead silent, “Sorry” Dean apologizes. “No, no. Don’t be.” Roy shakes his head, “Just watch what you say around a blind man, we’ve got real sharp ears.” The crowd laughs but an unpleasant feeling worms itself into my stomach. It was innocent enough but something felt off and I don't think it has anything to do with Dean being scrutinized. “What’s your name, son?” Roy asks. He clears his throat, sitting straighter in his seat, “Dean.”

“Dean” Roy repeats nodding to himself, “I want…I want you to come up here with me.” My eyes widened, maybe God finally listened. “No, it’s okay” he shakes his head. “What are you doing?!” Sam whisper-yells, but his brother ignores him.

“You’ve come here to be healed, haven’t cha?” Roy inquires.

“Well, yeah, but, uh…maybe you should just pick someone else” Dean attempts to reason. And I hate the way he doesn't believe he is worthy of saving. The crowd claps loudly, “Oh, no. I didn’t pick you, Dean, the Lord did.” Had we been here for any other reason I might have been more disturbed by that proclamation, but this was a chance. The crowd roars in excitement, voices mixed in encouragement. Dean looks overwhelmed, I place a hand on his knee gaining his attention quickly, “Dean, this is good, go” I whisper to him even though I was unsure of this whole thing and that odd cross. He studies me for half a moment, something I couldn't recognize passing over his features before he reluctantly raises, my hand slipping from his leg.

The woman from before helps Dean to the stage, situating him next to the healer, “You ready?” he asks Dean. “Look, no disrespect, but, uh, I’m not exactly a believer,” Dean says, looking between the crowd and the old man. But Roy just smiles, “You will be, son. You will be,” he turns to the crowd arms raised, “Pray with me, friends.” Again, almost like a cult, the crowd joins hands as Roy moves his hands to place on Dean; one on his shoulder and the other to the side of his head. I hold my breath, I want this to work so badly, I hadn't even begun to think of a plan B if this didn't.

Suddenly Dean’s eyes glaze over, it was never like that when I healed him, and then he seems to wobble sinking to his knees. I gasped, I didn't think it would be so intense or that my heart would beat so fast. A deep chill runs up my spine seeping into my bones, my skin prickles with goosebumps, the Celtic cross comes into view again and I suddenly feel sick, a horrible feeling tangling itself in between my stomach. I don't know where to look the cross or Dean, my eyes flipping between the two rapidly all until Dean's eyes roll back and he crumbles down onto the stage floor. Sam manages to jump over me, using his long legs to his advantage he gets to the stage in seconds grabbing the front of Dean's hoodie. I catch up quickly, glad we were close to the stage, I kneel in front of Dean his head lulling back. The loud noise of the crowd cheering becomes nothing but background noise, as I check his pulse my fingers against the side of his neck the steady but fast beating of his heart thumping below my touch.

With a sudden gasp his eyes shoot open, eyes wide and mouth agape.

I tap my foot impatiently on the clean floors of the hospital, thankful that right after testing I was allowed to be in the room. Dean looked better, he moved normally and his color was back, but we all agreed we should check officially. Now we were waiting and although the room sparked with anxiety, the dark looming cloud had cleared up a lot, and once we knew for sure it would most likely be gone. I just wished the doctor would come quicker. “So, you really feel okay?” Sam asks for the hundredth time since Dean woke from being healed yesterday. Dean stares at him blankly, “I feel fine, Sam” he grumbles.

Finally, the Doctor walks in, reading from the charts on his clipboard, “Well, according to all your tests there's nothing wrong with your heart. No sign there ever was. Not that a man your age should be having heart trouble, but, still strange things happen.” The cloud fades away, and I don’t hold back my beaming smile. “What do you mean, strange?” Dean asks, his face serious rather than elated. “Well, just yesterday, a young guy like you, twenty-seven, athletic. Out of nowhere, heart attack,” the doctor shares. Dean nods, giving the man a handshake, “Thanks, Doc.” The man leaves, closing the door behind him. “That’s odd,” Dean points out, referring to what the doctor said.

“Maybe it's a coincidence,” Sam shrugs, “People's hearts give out all the time, man.” I looked at him taken aback, what was he talking about, “Dude, what world are you living in?” He gives me a pointed look, annoyed with not only my response but also my not agreeing with him, “Do we really have to look this one in the mouth? Why can't we just be thankful that the guy saved your life, Dean, and move on?”

“Because I can't shake this feeling, that's why” Dean bites back. I sigh, wishing we could just avoid this all, “Me neither.” Dean gives me a strange look, “You neither?”

“Yeah,” I nod, “I just, I don’t know, when we sat down I recognized something which automatically made me suspicious. Then you know the whole thing was happening and, well, maybe it was just nerves but it got really cold and I felt sort of sick. Which really doesn't make sense, but I just had this weird feeling, I don’t know.”

“I felt cold too,” Dean answers, face scrunched, “When I was healed, I just...I felt wrong, ‘cold. And for a second...I saw someone. This, uh, this old man. And I'm telling you, it was a spirit.” Maybe it wasn’t nerves and I wasn’t crazy. Sam huffs, clearly trying to ignore the red flags here, “But if there was something there, Dean, I think I would've seen it, too. I mean, I've been seeing an awful lot of things lately.”

“Alright, but he literally saw something and I felt something.” I reason, “You can’t deny two people saying something’s up, and whatever it was there’s probably a reason why you couldn’t see it.”

“You’re just gonna need a little faith on this one, Sam” Dean muses, using his own words against him. Sam sighs, finally giving in, “Yeah, alright. So, what do you wanna do?”

Dean steps into the leader role again, as if nothing had happened, “I want you to go check out the heart attack guy. Y/N, we’re gonna visit the reverend.”

I sit next to Dean on the nice leather couch, Roy sitting across from us. He and his wife had been very understanding and didn’t question our want to speak to him about yesterday, I figure he got this a lot. “I feel great,” Dean answers the reverend, “Just trying to, you know, make sense of what happened.”

“A miracle is what happened,” Sue Ann, Roy’s wife and the woman from before answered, “Well, miracles come so often around Roy.” I gave her a half-hearted smile and nod, maybe it was just me but that response came off a little weird. I was getting a bad vibe from her, “So, um, when did these miracles start?” I ask Roy. Any desire to possibly learn from him had been subdued, caution taking its place. “Woke up one morning, stone blind. Doctors figured out I had cancer. Told me I had maybe a month. So, uh, we prayed for a miracle. I was weak, but I told Sue Ann, 'You just keep right on praying.'” He smiled sweetly at his wife before continuing, “I went into a coma. Doctors said I wouldn't wake up, but I did. And the cancer was gone.” He takes off his black sunglasses, his eyes pure white, “If it wasn't for these eyes, no one would believe I'd ever had it.” He puts the glasses back on, it was a touching story and his eyes added a horrifying touch but it just left more questions.

He seemed genuine, and I don’t think he would lie about being in a coma. When you’re sick like that, and experience something like that, you don’t create lies about your experience, not when it was traumatic like that. And staying on that belief, there was no way he suddenly just stopped having cancer and was able to heal people. He couldn’t have been responsible for whatever caused his initial health change. Which would then mean someone else was involved. “So then, you could just…heal people?” I ask.

“I discovered it afterward, yes,” he nods, "God's blessed me in many ways.” It didn’t add up. I couldn’t get it to add up in my head. Besides the whole no more sickness ideal, how could he just suddenly heal someone? I mean, how do you even discover you can? Was it an accident? Did the hypothetical person who might have caused him to get better tell him too? Or, tell him to try? Whereas for me I knew it was something I was capable of in general as a witch, but I also had many spell books, history books, journals, and everything to learn from. And if my mother had lived longer she would have been able to teach me it too.

“And his flock just swelled overnight,” Sue Ann added, her eyes full of endearment, “And this is just the beginning.” I study her for a moment, balancing on the thin line of suspicion and paranoia. There was nothing inherently wrong about her or what she said, and maybe it was my mind making up the fact that her last words were just a little aggressive.

“Can I ask you one last question?” Dean asks, his voice pulling me out of my thoughts. “Of course you can,” Roy responded sincerely. He really does seem like a nice guy, genuine, and it could be my inherent lack of sleep that’s making me connect dots that might not even be there. “Why? Why me? Out of all the sick people, why save me?” My heart broke. Of course he didn’t feel adequate, especially when he tried convincing us for the last four days he wasn't worth saving, that we should give up and let him die. I place a careful hand on his knee, I don’t want to scare him away or clam up again, he never was very open. “Well, like I said before, the Lord guides me,” Roy answers, “I looked into your heart, and you just stood out from all the rest.”

Dean wets his lips, my eyes flickering up to the movement, he leans forward slightly, “What did you see in my heart?” I move my gaze away catching on Sue Ann’s innocent movement of picking up her glass of water, but as she leans over her necklace escapes from its place beneath her shirt. A small wooden Celtic Cross held by a thin silver chain, she catches my eyes, covering the cross with her hand and giving me an innocent smile. She assumes I would think it's just any ol’ cross, she does run religious ceremonies so such a simple totem shouldn’t mean anything else. Maybe there were dots to connect after all, and it was on full display ready to be fastened. I focused my attention back on the conversation, I left my bag in the car so I’d have to wait, and in the meanwhile, I did not wish for her to get suspicious of me either.

Roy smiles softly, “A young man with an important purpose. A job to do. And it isn't finished.” I feel Dean tense beneath my hand, his face full of shock. Whether Roy did see something or not, it might have been the thing Dean needed to hear regardless.

I wanted to run back to the car and look through my spell book and journal, but Sue Ann was seeing us out and if I had easily become suspicious of her then it was possible she would grow suspicious of what I knew too. I could almost feel her gaze burning into the back of my head, but I tried to ignore it, focusing instead on Dean's warm hand on the small of my back leading me down the short wooden stairs of their porch. But I had not expected to see Layla and the woman she was with before, I think her mother. “Dean, Y/N, hey,” she greets. “Hey,” Dean responds just as we reach ground level, his hand pressing further into my back before curling around my waist, his hand lying on my side before he pushes me closer against him. I don’t know why he was being so touchy, not that I was exactly complaining. I welcomed it and the warmth it brought.

“How ‘you feeling?” She asks him, tilting her head slightly, her face beaming in sincerity. “I feel good. Cured, I guess. What are you doing here?” he responds.

“You know, my mom, she wanted to talk to the reverend.” Layla nods toward the door prompting Sue Ann to step fully onto the porch rather than standing halfway between the screen door. “Layla?” she asks, probably not having seen her from where she stood. “Yes, I'm here again,” Layla answers softly.

“Well, I'm sorry, but Roy is resting. He won't be seeing anyone else right now.” Sue Ann informed, nodding sympathetically. Every word she said just made me want to turn around and head to the car, I was itching for it. I wondered if Dean could feel it from where he was touching me or just sensed it, giving me a questioning look with a raised eyebrow. But I couldn’t exactly say anything right now so I ignored his look.

“Sue Ann, please,” Layla’s mom pleads, “This is our sixth time, he's got to see us.”

“Roy is well aware of Layla's situation,” Sue Ann declares harshly, “And he very much wants to help just as soon as the Lord allows. Have faith, Mrs. Rourke.” And with that, she goes back inside. I might not know exactly what’s going on but her continuous frustrated comments regarding the healing and her perhaps overly religious nature were enough to make me antsy. We should really go to the car, call Sam to see what he found, or even just head to the hotel. Layla’s mom turns sharply to Dean, glaring at him she spits, “Why are you still even here? You got what you wanted.”

“Mom. Stop” Layla insists, looking at us nervously.

“No, Layla, this is too much” her mom fumed, “We've been to every single service. If Roy would stop choosing these strangers over you. Strangers who don't even believe. I just can't pray any harder.” I do feel bad for her, but it's not like we had control over any of this so she shouldn't be mad at us let alone Dean who was quite literally on his deathbed and might not have made it to the end of the week. I open my mouth to say exactly that, but Dean cuts me off before I get a chance, “Layla, what’s wrong?” he asks.

She looks everywhere but him, “I have this thing…”

“It's a brain tumor,” her mother cuts in bluntly, “It's inoperable. In six months, the doctors say…” Layla cuts her mom off putting a hand on her shoulder. Maybe it was good Dean didn’t let me say what I wanted to, it would’ve been too cruel to do that to someone who was going to lose her daughter. It seemed like we were surrounded by death, more now than ever and I hadn’t thought that could be possible. I didn’t like death, or sickness though I suppose who does. “I'm sorry” Dean says, and I just nod in agreement not trusting my own voice. “It's okay” Layla responds softly. Her mother shakes her head slowly, “No. It isn't,” her sharp gaze is back on Dean, “Why do you deserve to live more than my daughter?” Then she storms away, Layla hesitantly following. I know that woman was just upset and projecting her anger but it was not fair. Grief isn’t fair.

I look at Dean, his jaw clenched tightly, a slight furrow of his brow, his eyes a little far away in thought. I recognized that look. “Don’t listen to her” I declare, slipping from his hold to look at him straight on, “Death is not kind and it is not just, but you deserve to live. You deserve to live just as much as Layla or anyone else does. I know that look and I know you're thinking poorly of yourself, which I hate that you do so ‘cause you’re amazing and brave and kind and you care so much for others regardless of your gruff attitude.” His eyes are wide and written with shock but I continue, “So don’t think for one second that you don’t deserve to live.” I didn’t realize my chest was heaving, or that a lump had formed in my throat. I’ve watched too many people die, I’ve been down the rabbit hole of grief. I knew it well, it became a second skin. And I've watched someone run themselves into the ground because they didn’t feel like they deserved to live, or at least not when the love of their life was dead. I watched the evolution of that grief while dealing with my own and my brother’s. Death was not kind.

His jaw was slack with surprise and I know I said too much, I gave him a sharp awkward nod before turning around and heading for the car. I have something to look into.

Dean throws his keys on the bed the second we enter, the soft jingle of the metal ringing through the quiet room. I unzipped my sweatshirt, making my way towards Sam who sat at the small table to the side of the room. I take a seat next to him, putting my sweater behind me, “So what’d you find?” He seems hesitant to answer, his adam's apple bobbing, “Um, I’m sorry Dean” he says weakly looking up at his brother.

Dean takes his jacket off putting it on top of mine, his face written in confusion, “Sorry about what?” he asks, leaning on the back of my chair, his knuckles just barely brushing my back. Sam huffs out a breath, “Marshall Hall died at 4:17.” My eyes widened, I shouldn’t be surprised it was just another dot to be connected to whatever was going on with the damn cross. “The exact time I was healed” Dean adds solemnly, voicing what we were all thinking.

“Yeah. So, I put together a list of everyone Roy's healed, six people over the past year, and I cross-checked them with the local obits,” Sam explains, “Every time someone was healed, someone else died. And each time, the victim died of the same symptom LeGrange was healing at the time.”

“Oh frick” I mumble, apparently nothing is allowed to be easy for us. And I wasn’t exactly expecting that to be what we’re dealing with. “Someone's healed of cancer, someone else dies of cancer?” Dean asks for confirmation, even though it’s clear that’s what’s going on. “Somehow. LeGrange…” Sam sighs, “he's trading a life for another.”

Dean stands up straight backing away from the table, from Sam, “Wait, wait, wait. So, Marshall Hall died to save me?” Sam shakes his head, “Dean, the guy probably would've died anyway. And someone else would've been healed.”

“You never should've brought me here.” Dean declares, running a hand down his face.

“Dean, I was just trying to save your life.” Sam reasons.

“But, Sam, some guy is dead now because of me.”

“I didn't know,” Sam answers quietly.

I stand up abruptly, “Hey, there’s nothing we can do about that now. What’s done is done.” This all got very complicated very quickly, maybe Adeline was right you can’t save someone from death without making difficult decisions and sacrifices. “But what we can do is stop this from happening again, before it gets worse” I add and I know I don’t sound so convincing. You don’t get to choose who lives and who dies, and we had crossed that line whether intentionally or not, just wanting to save Dean from death was already putting a foot past that line. “That’s the thing I don't understand, how is Roy doing it? How's he trading a life for a life?” Sam questions. “Oh, he’s not doing it,” Dean answers, “Something else is doing it for him.”

“Do you mean the thing with Sue Ann?” I ask with a tilt of my head, maybe he had picked up on it too. “What?” his face contorts in confusion, “No? What are you talking about?”

“Oh” I say, now I'm confused, “Wait. What are you talking about?”

“What are both of you talking about?!” Sam exclaims looking between us. Dean sighs, pinching the space between his brows, “The old man I saw on stage” he explains, “I didn’t want to believe it, but deep down I knew.” He pauses and I begin to wonder if it’s for dramatic affect. I motion my hand for him to continue and he does, “There’s only one thing that can give and take life like that. We’re dealing with a Reaper.”

“Pardon?” I say, my mouth agape. “Yeah,” Sam agrees, face just as shocked as I am, “You really think it's THE Grim Reaper? Like, angel of death, collect your soul, the whole deal?”

“No no no, not THE reaper, A reaper.” Dean clarifies, taking the seat I once occupied, “There's reaper law in pretty much every culture on earth, it goes by 100 different names, it's possible that there's more than one of them.” My mouth still hangs open, it can never be something normal with us, ever. “But you said you saw a dude in a suit,” Sam voiced.

“What, you think he shoulda been working the whole black robe thing?” Dean countered, “You said it yourself that the clock stopped right? Reapers stop time. And you can only see 'em when they're coming at you which is why I could see it and you guys couldn't.”

“Oh my god,” I say, the realization finally hitting me, “That’s where it comes in!” Both boys stare at me confused, “Where what comes in?” Sam asks.

“Okay, remember I said I recognized something and thought it was a little strange,” I paused waiting for them to nod before continuing, “It was a Celtic Cross, which was all I could focus on the entire time ‘cause like what is it doing there. And then I started thinking of what it symbolizes, here’s the interesting part” I point out, “So basically, the Celtic cross represents life and death, creating dynamic tension. The cross and circle represent opposing forces; life and death, yet they harmonize with the cross, emphasizing unity and balance, they coexist. Which now makes total sense with the whole Reaper thing.”

“Sorry sweetheart, I’m not following here” Dean admits. I huff a laugh, “Right. Let me get to the point. So, as far as I know someone has to control the Reaper to, you know, dictate who lives and dies and to do that you need a spell. And I’ve seen it before…” I head over to my bag that I had just plopped down right next to the door when we walked in, I pull out my spell book holding it up, “This book has been in my family for generations. Now as you know my mother and her family didn’t see eye to eye, so when it eventually became my mothers and she ran away she changed a lot of stuff in here, crossing things out etc.” I open the book, flicking through the pages, “Basically there’s some pretty dark stuff in here, straight up black magic, some stuff even ancient,” finally I find the page, “Aha!” I turn the book around pointing at the page, “As you can see by the frowny face in the corner my mother did not appreciate this spell. Anyways, this is a binding spell for a Reaper where you create a black alter with bones and human blood etc, you get the point. You can then control it with a Celtic Cross, and before I saw Sue Ann with the necklace.”

“So you think Sue Ann is using dark magic to control a Reaper and kill people to save people because you saw a necklace?” Sam asks. I close the book, “Yeah, and it makes sense she was desperate when her husband was sick. I don’t know how I didn’t think of this sooner.” I knew this page existed, I've seen it in passing multiple times, especially some time since Dean was in the hospital. I guess I did listen to Adeline’s warning because even though I was ready to go far to save him I had kept away from pages like this. “Yeah but Roy's alive, so why is she still using the spell?” Dean points out. I shrug, “Money? She’s psycho? I don’t know, maybe there’s a connection with the victims.”

“How would we break it?” Sam voices.

“We gotta get that cross from her, the one around her neck” I answer, “And let me just add, that Reaper is gonna be pissed, I mean the second it gains back its control…” I don’t need to say it out loud for them to get what I mean.

The Impala bounces down the badly graveled and potholed road, passing a sign that says Service Today. Hopefully we will be just in time. Dean brings the car to a stop and wordlessly we exit, “How do we get Sue Ann alone?” Sam asks. I nervously tap the side of my legs as we approach the tent, some guy handing out leaflets stops us, “Roy LeGrange is a fraud. He's no healer.” Dean accepts the paper, “Amen brother” he nods. “You keep up the good work” Sam points at the man and he looks taken aback, he probably didn’t get many if any people that agreed. “Thank you,” he says, surprised.

Focusing back on the task at hand I open my mouth about to say something about not knowing where she goes when she does the spell when I spot her near the side of the tent, “I see her” I say already moving in that direction, “Find her spell book and keep Roy distracted too in case this does not work.” I don’t wait to hear a response before I’m running off to catch up with the woman playing God, “Sue Ann!” I call as I approach. She turns, her eyes wide, the necklace peeking out from her blouse, “Hi Y/N, what are you doing back here?” she asks sweetly.

“Oh well you guys are doing such amazing stuff here, wanted to say thank you one last time before we had to head off” I answered hoping my lie was believable. “Don’t thank us, you just thank the Lord” She says pointing to the night sky. I nod, I had to keep her talking long enough to figure out how to get the necklace off, “I have to admit I always had a hard time believing in the man upstairs, but you and Roy really turned me around.”

“Oh I’m glad, it’s never too late to welcome Him into your heart,” she smiles, “Now if you’ll excuse me I must get going, the sermon is starting.” Uh oh, do I just rip it off of her? No, she’s already turning around, “One last thing!” I call out getting her attention again. This time when she turns around she looks annoyed, “Uh, um…”come on Y/N come up with a lie or something, “I saw your necklace earlier today, I think you caught me staring,” I laugh, “I was just…I was wondering where you got it from I’ve never seen something like that before.” She clasps her necklace, “It’s just an old thing, I don’t remember where I got it from.”

“Could I maybe take a closer look at it? Maybe I can find a replica, you know, for my new found belief.” I was practically begging her to just let this be easy, maybe I should ask Dean to give me a lesson on finessing cause this is not working. She clasps it tighter, “I’m sorry, maybe later I really have to help with the sermon now.”

“Right, right sorry” she begins to turn around again but I call out again, “I know you said to thank the Lord and I have and will, it’s just” that gets her attention, “I feel like you and Roy are also responsible and like I said I came to thank you again…I know it’s maybe unprofessional or what not, but, could I just give you a hug? You’ve really done so much for us.” God I was bad at this. Her face softens a fraction, hey maybe I wasn’t bad at this, “Of course.” She holds out her arms and I move closer to allow myself to be embraced, I wrap my arms near her neck hoping she couldn’t feel the tension in my body. “Thank you” I say softly, all the while sneaking my hand to the clasp of her necklace.

She pulls away abruptly, once more grasping her necklace, “What is wrong with you!” she exclaims. I back up, hands up in defense, “After everything we’ve done to help you, healing your boy” she glares at me with wide eyes, “I never expected this from you Y/N.” I stare at her blankly, do I jump her? “You get out of here, before I call over those officers. Looks like your boy is already in trouble too. Disappointing, both of you.”

I look over my shoulder, Dean’s being pushed away by two cops and there’s a large crowd surrounding the tent including Roy. Maybe they evacuated. I turn back to Sue Ann but she’s already pushing past me, heading to the crowd. Oh no. Layla walks up to him next and she seems to be upset with him. How much did I miss? I rush towards Dean, Layla walking away, “What did you do?” I whisper yell. “You said to distract Roy!” he argues.

“I didn’t mean to get in trouble with the police!”

“‘Don’t matter, did you get it?” Dean asks with a quirked eyebrow. “No,” I grumble, “She caught me in my attempt and started lecturing me, I was thinking of just jumping her before she pointed out your run in with the police.”

“You were gonna jump the woman?!” He exclaims.

“I didn’t know what to do!!” I hissed, “And it’s not like I did it!” I let out a frustrated sigh, crossing my arms across my chest, “We need a new plan, where’s Sammy?”

“‘Think he’s waiting by the car, ‘hope he’s got somethin’ Roy’s gonna do a private healing session with Layla tonight.”

“Great,” I mumble, “I really should have jumped her.”

I sit criss cross applesauce on the hard motel bed. For a hunt that I knew so much about I had royally blown it. She was right there. The necklace right there. “Please tell me you found something helpful in their home” I pleaded.

“I found the spell book, written by a priest who went dark side,” Sam answers, holding up the small book, “And she isn’t just killing random people. She’s forcing the Reaper to kill people she finds immoral, from some teacher who was openly gay to a woman who advocated for abortion rights.” The room fell quiet for a moment, there were more layers to this than we thought. “May God save us from half the people who think they're doing God's work” Dean muses.

“No seriously that’s messed up,” I add, shaking my head. “Yeah,” Sam nods, “I think you should hold onto this book Y/N.” He hands it over and I hold it cautiously in my hand, “How nice.” I’ll probably spend the next couple of days reading it over before ultimately sending it home, I did not need a spell book on dark magic with me, didn't even need to own it but rather me than get in the wrong hands.

“We should head back soon” Dean says, “Layla could be there any minute”

The Impala rolls over the graveled road for the second and hopefully final time today, this time with total darkness cloaking us no lights on. We roll to a stop, ��That's Layla's car. She's already here,” Sam points out.

Dean nods slowly, “Yeah.” He was upset, “Dean…” Sam began. But Dean ignores him, looking out the window instead, “You know if Roy woulda picked Layla instead of me she'd be here right now. And if she's not healed tonight she's gonna die in a coupla’ months.” I should’ve known my dramatic speech from before wouldn’t magically resolve him of his guilt, no one has that power. “What's happening to her is horrible,” Sam reasons, “But what are you gonna do? Let somebody else die to save her? You said it yourself Dean, you can't play God.”

Dean goes quiet for a beat before getting out of the car, Sam and I following. We approach the tent, peeking inside to see Roy speaking to a small group of people including Layla and her mom, “Gather round, please everyone, gather round. Come in closer, come on up.”

“Where's Sue Ann?” Dean whispers. I tried to crane my neck to look around the tent, maybe she was off to the side somewhere… “House,” Sam answers simply.

We creep up to the small house, weary of making too much noise we couldn’t afford to get caught, “You guys go find Sue Ann, I'll catch up,” Dean orders. I look at him confused, “Wait, what are you gonna—“ But Dean’s already backing away from us yelling, “Hey!” to two figures in the distance. “You gonna put that fear of God in me?” he yells out, of course he would be taunting the police. The officers drop what looks to be coffee cups before running after him, Dean taking off at full speed. Only he would do something so stupid. “Uh, anyways” I begin, “If she’s doing it at her house she’s probably by the altar, and considering the size and necessities of the thing and the fact her husband doesn't know it would have to be in an attic or basement.”

“I’ll offer you one better” Sam nods off to the side of the building, “a cellar.” He was right, that would be better. And on top of that definite light emerges from the metal doors. Sam leads the way opening up the heavy doors and propping it open as he makes his way down first. I follow suit immediately being hit with the sight that is the altar, a small table adorned with candle operas filled by tall burning candles, parts of dead animals, bones and blood sprawled out meticulously across the red table cloth. And right in the middle was a black and white surveillance photo of Dean before he was healed, the photo smeared in blood.

“I gave him life and I can take it back too” A familiar voice suddenly says. Sue Ann. I turn around hastily being met with cold eyes, behind me I hear a large crash and I don’t have to look to know Sam had flipped over the table. Her eyes flip to the scene and I use the initial shock to rush her, but she was already close to the stairs so it did not take her long to sweep up them slamming the cellar doors behind her. Something clicks and shifts, she must have locked us in here. Sam joins me at my side, pushing and fighting against the barred doors. “Can't you see? The Lord chose me to reward the just and punish the wicked,” she reasons, “And Dean is wicked and he deserves to die just as Layla deserves to live. It is God's will.”

Oh, so that twisted psycho thinks that’s how it is. Well she messed with the wrong witch. “You're gonna wanna back up” I tell Sam. I press my palms to the cold metal of the doors, I’m pissed now. No one gets to use magic, let alone dark magic, on either of my boys. The doors begin to rattle harshly, almost as if there’s an earthquake, “Goodbye Sam, Y/N” she says. I put more force on the door, my entire being focused on it until it burst open bits of chipped paint and screws flying away, a satisfying break of the wood she used to block us ringing in my ears as broken bits of the wood come crashing back down.

Sue Ann stands but a couple feet away, her eyes wide as she watches me exit the cellar with shock and fear. She backs up further and I follow after her like a predator trapping its prey. “I-I read about things like you” she says weakly, her voice shaking. She keeps backing up, “You’re a—You’re a—“ her back hits the wall of a nearby trailer house. “Witch” I finished for her, yanking off that necklace once and for all.

I throw it off to the side, far away, and back up from her. My job was done and the Reaper would come knocking for its own revenge. “My God, what have you done?,” she heaves, pressing a hand to where her necklace used to be. “He’s not your God” Sam says cooly. Her head snaps to something in the distance, her face falls growing pale she must be seeing the Reaper. Then all at once she takes off running, not making it very far before she falls to her knees, her body convulsing once, twice, before falling to the ground. “I think we have just aided in her murder” I muse.

“Yeah…” Sam nods, “We should probably…” This time I nod, not saying anything as we walk away from the crime heading back in the direction of the Impala. We intercept Dean on the way, meeting at the car. I give him a small thumbs up to say we did it this time and he nods solemnly. “You okay?” Sam asks him.

“Hell of a week” he answers.

I glanced up from my phone for the fifth time in the last minute. I was trying to text Adeline to update her on everything but kept getting distracted by Dean's blank face as he stared off at nothing while sitting in bed. I made eye contact with Sam, giving him a sad smile, we were thinking the same thing. He turns to his brother, watching him for a moment before speaking, “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Dean replies gruffly. Sam looks back at me again and I give him an encouraging nod, “What is it?” he asks again this time more gently.

“We did the right thing here didn't we?” Dean asks, finally breaking. It was difficult to answer him, on one hand we stopped someone from playing God and killing people who they found immoral in which none of the victims were bad people, it wasn’t like they were criminals but to her they were still wicked (god forbid someone has a different opinion than you). But on the other hand it was saving people, except to pay one life for another wasn’t exactly gracious work. Yet, we were doing the same thing, trying to play God and cheat death. I had even admitted to being willing to make great scarface’s to do so, in that aspect I wasn’t so different from Sue Ann in the very beginning.

“Of course we did,” Sam answers, and he really does sound sure. Dean sighs, hanging his head, “It doesn't feel like it.” Suddenly there’s a knock at the door and the parallel from only earlier in the week is not lost on me, “I got it” Sam volunteers getting up from his seat to open the door, “Hey Layla. Come on in.”

Huh.

“Hey” she waves awkwardly. Dean quickly rises from his place on the bed, “How did you know we were here?”

“Sam...called. He said you...wanted to say goodbye?”

Dean glances at Sam and I join in on the glaring, he really needs to start telling me things sooner. But he just smiles sheepishly, “I'm gonna...grab a soda.”

I stand abruptly from my chair, Dean should have his time with Layla. Maybe he won’t feel as guilty, “I’m gonna join you” I declare, “A soda sounds great!” I follow Sam out the door, closing it behind me.

#supernatural #fanfiction #dean winchester #sam winchester #dean winchester x reader #john winchester #slow burn #dean winchester x witch reader #the hunter and the witch update #witch reader #the hunter and the witch #angst #light angst #celtic #supernaturalwiki #supernatural faith

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usuibu · 9 months

Text

Bf!eren headcanons.2

More headcanons/masterlist

- he doesn’t know how to take care of his hair well enough so u have to teach him a few things bc hes lowk clueless

- he’s easily mesmerised by hair masks or any slightly non ordinary beauty products LMAO

- he get weirdly excited to blow dry ur hair for u when its wet just because🤷‍♀️

- this thought is also copied by one of the headcanons from @jaegersdevil but he would defo take big fat ass bites out of ur food when u let him try some 😭

- when hes sick hes in denial for some reason and walks around pretending he’s fine until hes on the verge of dying and someone has to force him to let someone else take care of him

- contrary to popular belief he is not super big on pda he’s more playful than affectionate with pda but when drunk hes extra pda affectionately lol

- he doesn’t like letting u take public transport (tbaw ref LMAO💀) he feels proud of himself or wtv when he picks u up from places/drops u off

- he has a good work ethic idk what people generally think but i think he’d do good academically with armins help😭 and so u guys would obv study together

- u would initiate study sessions together but he wouldnt want to focus and would try talk u out of studying so u guys could do smt more exciting😭 he can study and is smart but would rather do better things if he’s spending time with you

- he 100% would make dates every once in a while that are out of the ordinary and fun

- he doesn’t necessarily plan dates theyre more spontaneous like if u guys are just on a walk and he sees a cool place he’ll get u to go with him

- u guys essentially live together,, not rly but ur place is his and his place is urs lol like ur both at each others a lot like despite the nice dates, most of ur time together is domestic

- he has his own music taste (diff to urs) but he doesn’t listen to music as often as u so he lets u take over speakers/aux etc so he always has songs that aren’t his music taste stuck in his head

- he is good at keeping gifts/surprises a secret verbally but lowk makes it too obvious 😭 like he’ll ft u in a store and show u options asking ur opinions on stuff but say its for armin or smt

- he’s just very bad with excuses/calculations like that LMAO

My requests r open for anything u can ask me any specific headcanons for eren or any character aswell!! Tysm for reading 🫶🫶

#eren jeager x reader #eren x you #eren jaeger #attack on titan #headcanon #bf!eren #boyfriend!eren

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blindmagdalena · 5 months

Note

Although he's not truly a Nazi the way Stormfront was, we do see many times throughout the show that Homelander is a bit of racist, especially towards Hispanics. I mean, he doesn't like it when he hears Ryan speaking Spanish, and all his interactions with Supersonic were so, uh, uncomfy, to say the least.

HOWEVER, Homelander is willing to overlook anything when he gets emotionally involved with someone. Like how he's always rambling on about supes being the superior race while at the same time lowkey worshipping Madelyn.

How do you think he will react to dating a Latina? I can see him being a major asshole at the beginning, complaining about her putting on Latin music while in the penthouse, and cooking "weird food". But slowly and almost unwillingly he gets dragged into the culture.

Like, her brothers and cousins adopt him and suddenly he's the guy who goes to parrillada every Sunday to hang out with his amigos, playing domino and watching freaking soccer. They nickname him "El Casas" and teach him how to speak Spanish but the type that's only spoken deep in the guetto and has grandmothers clutching their pearls.

He starts watching Soap Operas with his girlfriend ironically but then gets weirdly into them to the point that he's crying his eyes out every other episode. He also starts calling her mami/mamita and his mommy kink gets like ten times worse. Which is fine by her because she's been calling him papi rey (king daddy) in her mind since the moment she laid eyes on him.

Once they finally go public, Homelander is all but embraced by the Latino community and it makes his ratings go through the roof because America's Dad speaking perfect Spanish and dancing Salsa in his girlfriend's livestreams is the best representation they've ever gotten. His fanbase drastically changes ofc. Stormfront would be rolling on her grave, I just know it.

Forgive me if this is weird, I'm just a sad latina who's dying for representation in Homelander x reader stories.

GIRL YOU GOT ME INVESTED. i was pulling out the popcorn by the end of this!! tell me you’re gonna write this! it’s not weird at all, and there’s nothing wrong with wanting to see yourself represented. i’ve had this conversation a couple of times, and i can guarantee you’re not alone in wanting this: there’s an audience waiting!

i always tag @irenadel in these (which I hope she isn’t tired of lol) because her fic Pygmalion is the only one that i know of so far that leans into this, so you should definitely check it out if you haven’t already. i happen to have insider info that she’s working on the next chapter 👀

really and truly though, it sounds to me like you have the makings of a killer fic lined up in your mind. you clearly have a solid understanding of Homelander’s psychology, too. i really think you could do something awesome with this! it’s important that people tell these stories, and i’m not always the right person to do that.

i would 100% read the heck out of this. 🖤

#darling anon #ask and you shall receive #homelander x reader

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justatypicalwizard · 1 year

Text

Have a brainrot goin' around my head.

Fluff to angst to fluff.

Warnings: mention of self hate

Sanemi with a reader who is from the present. You were sucked up to their era with the only thing in your hands- your phone.

The battery somehow isn't dying so you can use the device all you want. It doesn't have internet or GPS connection obviously. Nontheless, the rest is fine.

You have to ask the Hashira kindly not to slash through your phone when it iluminates or starts to speak/play music. You also have to tell them, explain very very carefuly that the thing is not alive.

Sanemi is unimpressed when he sees the small thing. He has no clue how it works but his mind is not capable of imagining just how many things it can do.

When you show them how you swipe on the screen with your finger they are amazed, silent and some of them trembling to see what it can do.

You on the other hand don’t know what to start with, how to explain.

When you decide to show them the camera they all squeeze together like you asked them. You want to get the Hashira to fit in one picture.

"That me?" Sanemi's voice is quiet when he sees his face and exposed chest on the photo. He's in the back with a focused expression.

"You want another one?" Your voice is slightly teasing which makes him anoyed, suddenly he feels small and stupid. He just doesn't know why.

"Mhm." The man mumbles not shifting an inch when you tiptoe a bit to the back.

"Your face is the same." You laugh showing him the new photo and the previous one.

"You keep them?" He asks. He thought they dissapeared as soon as you stop playing with them.

"Yeah, as long as this thing is working." You point to the phone. "Your photo will be here."

Sanemi suddenly feels a tad shy. You would have his image so close to you? Is it like keeping a painting, like the one you get when you're about to marry someone. But these paintings lie. This thing is 100% exact. He's there, in that box and he doesn't know how to feel about it.

"What else can it do?" He shouldn’t be interested. This is some child's play and he shouldn’t be bothered. But it does spark something in him when he sees you manage the thing, you’re so good at it, so precise and swift.

Sanemi doesn't like that feeling. He knows that the thing in your hand is useless, he has to be right. No matter how fancy it looks like and how many magical things it can do, in the end it's like a doll, it's a toy. Meaningless, he's sure.

"Um, you can write in it. If I'd have internet... eh, there is a way that you can write to other people that also have phones. I can't do it now but in my times i could and did. Look." You open your chat app, it doesn't work but you open a random conversation and start to type. The message never got delivered but the text is there.

Sanemi grips the fabric of his pants. He can't write. He doesn't even know what's written there because you use some weird signs that he has never seen before. Fuck it. He won't tell you, not like you realised.

Then you showed him the calculator. You figured you could show that your device is multitasking using things they will understand like reading, writing and calculating.

Suddenly, your braty face and sheepish eyes morphed in Sanemi's mind. When you looked at him the man felt scrutinised. Writing was getting more popular amongst people but calculating was a skill reserved for the great minds, especially these unearthly looking signs and long lines of symbols.

You could do it. You talked about it as if it was nothing, just an everyday thing.

Sanemi looked past you, he felt an invisible weight rest on his shoulders. Like someone big grabbed his body from behind, whispering to his ear that he'll never know anything, that he's limited and closed minded. Just look how stupid he is.

When the man traced his gaze back to you he felt... respect.

You did tell them that your world was vastly different but he underestimated you, laughed at you, minimised you. Now it's him who feels small and idiotic. You mentioned these were the most basic things your small decice could do. He didn't even want to hear about the advanced stuff, he's too embarassed of the thought he wouldn't understand them.

Sanemi's big arms and world-saving tights felt useless compared to your mind. You were intelligent. What could you do to him, bring out of him, threaten him with, see through him? Sanemi felt the hair on his neck stand, goosebumps flashing through his hands when he spiralled into these thoughts.

What would win? His strength or your mind? He wanted to try it, to hurt you just to het stabbed back at. Stabbed in a place where noone previously reached. He wanted to get torn down and forcefully broken up into parts. He wanted you to figure him out so that he would be safe in his conviction that he never opened up for anyone. You just simply let yourself in forcefuly.

Tell me everything is going to be alright without speaking. Know when I need you without me asking. Understand me not needing me to spill all my bitter life before you. Hold onto me because you know I'm capable. Trust me because you know I'm worthy. Take me as I am. Love me.

It will be a game of ups and downs with him. Surprisingly Sanemi is a man who knows respect. He doesn't have it for many people but you, you've earned it. He's madly in love with your sharp, compared to his, mind. One look and he knows you know. Nothing to hide from you, even if he wants. Sanemi is a person who lived through a lot, that's why he finds himself in tough love, seeking forcefulness, sometimes even saddness in order to fill up his heart with any type of strong emotion.

Instead of feeling suffocated like he anticipated he feels embraced by you. You don’t tear through his walls like he wanted. You maneuver around him, like a warm spring breeze, filling him up to the brim with love and understanding. You're slow and respectful, delicate and pure to the point of making him scream and punch the training dummies. He wants to throw you away, run from you, hurt you so that you hurt him. Instead he feels caressed and understanded, soothed and loved. He doesn't want this because he doesn't deserve this. He can't forget what he did and what he will do but you make him, when you hold him in your arms he feels as if he could nearly let go of his weights.

It will take a lot of sleepless nights, slow rocking, sweet kisses, caressing his messy head and long, exhausting conversations to make im accept the fact that he is, in fact, loved.

Ok, this escalated quickly but these where the type of emotions I thought he would develop.

See you some other time.

-I need to think about a short name from my username but the only thing that comes to my mind in trash. Please don't call me that, I'll think about something.

#demon slayer fluff #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #kimetsu anime #kimetsu no yaiba sanemi #sanemi x you #demon slayer sanemi #sanemi x reader #sanemi shinazugawa #sanemi x y/n #sanemi headcanons #demon slayer shinazugawa #shinazugawasanemi #shinazugawa x reader

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